If People Missed the Chance to Evolve.

Hearing a lamb’s plea while being tied in a nail burrowed into the soil along the cracked sidewalks would be one of the unlikely sights I’ve ever seen in my life. This morning, I’ve seen the lamb eating grass, still having the collar in its neck. As I walked home, I’ve heard the usual sound of the same lamb I’ve seen – this time, alone in the darkness, shrieking and shouting the mercy he wanted to address me. He (the lamb) wanted to quit. He was tired of being a slave herbivore who rips off grass every now and then. He was sick of viewing the same ground in the morning, watching same vehicles and same people pass him by. Yet, he couldn’t do anything.

He was in the dark. He had four legs but no hands at all. His neck grasped by a thick rope, how could he achieve the liberty he wanted? For other Homo Sapiens, he is a single unit of a herd; their livestock, their business, and the consumer’s soon-to-be lambchops. For him, humans are greedy animals who slaughter (according to their constitution – is called murder) his relatives just for food. For an animal lover like me, (except cockroaches. Oh, they’re pests, anyway) the lamb deserves a better caretaker like Heidi or Cedie or those cartoon characters who would talk to animals as if they are puppets.

What if the humans didn’t have any chance to evolve from monkeys? What if these lambs would replace the government, would be self-morphing their instincts to intelligence and become humans? What if they would replace US? And if Charles Darwin was aborted by his mother, we would’ve been worshipping Zeus or some other idol out there.

This post was caused by my irritation to my father and to the world.

Humans have no contentment at all. Take student life for an example: when class days were so alive, we would flip the pages of our notebook and exert all the muscular forces we have in the paper. We would be making graffiti and letterings with our hands. We would do everything to get away with our life and would simply whisper – God, I wanna have summer. I wanna have fun, so please make this day a weekend!

But prayers don’t really go straight to heaven. Go cross your fingers.

When summer comes, we would be so excited with our sections and the enrollment or whatsoever. We would have the elegance of time to design the frontpages of our notebook, and would assume ourselves taking a quiz when in fact; you’re just in your house doing your imaginary exam.

Our Economics subject featured a documentary from Investigative Journalism something-something, about Erap’s Mansions. Like castles of the modern era, these presidential mushrooms spurted out in Antipolo, Baguio, Tagaytay, Wack-Wack, Forbes Park and so on. The greed of a Time Magazine legend goes on from 97 million plus 15 million for Laarni Enriquez’s Jaguar X-3, and so on. *While the film is going on, I’m reading Jessica Zafra’s bloglike Twisted Five, her book about whatever – then Mrs. Legaspi confiscated the book! Fuck her a lot, but well – I know she’ll give it back to me since the library owns it anyway.* (It’s just my first time to read Jessica Zafra’s book. Amazing. Only, I don’t have the time to finish it. I just pick my own topics and read it.)

Millions doesn’t count for a lamb like me.

I am about to eat two hamburger patties, two slices of hamburger buns, two slices of cheese, mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup (each sold separately) when I wanted to ask Dad’s opinions (taking his cigarette at the living room) about my planned Christmas vacation in New York with my Mom.

Bahala ka.

Two words struck me, and as I finished eating the first bun – I stood up at the dining table and lost my appetite. Dad didn’t have the appetite to see my Mom. Mom didn’t have the appetite to see my Dad. Dad met Mom 20 or thirty years ago, married, made children, and now – they’d love to marry their material things rather than their own partners.

That’s a little less of a Cinderella story wherein they’d live happily ever after. So much for a happy ending.

Material things. I wonder: hectares of land are now sold by landlords and realtors, water can be bought in bottles or in huge plastic containers shouting that it had undergone 16 or 21 stages of filters. Will air can be bought too?

This ends my post. And I’d sort this out to the dweeb category!

~ by utakgago on November 7, 2006.