2 weeks and a blurring, reeling parade of events. 2 things curiously stick to my brain as I log into LJ and try to say anything---anything at all to sum up so far the heyday of my Eurotrip...
John Lennon's house!!! Strawberry Fields! Penny Lane!
a man with kind eyes saying that everyday should be a holiday
beloved images of a person in an apron and a kitchen with a heavenly smell
a tunnel of blue over a beautiful town
the wild terror of a bad trip down the rabbit's hole after eating mushrooms
going 2 weeks without locking horns with an older sister different in every way from me
feeling homesick for close friends
Meeting Elizabeth I over her tomb
Skipping Stonehenge but visiting something even older---the Goseck Enclosure, over 7000 years old
AMSTERDAM and not being able to find Anne Frank's house because of the weather
a cloud floating around, following me everywhere
seeing saltwater fish and feeling himesick for the gub
The bad thing about skipping last year's Annual Physical Exam is everyone's clamor to make you go this year. I got a reprimand last time for missing it, and was asked for a valid reason for missing it. I replied that it was the isolation of the account I was assigned to at the time, compounded by the lack of enthusiasm for seeking out a schedule because I hate those things.
It isn't the flustered worrying of concerned friends---it's your company wanting to make sure you're fit to work, and you don't have a bomb to drop onto their HMO arrangement, like cancer or a weak heart that needs a lot of medical attention.
It's not as if I'm worried about finding out I have lumps in places I don't want lumps to be in, or anything----or that I don't want to know, which is very unhealthy----it's that blasted blood count/blood typing.
Yes, the oh-so-malevolent needle. The scary needle that'll pierce your skin and just suck blood out of you as you force yourself to stay still.
The last time this happened, I wanted to bonk the nurse's head into the table, so I am proud to announce my more-or-less stoic poise (unless grimacing counts as the nurse opens the syringe pack) this evening.
There are no stoic poses, however, when the doctor tells you to hike up your skirt, bend over, and spread them cheeks (with your hands) for her to look around for possible hemorrhoids. In the next stall, past the curtains, I heard another doctor announce to someone that he had hemorrhoids, and the guy being examined sounded surprised. Somehow a part of me expected the same announcement from my own doctor, who was still checking back there, so I was surprised to hear that I was in the clear, butt-wise.
At least in around 10 days I finally confirm if I really am Type O.
This is a hurried romp into my old LJ account to announce that EVERYONE around me is pregnant, or ha sjust given birth. My coutry is bursting at its seams, it seems.
Heheh.
That PIG is getting a lot of women pregnant.
Happy year of the pig, indeed. We are multiplying like gremlins when Gizmo gets wet.
Meanwhile, the Koreans are trying to outnumber the Filipino Chinese citizens, and making up for lost time. There are so many in my building, in the streets-----it's like Homer tiptoeing throught that Ayn Rand nursery full of babies with pacifiers.
current mood: contemplative current music: Castle on a Cloud
She has a point, there. Read on, read on, if you feel like a Victorian era poem. If not, continue to the next friend's blog entry. :p
====
Sonnets from the Portuguese 22: When our Two Souls
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When our two souls stand up erect and strong, Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, Until the lengthening wings break into fire At either curvéd point, — what bitter wrong Can the earth do to us, that we should not long Be here contented ? Think. In mounting higher, The angels would press on us, and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay Rather on earth, Belovèd, — where the unfit Contrarious moods of men recoil away And isolate pure spirits, and permit A place to stand and love in for a day, With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.
====
I am currently not an entire soul right now. I feel like only half of one. Not goood, not good at all.
I hope souls are like livers, and you can grow 'em again.
current mood: listless current music: Dream a Little Dream...
You hate me right now and it looks like I've lost a best friend.
I don't care if you hate me, or if you say the nastiest things to me and about me.
-----What great spurts of anger I feel, I will swallow it, and keep my distance at the same time. If you need my friendship, I offer it. In your absence, I remember what made us work so well together. I choose to remember those times instead of the scariness of how things are, now.
What I remember is that when you and I were alone for hours and days on end, I saw the most brilliant, witty, and vulnerable soul that stayed by me for so long. If you've gone and killed that part of yourself, then I hope that circumstances and even someone out there will wake it up again.
I don't know what I will feel tomorrow, or next week, or next year. But I want to still kinda reach out-----you told me to "shut up and fuck off" ----but in case you pass through here, then you will see that
I
still
so much
want
you
to be my friend,
and it's a tall order; unfair for you--and yet---there are some things only you and I will remember and recognize together.
Years ago, a typhoon ripped through Metro Manila and the mighty acacia trees of Ateneo de Manila were uprooted.
We found them lying on their sides, their branches dripping and windswept, their roots completely torn out of the ground.
I find myself believing that now I know how they felt---
---except that I am doing the uprooting, and I have a floating version of myself from far off above me and to the right (or wherever) looking below and seeing the carnage and wondering why I am doing it.
It's scary shit, the duality of the human being. But the gub is right: you can't have your cake and eat it, too.
A large part of me hates change and mourns the past. Another part finds it suffocating and stagnant. What does a person do?
Are people like me allergic to contentment? Am I doomed to a life of uprooting myself all the time?
My only reprieve is to walk the streets of Ortigas. Where I am heading and where I am coming from and who I am thinking of becomes irrelevant. It's just me,
the Ortigas wind swirling around,
the detached and noisy people whose conversations I snatch and immerse myself into until they're out of earshot,
and the alertness one needs to cross busy streets.
Simple, essential actions. As simple and basic as those Spartans in "The 300" who looked glorious doing what strong men do in battle when it's ALL they know how to do: kick ass.
I almost will that walk to last forever, because then, things are not up to big decisions. I just put one foot in front of the other, and I don't need to be grown-up-- constantly deciding and remembering and guessing and being considerate.
I love walking around alone sometimes.
current mood: heavy current music: "One Night" - Corrs
A million things are happening in my life that only I am living. It's a start, and it's strange, and I am scared.
We all hope things will be worth it in the end. Because leaps of faith can get you deep into an abyss someplace, or where you really, really want to be. The rgeat lottery of life and free will.
And, of course, there are consequences. Choices will always mean something/someone/somewhere was not chosen.
It sure is tough. Very, very, very tough. It helps to focus on one point in time for the year, to rally my attention.
Meanwhile, I will...ride out the wave...and see if it brings me to------ohhh, say----Madagascar, with an Anne Rice novel I can't stand.
My appetite decided to rear its monstrous head at the most unfortunate time possible---the evening my dentist spent one hour drilling, cutting, twisting, and pulling out one of my 2 impacted 3rd molars (I try not to say "wisdom teeth" because what's so wise about wisdom teeth if they don't figure out a way to escape fuss while trying to erupt?). So, despite the dull pain from the back of my mouth, I opened it and ate roasted chicken among other things.
Mind you, chewing roasted chicken with rice is nearly impossible within 8 hours of a minor operation that leaves a wound in the mouth. I wasn't actually chewing..more like delicately encasing little food parts in large doses of saliva until they're all smooth enough to swallow.
I cringe at the lack of digestion going on in my sdtomach/intestines from all the whole food parts..
Meanwhile, the latest bane in my life has taken the form of a "dry socket" ---a very common post-operative complication. I didn't sleep until 4 am last night/this morning from the pain.
An excerpt from animated-teeth.com describes it this way:
---------------------------------=======================------------------------------------ Dry Sockets One of the more common complications a person can experience with wisdom tooth extraction is that of developing a "dry socket." It is thought that dry sockets occur when either an adequate blood clot has failed to form in the extracted tooth's socket or the blood clot that did form has been dislodged and lost. Since the formation of a blood clot is an important part of the healing process, healing is delayed.
The typical dry socket produces a dull pain that doesn't appear until three or four days after the tooth has been extracted. The pain can be moderate to severe. There is often a foul odor associated with this condition.
A dry socket needs to be treated by your dentist. Usually a dentist will place a medicated dressing in the dry socket that can soothe and moderates the pain. This dressing is typically removed and replaced every 24 hours until the person's symptoms subside. Dry sockets are found to occur more often in women (even more so in those taking oral contraceptives), persons over the age of 30, and smokers.
Exx's Mom was kind enough to invite me across the street from my building (which is, in effect, the building I live in, right across the street from my office) for a brief, 15-minute flushing of the wound + application of Alvogyl to relieve the pain. I thought she was holding a hypodermic needle, when she turned to me as I sat on the chair. I YELPED, and Exx laughed.
"That's the flush, don't worry." --the assistant giggled, and Exx remarked on my "squirming". I guess after all those injections last Saturday, I am STILL afraid of the stupid little things.
Exx's mom is an ANGEL.
I didn't use a straw to drink, and I glued myself to an ice pack from Day 1 onwards. But---I maaaaay have gone overboard with cleaning my mouth after eating....that may be it. And I had to eat chocolate on Day 3...I discovered to my horror that sucking on chocolate is a better description than eating chocolate. Encasing a chunk of it in saliva does not maximize the pleasure. :(
I also went through ice cream with nuts and marshmallows on it, and KFC fries. Ham, fish, corned beef...I drew the line at pasta, though. It was too weird to encase and swallow. What would I do without salted water, ice, and Alvogyl???
Of course, if someone would give me some chewable morphine...
Next up, the more difficult impacted molar. Oh, joy.
It was the morning of December 29, and my dad was outside the house, yelling out that my plane would leave me behind. He's anal about time that way.
My mother and her 2 sisters were also outside, inside the car, waiting.
For some reason, as I haphazardly brushed my teeth one last time in the bathroom connected to Trixie's bedroom, she was frantically running around, looking for something.
When the car started honking for me, she was already crying. I ran out to count my bags and wipe my face, and ran back into the bedroom. My little sister held out 2 receipts neatly folded, tears streaming down her face.
"I can't find the rest of them, they were in my notebook," were her woeful words.
"Somebody must've fixed the room and tucked them in somewhere." I replied. My heart was in my eyes as I looked down at my sister who had been slowly collecting receipts for my receipt art.
Her phone had "died" on Christmas eve, and she was not going to be able to send me text messages for a while.
Jannille was standing off to the side, waiting to hug me goodbye.
The car was honking, I was walking on thin ice by not rushing out the back door.
I sent my sister a text message through Jannille's phone that hers was the coolest gift I ever received this year.
current mood: full heart current music: Cannon Ball Damean Rice
This morning found me puzzled at a missing rep/friend (Bien) I was supposed to coach as soon as I could find him online. Exx wasn't anywhere to be found, either, after I sent my daily "Boo" via Sametime (she usually lets out a cyber yelp, in true Exx/Me tradition).
I spent the first 3 hours monitoring and wondering and monitoring some more.
When the Christmas decoration judging was cancelled, I overheard them say that it was out of respect for "what happened."
It was finally made clear to me when I coached one of Bien's teammates that he had gone to the hospital in an ambulance with his teammate, Noel. Noel died in his arms on the way. I am horrible with names, and it took me a while to realize I remembered this guy. I never understood why I was coaching someone as well-spoken as he was. Well, there is an explanation, but that's work-related and will stay undiscussed. Back to Noel: he is remembered as a knowledgable man with an easygoing air.
This rep died of a heart attack, and the team I was set to coach for the entire morning was grieving. I decided not to bother them anymore. It was his second heart attack---and I mention this for a reason that will be clearer very shortly, as you read on.
Something bothers me about the disturbing series of events that Bien later told me. He remembers going to the clinic where Noel was being looked after by the nurse. Noel did not look too good at all, and the nurse was on the phone with the hospital. This hospital was having difficulty finding a way to send an ambulance over, because Noel's first heart attack had, so to speak, "maxed out" his Intellicare card. After much talking, the nurse finally got them to send an ambulance over. Bien remembers Noel taking a turn for the worse at this point.
Bien was right next to Noel, who said, "Naninilim na ang paningin ko..." (umm...shucks...transliteration would be: my vision is getting darker...a proper translation is out of reach at the moment) and he was shaking already. Bien assured him that the ambulance was on its way. He was watching him die, though.
When the ambulance arrived, they were not able to go up immediately. Why? The security guards downstairs wouldn't let them.
He was dead on arrival, and after half-successful attempts to revive him (they got a weak heartbeat for a while, but he was comatose), they had to give up around an hour later.
It isn't just the realization of my mortality that I felt so keenly today. My hand kept flying to my chest to feel my heart beat, for the rest of the shift. It was also the thought, later on, after Bien's sad story, which refused to melt away:
Could they have saved him if the Intellicare card had not been used before?
If the plan with Intellicare had only been as generous as the previous card we had?
If the security guards had only let the paramedics through sooner?
If the hospital had only agreed to answer the summons of an emergency sooner, despite the fact that the card might not cover the expenses incurred?
If, if, if...
Who knows? The specifics of his heart condition also determined things. But help could have arrived sooner.
All this is has happened today, as I sat and did my daily duties. I was not directly a part of it, and I go by Bien's personal account of the whole thing. He was mad at what happened, but it looks like even he is ready to dismiss it as something normal and expected from the parties involved.
This is the part that disturbs me...is anyone accountable? What if I or someone dear to me encounters the same situation? All these factors will go into play, and determine their fate, or mine.
And if I am so dizzy at the thought of this acquaintance (whom I was impressed with professionally) dying suddenly, what will happen when it's someone I love?
Life is so short, death so sudden. But as the hobo hitchhiker pointed out, it's why we should make the most out of life (and he proceeded to go and buy a pint of ice cream to make the most out of his day).
Makes me think of that scene from "6 Feet Under" when this woman asks the question, " Why do people have to die?"
The reply was: "To make life worth living."
current mood: sad current music: "Im a Joker" --Mraz
At stake in tomorrow's company Christmas party, among other smaller items, is an Opel Optra. What are the chances?
Really, really slim.
There are many of us "corporate drones" (a familiar voice teasingly saying this is making me smile like a child) who are going to the party and joining the raffle. Just about everybody, which is a doozy statistically. There are many,many,many of us.
The cousins and I lined up at Krispy Kreme tonight, and I spent my time rolling my eyes at the screen spouting Krispy Kreme customer satisfaction clips. So overrated, I thought, as I stood there in line with everyone else. Hehehehe. Yes, I stood there in LINE outside the shop, thinking that.
We called Myrette to tell her we would enjoy the donuts for her, since she was in LB. She's better off out there jogging, I suppose, since she wants to lose weight. I don't think she was thinking of the benefits to her when we spoke, though. Heeheeeeeee. Heeee.
They were handing out free donuts as we got closer and closer to the counters, and I finally bit into the bland-looking, ordinarily built donut. My soul sang the choruses that echo those of every ----ermm----cop in the U.S.A. who lives for donuts and coffee.
Soft, sweet, chewy. Severely yummy and light.
And from such a boring-looking object...whew.
I'm over it, and I'm glad I'd have to go out of my way to line up and buy some more of the stuff. For now, I shall focus on what was that, again? Yes, fruits, and the bottle of Bailey's. Yes, those. Prescribed and recommended.
current mood: thoughtful current music: Mou Sukoshi
Never walk behind and downwind of anyone in a sidewalk where the wind is rushing past him/her, then you. Especially if said person is smoking.
*coughing continues*
Never let the traffic vultures pull you over on the grounds of "swerving" (unless you technically are swerving). They say they're pulling you over for swerving when the sign above you says no swerving and you changed lanes. More often than not, they will have forgotten that the line down the middle of the street is broken, which means precisely that you can swerve if you want to.
Or they don't know any better. Or they do, but they know most of us don't.
They prey on doubt and meekness. They smell it. They make a decision to bowl you over with the authority in their swagger.
Take a picture, right in front of him. Take his picture and say that you know it's legal to change lanes with those broken lines. Be confident, do not sway, and the troll will back off. Because it's a mind game, and you can change the rules.
A banana awaits me to the left of the keyboard, patiently awaiting its fate. Outside, all over the place, people have shuffled out of the metro to their different provinces to spend the Day of the Dead near the graves of their loved ones.
Both my grandfathers have died in the last 2 years, but my family does not practise this tradition.
To remember my father's father, I look down at my fingers. They look uncannily like my Lolo's -- the color, the shape, length, fingernail shape...
I once held his hand the last time I saw him alive, and I watched our fingers curled up together, so obviously related, bound by blood. He had a sense of humor, everybody says. He is, as I have always told people, the reason why I am still apprehensive about swallowing watermelon seeds, even now. He told me they would grow new watermelons out my nose, ears, mouth. I really believed him.
I found soO many letters in this huge wooden box with a lock. The letters contained, within their fragile, often stained pages, the entire enduring love between two people throughout tough times, while their children were living grown-up lives and seeking their careers and making families.
I am mentioned as Baby Sec, pudgy, lovable, naive, blundering through my first baby steps, eating strange unedible things, getting my fingers banged into by doors while exploring my house, growing my first teeth, sketching my first doodles on the house plants in the sala...
It was very very unsettling to see myself from the eyes of my just-past middle aged grandparents.
My mother's father...
He hated the thought of spending money for himself as luxury. I remember him refusing to drink Ensure when he found out how much it cost to buy. I remember him engrossed so completely in a newspaper, consumed by the need to know the world and its politics and events. He always had his head tipped back, looking past his nose and chin at the pages, his breakfast completely and neatly finished, having drunk glasses and glassas of water, his papaya slices very thoroughly eaten, with a paper-like strip of skin on it left (never waste your food, he'd say, crinkling his nose at how much was left of MY papaya slice on my plate).
He was a man of the law who would take food and supplies instead of money in return for his services. His mind was sharp til the very end, when the aneurism killed him. He held my hands with his own, shaking ones when, one Christmas vacation I took it upon myself to go research on my family history and I asked him about his own family and their struggles through the 20's, 30's and 40's ----and his eyes turned moist as he recounted everything he remembered. His mind was so sharp..!
Way after he stopped being able to talk, his brightly lit eyes shone with such grandfatherly pride when he would watch my father and me, as we discussed world affairs and blithely argue about everything. He loved how his own daughter would tell him what medical symptoms were showing in his deteriorating health, proud despite everything that this doctor who recited such medical terms, was his daughter.
He was so frustrated that his mind was still so active, but he could no longer talk at all. He'd even throw the most silent tantrums, which he would rememdy by banging things and ringing bells, etc etc.
---------------oOo--------------------
Left behind: my grandmothers. One with Parkinson's Disease, the other with Alzheimer's. One is keenly aware that she has lost her beloved husband, the other's consciousness is just wasting away. Both are surrounded by love, but both--I am sure--are alone.
Life is scary, isn't it? I try not to think what my fate shall be, because, after all, it's what goes on before old age that matters, right?
Oh, right. The banana.
Happy All Saints' Day, to those who celebrate it. The dead in my life are remembered, and I do not need to be at their graves.
just need to look down at my hands, and my fingers as I type this, and remember the beautiful stories and papaya slices.
current mood: thoughtful current music: "Ive Just Seen A Face"
Things are so confusing and stagnant right now. And I am whining whining whining. Don't get things wrong. I am surrounded by friends and family and a whola lotta love. (starting sentences with conjunctions---poetic license #57506036) So..yeah, I will shut up. Ehehe. Simple as that.
I guess it is never that simple. Or I should try to live on Valium to shut my brain off and sink into deep sleep once in a while...?
FF12 ... ---hehhe, I anticipate siyane reading this and disagreeing ---
---is not my cup of tea.
I am 25, have been for a month now. Time, time, time, choices choices choices, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaa!
Conjunctions starting sentences, words repeated twice after they are written. Tsk tsk tsk. OOps. And there I go again.
Brain, please let me rest for a while..!
current mood: stagnating current music: You Could Make a Killing
I love this clip from "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" ...
So THAT's what Killa Cans can do!! EEEEK! Watching them in Dawn of War has sold the orks, in my book. EEEEEEK! Heeheeee! stupid endangered eldar didn't stand a chance, hihihiihih!
Hey, wait--the avatar kicks ass, too.
Hmmm.
I wanna eat choki choki.
Elgen Acedillo.
Hah! Who would've thought I'd type out her name after so many years? Because she sold Choki Choki in high school!! :p
current mood: multiplying current music: Cryin' - Storm Large
The weekends have been spent with my wacky cousins and my sister, getting dolled up, cam whoring, going around and admiring things, laughing at some people and admiring others,making crazy music videos (a tradition we have been upholding since we were young).
I brought my sister to the airport on Sunday morning, though (just yesterday..). :-(
At work, it's diffferent. It gets soO lonely in the morning. And cold. I am such a sissy with airconditioners. So in the past 2 weeks, I have been making very good friends with the CR stall in my office building. It isn't so cold in there, and I hide out in the first 2 stalls, depending on which one is being occupied (the 3rd one is too creepy).
Imagine my sense of betrayal when, one morning, I was leaning on the wall, preparing for a 30 minute rest away from everyone, pulling out my "receipt art" and I saw THIS staring at me from across the tiny space:
I took a closer look at it:
Geeez. Employee Relations and their Halloween plans.
In any case, I feel betrayed by my safe place.
I was pointed out to a book haven recently (9 malls, 3 hours with the Gub!!) and I bought 6 books, and they didn't cost me more than 900php. Reading through them is going to be a pleasure. That, and I now know 2 blogs belonging to my cousins, and I keep myself updated by stalking them there.
Shit, I wish I were one of the 6 guys who started Youtube..That'd mean right now I'd have a share of the 1.6 billion US Dollars Google paid to take it. *Siiiiiiigh.*
The hormones/"taning!!"/bad genes are sometimes behaving, sometimes going all out war-like these days. Today, everything is under control. But I am numb. Not a good sign. I've felt this before.
current mood: Battling "Taning" current music: Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin
I don't understand how friends like Mel and Pao C can go about their lives so confidently and calmly.
Every moment I have been living the past few days has been one prickly, sensitive encounter after another.
---Days where I do nothing but FEEL..
---and it takes so much to put on that front of a thinking, logical person (it hardly works, a great number of you have seen me panic at the thought of things, even when they are not inevitable, or foreseeable..) and one ends up staying in a CR stall breaking down for no reason at all except that so many memories of things that have passed before are assailing one's senses so powerfully.
How do my friends do it?
By simply existing, we guarantee that we hurt SOMEBODY. By simply existing, we make someone worry, we offend another person we don't WANT to offend, we make mistakes that ruin other people's lives.
It's a Sartre week, i suppose.
Another one of those "Hell is other people" moods some of us go through from time to time.
I try to be optimistic, I really do; I have met the happiest, most self-reassured people in the last decade of my life, and when they tell me everything will be all right with such happy eyes, I believe them and I feel so much better.
But I swing towards the extremes of both sides.
:-(
If my life is to be lived just once; is it really worthless?
current mood: hormonal? current music: "You were meant for me" - Jewel
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skye_whit's journal
stoic
contemplative
whatever
listless
homesick
heavy
relieved
full heart
stagnating
multiplying
hormonal?