the left foot story

Last Wednesday, I had a series of little “accidents” that, well, made me gloomy the whole day.

During the morning, probably because I only had 3 hours of sleep that day, I tripped down the stairs here in the office. I was able to hold the bars though, so I did not exactly fell to the ground, but I fell forward and landed with my left leg on a kneeling position. My left foot twisted, and the front of my left leg hit the edge of the stairs, giving me a contusion. I couldn’t scream in pain because I was in the office. I couldn’t even stand for a while because it was really painful.

While going to school, I had a hard time running and squeezing myself among the commuters in the bus because of my aching foot. But I managed to get into the bus. And when I got down, while walking, I tripped on hole in the ground. And guess what? It’s my left foot again! Do you think I should learn more?

I wanted to scream out of annoyance of myself, wait, no, of my left foot. As if that left foot wasn’t badly hurt already. After class, while walking outside the school, I stepped on a large used chewing gum. And, that’s right, it’s that left foot again.

P.S.

Right now, I actually think the coincidence was hilarious, like that in television shows.

good things happen, unexpectedly

Two weeks ago, I tendered my resignation. I just couldn’t handle the time anymore, and my mind was preoccupied with how to go about with mom’s sickness and dad’s lifetime medications.

I was still on probation, and I was just with the company for barely two months. I am not even a doctor, so nothing about me was indispensable to the company. I thought of it for several days, and one Wednesday, I wrote a long letter asking for deferment of employment because I wanted to somehow stay with my sick mother at home until she finishes her chemotherapy, and to somehow let my father rest from time to time. I said that if it’s no longer possible, the same letter is tendering my resignation.

To my surprise, the bosses in the States immediately answered my letter. They said that they would arrange the schedule to accomodate the off time I need (work on a temporary part-time basis) or they could grant me a medical leave. I was so happy to read the letter! I chose the first option, to work on MWFs. It was a burden off my chest; at least, I would still have a stable income. The social security benefits and other leaves and holiday pays were still there, in proportion to my working hours. Isn’t that great? In my old company, I filed leave to be with mom through the first weeks of her treatment. Because one of the operations was postponed, I was absent the day after my filed leave. In that operation, we would know if the cancer has spread to other parts of her body. And while she was in the operating room, my old boss sent me a text message telling me that I am considered resigned because I was absent after my leave. Wow. That was the first day after my leave and resigned already? Well, in the end, I only filed a leave extension. But his inconsideration would be unforgettable.

Anyway, because of their surprising, positive response, I felt that, amidst all the problems, good things still do happen, sometimes unexpectedly.

looking back and coping

After 2 months, I can say that I have “somehow” adjusted to my new work. Though I sometimes miss copy editing those APA files that require much attention and time, and thinking! Editing has become second nature to me, and honestly, I am grateful that I learned that from my old company. It’s a good and usefull skill to acquire. On the other hand, my new work entails medical writing, and obviously, I could not really master this one. But through time and the help of other officemates, I am able to manage to accomplish the task I was assigned, though at times with difficulty.

In these 2 months, I’ve shared a few talks with my new officemates, and I could probably differentiate the attitude of one from the other. Since this small group of employees were together since the start of the company, they were already like family, except for one loner, although with varying behaviors. At this point, I probably could say that all of them were nice people. But, at this point, I couldn’t see anyone that I could be as compatible as I had been to my old officemates, friends, particularly the seatmates I had through my entire stay in that company in Paranaque. We just hit it off. And the stressful environment, and the issues around, were neutralized by the laughter we bring to one another, mostly from silly jokes. In this new office, as majority were doctors, they sometimes laugh at details pertaining to diseases or to acneticin review, and it would be too late before I realize it was a joke. haha. We also had some good, nonmedical conversations, but not the typical topics we used to talk to back in the old one. I guess all I’m saying is I miss those guys in Paranaque (but not the boss!).

However, and this is the best part, I enjoyed the petiks mode here, which in my 6 years in my previous company, I never did. It feels good! haha.

what the hell happened to urban planning?

I just wanted to recount the horrible Metro Manila experience I had last Saturday. So, if you don’t want to here of whining, probably this post is not for you.

Since the first semester started, if I sleep for 5 hours, I already overslept. In short, I get so tired at the end of everyday, only to start a day again just a few hours after. Hence, I always look forward to Saturday afternoons, when I can allow myself a bit time to rest.

So immediately after my afternoon class, I left school at around 430 pm. I took a bus and stood at the isle, while carrying my heavy backpack, until the bus dropped me at the shuttle terminals. (I had a heated conversation with a big lady who’s trying to push me so she can go ahead of me on the way out of the bus. The conversation ended when I said, ano bang problema mo?) I was disappointed to see the long line to the shuttle, but I was still excited to go home. Fortunately, people fall properly in line there, unlike in most terminals here in Metro Manila, so I don’t have to run after every shuttle that passes. I received a message from a friend that it was raining heavily in Makati; it was only then that I noticed that dark clouds were over our heads. I was anxious to get inside an FX already; I don’t wanna get wet.

Luckily, just a minute after I rode the shuttle, it started to rain. Usually, I chat with friends and family whenever I’m in an FX so that I won’t get bored and would not notice the travel time. But I was so tired, I just wanted to sit and relax. But the FX had a spare time attached at the back of the middle seat, so we at the back had a very limited space, squeezing ourselves with each other. And, coincidentally, all four of us at the back had big bags. The lady beside me actually had two big plastic bags, and the other one is probably filled with tinapa (the scent was undeniable).

So while I was grateful that I was already inside the FX when it started to rain, the rain got stronger and more violent. And, guess what, it also “rained” inside the FX, in the area where I was seating. The lady beside me was kind enough to press herself closer to the middle seat so I could also move. She also had to carry on her lap her two bags because, as it was “raining” inside, there was also “flood” on the floor.

The dripping water did not affect me much. I actually found the idea a bit funny. But the man in front of me was irritated by it, and I just agreed to everything he said when he was complaining of the water, well, to me. Because the traffic was building up, so all the vehicles were slow-moving, I thought I could close my eyes. I actually fell asleep, despite the sardines-style seating arrangement and the dripping water.

I slept for more than 30 minutes, I guess. So when I woke up, and my eyes were still blurry, I panicked. It seemed I cannot recognize the houses that I was seeing, and I thought we have already passed by my place. It turned out, I am still halfway home. And that the FX wasn’t moving! We were stuck in traffic! After 20 minutes, we moved for about… an inch! The area outside Casino Filipino was already flooded, with the heavy rain pouring in just about an hour. This is one area the government should look into. For heaven’s sake, it just outside our international airport! We have a bad image outside as it is, at least we should try put up a “clean” face in the literal gateway to our country!

So it was already 730 pm, 3 hours after I left school, and there was no sign of moving. I decided to get off (again, only after an argument with the irritable FX driver who couldn’t answer nicely a polite question!) and to stay at my friend’s house in Makati. So I crossed the road and walked to where I can find a bus. The flood occupied even the road going back, so no vehicles were able to pass, except for trucks, hence, I had to walk. Finally, a bus came; I immediately boarded it and was just relieved I could sit more comfortably than in the FX. By this time, I was losing all my energy. I actually wasn’t aware of what’s happening. The people inside the bus were all looking at the left windows while the bus driver was beeping horns continuously while shouting at someone. I didn’t care what’s going on. I just wanted to eat and sleep. It turned out he was shouting at the traffic enforcer. Fancy that.

So I went out of the bus at Ayala and contemplated of taking a cab. I no longer wanted to carry my heavy bag and walk. Anyone who saw me knew I was not in the mood. The frown was all over my face. The place was just in Ayala corner Buendia, so I figured it wouldn’t cost that much. I would have to go up the stairs of the overpass, cross the MRT bridge, walk to Ayala, cross to the other side, wait for a jeepney, and walk again to my friend’s place. I told the driver my destination, and he was asking for a fixed 100 pesos!! If I was in the mood, probably I’d take his offer, but I’ve already had enough of rude people that day, and I was already angry and hungry and pissed off! I said, ano?! hindi na! sobra ka naman! and banged the door of his old taxi. So I went up the stairs of the overpass, cross the MRT bridge, walk to Ayala, cross the other side, wait for a jeepney, and walk again to my friend’s place—with my heavy back, drooping eyes, irritable mood, and hungry stomach.

All this would not have happened if we only have a good road and efficient transportation system! So Noynoy, get a good DOTC and DPWH secretary and LTFRB chair! And once and for all, give back our taxes!

  And I am paying 30% tax!

silver lining

The clouds yesterday looked as gloomy as I was.

At times, there are moments in our lives when we just let ourselves be succumbed by despair. When a cheer from a friend or words of consolation aren’t enough. When colorful lights, wedding cake toppers, and funny jokes are as dull as a dried leaf.  We cannot always put up a brave face, a courageous eyes, or a fake smile. Sometimes, everything is just too much to handle, and we almost reach a point of giving up. Almost. We must never do. (For some people, all battles need to be won.)

But it is alright to be sad, to allow ourselves to delve into darkness. Our minds would be filled with dark clouds and insensible thoughts, at times verging on the brink of madness.

So the clouds yesterday let out a heavy sigh and drops of rain. And as we stand to see the horizon, the silver lining looks more beautiful than ever. And I am still waiting for mine to appear.

the body "thief"

Mom had her first chemotherapy last Wedneday. It was postponed for several weeks. Other sicknesses kept on coming up, and she could not undergo chemotherapy until her body was strong enough to endure it. Ever since, mom has a low tolerance level on pain, and she has always been the paranoid type. At times, I felt that she’s a bit hypochondriac, complaining of illness from one part of her body to the next. However, nothing was really serious…until she got the big C.

I can tell that she was really scared of undergoing chemotherapy. No amount of encouraging words could ease her anxiety, not even the web sites (those from reputable hospitals, but not those from toprateddietpills.com) that her aunt who also has breast cancer is sharing with her. The anticipation was really hard for her; hence, those several illnesses that came up, in her gums, stomach, nose, blood pressure, etc., were, I guess, psychosomatic reactions, or a delaying mechanism that her mind unconsciously put up.

So last Wednesday, she finally got her chemo. They had to inject her a relaxant because her blood pressure was shooting up. What stuck to her mind was my uncle’s wife death after she had her chemo, also for breast cancer. But that was an exception, rather than the rule. Despite all the cancer survivors that we’ve been telling her, including the succesful chemo treatments of our little boy cancer survivor Eric, what she keeps in her mind was the mortality of the few people she knew. Then again, I imagine it must be really hard on her part to have that inner strength. She is really scared of sickness, to start with. When one hears of cancer, regular person tends to get overwhelmed. How is it, then, if one who lacks willpower actually gets cancer?

So, tonight we decided to bring her to the hospital. Since last Wednesday, she hasn’t been eating. She said she couldn’t force herself to eat. We are worried that she might lose all her strength, and I hope that the IV fluids would somehow give her the energy she needs. And I actually wish she could have all my strength.

another year

Yesterday, I already enrolled for the 1st semester. It took a whole day and 11 steps to finish that enrollment, shaming fat burners with calories burned that day. This is not without hesitations and reservations. It was like the first time I enrolled last year; I hesitated to pay the tuition fee, honestly. Back then, I was afraid of the possibility that my grandmother’s money would just go to waste. I did not trust myself enough then. Throughout the first year, I learned that the determining factor is not only myself, but so many more: the professors (and their whims), my work, the financial resources, and most importantly, the needs of my family. So yesterday, I still have that fear, the fear that I could not finish what I would be starting. As in back then, I am still afraid of the possibility that my grandmother’s (and my) money would just go to waste, especially when there’s scarcity of it. And the italicized factors remain, and from my assessment, they all leveled up. I’m sure all of my friends, including those I’ve only met here, would wish me well and honestly believe that I could go through with another year. And honestly, those words you leave here mean so much to me. And once again, I am counting on my bahala na, kaya yan attitude. I am trying to remember that vow I made one day on my way to san beda.

inconsiderate, that’s what she is

Inconsiderate, that’s what Judge A is.

And I really do not and will never like her.

First, she greeted our first day of law school with total words of discouragement. I can forgive her for that, but some of the people who dropped out because of her negative talks would probably hate her, or thank her.

Second, she was an absentee teacher. We often came to class at 530 (I leave work early for that) every Mondays and Thursdays to learn, but most of the time, she never comes. And she would just let us wait for 2 long hours, then I would travel back to Paranaque.

Third, she was a lousy teacher. In some of the times that she came, she would sit in the room, with no apparent lesson plan for today. For some good professors, this free-flowing discussion works. But not for her. She oftentimes lost herself with her bragging about the rich, famous, and political personas that she claimed to be rubbing elbows with. Then she would tell stories about her and these people that she knew which we never really cared about. We were there to learn. And she would claim how prestigious her RTC branch is. What a personality issue she has. Maybe she should get a shrink (or at least try hgh releaser to grow up!).

Fourth, because she was absent often, “claiming” to be sick though no one believes her, we had to have Saturday classes, droning us with her trivias which are just that. Not lessons. And in that last Saturday, when we were supposed to study for the final exams by our terror, but infinitely better, professor, we were sitting there, trying to keep our eyes open. (And, some of our classes failed that terror prof’s subject, thanks to her help.) And we never finished the book. Great, ha?

Fifth, because she wasn’t ready during the finals week to give a test, she had to postpone the final exam of her subject. And so, we never got a sembreak. In fairness, we got a weekend. Is that enough break for a whole semester?

Sixth, when all the people are already enrolled for another first semester, around 8 months after the final exams, our block was still waiting for our grades from her to enroll. And when you are working, you could not just file a leave that day or a day before. So now, I would have to enroll on the first day of classes, thanks to her.

Seventh, with all that I’ve said, I think she gave us all a 75, except for some who still have no grades yet. And some were just waiting for her grades to see if they made it to the list of students qualified to enroll. And most of us got grades higher from those infinitely better professors than she is. And this is not being bitter; this actually is a consensus.

So you see, inconsiderate, that’s what she is.

irony of the seasons

When it’s summer, most of us find it difficult to sleep at night, except for those air-con pips. As a result, most students wake up late in the morning or around lunchtime. When it’s rainy season, most of us sleep soundly, no need for any sleep aid at all. The difficulty lies in waking up. The sound of the alarm barely convinces one to wake up, especially when you are a child and the sound of the rain is lulling you to sleep. One wonders, rather, I wonder, the irony of these seasons.

the dysfunctional kick-ass world

Last April, I watched the movie Kick-Ass (directed by Matthew Vaughn) and I really loved the movie; I even did a post here. For me, it was rock music of film, having the same elements of poetry, enigma, violence, intensity, and in this movie, subtle rage. It was “rated R for strong brutal violence throughout, pervasive language, sexual content, nudity and some drug use - some involving children.”

I failed to see why I loved the movie, why it kept lingering on my mind up to now, and why I encouraged people to watch it. I thought it was because of the hard-core action and the unexpected satisfaction I got from it. But it was more than that. I remembered reading Watchmen in 2008 and elicited the same response as what I have now. The comic book got me into contemplating and trying to understand the complexities of life. My thoughts were shooting out from all directions, and it was chaos that I was trying to understand. I tried to rest my mind by putting these on paper. For some reason, a walking contradiction was one of my favorites, and it has little to do with the comic.

The movie Kick-Ass featured a world that seemed surreal to me. It was like Gaiman’s world where cats talk and fish fall from the sky. In the movie, a little girl kills, and a father teaches a daughter how to. But more than the usual representation of a “violent world out there”, it got the message completely across to me - bull’s eye.

Perhaps what attracted me most to the movie was the dysfunctional world they have, with all the dysfunctional lives of the characters. They were all like characters from a novel, or characters from a dream. You have a beautiful girl dating “broken” people, a teenaged son “dying” to be like his kingpin father, a father desensitizing his son with crime, a high school kid wanting to save (even just a silly cat), a father training his daughter to kill, and a child killing without remorse. You see, not only the people but also the relationships are dysfunctional. Each of them is an anomaly, like an outdoor fireplace in the streets of Binondo.

My eyes sometimes look at the world and see it as dark. Perhaps I got that from watching too many world news, if not from personally watching darkness in other people’s lives, or people’s eyes. I cannot help but think that the movie’s dysfunctional world was really our world magnified. Maybe little girl assassins are not the norm yet, but we sure have children doing “dirty” jobs. How many times have we seen young boys holding arms for the cause of their political organization, whatever that is (they call it freedom), and inheriting the ideology of their parents, whatever that is (they call it rebellion). Now, I am wondering if this is the kind of world that kids should grew up in. Well, it’s still safe - for now - but not in some places. Again, I am wondering if it is wrong to “open” the eyes of children early (ie, bring them to the fold) and whether shielding them from the hatred consuming the world was the right thing for a parent to do.

I empathize with the characters in the film, especially Hit Girl and Big Daddy. I feel sorry for the child who had already lost  people a little too early and for the man whose sole goal was to save people from crime but never really got to protect himself and his family. Theirs was such a violent world. And in this world, I can only imagine that somewhere out there, there are really little children losing family and losing lives, from hunger, sickness, violence (political or otherwise), poverty, and most especially, from madness. There are really people who could never really get out from the man-created net of tragedy thrown at them.

My heart aches for Hit Girl’s seeming inability to grasp the concept that it is not natural to kill people, even if you hate them, or even if your father hate them so much. But probably the most painful of all was this 11-year-old girl’s inability to grieve, even to his father’s death. All you see in her eyes was determinate revenge.