Orchestroscopy, M.D. 2 comments

I have a confession to make. And it is the reason why I haven't even visited the admin page of this blog for the past five months, not to mention write and post anything online past two coherent sentences. This endeavor has pointed a sanity-draining rifle at my head and robbed me of all my remaining extra time and energy.

For reasons I will try later to expound on, long story short (and because you've probably read the title of this post already), I have insanely decided to enter the grueling and chaotic world of medicine. From being a part of healthcare in general, I am now striving rock hard to climb the oh so steep ladder of this generation's deadly Medical Hierarchy. 

I am now a "Medical Student".

And yes, as you all may have deduced by now, I am a Nurse studying to be a Doctor. 

I am a cliche.

Not that I have anything against nurses entering medical school (obviously, because I am one), it's just that recently, it has been the trend and it pains me to be considered as a part of an ongoing fad when it is a decision I have carefully and meticulously considered for months, with intensive neuron and body timeline consultations, not to mention implorations to the heavens to "Please, give me a sign!". 

So, the question is, what convinced an almost mid-20-something R.N. who is four years away from the last time she wore a toga, a funny-looking hat and accepted a blank piece of rolled paper onstage plunge back to 5-inches thick books, uniforms and head aching exams? 

Most reasons are too personal to be understood without background information so let's just put it this way. 

I have experienced the hospital. I have lived in it (mostly behind a surgical mask quietly taking it all in). I have observed countless successes and inevitable failures of various physicians. I have heard stories, the miraculous and the disastrous and everything in between. I have talked with patients and witnessed their apprehension, relief, frustrations and gratitude. 

I have been yelled upon, praised, blamed for something, and blatantly disregarded (sometimes all on the same day). And even with the chaos, the drama, the uncertainty, the culture of seniority, the never ending studying and looking stupid for things you did not study for, the inhumane workload and all the others that I have yet to discover, it is still the world I dream to be a part of.

And when you know that it is something you will regret in the future if you fail to take the chance today, you ******' take it.

%&$#@*&!!

But make no mistake, being a med student does not make me any less of an R.N. I'll be honest, I feel slightly guilty because most of the readers of this blog have commended me for being relatable as a struggling nurse here in the country and now all my posts (as rare as they will be) would be about studying and exams and more studying. Nevertheless, I hope my past posts would still be of help to R.N. colleagues and, well, for the future entries, who knows what they hold. :)

Inside the Kikay Kit: Etude House's Dear My Blooming Lips BE101 Lipstick 0 comments

I am not a beauty blogger. The only thing I know about beauty is that it is believed to be in the eye of the beholder. What I know about make-up? Less so. Daily regimen consist of face powder, little blush and lip tint/balm. Sometimes with a special cameo of mascara. It was just recently that I got interested (okay, a bit obsessed, maybe) about lipsticks. More specifically nude lipsticks that doesn't make me look like a trying-hard, single mid-50 who goes ballroom dancing at night.

Because of my fair skin, bright, vivid hues makes me look over-painted and weird. I've been searching everywhere for that perfect nude lipstick that will complement my skin tone and will look natural on my lips. Gratefully, with the help of various PH beauty blogs, I've found the perfect nude lipstick late last year:

Etude House: Wanna Be #3 So Chic Beige

To be honest, I didn't like the Korean beauty bar before because I find their items childishly designed / packaged, ridiculously named and waaay too expensive for the product you get. But this sole item made me change my mind. 

The box is gorgeous, the black tube is a darling inside my pouch (but gets scratched easily for some reason), but most importantly, the shade is just spot on perfect for me. I'm not good with colors, but it's a mix of peach and pink which makes lips look naturally plump and healthy. Also, the consistency is amazingly creamy and non-drying, add to that a mild yummy scent that makes you think you're eating something when applying it.

Major CON? It was a limited edition product, part of 2011 Winter Collection, with stocks being phased out of Etude House branches weekly.

So what's a girl to do? I bought a second tube (last stock of Cubao branch) even before my first was just halfway done. As expected, as lipstick tubes do not last forever especially if they are being used daily, I was about to ran out earlier this year and was frantically Googling for the exact shade replica of this seemingly irreplaceable shade. 'Lo and behold, I found it, thanks again to the beauty blogger community here in the country:

Etude House: Dear My Blooming Lips BE101

Yes, the name is cringe-worthy, it doesn't even make sense at all. But what's important is the product, and surprisingly enough, it's the exact same lipstick just packaged differently. 

Okay, maybe not exactly the same, since the pigmentation was toned down a few notches and the finish became more glossy than the matte finish I was used to from So Chic Beige, but nonetheless, it was the same thing more or less. After weeks of Googling and beauty bar searching, imagine how happy I was.

Staying power is still a downside as it sticks to every straw and spoon it has come in contact with and reapplication is definitely needed after eating and/or drinking. Still, it remains to be the best shade for me, so I'm no doubt keeping it.

If Etude House keep this line for all eternity, I shall be forever happy. Lipstick-wise at least. 

The Things One Learns From Regularly Seeing Bodies Sliced Open 0 comments

I was supposed to write this deep and profound (redundancy intentional) blog series about my 1 1/2 year experience working inside the Operating Room. I planned it to be hard-hitting stuff, life-changing even, the kind of articles that would make you think about one's purpose in this world, how people tend to put much value on the wrongest of things and complain about the most insignificant details, but for some reason, I couldn't find my Paulo-Coelho-meets-Mitch-Albom voice and, after several sessions of trying, is still incapable to write my own version of Tuesdays with The Alchemist. 

Instead, what keeps popping out of my head is this sarcastic Gossip Girl style voice which likes name-dropping popular authors and makes fun of everything. So be it. I'll make use of you.

So, what did I manage to soak up after months inside a place where only few have gone inside of, half of them on the table, anesthetized, and the other half literally running around the place just to properly run the place?

Crocs are best friends. They may look fugly outside the sterile section of the OR but inside, they are your feet's closest buddy. From standing in one place for hours at a time to jogging around the facility for the whole 8 hour shift to doing the Tinikling just to get out of the way of spilling blood during bloody operations, you'd be glad to have a comfy rubber barrier protecting your feet from bodily fluids that are not yours nor from a person you're in an intimate relationship with.

Babies are not as fragile as you think. They are actually very nimble and resilient. After witnessing and assisting in hundreds of Caesarian Sections, I'm pretty much convinced I could throw one out the window and it will survive the fall. (Just a figure of speech, please don't report me to Bantay Bata.)

It's never as horrifying as macabre movies present it to be. Replace the gloomy, oil-stained walls with clean tiles and a set sterile instruments instead of chainsaws and pliers and it's pretty much the same thing, intestines and blood everywhere. The difference only lies in the anesthesia, and the fact that no one ever screams and loses their appetite after a major operation. In fact, it's all you can do to not forget to wash your hands before attacking that waiting meal in the pantry.

Nudity loses... whatever effect it has when you're surrounded by it everyday. Now I  can understand how people can go people-watching in nudist beaches and find nothing out of the ordinary. Now, seeing a pregnant mother's labia majora is just like staring at an elbow. Well, the inner part of a flexed elbow, maybe.

Surgeons are also humans. They have different personalities and techniques, they make mistakes and perform miracles, they sleep on meticulously scrubbed floors and wear crinkled scrub suits to work. They are not self-proclaimed Gods some people assume them to be nor crazy overachievers like the ones in Grey's Anatomy who have sex in the janitor's closet. Okay, I'm not sure about the latter because we do not have janitor's closets to begin with but you get the point.

You never know what you got until it's gone. Sometimes, the simplest things are the most important ones. And ironically, these are the things we most often take for granted. Like, feet, for example. I mean, I like my feet, I take them to spas and pedicures every month. But I, you, and most people, don't go around saying "God, I feel so blessed to have these feet." because they've always been there, attached to your legs.  And then the next thing you know, you're witnessing someone get theirs sawed off because of a disease or a freak accident and the unthinkable possibilities that have never entered your mind seemed all too real and plausible. And trust me, it will make you stop ingesting sugar by the kilo. 

2012 in a Paragraph 5 comments

Because endings are beginnings and beginnings are both thrilling and exciting, like when you start the year with an optimistic view of the weeks and months to come because you are now employed, well okay, not technically because the "salary" is called an "allowance", nonetheless there is money to receive from someone other than your parents, but better than financial stability in a definite time frame from a one-year contract to work in a sterile area where you are unbelievably grateful to be in, there's the Whole New World of Romantic Possibilities and ending a long term relationship may very well be the best decision you did that past year and everything seems bright and fluffy and brimming with saccharine sweet potential, but it just so happen that things do not turn out the way you expect them to and the weeks and months thereafter are spent in a blur of monotonous routines where there is this inexplicable feeling of uneasiness and forced detachment from the world from not having to load your phone for a month because nobody cares and you know you sound like those whiny schoolgirls who can't go to the bathroom by themselves but that's just the way it is, but then, even though the clouds refuse to part for months, you get used to the shadows and the gloomy weather and see that playing in the rain is actually kind of fun if you're with the right people and then the days are great again and the emptiness is filled with chaotic schedules, operating room antics, hilarious friends and just life in general where you say to the world, with conviction, that goddamit you were born alone from your mother's womb and you can surely exist in peace and ecstasy all by yourself and then it feels like nothing was ever missing because this is just the way it should be, but then just when you least expect it, like a cold gust of wind, with rising orchestral background music, something happens, and your world is plunged into a whirlwind of coded phone book entries, late night rendezvous, tachycardia and butterflies hovering inside and around your digestive tract that you start to wonder if this is all real because it certainly feels like a scene from some movie or novel you've seen or read before or it may very well be just from your own imagination because you've thought about this numerous times but never actually believed it could actually happen in real non-fairy tale existence but then it IS real and here you go again back to the start and the possibilities are both exhilarating and downright terrifying and nothing is yet certain so you tiptoe around the facts and the paranoia and the daydream skits but then after a while, it's still there, more tangible than ever, and you think, we may have something here and you start to realize the reason and the purpose of all the things that have happened before, and you look up to the sky and say, "Hey, nice writing there," and then you're ready for the next chapter...

2013 Opening Remarks and the 19 Books of 2012 0 comments

So. The world refused to end last December 2012. I'd like to congratulate everyone for surviving yet another Armageddon. We are getting good at this, people!

First, I'd like to take this opportunity to beg for forgiveness to the 6 1/3 people who read this blog. I am sorry for being so busy these past few weeks months. Yes, this is me importantly bragging the existence of my hectic non-cyber life, please pretend to be in awe. Ha! 

But seriously, hospital work contracts come and go but this piece in the world wide web has been with me for years now and no matter how toxic my schedule becomes, mark my words: Orchestroscopy. Will. Live. On.

That said, let us welcome this new year with a scandalous and titillating post about the list of books I've read the past year. Year end reviews / lessons learned / new year resolutions that never survive past January will have to wait. This list is easier to write.

From the 34 books I've read in 2010 to the 18 books finished last 2011, here is my brand new spanking list for the year that was. It's not any better from the previous year and I have to admit, without some of the easily-read local titles, this is a worse year for literary achievements. 

(In chronological order of completion)

1. Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto
2. When She Woke by Hillary Jordan
3. Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James
4. Fifty Shades Darker by E.L. James
5. Percy Jackson #1: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
6. Percy Jackson #2: The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan
7. Percy Jackson #3: The Titan's Curse by Rick Riordan
8. Percy Jackson #4: The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan
9. Percy Jackson #5: The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan
10. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
11. Looking for Alaska by John Green
12. The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
13. An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
14. City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare

Local titles:

   15. Ligo na U, Lapit na Me by Eros S. Atalia

   16. Naermyth by Karen Francisco

   17. 100: The Hundreds Project by UP Writer's Club

   18. Bakit Hindi Ka Crush Ng Crush Mo by Ramon Bautista

   19. Table for Two by Marla Miniano

I regret not being able to write reviews for most of these titles. I'm pretty sure I have more than enough thoughts to accomplish an easy write-up if only time (and laziness) permitted me. Now, however, I feel sort of challenged to devour as much novels (and write as much articles) as possible before June, where there is a 99% of me not being able to crack open a book that is not technically written and full of important sounding jargon. (More of that in the posts to come.)

You see, there is a difference of reading any other book and reading a novel. With novels, you see the beauty and brilliance of artistically written language. There is passion in those pages where written facts, diagrams and figures could never hope to achieve nor even come close to. I think this is what I'll miss the most with the path I am determined to take. But whatever the future may hold, at least I'll know, I'll always have words.

Why I Could Never Be "The Mistress": A Review of Olivia M. Lamasan's 2012 Hit (sort of) 4 comments

Consider me naive, or inexperienced, or too full of myself, too proud, maybe, or too feminist, possibly, but I could never understand the reasons and the thought process (if that even exists in situations like these) that goes on when people decide that, "This is it, I agree to be The Mistress."

The Kabit. The Number Two. The Third Party. The Home Wrecker.

The Glorified Whore.

I may be insulting a lot of people (even persons that I do know personally) but I honestly, sincerely, do not understand. I cannot grasp why men and women enter into these kinds of relationships when they know they are hurting and stepping on another human being's feelings and destroying a peaceful relationship, if not a family.

See, romance-wise, I live with this principle: "If he cheats WITH you, he will cheat ON you." Smack me with all the reasons in your artillery of excuses but this line really makes sense to me. It goes like this.

The fact that he is willing to be unfaithful to the woman he has said "I love you" to just that morning while he is preparing to meet up with you that night to make passionate coitus just goes to show what kind of person he is. A cheating liar. An untrustworthy lover. Do you really want to attach yourself with that kind of person? Really, now. Do you hate yourself that much?

And I'm not vilifying the men, it goes for both sexes. Just reverse the pronouns.

Maybe I'm being immature. Or possibly even too mature for today's Id-satisfying society. I just do not understand. If any of you can explain it to me, please feel free to do so.

Olivia M. Lamasan's masterpiece tackles this kind of conundrum our society knows too well. Unnervingly well, that this is bound to be a blockbuster (if it isn't already) and will no doubt pinch a nerve in a large percentage of movie-goers. Whether the benefactor, the legal wife, the lover or the mistress, everybody who has been in this kind of situation will be able to relate to the sharp piercing dialogue that says what people in those relationships desperately need to hear. 

What I liked the best about this film, aside from the flawless performances of all the lead actors and the stellar script, is the complexity of its characters. There is no black nor white, no evil antagonist nor holy protagonist. 

It shows Bea Alonzo's "Sari" as a lola-bathing-perfect-ate with a dark secret and John Lloyd's "JD" as a charismatic playboy with I'm-not-Dad's-favorite issue. Meanwhile, Ronaldo Valdez's "Rico Torres" is the slightly perverted (eww the bed scenes, wth) CEO of a multi-million family who apparently loves his family but cannot stop from taking in various mistresses. And lastly, Hilda Koronel's "Regina Torres" is the alcohol-friendly legal wife who just takes it all in.

The script is superb if not for the climax that I predicted 15 minutes into the movie. But then I can't remember the last time a local film's ending managed to completely surprise me so it's not a big deal. There was a couple of confrontation scenes that just stole the whole show and I was grateful that they didn't skirt around the things that needed to be said and images needed to be seen.

Try as hard as I might, however, I cannot feel sorry for The Mistress's character even in her most trying and humiliating times. I just feel like, a woman like that is not stupid, she definitely knew what she was getting into. Given, she got attached and developed real strong feelings for an old rich man who may or may not be using her just for sex and companionship but what made her enter that kind of agreement in the first place?

"Walang babaeng pinangarap maging kabit!" 

Then why are there so many of them stuck in the same circumstances over and over again? See, in the middle of the fire, one can simply blame uncontrollable feelings but I'm pretty sure in the beginning, the feelings weren't that hard to block, if only people were determined to do so.

Feel free to establish how juvenile my views are if you must, that I have no credibility to say any of these things because I haven't been in these kinds of situation and felt the turmoil of such complexity. Maybe, maybe not.

I have been asked, multiple times, both jokingly and in semi-seriousness under the guise of innuendos, by very eligible in-a-relationship bachelors if I'd be willing to "be Number 2-3" and my answer was a resounding, without a second thought, no.

Personally, I think it all boils down to this. From Stephen Chbosky's Perks of Being A Wallflower,  this quote said it best.

"...we accept the love we think we deserve."

Of half-baked promises, stolen hours in the dead of the evening, saved number and messages in "the other phone", whispered phone conversations, scheduled meetings at random faraway places, the secrecy and the deceit.

If you think that is all that you deserve, then, by all means, go and be someone's mistress.

33rd Manila International Book Fair 2012 2 comments

For someone who has consumed books like daily vitamins for the past 13 years, how ironic it is that this is the first time I've attended the MIBF when they've been doing this for 33 years. Stalls and rows after rows of shelves filled with countless books of all shapes, colors and genres. I felt like (and the cliche goes) a kid in a candy store.

I had 3 goals in coming to the book fair. Not all of them were met but I did have a great time browsing through expensive-looking glossy covers and gawking at rare local published works I wouldn't be able to find in any local friendly red and white logo-ed bookstore.

First goal was to meet and greet and have the typical fangirl book-signing-and-picture with the resident internet Pogi Guy and my current brain crush Mr. Ramon Bautista (search the hilarious Tales From The Friend Zone videos on youtube and you will be hooked!) who I knew will be there at the PSICOM booth promoting his new book "Bakit Hindi Ka Crush ng Crush Mo" together with Stanley Chi and Tado. Of course, me and book buddy Epi (who blogs at  http://soksay.blogspot.com/ ) arrived too late with already a bunch of other fans in line for autographs and picture taking and no more book copies available. I did get to take a picture of them having pictures with other people. I guess that's the closest thing I'll get to being a fangirl. Must photoshop these pics soon.

Looong line to Tado, Stanley Chi and Ramon Bautista's book signing table.

Second goal was to find some unique designs for bookmarks. Since I'm not fond of reading physical paper and ink books because I have to hold them with both hands and get up and switch off the lights before going to sleep as compared to just turning off the iPad (how lazy is that?) I was interested in getting my hands on some unique bookmarks design like those magnetic ones I found in National Bookstore a few years ago (yes, that’s how long I’ve been reading paperless). Disappointingly, for a huge international book fair, in grand SMX of all places, we only saw one stall selling them and I didn’t even like the designs available.

Third was to find and purchase unique contemporary Filipino works because, honestly, I can't find them anywhere online. ;) But, seriously, I've developed this interest in literature written in English but based on Philippine society etc. and, no doubt, the UP Publishing booth won this category, hands down.

It's not much and I know people who have bought a lot more but in my defense, there wasn't a lot to choose from based on my detailed specifications and with the amount of religion/gospel books taking up half of the space inside the convention center, well, let's just say those stalls were automatically out of my to-browse list. Anyway, here are the 3 books I managed to buy from my first ever book fair attendance.

MIBF Book Haul 2012:

100 by UP Writer's Club - 100 literary works by UP college students (I'm guessing), all within 100 words "expressing kilig to kirot and all points in between". What a word goldmine. Glad we went back to the UP stall or else I wouldn't be able to buy this precious thing.

Beautiful Accidents by Ian Rosales Casocot - Short stories about Filipino modern life written in free-flowing English. Exactly what I was looking for. And isn't that cover just plain gorgeous?

A Hundred and One Reasons by Bianca Salindog - A 20-something Registered Nurse who has managed to published her own novel. Sounds exactly my dream. :)

All in all, it was a thrilling and refreshing afternoon to be surrounded by printed words, glossy covers, star-striking authors but, most of all, by fellow book lovers roving the store like drug addicts  in need of their latest pharmacological fix. Why this is the very first time I went to an event like this is still a mystery to me.

Scrub Suits and Sogo: How I Survived the "Habagat" Great Flood 5 comments

Marikina River 2 days post Habagat

Okay, so let's pretend it's still August and I haven't completely abandoned this blog for more than a month now. As you get your bearings on what month this is supposed to be, I will also pretend that I'm working on my beloved 14" Lenovo Ideapad laptop with his wonderful clicky keyboard and not on my sister's 11" netbook with horrible Asus cramped keys. See, my ever so loyal laptop have been struck down with a nasty bug that has rendered him useless especially for type-heavy functions like writing this post. No virus scan / anti-malware program have detected anything so I now have to wipe these sentimental tears off my face and reformat the entire thing and start from scratch. So help me God.

Anyway, back to the Great Flood that has yet again brought Metro Manila to a standstill. 

MONDAY

I was having my graveyard duty (10PM-6AM) at the hospital the night of August 6, 2012. There was already gutter deep flood on my way out of our subdivision but never did I expect the rain to continue like it was the biblical times all over again. Throughout the shift we could hear the relentless heavy downpour from outside and I already got the feeling that I won't be able to go home the next day since we admittedly live in the freaking flood capital of the East.

TUESDAY

Come endorsement time, our main concern was that will there be nurses to endorse to. Amazingly almost all of them made it to the hospital, wet trousers and all. C'mon, a round of applause, people. These were the ones who have braved the floods just to see to it that patients are taken care of. Not all wards were that fortunate though. I know of some nurses who had to extend their shift to 16 straight hours. All in the name of health care, of course. 

All of the elective cases in the OR have been deferred because of the rains and flooding so it was a happy day for the morning shift. Us, night shift nurses, were a different story. Numerous calls later from home and a glance at local morning news (Marikina River drowning everything in sight!), it was obvious that there was no way any of us will be able to get home without being stranded somewhere. We then decided to just stay in the hospital until our next graveyard shift and try to get home the next day.

After spending some time in a local carinderia in front of the hospital for breakfast and some news-watching and shopping for toiletries and other essentials at the local market we went back to the hospital to get some much needed rest. Believe me when I say that the extra scrub suits in the hospital were life savers and having 2 uniforms (white and our own scrubs) were an unbelievable advantage that time. Without these extra clothes, we would be stuck with a single uniform all throughout our stranded period. Little did I know that for me, it would mean most of the rest of the week.

WEDNESDAY

Another 10-6 shift has ended. Floods have subsided in most areas and rains have stopped in the metro. All my shift-mates / stranded-mates have decided that they will take the risk of acquiring Leptospirosis just to get home. I was no exception. I disregarded the warnings from home that the main roads and more importantly, subdivision entrances were still impassable. Lagpas Tao / Hanggang Dibdib type of impassable. But I persisted.

Needless to say, I got as far as the junction in the Sta. Lucia Mall / Tropical Hut intersection. All the roads from there on were flooded. The picture above was the entrance road to Marikina. And even those going to Antipolo/Cogeo area were knee deep in water. And do I even need to mention the Waterworld that is Cainta?

With nowhere to go, I waited near the entrance of Sta. Lucia East Grand Mall hoping to be able to crash in an air-conditioned restaurant while waiting for the floods to subside. Plus, I really needed to buy a contact lense case for my lenses which I've been wearing for more than 48 hours. I wasn't able to sleep at all in the hospital because of them. I managed to soak them in sterile water for a couple of hours but since I didn't have my glasses with me, I had to put them back on because I couldn't really see anything without them.

It was already past 11 AM and the mall was still closed. They opened it a few minutes later but when I entered, there was almost no customers and half of the shops were still locked up. Thank heavens Executive Optical opened that day.

Since I already have a case and solution for my contact lenses and could finally sleep without worrying of being forever blind upon waking up, after calling home and determining that the flood was not going down any time soon, we decided that it's better if I just checked-in in the friendly neighborhood hotel standing conspicuously in front of the mall in its red and yellow glory. The Sogo Hotel.

Any concern of mine regarding the, uhm, reputation of the said hotel chain evaporated the second I stepped inside the lobby. There were people, and surprisingly, kids everywhere. Throngs of families milled around the place watching the news on the large screen at the lobby, looking up at the sky for signs of more rain and talking on cellphones asking if they could already make their way home. It was like an Upper-Middle Class Evacuation Center. With entrance fees, of course.

After a few minutes of waiting, I fortunately got the cheapest room available. To my handy dandy credit card, I'm sorry I ever doubted your usefulness. Without you I would be stuck in the streets like The Script's The Man that Can't Be Moved, although in a sleepier and less emo version. The room was not bad at all, fairly clean, although I would drop dead before I step inside the bathroom without slippers on. After 48 hours of no lasting sleep, the huge bed was heaven on earth.

I woke up at around 5PM, officially famished for being NPO (nurse's fancy way of saying no food nor drinks) since that morning's breakfast. After calling home and discovering that I had no choice but to extend my stay in the hotel to overnight since roads were still impassable, I decided to go back and shop for food and additional clothes at the mall. Good thing I went there early because minutes later, the sky was again in a grumpy mood and stores left and right were closing early in fear of another bout of heavy rains. 

I tried to look for restaurants that would accept credit card because I was already running low on cash but there was none so I had to spend my last remaining hundreds for a cheeseburger value meal and ate it back at my room. All in all, it was not a bad existence. It definitely could have been worse. I was all alone and couldn't get home but I was safely inside a hotel room with a dependable cable tv, bathroom with hot shower, a/c unit and that trademark red light which made me sleepy for some reason. This was being stranded in style.

THURSDAY

Woke up to the sound of my cellphone ringing bearing the news that the roads were still flooded but can now be treaded without drowning even if one does not know how to swim. There were also jeepneys already who were having trips up to the flooded areas so people didn't have to walk all the way, just from those places where only the most enduring of legs and Islander slippers would survive. It was time to go home.

It was 3 days after the climax of the torrential rains but still the flood in our area was still this prevalent. I came prepared with my rolled up pajama-ish scrub suit bottom, black shirt and scrunched up hair ready for battle. We in the East were so used to floods like these it was like a kamot-ulo moment instead of a devastating terrifying one to be honest.

Posh executive subdivision submerged in water.

Start of our exodus back home.

Starting from this point, we needed to embrace the Leptospirosis and feel the muddy water and unidentified floating debris enveloping our legs. Being 5'5, the water reached just below buttocks area, still unbelievably high three days after the rain. And this was on the main roads. The subdivisions were no doubt much worse.

To make the long story short, after treading thigh deep flood, getting in a dump truck full of stranded residents looking for an easier way home, walking again a short distance to our subdivision  and riding a pedicab worth 40 php per person because of the still chest deep floods, at around 12:45PM, after 4 unbelievable days, I was home.

I, literally, hugged our gate. 

The Blah Stage and the Other Stages of Life That I Completely Invented Out Of Boredom 0 comments

Recent realizations have forced me to face this undeniable fact. This constant plateaued down stage of endless blahness is the worst of them all.

See, in the roller coaster of emotions directly proportional to specific vital events in our lives, we go through these stages. And since we don't want to start anything all brooding and suicidal, let's start with happy.

Happy as in blissful moment/s where everything is sparkly and bright. Think candies, baby's laughter and cuddly puppies in baskets looking for hugs. You see things in rainbow colored lenses, optimism overflowing in your veins and the world feels friendly somehow. It's the Start Of Something New phase reminiscent of that High School musical scene and everything's going great.

Then there's the happy plateau where you feel simply satisfied. If not about everything but at least in one aspect of your multi-faceted existence. May it be a dependable job, stable long term relationship or just an established closeness with friends and/or family. This phase may last years or just months but definitely, uncontrolled events, with or without the aid of human imperfection, will wreck havoc to this ideal period.

Enter the tears and the lamentations. The heartbreak and the sorrow. The grief and the longing. Pain was only a four letter word before this day! Okay, overkill. It might not be as bad as this, but there's definitely this heart-twisting feeling experienced in this phase that could only be categorized as such. You feel alone, lonely and oh so unfortunate, like everything in the world is conspiring against you like a grumpy superior who just hates your guts. Disappointments, breakups, getting fired, accidents, bad diagnosis and (knock on wood) death of someone dear will definitely trigger this what could be the worst days of your life.

Getting over this depends on how well your coping mechanisms work. You will never get anything done if you're forever stuck on the second "D" of DABDA e.g. locked up in a dark corner with Katy Perry's "The One That Got Away" on loop or passed out in a bar after trying to forget your woes. This may also last for months or years and definitely, it's not a time to be remembered, nor taken photographs of and uploaded to Facebook.

And then here we are. The Blah Stage or what I like to call Oh My God I'm So Uninspired By Everything  Right Now And Will Undoubtedly Grow Old A Failure With Only Nine Cats As Life Companions Stage. 

Everything is in Shades of Gray (yes, capitalization is intended) minus the bondage and the Christian Grey erotic lure. Inspiration is nowhere to be found and the excitement that once filled the air has transformed into this thick mist of gloom and despair. Think Gotham City minus Christian Bale's buff bod. But why is this the worst stage when praise the heavens that the pain has now deteriorated (and somehow healed) into this dull ache that your body learned to get used to and even ignore over time?

Because friends, with pain there is poetry. Misery gives birth to timeless lyrics and with every heart broken echoes a definitive melody. With every tear, a manuscript is watered and helped flourish into a masterpiece. Believe it or not, there is inspiration within sorrow, strengthened by a need to express and share. Think Adele, the guys from The Script and their wrist-slashing lyrics, and all the "Take me out of the dark my Lord" gospel Kumbayas. We love their songs because we can relate to them but before than that, these songs undoubtedly could relate to the ones who wrote them.

“She finds color in the darkest places

She finds beauty in the saddest of faces”

"Walk Away" - The Script

Well then, what's the point of this rant, you ask? Nothing really. Now if lyrics were like mantras, I'd sure want to live by one that was written by The Script and find color in the darkest of places and recognize beauty in the saddest of faces, especially those who smile when someone's around.

Photo:

http://www.sarapey.wordpress.com

http://www.ytravelblog.com/how-deal-with-lack-of-inspiration-motivation-writers-block/

How to Get Robbed by the Marcos Highway Robbery / Hold-Up Gang 9 comments

Everybody gets robbed at least at one point in their lives. At least here in the country this figure is generally true. Whether you just found out that your cellphone is missing from your bag or you were held at gunpoint in some dark alley, I think it's safe to say that everybody has a story to tell by the time they're 80. Apparently, I was not an exception. 

For everybody's information and security (so that if you travel by the same route you'll know the strategy of these vile lowlife criminals), here's a detailed description of what happened to me yesterday as I was commuting from work.

So I was on my way back home, about 10:30PM to 11PM, traversing the Marcos Highway stretch from somewhere near Anonas to Sta. Lucia East Grand Mall. It was raining and there were more than a handful of commuters waiting for a ride. My iPod Touch was in my right pocket and Maroon 5 was crooning about being at a Payphone (Mistake #1). It's a fatal flaw, I know. I cannot be in a moving vehicle without music in my ears or else I'll go insane from boredom.

That said, I managed to hail a jeepney close to bursting with passengers and squeezed myself in the only space available, somewhere between the middle of the vehicle and the exit. At my right was some guy I didn't even got a good look at although he was 20-something-years-old by my estimate and at his other side was an unsuspecting couple. Across me were a bunch or random men with generic features I didn't bother to observe because they didn't look at all suspicious nor did they seem to know each other. 

As we passed the LRT2 Santolan station, the robbers declared a hold-up. At least that's what I think they did because I was practically deaf at that time from the pop music blaring in my ears (Mistake #2). All I knew was that pandemonium broke loose inside the jeepney as about 3 men across me began yelling and yanking people's bags and the guy at my right started grabbing for my iPod in my right pocket. I didn't try to stop him. He did this uncontested for about 5 long seconds before he finally got the device out because a) he was obviously an amateur and b) his other hand was holding a knife at my face as I was leaning away from him.

I knew I should be terrified but all I could think about was how loud Katy Perry was wailing about rumbling thunder and crumbling castles in my left ear as one earphone fell off and I heard him frantically threatening me "Gusto mong masaksak?" and I remember thinking 1) Oh God, I'll be one of those Direct OR Stab Wound patients and wouldn't it be ironic if I get rushed in the very same hospital I work in, in the very same operating room I just scrubbed in earlier, 2) This  Katy Perry song definitely doesn't suit the situation and 3) Why is that knife not glinting from the (albeit, dim) jeepney lights?

Before I made up my mind that the knife being waved at my face was indeed fake and we were surrounded by a bunch of cowards who didn't even bother procuring real sharps, they started jumping off the (slowly) moving vehicle somewhere in the Ligaya area. I thought that was the end of it when the robber in front of me suddenly grabbed my bag which was still hooked on my shoulder. I managed to get a hold of the strap but not the actual bag itself (Mistake #3) and pulled as hard as I could as the robber did the same. Apparently, my bag decided it wanted to run away with the criminals and the strap that I was clutching heartbreakingly ripped off from its body. 

I watched helpless and kind of dumbfounded as the robbers sprinted away with everything that I had that night pursued only by a brave and terribly pissed off male passenger who was sitting beside me and managed to get out the window and run after his bag. The jeepney kept on moving the opposite direction without stopping and I remember feeling helpless, not knowing what to do, whether to: 

a) get off the vehicle and run after my bag, but then I knew I stood no chance of catching up and I'll look pretty stupid running in all white uniform in the pouring rain,

b) get off the vehicle and report it to the police, but then since the jeepney didn't stop nor even slowed down, we were then in a dead area between Ligaya and Robinson's Metro East and I didn't even know where to find an officer in that downpour, much less know what to report since, out of shock and my brain's inability to memorize faces, I didn't remember what the robbers looked like, and

c) stay inside, get home as fast as I can even though I have no money left and immediately call my banks' hotlines so that I could get my ATMs and credit card blocked as soon as possible.

Needless to say, I chose letter C. All in all, only my bag, the pissed off guy at my left who took pursuit and the couple-beside-the-exit's bags were stolen. All the passengers near the driver cowered together and formed this sort of Passenger Bond that prevented the robbers from attacking them. And since I was one of the chosen ones to have been surrounded by criminals both on the side and front, I was not as lucky.

There was a slight commotion after the robbing incident inside the jeepney where we, those who have been robbed insisted that the driver should have stopped the vehicle while those who escaped with all their things intact argued that if the driver stopped, the criminals might have come back, a reasoning which I thought was a very large pile of horse manure.

I arrived home with only my umbrella (which I was unknowingly holding the whole incident), my earphones (which managed to loyally stay stuck in my ear minus the iPod) and just the strap of my bag. It was a depressing sight, that strap. I would have gladly handed over my cellphone and other gadgets if I can keep the bag and all the non-resaleable but important stuff in there. 

So kids, what have we learned today? Right now, in my still catatonic state of mind, all I can think of are these things:

• Keep cellphone inside pockets.
• Sit close to the driver.
• Do not use iPod when commuting at night. (Although I doubt not using the device would have made any difference since my whole bag was taken.)
• Robbers operate after pay days and before important money-requiring events (i.e. first day of school).
• Contact number and iPod backups are lifesavers. Don't forget to backup!
• BPI customer support for lost / stolen cards B L O W S.
• Changing of passwords is a must if cellphone/s and/or iPod/s linked to social networking sites and emails are stolen.
• Wide Awake by Katy Perry is a crappy robbery background music.

UPDATE (06/02/12)

I've talked to somebody earlier when I was getting my Affidavit of Loss typed and notarized that there was a similar incident that happened not too long ago. Same strategy, four or five men declaring hold-up inside a jeepney on the Marcos Highway stretch, grabbing bags and taking off in the Ligaya area. I'm convinced they are the same persons and/or part of the same syndicate. None of the passengers in our jeepney went to the police because of the mentioned factors but hopefully, with this post, people will be more aware of these kinds of strategies and be more careful the next time they unsuspectingly board a public utility vehicle. I sure will.



UPDATE (06/06/12)

I remember now the PLATE NUMBER of the jeepney I rode at the night of the incident.

Red Jeepney with Plate Number DVL 183

Route: Cubao - Angono Hi-Way / Tikling
With Yellow Light at left side and Red Light at the right side of the exit doors.
With loose Pull The String To Stop cables on the ceiling.

Upon hindsight and talking with a co-passenger that night, I'm convinced that the driver and  conductor was a part of the whole robbery plan.


First, because he didn't stop the vehicle during or after the incident nor did anything to attract passing cars' attention. One of the reasons why we, victims, didn't have the chance to go to the police was that the driver didn't even stop when the criminals took off and before we even got the chance to gather our thoughts and decide on what to do, we were already in near Sta.Lucia and definitely farther from the robbers than ever.


Second, he was traversing the dead and dark area between LRT Santolan Station and Ligaya on the side of the street (where darkest and least likely to attract attention) in a consistently slow manner even as the criminals declared a holdup.

Third, the driver and the conductor didn't even seemed surprised by the incident nor at least shaken by having knife wielding robbers aboard their vehicle. It as like nothing happened and they continued their route like nothing at all happened.

So, how did I know / suddenly remembered the plate number of the jeep from 3 days ago? Because I boarded the same jeepney just yesterday, same time same place, and everything came back. The lights, the interior, the seats. I stared at the driver for about half of the whole trip and he seemed to recognize me, and I him. I was seated near the driver this time and he seemed fidgety the whole time staring left and right like he was uncomfortable as I was trying to stare into his soul. 


I know none of these information will hold in court that's why I'm posting it here in order to at least share awareness to commuters near the area. Be safe, everyone.

On Being SINGLE, Bad Dates, Macho Luxury Liners and Sarcastic Midgets 3 comments

So you're suddenly single. Or you've been single for a long time, maybe a few years or months, and at this time, you're probably wondering when you're going to find someone new. Someone that could elicit overly hyped up but undeniably true feelings only a special someone could. The pounding of the chest, the butterflies in the stomach, the anticipation of a brand new first kiss.

It's not that you're unhappy, there are definite perks in being as free as you can be, but it's also not like you're in heavenly bliss either. After the near suicidal physically-painful post-breakup era and the feeling of boundless freedom and excitement of meeting new acquaintances without the guilt of a jealous rage from your other half that comes afterwards, things have plateaued down into a consistent and stable blah. 

In a world of millions of lonely people, common sense would dictate that they should all just pair up and be happy. But there's nothing common nor sensical about love. In my experience (and probably everybody else's), it's either you don't like the person/persons who likes you or it's the other way around. Literature, theater, the film industry and lyric music are full of stories like these, and it's not without reason. For a feature film or a paperback novel, unrequited love is a goldmine that sucks everyone in but in reality, these circumstances just plain suck.

I've had my share of bad I-wish-I-didn't-agree-to-this dates that just made me miss the connection I had with someone from the past and really good ones that made me want to believe in freaking fairy tales and an assortment of Nicholas Sparks novels. But then, of course with my rotten luck and as with any tragic story that brings tears to the sentimental and joy to the sadists, things did not go the way I wished them to.

See, I probably am one of the few who jumped off the ship without having something to fall back on. Most people would make sure that they have another vessel to hop on to before they let go of a consistently reliable relationship. But that situation usually leads to deceit and overlapping of commitments and I'm really not the kind of woman who would finalize a board and pass to another without terminating an existing contract.

Okay, analogy overload. Forgive the hyperactive imagination.

It's like being stranded on a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The motors are wrecked and you know you're going nowhere. The rooms are comfortable and it brings solace from the harsh waves of uncertainty but you know you'll be staying there for a looong time in the middle of vast nothingness if you don't leave now. What do you do?

Me? I foolishly wisely jumped off the ship with only a lifeboat, a paddle and my emergency kit of loyal friends and headed to a nearby island and learned how to make fire, eat alone and be friends with a volleyball named Wilson. Every once in a while a ship would pass through, manly honking their horns and blowing off steam in a macho way asking me to board their presented luxury liner but I refuse because it's either I see a band of pirates or their route is to somewhere I don't want to go to.

I'm not that paranoid, really. I almost boarded one, but then the ship sank before it even got the chance to sail so I just swam back to shore, wet and frustrated (wait, that didn't sound right), chopped a few trees just for kicks and went back to having meaningful and thought-provoking conversations with Wilson.

So, here we are. At the blah stage. In this island. Time has been good but circumstances have possessed me to build a great wall manned by an epic army of pellet-blasting plants and highly-armed midgets with a perpetual expression of I'm-surrounded-with-idiots on their faces to guard me and Wilson from pirates and passerby alike. Sometimes I spot a mighty ship float uncertainly near my area probably contemplating whether to risk the journey but then passes by just as quickly, intimidated by my midgets. Go figure.

Right now, the walls are higher and the guards are fiercer than ever. Picture all the armies of the different monarchies of The Seven Kingdoms, House Stark and Lannister together, with Khaleesi's full-grown fire-breathing dragons leading the pack and Tyrion Lannister (head midget) blasting out sarcastic quips (he wrote this post by the way) from a pedestal.

Not all hope is lost though. It may sound like I retreated to this impenetrable fortress and cursed all men into eternity of sexless pursuits and Gonorrhea but that's not the case. I still let visitors in, but it's not without my invisible dragons breathing on their back and sardonic imps carefully observing from their posts. 

I guess this is how it is to finally grow out of a fairy tale bubble.

State of the Blog Address 4 comments

I am disappointed with this blog. I feel like it has lost the free-spirited feel and purpose it was created for. I look at recent posts, and though they are still infested with acerbic humor and my trademark phrased adjectives that-look-like-this, I feel like I've lost my voice. 

Not only are the past articles just composed of book/movie/cellphone reviews and vacation recaps which nobody really cares about, the thoughts are dry and painfully robotic. Yes, there are still advocacy themed articles but they are less than before and far in between.

Where is the spontaneity? Where are the personal insights that I once wanted to share to the world? Where are the amusing observations about the roller coaster ride that is everyday life? The good, the bad, and the downright humiliatingly hilarious? 

I started this blog as a personal haven for all those little quirky impulses my neurons keep on emitting several times a day in the most inappropriate of times.  I guess my mistake these days is holding everything I write at arms length and watching it take form while devoid of actual passion and conviction, the kind of writing that comes out which reeks the impression of doing chores and things-that-you-just-had-to-do.

This personal blog has become less and less personal for a long time now, and I hope you're with me when I say that I think it's time to go back to the basics. And yes, that phrase just reminded me of underwear billboard ads.

So with that, I will shun the inner procrastinator in me that has long been reclining in the La-Z-Boy of my left cerebral hemisphere like she own the place. I don't blame her, she has been there forever and I oftentimes give her treats like when I spend hours on Facebook and Twitter just reading (and liking) random crap my friends and total strangers post on their walls and feeds, half of the time thinking "I wish I have her life" or "Waaay too much information. I'll just pretend I didn't see that.". 

And of course, there's always the lethal viral pet videos that's just Satan's way of telling you to waste your life for him, one adorable YouTube clip at a time.

But I'll be honest. My track record regarding resolutions doesn't exactly paint a picture of absolute adherence to said self-promises. But we'll see. I might be able to banish thy inner procrastinator permanently to the depths of Mordor or Tartarus, or wherever the heck it can stay and not bother me again.

Meanwhile, let me leave you with a photo of an adorable puppy sleeping on a cellphone straight from the 90's "I-have-a-flip-phone-I'm-so-cool" era. 

Just because.