Deus ex Machina

Drifting

2006-09-02T22:23:00.000+08:00

It has to stop. I can't keep going like this forever.

Strangely, I feel that at every turn I am opening doors that will be very difficult to close.

The Past and the Pending

2006-08-29T18:30:00.000+08:00

I seem to be borrowing a lot of my titles from songs I like, these days.

It's not often that I find myself idle in front of a PC. I need to make it quick, though, because I am hungry. And this computer runs like crap.

I've been through the usual cycle of highs and lows, again. To tell the truth, it's beginning to get boring. I can't point to anything in particular that I want to keep in mind, just the certainty that I should move on. The will is definitely there. It's a current that's buried deep within me, past the turbulent emotions on the surface. I'm not sure where I'm headed, but as long as I'm driving anywhere's fine.

To sever ties, or wait

2006-08-12T15:05:00.000+08:00

This is the first good day I've had in a while - no one to deal with but me, and this time, I actually enjoyed myself. I hope this will last into the rest of the weekend.

I don't know how long it will take for me to recover, and whether it is still possible for me to undo the consequences of some of my decisions. All I know is, I do not feel as trapped as before. I know how volatile my state of mind can be, but I think I can delay (and hopefully prevent) the onset of uncalled-for depression by just shoving evil thoughts away before they take hold. The best way to do that is to focus on other things, and another set of obstacles. But perhaps it will take the same skills to manage both. I need to learn how to act quickly, and not to obsess. I need to hold fast to the present and give it form and reality, because no one else will do it for me, and because it is the only thing that's worth doing.

I still haven't made up my mind, but I know that I have to decide soon. Whatever I choose, the important thing is that I do not betray myself. Let's see what happens.

The Pinocchio Syndrome

2006-08-10T17:14:00.000+08:00

It's really more than I can stand, the way I am right now. All that pent-up hatred and frustration has to be channeled into something; it might as well be this.

Fuck. Shit. Putang ina. I want to gather all the damnable words in my vocabulary and throw them out of my system before I explode. It was never meant to be like this. I never expected for things to turn out this way.

I know that whatever happens, no matter how much I neglect my studies, the worst I can sink to is mediocrity. I will probably never fail an exam, but that's not the point. If, at the end of all this, mediocrity is all I achieve, then it will be as if I had never even existed. But it will actually be worse, because it will speak of my denial of existence, of life itself - I was given the fruit but I turned it away.

I know that at one level it's just that cycle catching up with me again, and that would have been all right if it weren't for that completely unexpected development which almost made me lose everything. I am not the same as I was before. I want my old self back - he was easier to handle.

It is not human to be moved by inconsequential, meaningless generalizations. It is not human to be held captive by fear. It is not human to want or need forgiveness. It is not human to glorify mediocrity, or to bow oneself into submission and self-hatred.

I want to be made real and living, fully.

An exercise in maturity

2006-07-03T20:51:00.001+08:00

I just got through the first challenge in this drawn-out process (after a much-appreciated break from the previous round) and it turned out to be a miserable failure. I'm not talking acads, though. I've come to realize that given my present situation, I have no cause to doubt my capacity to engineer results that are up to my standards. My concern is that impediment of an unrelated nature that has attached itself to me insistently and is now digging up irrational drivel in my head. It won't leave me alone.

I don't like clutter. I've geared my efforts of late towards streamlining my consciousness, leaving no room for the bother of contradictions. I admit that I still need to improve on many areas, but I'm inclined to think that I was progressing well enough until I got back and control began to slip out of my hands, again.

The state I am in

2006-06-15T17:13:00.000+08:00

I had an eventful summer - I got to read a lot, write some, and do plenty of things that I usually am not able to. So far things are going well enough. This has been going on for some time; I could get used to this feeling of contentment.

Now I am waiting for another round of intensive work. I am juggling a number of things in my head but I don't intend to come to any definite conclusion as of the moment. I'm fine with letting several lines of thought just drift around and settle naturally - it's a take-things-as-they-come mood, and it's probably going to last a while.

A new chapter

2006-04-09T17:47:00.000+08:00

I've only been back home for around a week and it's happening already. I am settling into a new routine, a new version of reality. I hope that after this two-month respite I'll be in a better position to face what lies ahead. Certain things still haunt me but I know that the slow but reliable passage of time will bring me unfailingly into another state of being, whether I like it or not. I only have to embrace that change and follow wherever it leads me.

P.S. I notice that lately, I've consistently been writing short entries. This is true even of my private journals. I'm changing in ways that I can't really define.

Just a thought

2006-03-28T17:43:00.000+08:00

It took me roughly three days to overcome the lingering pain (in my thigh adductors and hamstrings) following that uncharacteristic burst of physical activity. I wish that other, less apparent types of pain were just as easy to get over.

I was told, some months ago, that maybe I am drawn to problematic people. Maybe I am. Maybe, until now, I've never really given myself the permission to be happy.

Tomorrow is Compre day. I wonder...

I'm waiting for tonight and waiting for tomorrow. I'm somewhere in between. What is real, just a dream.
- Lifehouse

Almost There

2006-03-11T17:17:00.000+08:00

The past few weeks a sense of restlessness has been mounting within me. It probably isn't going to end until I am finally done with everything that needs doing here. Surprisingly, I think being on the edge might actually help me deal with things more effectively. At this point, the routine I incorporated into my system for the last couple of months is no longer operative. The lack of constraints entails more freedom and responsibility, but I think I am now ready for both.

When I realize how far I have come and the enormity of the changes I experienced, I feel grateful for having made it this far. Soon, I will return to a completely different environment. I know the change will be good for me.

The loneliest person I know

2006-03-07T14:26:00.000+08:00

So this is how I get when I'm confronted with something I can't explain, dealing with things that are way over my head. I've noticed that more often than not, I write here when I'm dissatisfied with how things are going.

Maybe it's because I've eliminated much of the clutter, and now I'm faced with having to deal with a bitter truth: that I don't really give a fuck about what I used to think was so important to me, that I am weak and swayed by things that I used to think could never touch me, that I am lonely and looking for meaning but I just can't find it here. I just can't find it in me.

I hate that I am so fucking vulnerable to external influence. I hate the thoughts I've imprinted in my head, creating this monster that has grown into something too much for me to handle.

I just want to go home. Please let all this be over already. I remember something Aidz told me: [God] has such a twisted sense of humor. Assuming his existence, I would have to agree.

I still don't have it.

2006-03-06T17:36:00.000+08:00

Things are changing now, more than ever I think, and I'm feeling off balance. I'm managing to cope better than I used to, and despite a few setbacks I can safely say that I'm slowly improving. As much as everyone else I'm looking forward to the release summer should bring.

I changed the template because I got sick of the gaping space between the title and content of my entries. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with a new one during the break.

Two days ago I got hit by a car for the first time. I was crossing a supposedly one-way street and I was looking in the proper direction, so I didn't see it coming. Thankfully the driver hit the brakes quickly enough, leaving me annoyed and weirded out but in one piece. Incidentally, I was in the mall earlier today when out of nowhere my left hip started aching, and it didn't occur to me until some time later than it may have been a consequence of getting hit in that spot by that stupid car's bumper two days before.

I still don't have the only thing I really want right now, and there's no guarantee that it will ever come. But then there's this change, this ferment inside of me that right now only leaves me lost and confused. Rather than resist it, I might as well welcome whatever it is that's in store for me.

Sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first. Sometimes, the first thing you want never comes. And I know that waiting is all you can do sometimes.
- from Strange and Beautiful (I'll Put a Spell on You) by Aqualung

Remember This Feeling

2005-12-29T13:21:00.000+08:00

This is a song by Matthew Jay:

Remember this feeling - it will come again, but until it does
Remember this feeling when everything makes sense
Everything makes sense

I woke up this evening from the night before, feeling really ill
My last serotonin must have deserted me while I was sleeping

I put a dot next to everything that makes any sense and join the dots
I said, I put a dot next to everything that makes any sense and join the dots

And then I remember all the things I did
And it makes me smile
I saw so much beauty and kissed her red wine lips
It made my Tuesday

Click here to view an online video of the song.

Closure

2005-12-05T16:38:00.000+08:00

I've been putting off this task for a while but it has to be done. This blog is officially closed until further notice, at the very least until before Christmas break. I might post during the break, if I feel like it, but if not, then my entries will have to wait until summer vacation.

I don't want to explain. Suffice to say, I've come to the realization that abruptness is something to be considered an integral component of life itself. I certainly didn't schedule my birth, and I probably won't be fortunate enough to schedule my death either.

Until I return, then.

Growing Up

2005-10-03T21:30:00.000+08:00

There was this entry I wrote a while back but I have yet to post it here. Anyway, several weeks have passed and today marks the official end of the first semester of my first year of medical school. Incredibly, I can honestly say that after the whirlwind of events that brought me here, I am happy - or maybe somewhere very close.

For the first time, I experienced how it feels to be proud of something I've worked reasonably hard for - something I feel that I actually deserve. That, in itself, is for me a remarkable step in the right direction. I feel that I'm where I actually belong, that I'm doing what I'm meant to be doing.

Again I am reminded of the fact that when you end up not doing anything, like it or not you've still made a decision. With the benefit of a few years' perspective, I'm beginning to find this bit of wisdom not oppressive but rather, something that heralds opportunity. Sometimes, deciding to not do something actually requires more active effort and involvement. And sometimes it can spell all the difference.

I have already shed so much in the course of my brief existence. Most things I feel I could have done differently, but there really isn't any way to tell how things could have turned out otherwise. Maybe, if some part of my past were different, I wouldn't be able to come to this point when I feel that I am actually headed somewhere.

Regardless, I know that as I move on with this business of living, I will shed more to uncover who I am, as I wish myself to be. There are some things I am ready to let go of, and there are some that I will probably allow to hang around for a while.

As always, I'm planning to take things one step at a time. Meanwhile, I'm giving myself permission to enjoy things as they come.

Weapon of Choice

2005-09-01T16:48:00.000+08:00

It’s mid-afternoon, and I’ve just had a bath to wash off the clingy smell of formalin. The major drama of my day was getting through two major exams on the anatomy and physiology of the thorax. During the course of the day, I began to acknowledge that I may in fact be mildly obsessive-compulsive.

Our exams were multiple-choice, and we had standardized answer sheets with little circles you had to shade completely. I had to fill in more than three hundred of these circles in the span of a few hours - until now, there’s still a dull pain on the tip of my left index finger. I tried my best to do the shading as quickly as I could, but a part of me just would not leave the circles alone until the blue ink from my pen left an almost black tinge on the paper.

After the lab exam, the answers were posted outside, and I was a bit weirded out by some of the items. There was a xiphoid that turned out to be a manubrium, a nipple that was identified as a lactiferous duct, and other anomalies. Unfortunately for me, I was unable to correctly identify the segmental bronchi from lungs that had the consistency of shredded coconut. Also, I apparently have to brush up on my basic counting skills - I mistook a sixth posterior rib for a fifth.

All throughout the lab exam, especially during the numerous rest stations, random songs kept popping into my head, like some automatic intracranial playlist. The last one I remember was a cover by Keane of U2’s With or Without You, which I think is pretty good.

On the elevator the other day, I was assaulted by a scent I hadn’t encountered in a while - sampaguita. It called up vague memories from my childhood, mostly warm, comforting, and happy. My life was simple then.

I recently watched a program on the discovery channel about murderous women who killed for money. Their weapon of choice was arsenic (except for a Norwegian woman who used strychnine, which I think was a more sadistic option since strychnine causes uncontrollable and painful siezures, with the subject remaining conscious throughout), and their method of obtaining their money was insurance. Their strategy was simple: they killed off insured family members one by one - husbands, sons, daughters-in-law - and claimed the benefits. There were variations, but that’s the basic idea. Of course, people got suspicious and found them out in the end. I wonder what went on in their minds - how they could have been stupid enough to think they could get away with what they did.

I wonder how, at the end of the lab exam, I could have been completely concerned about myself - how well I did, why I made such a mistake - when just minutes before I was among the dissected remains of people who actually used to be alive, reduced to such states for the sake of something abstract and unfathomable.

Surprises

2005-08-22T18:32:00.000+08:00

It seems like it's been forever since I last wrote here. The past months, I just didn't have much of an urge to record anything - publicly, anyway. But now I'm pretty happy with the way things are going. I feel like blogging again.

Life as a medical student is turning out to be easier than I expected. Every day I realize something new about myself. I'm constantly being surprised by the things I end up doing.

I'm beginning to enjoy our dissecting sessions, which I used to find unbearably dull and taxing. I bought my first Murakami book - a collection of short stories called After the Quake, and I found another Murakami fan in class. I'm not as restless as I used to be.

I discovered a gem of a song called If She Wants Me by Belle and Sebastian. And I discovered that it's great to just lay around in bed with the lights turned off while listening to the music of Aqualung.

I can't really think of anything else to write about, except that I'm doing all right - better than I've been in a while. I'm curious to see how long this lasts.

P.S. There's something wrong with my layout, but I don't have the time to fix it. I'll probably make a new one anyway during the term break. If anyone has any ideas on how to make the text move up, please let me know.

Chronology

2005-05-25T23:22:00.000+08:00

I have exactly 86 hours and 38 minutes until I have to leave again - that's according to my PC clock, though I'm not really sure if it's accurate. Either way, being off by a few minutes doesn't really matter.

Time has to stop. I don't want to go. Not yet, not ever.

I guess my nearly two-month stay here at home could be considered productive. I've finally learned how to drive. It's about time, considering that I've been 18 for half a year now. I still need a lot more practice before I can get my license though, so I'll have to wait until I return this October.

I learned the basics of Aikido, and though I enjoyed the sessions I took here, I'm not sure whether I'll continue studying the martial art when I get back - I might be too busy with school. I also started getting regular exercise (but only for a month) and it felt great. Also, after much difficulty, I've finally managed to put on the measly 5 pounds I promised myself when I got here. I wasn't underweight to begin with, but now, at least, I am closer to the middle weight range recommended for my height.

I bought a copy of the 26th edition of Harper's Illustrated Biochemistry some days ago. This is one of the many books I need for med school, and I chose to buy it here because 1. I like Biochem, 2. According to Kuya Lopao, it's a very useful book and 3. It's not that bulky, so I can carry it comfortably with me when I travel. Though I am determined to finish the first two introductory chapters before leaving, I have as yet only browsed through a few pages - I couldn't bring myself to read it for a sustained period.

However, during my stay here I finished re-reading two novels (I had already read them some years back), both written before I was born. One was a mystery book called Who Killed the Robins Family? and the other, a science fiction novel written by Arthur Clarke called The Songs of Distant Earth. I was pleased to find that I still enjoyed them both, though I never could solve any one of the murders in the first book, except for the ones whose solutions I remembered.

My mom is now in the middle of reading Anna Karenina. This is probably because I told her (quite truthfully) that she reminded me of the beautiful Anna Arkadyevna, who, incidentally, is the only character I liked in the novel. I, on the other hand, have suspended indefinitely my reading of Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand's obra maestra. Still, I'll make sure to finish it before my next birthday.

I won't be posting again until I am settled in Manila. I am not going to whine about having to go back. It just sucks, period. Save Tonight, a song by Eagle Eye Cherry, has been stuck in my head for several months now. It just pops into my mind at random moments, when I'm not thinking of anything definite. I wonder why.

It's 85 hours, 35 minutes until I have to leave again. I've been betrayed.

Just an update

2005-05-19T01:55:00.000+08:00

Several time-consuming activities have kept me from posting for some time. I'm planning to design a new layout. It will likely be finished within this decade.

Life is simple

2005-04-21T16:49:00.000+08:00

Lately I began to realize that I can group everyone I meet into two distinct categories: people I like, and people I will never like. I've always thought that there are no absolutes in life, that everything is always a different shade of grey, that nothing is ever simple. But I was wrong.

The night before last I dreamt there was a worm moving inside my left forearm. I saw its shape outlined in a distinct wavy bulge beneath my skin, and I felt it squirming around. In the dream, I was freaked out at first but after a while I was just annoyed that it took so long before I could get to the hospital to have it taken out. Then I woke up.

Coolness

2005-04-19T05:40:00.000+08:00

A wish for something moral like a wound
pitying the knife
its inability to be pleased or sad.
Or perhaps an afternoon one day a month
when everyone can say why they're ashamed.
Something to end the talk that passes
for talk. Something the lonesome ear,
the starved eye, can take in
like nourishment from the other world
in which, now and then, we've lived.

Incomparable

2005-04-15T13:10:00.000+08:00

I'm trying out the amazing phenomenon of free, high-speed, wireless internet, and so far I'm liking it. I've been back in Davao for around a week now. There really is no place like home. It's hard to describe the feeling of being in your own house with your family around, and being able to bask in the familiar comfort of your own room, after being stuck alone on a different island for several months.

I have a lot planned for my stay, including an overview of some of the books we need for next semester. I'm excited about most aspects of the transition, but I think I'll never get used to the white uniforms. They're just not me.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm two persons stuck in a single body. Usually, it's the Mr. Hyde personality that comes out. Right now, though, I'm starting to strike a balance between the two, instead of trying to eradicate the Mr. Hyde part of me again and again, with disastrous results.

Mysteries

2005-03-28T14:31:00.000+08:00

I've decided to start posting again because right now, I'm doing what I do best: wasting time. School's almost over, but I'm not really feeling it. There are still a few things to resolve.

The biggest, and most intriguing, in my opinion, is whether I get exempted from the Zoo 30 finals. I still don't know whether I passed that frickin demented lab exam. Who asks for the origin of a space, anyway? I swear, if I'm ever asked to examine another whole mount or cross-section of a vertebrate embryo this summer, I'll implode. I think my other exams are fine, though. So it's reasonable for me to expect to be exempted. And if I'm not, well, I guess I'll just have to grit my teeth and take the stupid finals. What a wonderful thought.

Aside from that, I'm still wondering what sort of grade will get conjured up for me for STS. I wasn't exactly happy with the result of my first exam. And I have no idea how our group reports or paper will be graded. Plus, my last two Physics exams were taken with more than a few inspired guesses. I'm hoping my intuition made up for my near-total lack of knowledge.

I did some predictive computations while eating awhile ago and I came up with a scenario where I'm a college scholar. But that's based on the shaky assumption that my 5-unit Zoo grade is fine. My, my - life's exciting these days.

I recently finished reading Anna Karenina, and it was all right in terms of describing 19th century Russian high society, but the ideas didn't get to me. I'm thinking of buying Murakami's new book, Kafka on the Shore, but I am too poor. I miss the days when all I did was read and it didn't really matter. This summer, I can't afford to be my usual lazy self because if I don't start forming any positive, responsible habits before beginning actual Med school, I'll be setting myself up for trouble.

For some time now, I've been trying to come to terms with what it really means to be a Christian. But I don't know, I guess it's just not for me. I'm still the same, and I probably always will be.

It's oddly satisfying to keep on talking about yourself, exposing your thoughts to random people, knowing that in all probability no one else will be interested in what you're saying.

In the Process

2005-01-04T18:39:00.000+08:00

A conversation taken from Murakami's Norwegian Wood:

Toru: Don't you get tired of watching people having sex in porn movies? I mean, they just keep doing the same things again and again.
Midori: Of course they keep doing the same things. What else would they do? We all just keep doing the same things.

After taking part in a pseudo-debate (There just wasn't enough time for anyone to make a proper point, grr.) a few hours ago in class and listening to another one after that, I was left with the thought that really, there is absolutely no point in trying to argue anything. People will believe what they want to believe, and they will take advantage of whatever they find that supports their position. This, I think, is the proper nature of things. If you let other people boss you around and dictate what you ought to believe, then it's your problem.

In a very strange turn of events, some days before Christmas (It was all a hazy blur to me - you can't expect me to remember which event happened on which day.) I was at a party with my dad and other boring adults when, after spending a couple hours quietly reading the book I brought with me to pass the time, I realized that I was in fact quite drunk, for the very first time. There is an interesting story behind this. My dad had decided to bring a bottle of red wine for the host of the party, and when we got there we discovered that they already had several bottles going around for everyone. Since all the adults were engrossed in trying to outdo each other in the art of singing with the Videoke, no one except me paid the wine any serious attention. My dad offered me his glass, where he had barely taken a sip, when I was done with mine and by the time I finished his glass someone had already refilled mine. This cycle continued for some time and before I knew it, I had already consumed at least a full bottle's worth of three different varieties of dry red. Afterwards, we attended the wake of one of my dad's colleagues at a funeral parlor. We didn't stay long because, as I found out later, my dad was afraid I was going to throw up.

The reason I say that that was the first time I got drunk is that in my previous attempt, which I mentioned here earlier, I was never really sure. This time, though, when we got back home, I remember asking my dad what the definition of 'drunk' was after which he answered me in all seriousness, "You are."

I don't understand the reason why damaged teeth have to hurt so badly. A short while after I had an aching molar repaired a few days ago, while visiting my grandparents' house, my grandmother practically forced me to eat something. It was noon at the time, and she knew I hadn't had any breakfast, so I had to comply. Unfortunately, my dentist injected a bit more Novocaine than was needed, so I had to make do with my cheek, part of my chin, and half of my tongue feeling like blobs of jelly. Needless to say, the situation was a bit awkward. Still, I remember thinking that my little inconveniences are nothing compared to, say, being forced to carry buckets of slushy human and animal excrement on your back while climbing a steep mountain road in the process of being re-educated by the Communist regime in China. Now that would have been a real bummer.

I've recently decided to stop writing here for a while. I don't know for how long, as I've never written very regularly in the first place, and I don't even know exactly why. All I know is that I'm ready to jump from one reality into another. And I can't bother giving anyone any explanations.

In the meantime, I leave you, my readers (assuming you exist) with this beautiful Nocturne by Frederic Chopin in the background. Until I return, then.

Random Stories

2004-11-30T09:30:00.000+08:00

I am getting too used to free time these days. But there is no doubt that the pace of things is accelerating, and it will continue to do so until right before I leave for Christmas break. A lot of things are bothering me now - a lot of things unacknowledged, a lot of things unsaid. Still, I know I'm getting better.

Last weekend I bought a bottle of 'green' lemon-flavored tea and out of curiosity I checked the writing on the side, and there it was: the notice that said, 'Shake well before drinking.' It seems that on every bottle of processed drink/refreshment, that statement is plastered somewhere. I find it rather strange, because in most cases there isn't enough space to give the contents a good shaking and really, how can you expect to quantify a statement like 'shake well'? It might be a way companies use to cover for themselves, like if your drink tastes a bit funny and you complain, they could say, 'Well, maybe you didn't shake it well enough. See here - it says so on the label. So it's not really our fault.'

For some days now I've consistently awoken remembering strangely vivid dreams. And at least once I remember feeling afraid to fall asleep and become transported to that dream world where anything can happen. I'm fairly sure that incident was brought about by some of the stuff I've been reading - most likely a book called A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami which I recently finished. I'm now on my third book by this particular author, having read two others earlier this month in immediate succession. Mr. Murakami appears to always write in the first-person male point of view, and his narrators, and other characters from different books, share many similarities. His books probably give an accurate portrait of contemporary Japan, which I find interesting.

I remember when I was a kid, I watched this movie called Twice Upon A Time. It was partly animated, and it was about these creatures that came alive at night when everyone was asleep. One was a group of cute, bouncy, teardrop-shaped creatures - these were the good guys, and when they inhabited a sleeping person at night they caused pleasant dreams. Another group was of vicious-looking black crows that caused terrifying nightmares. These two groups competed with each other every night and whoever got to a sleeping human first would inhabit him the entire night. I was always afraid when the crows would come - they were nasty and they pushed the little teardrop guys around. I'm not sure how the movie ended though. I just know that I liked it, and that I felt a real fear the way only a child experiences, whenever I saw that fictional portrayal of evil. It was the same with the movie, The Wizard of Oz, whenever the Wicked Witch of the West showed up. I didn't like the creepy munchkins and those flying monkeys either.

Since I started sleeping with all the lights off whenever I'm alone in my room, I've noticed the peculiar function my blanket serves. With the lights all off and without anyone around, I feel vulnerable. My blanket gives me a sense of security.

I've had a long, peculiar history with blankets. As a child I was never comfortable with them. I thought them stuffy, heavy, and confining. I never learned to use them until I was maybe fourteen. I don't know what triggered things, but once I learned to sleep covered with a blanket, or a comforter, I couldn't sleep without one. And I remember that it was extremely important to me that both my feet were covered completely - I don't know why. For a long while, I was like that. Now, though, I have a more normal, functional relationship with my blanket. I usually sleep without it because of the heat, but I still use it in cold weather. And when I'm alone with all the lights turned off. But now, I don't mind when my feet stick out from underneath.

A Statement

2004-11-29T21:35:00.000+08:00

Lately I've been spending most of my time mulling over life - its nature and its purpose. I've been trying to figure out what my existence means to me and what I expect of myself. I know that in these matters I'll never be able to get a solid, factual answer. But I think the most important thing for me is to never allow these questions to become far from my mind, because in the final analysis it might be the only thing that really matters.

Who am I and why am I here and what am I supposed to do? These are the questions that reduce every single person, regardless of race or culture or degree of learning - to the same level. Even a man brought up by animals, totally isolated from other people - whom the behavioral sciences would not even consider human, must find these questions extremely relevant and must already have worked out answers for himself.

Nothing else matters. Not the intellectual posturing, not money or social status or good manners or sex appeal. Everything else is extraneous. Perhaps, if I could name just one thing that I could have hoped to accomplished in all my time of existence, it would be that I lived keeping these questions close to my mind and heart and always attempting to find sincere answers to them. I do not want to lose my way again, because if I did and I died right after it, for me that would be the tragedy that I cannot allow myself to experience.

Here I Go Again

2004-11-08T19:10:00.000+08:00

The second semester for Academic Year 04-05 officially starts tomorrow. Of course, I fully expect that nothing serious will happen yet, and that the real work will begin sometime next week. Besides, I only have to be in school for four and a half hours on Tuesdays, according to my schedule, but that might change once we get that missing subject which our class will have to follow up because of some mistake.

I am idle now, and if the way I handle schoolwork and my life here stays the same, which is probably what will happen, I will remain idle for the rest of the time before Christmas break when I shall once again fly back home, where I shall bum around more comfortably.

I am apathetic about most things right now, and the predominant thought on my mind is, Things don't make any sense. Don't ask me why - I won't be able to answer.

What I would like most to do, if things weren't so boringly predictable, is forget everything, start my life over, and become someone else. Not in the conventional sense, though. I'd still keep my physical self, except that my experiences, thoughts, and surroundings would be different, making me a completely different person. But this time, I would be happy.

A few days ago I had a curious experience. I had bought a pirated DVD of The Butterfly Effect and watched it with my dad. I had already seen the movie before and liked it a lot, but I thought it would be worth watching again, and I wanted to find out what my dad thought of it. In the middle of the movie, I noticed that there was a scene I did not recall seeing in the cinema. Several others followed, interspersed throughout the film, and I thought I was watching a special director's cut or something, with some deleted scenes included. But then, when the ending came, I was stunned. It was completely different. Apparently, they had used the facts established in the deleted scenes to lead to a different resolution.

They killed Evan, the main character. In the version I watched in the cinema, Evan had stayed alive, but other things turned out the same. Still, that had made all the difference. The makers of this movie had simply needed to add a few minutes of extra footage and alter around five minutes at the end to completely alter the story's conclusion, and to completely ruin it.

Had I watched that questionable DVD version at the cinemas, I would probably have not liked the movie at all. Although both versions were tragedies, the one where Evan lived was infinitely better. In the first place, the way Evan killed himself was completely lame. He went back to the time when his mom was about to give birth to him and refused to breathe or did something with his umbilical cord to make him die (Now that I think of it, pro-abortion people might even question whether unborn infants are actually capable of conscious thought). Then his mom shouted, "Not again!" or something like that because according to one deleted scene, she had suffered two miscarriages before Evan and he was now apparently the third. Another lame deleted-scene attempt at justifying the outcome was when a fortune teller who was examining Evan's palm suddenly looked at him with a faux-terrified look on her face and said something like "You have no lifeline! You were never meant to be!". Then the story fast-forwarded to the future, where everyone was happy because of Evan's non-existence, and ended with Kayleigh's wedding (Kayleigh was Evan's childhood friend and love interest).

I suppose the reason why I didn't want Evan to have to die is because that outcome would not have made possible his chance meeting with Kayleigh in some crowded city sidewalk. In that reality, they had never known each other. Evan looked over his shoulder after Kayleigh had passed him by (they were walking in opposite directions), which is understandable because he might have retained memories of everything that had happened - the movie wasn't very clear in that department. Interestingly, Evan didn't see that Kayleigh turned around after he did, probably prompted by some intuitive sense that they had met in some other life.

Afterwards, they both continued walking away from each other. All the while, the song Stop Crying Your Heart Out by Oasis was playing, and to me, that beautiful song lent a sense of indisputable finality and closure to the situation. It was moving and perfect and it showed that Evan had finally been able to let her go. You probably won't be able to understand this if you haven't watched the movie yet, and I apologize for the spoilers, but if you haven't seen The Butterfly Effect yet, I suggest you buy a copy (fake or otherwise) and watch it right away. And tell me what ending you see - I'm still puzzled why the movie exists in different versions.

Before I go, I should mention that I've joined NaNoWriMo, an event hosted every November. The challenge - to write a novel in at least 50,000 words in 30 days. Of course, I have only around two-thirds of the time left, I have probably never written a single piece containing more than a thousand words (the entire content of this blog only amounts to 20,000 or so words), I have never seriously considered writing fiction, and I have no I idea what to write, but what the heck. I'm not very mentally stable.

Wish me luck.

Notice

2004-09-27T22:32:00.000+08:00

I will probably not be blogging for a while. The final onslaught of exams before the end of the semester is approaching. And back home, I will most likely ignore the internet and spend time with my family instead. I've only ever written one entry over there.

I tend to get distracted when I'm at home. I'm counting the days.

In the sun

2004-09-24T22:46:00.000+08:00

After spending quite some time studying the basics of making a decent-looking web page, I was finally able to come up with a design I wanted. I just updated my blogger template and I'm pleased with the outcome. This is the third look of my blogspot. The other two were designs made by other people, so this is a first. To Joseph: I copied the javascript on your site that operates the show-hide function of your sidebar, I hope you don't mind. I simplified it a bit, and I'm still trying to work out a minor glitch.

I've been feeling out of sorts lately. When I woke up from an evening nap a while ago, I remembered this song I heard from Saved!, a movie I recently watched and really liked.

It's called In the Sun, and it's by Joseph Arthur. Here are the lyrics.

I picture you in the sun, wondering what went wrong. And falling down on your knees, asking for sympathy. And being caught in between all you wish for and all you've seen. And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in. May God's love be with you. Always, may God's love be with you.

I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes. Because when you showed me myself, I became someone else. But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need. I picture you fast asleep. A nightmare comes, you can't keep awake. May God's love be with you. Always, may God's love be with you.

If I find my own way, how much will I find?

I don't know anymore, what it's for. I'm not even sure if there is anyone who is in the sun. Will you help me to understand? Because I've been caught in between all I wish for and all I need. Maybe you're not even sure what it's for any more than me. May God's love be with you. Always, may God's love be with you.

Late this afternoon, inside the PGH compound, I was approached by a man named Timothy. He invited me to a one-on-one Bible study session. I agreed, and we ended up talking about the story of Noah, and the tower of Babel. He said that Noah was righteous in God's eyes because he was obedient. He said that God was always in control. I couldn't let him know that I did not agree with him. He sounded so sincere.

Afterwards, I walked with him part of the way back to my building. He said he was headed for the Cancer Institute, and he explained why. I was a bit confused because his voice wasn't very clear and he referred to his brother as 'her' instead of 'him', but from what I gathered, his three-year-old brother had liver cancer but according to him, God was taking care of things.

When we parted ways, he said "God bless." I said "Okay," and walked away. I have no idea why, but at that moment, I did not feel any sympathy for him.

I realized today that I have only just discovered what it means to be lonely.

Goodbye IPC

2004-09-15T16:12:00.000+08:00

On most Wednesday afternoons, our class is divided into four groups of ten people for a course called Introduction to Patient Care. Each group has its own set of facilitators, all of whom are doctors who are part of the UP-PGH faculty and/or administration. Contrary to what the name of the course implies, we don't do anything involving actual patients or the application of medical principles. We haven't even begun real medical education after all. What actually takes place may be likened more to group therapy, with modules on self-actualization and such.

When I got my first taste of IPC on the first semester of last year, I didn't think I would get anything new from it. Coming from a Catholic school, I had been required to go through many similar self-empowerment themed activities. Some material was almost entirely the same as what we'd covered before.

Looking back, I was both right and wrong. It's true that I didn't learn any new psychological concepts, etc. However, in time, the weekly routine of sitting around with a group of people I was gradually getting to know better and just sharing my feelings or listening made a subtle but definite impression on me. I have come to realize this fully only now.

Today, we had our final session. I didn't know until one of my groupmates mentioned it to me. We had been going at it for three semesters already, and I assumed we would continue until the next. Apparently, we have something different in store for us later. I was surprised at how humdrum everything seemed. We had a regular session, our facilitators gave us some free food, which they do every now end then, we said our goodbyes, and then they left. And that was it.

I will probably miss the mandatory two hours I have to spend every Wednesday afternoon with my groupmates, though we will all still be around of course. I hope whatever replaces IPC next semester will retain the groupings, because I'd like to think all that sharing of feelings and thoughts has formed a special bond among us. I will miss our kind facilitators, whom we will probably encounter in our higher years. They didn't do anything exceptional, and I didn't expect them to. They were simply there to guide us and to listen. And that was enough.

One of our facilitators, Dr. Joy, recently left for a fellowship somewhere in Australia. I hope she's okay and settled in now. She was one of my favorites.

Perspective

2004-09-15T10:47:00.000+08:00

I like to think that most Impressionist painters had a high degree of myopia, like me. Because when I see only through my own lenses, I get lost in a blurry, shimmering world that is entirely mine.

In transit

2004-09-13T17:25:00.000+08:00

Almost daily, I make my way to our friendly neigborhood shopping mall for one of three reasons:

1. to buy food
2. to buy supplies
3. to watch a movie

Almost daily, I am confronted with the trivial, yet troubling decision of whether to take the piece of perfumed paper handed out to me by a promo lady or to ignore the gesture and walk on. When I do accept the paper sample I simply put it in one of my pants pockets and forget all about it. When I don't, I think about how life would be like for me if I had to hand out little pieces of paper for a living. Every time, what I do hinges on a split-second, arbitrary decision.

Regardless of what I choose to do, I always start wondering how things would have turned out had I chosen the alternative. Most people would say it wouldn't make much of a difference what I did. They would probably be right 99% of the time. What keeps me up some nights is the remote possibility that one random action will drastically change my private reality.

What if one night, the act of receiving a little piece of paper and sticking it in my pocket slowed me down enough so that a potential mugger, idling a few steps away, set his sights on someone else instead of me? What if that split-second, arbitrary decision kept me from losing my life?

Scenario: I am on my way to the cinemas on the fourth floor of the mall. I step on an escalator and expect my short 'ride' to be as normal as always. Suddenly, I lurch forward a bit and hold on to the railings for support. I immediately realize that the stupid escalator has simply stopped moving, leaving me in between floors. I recall seeing halted escalators in this mall before, but have never been on one when it actually happens. I reluctantly climb manually to the top. I am seriously pissed. I let it go, but think that the mall must have some serious issues with its escalators.

The incident actually happened to me some days ago. It has absolutely no bearing on the pseudo-existentialist thoughts I typed earlier.

I passed by this little bazaar in an open area of the mall a while ago, and at one point I got a very brief glance at some of the wares on display. I had to hold my thoughts a bit after leaving the bazaar behind, because I had a hard time processing what I had thought I'd seen. They were not merely phallic symbols. They were penises carved out of wood. They might have been dildos (although I can't imagine anyone wanting to shove anything like that into any of their orifices), or possibly paperweights.

I haven't been able to verify what they actually were, as I was on my way to lunch at the time, but I don't actually want to know.

There are many things in life I will never completely understand. Like why shopkeepers would ever attempt to entice people to stop by their stand by displaying wooden dildo-like thingies. Or why the people who manage the mall aren't bothered by the fact that random escalators keep refusing to move and that people might actually be on them while they act up. Or why I obsess about little things like pieces of paper handed out to me by promo girls.

In less than a year, I will begin my first year of actual medical education. I am headed along a path requiring nothing from me but compliance. Barring accidents, mental breakdowns, and other unfortunate events, I will in time become a medical practitioner with a reasonable income and a secure future. Some people would say that I'm on the right track.

If you ask me how my life has come to this point, I will not be able to give you a definite answer. If you ask me whether I believe that this is my true calling in life, that I truly believe that this is what I'm supposed to be doing, I will answer, "Maybe."

I cannot speak for the future. As for the present, no one can equip me with the means to be able to make the right choices. No one even knows what the right choice really is. All I am certain of is that this is what I have chosen and I will stick with it.

This isn't depression.

2004-09-10T14:59:00.000+08:00

For the past few days I've been sitting in front of one computer after another preparing to write a new entry and ultimately deciding to call it off after realizing that I didn't have anything to say.

I have maybe four or five unwritten entries in my head right now that I can't bring myself to create. I don't know why.

I do know that I've increasingly become aware of myself zoning out in the middle of the day, staring at nothing in particular, my mind filled with a confused, incomprehensible buzz of nothingness. This is usually not a good sign.

The day before yesterday I received news that made me rethink my image of myself. I have never considered myself a person capable of strong emotional outbursts. Particularly because most of the time, I'm not even aware of my feelings.

Most of the time, I do not know how I feel about myself, or other people, or a particular situation. This is why in most cases, I tend to agree with whatever opinion is mouthed by the person I'm with at the moment.

I haven't really paid much attention to my emotions lately. This is partly out of habit, something I have developed to a great extent as part of my unconscious policy of ignoring things I do not find agreeable. It is a cancer that has metastasized into something that may be untreatable. An analogy that I find appropriate, given that I believe my current situation to be similar to a slow, inevitable death.

I am at a standstill. My mind wants out of this hole I've dug myself in. I am afraid because to me the image of an inescapable abyss is starting to sound attractive.

There is a certain peace to be found in ending everything. I never thought I would understand this, but I think I now know why the elderly experience happiness when they are brought to their final resting place.

Perhaps this is the only way to achieve true happiness and content. I wouldn't know.

On a lighter note, I've decided to learn the basics of CSS. And I've decided to construct my own template design. I haven't started on this yet, of course. I'll do it later. I am intrigued by being able to change the entire look of a page without really changing anything in its structure. And I want to see if I can come up with a design that's indicative of my personality.

Now if I can only figure out what exactly my personality is.

Rainy days

2004-08-26T18:55:00.000+08:00

So it's been raining lately and I'm getting jittery. It's the second day that school's been canceled. I am not that happy about this. Because the end result is that one major exam, two quizzes, and one oral report have been moved to next week.

This was supposed to be hell week. Now it's just boring.

I'll take this opportunity to announce that I am on a week-long hiatus from blogging. I know I have gone for longer periods than this without giving prior notice. This is because this announcement is really meant not for my readers, but for me. This is a reminder to myself to resist the urge to go online in lieu of more pressing matters.

I've begun to accumulate some stale unfinished posts that I don't know what to do with. So when I have the time, which will probably be at the end of this semester, I'll start posting some entries that I started writing earlier, and I'll be placing them on the dates where they were begun. To save you the trouble of rooting through my archives looking for new 'old' entries, I'll be posting a list of all the unfinished entries I've decided to publish.

That's it for now. Reality awaits.

Fucking dreary

2004-08-16T17:52:00.000+08:00

Rain is impolite. Self-injuries are stupid. Reality is a bitch and drugs make sense to those who use them.

I am happy today. I just don't know it yet.

Vindication

2004-08-05T20:41:00.000+08:00

I had always known that I am, by my very nature, great and invincible. Evidently, people had already realized this fact even before my mother was born. Such is the power of greatness.

Similarities

2004-08-05T19:33:00.000+08:00

Today I was once again struck by the many parallels between the course I'm taking and taking up witchcraft or wizardry at Hogwarts. Aside from the fact that the students of both courses take seven years to graduate, I've realized that our Zoology lab sessions are a mixture of Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, and Herbology. You have to learn how to properly preserve your specimens, which constitutes the Care of Magical Creatures portion. You have to listen and be patient because sometimes, structures identified earlier turn out to be completely different - and this is sort of like Transfiguration. Also, Zoology lab tends to get really messy, just like Herbology.

With her blue lab gown billowing like a Hogwarts robe as she inspects our cat specimens, our lab instructor strikes me as a peculiar cross between Professors Sprout and Snape.

An upside to taking Humanities 1 in Filipino, which I had previously thought to be nothing but a pain in the ass, is that we have our very own stand-up comedian in the afternoons, all geared to cheer us up from another draining lab session. Today our dear teacher made a hilarious imitation of a baby crying, and the previous session he sang his very own melodramatic version of the lyrics of a preppy Ricky Martin song. Plus, every meeting we get to cool down our stinking, sweaty, formalin-drenched selves in the airconditioned classroom.

Life is getting good these days. We have another Chemistry exam coming up this weekend - I can hardly wait.

Life is Free

2004-08-02T23:32:00.000+08:00

A song by Arkarna.

You could be popular. You could be wanting more. It doesn't have to be that way. This could be beautiful. Are you really gonna make it happen? Seems a whisper's sometimes louder than a scream. Are you really gonna make it happen? Life is free.

You could be a checkout girl. You could be beautiful. You give your all but it's not enough. Is that just the way it is? Are you really gonna make it happen? Seems a whisper's sometimes louder than a scream. Are you really gonna make it happen? Life is free.

Keep the dream alive, don't be afraid. I'm suffering my life away. That's all I've got to say.

You can make it happen. You can make it happen. You can make it happen.

The Art of Cramming

2004-08-02T13:01:00.000+08:00

I just got back from Davao (I'm missing my family already) and I've already got a barrage of schoolwork to attend to. There's the quiz in Zoology lab an hour from now, the exam in Humanities tomorrow, the departmental exam in Chemistry this Saturday, and God knows what else. But I really don't give a rat's ass about any of that because I got to go home and enjoy myself. Also, I rediscovered a little something I wrote back in high school that I think might help me deal with the major studying I'll have to do in the near future. It worked for me back then, and I have no doubts that it'll serve me just as well now.

There is one practice that, though generally despised, is an undeniable part of everyday living. It is the frequent companion to impossible deadlines, final examinations, and grueling research work, all of which compel the average individual to put off working on them 'just this one last time', due to the inherently dull nature of the tasks involved. As you may have guessed by now, what I am talking about here is good, old-fashioned cramming, and if you've had the assumption that any moron can go on ahead and cram, you're badly mistaken.

Cramming is an art. Despite what most people think, it takes real skill to pull off a cramming session and come out unscathed, with results that won’t get your boss to start yelling at you, or else show nice, colorful numbers on your report card. In fact, cramming entails a great deal of preparation and commitment. The world is littered with degenerates who dropped out of school or got fired from their jobs just because they didn't take the time to learn how to cram the right way. Unfortunately, there hasn’t ever been a course given on the proper way to cram, and as a dose of public service, I'll clue you in on an age-old classic: the all-nighter.

Ahh, yes: the all-nighter. What decent student can forget the first time he decided to stay up late and suddenly discovered that he had in fact stayed up so late - it was early. Early morning, that is. Just in time to grab a bite and head on to slug the daily grind to school. Just thinking about it brings me back blissful memories of the good old days… but enough about me. The fact is, the memories of all-nighters may not be so blissful for everyone. But that's okay - that's what this article is here for. I'm proud to introduce my fool-proof, hassle-free, step-by-step guide to surviving the dreaded all-nighter. Take it from me - I’m an expert. Pay attention to what I'm about to say and you just might find yourself thanking me later on.

Step 1) Arm yourself with a formidable arsenal of… well, food. Let me tell you, there’s nothing worse than being stuck in the middle of the night trying to cram buckets of semi-useless information into your head and getting a sudden urge for the munchies. It will drive you nuts. So the first thing to do is to go on ahead and gather lots of food and put them smack in the middle of your desk. Chocolate bars and potato chips are excellent for this purpose, but any sugar-rich food will do. And one more thing: don't ever, ever forget your coffee. There's nothing better to prep up a bleary-eyed, yawning, stress-ridden student than a good ole cuppa. Make sure you have lots in supply so won't have to interrupt yourself later.

Step 2) Gather the necessary materials. Hopefully you have some decent notes at hand (whether they be yours or copied off from someone else, it doesn't really matter) or at the very least your course textbook. If not, then go get them. They are absolutely important… almost as important as the food, even. I mean, how do you expect to pull off an all-nighter when you don't even have anything to study for? Once you have them, place them on your desk next to the food, or someplace where they don't get in the way.

Step 3) Now that you have all the stuff you need, it’s time to get on with the down and dirty. I'm talking about work. Yes, I know, I know, the very reason you've resorted to cramming is to avoid work in the first place, but like it or not, it has to be done. Here are a couple of pointers to help you out though. First, go over the topics you need to cover and work systematically. That way, halfway through your cramming session you won't find yourself looking up and discovering that you had not in fact covered anything at all. Second, don’t hesitate to put your entire focus on the job. Remember, your suffering will last for only a few hours, but the rewards you'll get afterwards will definitely be worth it.

Step 4) Do whatever it is you're supposed to do. If you need to take that killer math test, then do it. If you need to pass that overdue research paper, then hand it over. This step it vital. Don't ever skip it because if you do, then all the work you just did would amount to nothing.

Step 5) The test of a truly effective all-nighter lies on what happens next. Review the results of your efforts. Any grade higher than slightly above passing indicates that your all-nighter has been successful. If that’s the case, then give yourself a pat in the back. You deserve it. If, however, you failed the test, then you’d better think twice about what you did. You might have missed out on some of the techniques I elaborated on or perhaps the all-nighter may simply not be for you. Try to improve your methods of cramming and if that still doesn't work, then explore saner, safer alternatives like actually studying on a regular basis for example. The prospect may not sound so inviting but it’s better than killing yourself over studying all night.

That ends it. Hopefully you now have a better idea of what cramming is all about. Decide carefully whether it's something you want to be doing on a regular basis. And remember - just because it's a shortcut doesn’t mean that it's easy.

Good fortune

2004-07-29T18:09:00.000+08:00

I still haven't fully digested the idea, but I am all set to fly home for the weekend - except that I haven't yet started packing, but that's a minor detail I'll deal with later. I'd already mentioned that my roommates spend most weekends in their own homes, and this had always made me feel a bit jealous. I never really considered the idea myself - not seriously, anyway.

It began on a whim. My sister's birthday is on the 31st, she wanted me to be around during the celebration (which would, of course, take place in Davao), and I wanted to be there. So we told our parents about our little idea and predictably, they said no. They didn't really have to explain anything - I knew it was out of the question. In the first place, leaving for even a weekend might cause me to screw up my academics, and god forbid that ever happens. Also, from a pragmatic point of view, buying a round trip ticket to spend a little more than a day back home would just be a waste of money. To complicate matters, I found out I had an exam scheduled for this Friday and another one on Saturday.

Still, I wanted to return to Davao badly. Ever since I arrived here at the start of the semester, I hated the thought of having to spend five whole months away. And that's just what would happen had fortune not decided to smile on me. But wonder of wonders, I got a call from my dad last night - it turns out he had already bought me a ticket and he wanted to know if I could come. I was prepared to decline, actually, because of the exams I had scheduled for Friday and Saturday. But then I remembered that both exams, for reasons I couldn't care less about, had actually been postponed, making me free for the weekend. At that moment, I wanted to jump up and down and do cartwheels. I was going home.

I just came from the airline ticketing office. I booked my ticket for an afternoon flight tomorrow. And boy, am I glad I'm leaving. Even for just a weekend.

Unreal

2004-07-28T02:07:00.000+08:00

I was eating a (very) late dinner at Wendy's a while ago and lost track of time while reading an engaging short story by Stephen King about a man who finds a growing finger crawling around his bathroom sink. It was maybe a little past midnight when I stepped out of the restaurant and made my way to the building I stay in, and I immediately noticed that something wasn't right. The entire street ahead of me was empty and silent. No vehicles parked or moving down the road, no people, nothing except a dark lump huddled next to a building near the next street corner, whom I recognized as the urchin who regularly occupied that area at night. I had to turn the corner to get to my destination. I wasn't afraid of the sleeping figure - he wasn't a threat. But I was creeped out majorly by the sight of Taft avenue completely deserted. The same Taft avenue that I negotiated daily with distaste because of all the obstacles, human or otherwise, along the way. I had repeatedly found myself wishing that everything around me would disappear. And now it had. And I realized that had this happened during the day, the situation would have been more eerie. I knew that traffic thinned out along Taft at night, because most of the vehicles that pass carry commuters who work during the day, but I had never considered that it could actually become nonexistent, even for just a few moments.

In those strange few seconds as I took in my surroundings, with the yellow sodium lights casting a dim but warm glow around everything, I actually felt a sense of freedom that I never feel when I walk the streets. When I'm in any public area, and especially when I am alone, I am always on guard, and I never allow myself to completely relax. Especially when I'm on Taft avenue, a street which, I have often reflected, is a perfect testament to that bastard of a president it was named after. (You may recall that W.H. Taft was that moron who said that God had told him it was the Americans' duty to civilize their 'little brown brothers'.) So I let myself loose, and I found myself running until I reached the corner to the other street where I saw people sitting around the sidewalk doing nothing. And then the experience ended, and I stopped running and walked like a sane person the rest of the way.

A realization

2004-07-19T17:12:00.000+08:00

Right now I'm hungry and tired and so not in the mood for another round of intensive studying. I had a long day, starting with a Zoology lecture exam I spent all weekend studying for, after which I immediately turned my attention to cramming hundreds of terms in my head for the quiz on cat bones in the afternoon. My strategy worked, because I think I did well enough, but I was hyped up the entire time and there were a couple of instances when I felt like I was about to throw up.

I am saturated with information, none of which would be particularly useful or interesting to laymen, which at present doesn't even have any concrete practical applications. And yet the fact that I've memorized so many obscure biological terms will translate into grades that will give other people the impression that I am intelligent. That I am knowledgeable. That I am wise.

Last night, as I walked towards a nearby convenience store to grab something to eat before getting back to studying, I noticed a few dark shapes stretched horizontally along a corner of the sidewalk. I knew what they were - indigents who chose that particular area to settle down for the night. They're usually thin, grimy, forlorn-looking men who wander the streets aimlessly during the day. I had long ceased to feel surprise or sympathy for their wretched condition. I ignored them the first time I passed, but when I approached the convenience store a second time, I just happened to glance at this lone figure, lying on a narrow cemented elevation in a corner, her body wrapped in a ragged blanket and her wrinkled face framed by wispy white hair.

She had the peaceful look of a person in deep sleep. Or a person who's dead. It took me a while to get over the image of that old woman in my mind, not only because I felt disgusted at a world that could reduce someone's grandmother into such a miserable state, but also because I knew that I had no way of helping her, and even if I did, I had no intention of doing so.

What do I know that really matters? I know that people often hide their true thoughts and intentions from each other, and that this is an indelible and probably essential aspect of society. I know that the people I see in the streets who stare blankly as the world passes them by are living in my definition of hell. And I know that ultimately, in a world where people like to think that compassion and decency and kindness are imperatives, it is every man for himself.

I am wise, I know, but so is everybody else.

More than a little strange

2004-07-07T20:06:00.000+08:00

It might not seem real, but that is the photo of an actual pregnant woman who allowed her body to be preserved and included in an exhibit called Body Worlds. I didn't want to believe it at first, but the image does look a lot like the color illustrations I've seen in medical books. I'm not exactly sure if the exhibit is legitimate or just made up, since I read about it from a site called Daily Rotten - News You Cannot Possibly Use.

Still, I wouldn't mind seeing the exhibit for myself, if it really does exist. The images I've seen so far look fascinating, although somewhat disgusting. But hey, it's not as if I won't be exposed to my share of dead human bodies. And from an academic point of view, the more of them I see, the better.

You really should see the photo of people showing only their blood vessels - that one I find harder to believe to be real. I've linked the article where I got the picture - click on the title of this post to read it.

Off with their heads

2004-07-06T11:18:00.000+08:00

What really works up my temper when I'm walking along the streets is when the people around me demonstrate just how immensely stupid they are by getting in my way and acting like retards (most probably are, given the amount of lead and other toxic substances they inhale each day). I have always known that people are stupid in general, and I really didn't have a problem with that. However, it's an entirely different thing when they're impeding your progress while you're in a rush to get somewhere important. Do these people lack some rudimentary portion in their brains that would have allowed them to comprehend simple traffic rules? Because even a two-year-old can understand the concept of red means stop, green means go, and yellow means slow down. And even a two-year-old would realize that a pedestrian lane is not the place to board public transport or pick up passengers, especially if that two-year-old has taken and passed a driving licensure exam, which I sincerely hope applies to all drivers I encounter.

I am sick of having to put up with buses stopping their bulk in front of the pedestrian lane just when it's time for people to cross, and people jostling me aside because they're hurrying to board a jeep that's parked right on the pedestrian lane. There is no excuse for that kind of moronic behavior.

I say kill them all. Death for every offense. And if some pompous public official starts to complain, then kill him too. Our country could use any amount of population reduction we can provide. And judging by the number of public officials, if we kill them all off, well, that would be a big victory. Besides, I should reign supreme. I can certainly run things better than those blathering idiots in public office.

I just noticed. My posts seem to be getting more vindictive. Oh well. There are a lot of things to despise.

Two statements

2004-07-05T12:37:00.000+08:00

Sometimes I have to resort to psychoanalysis to figure out why people act the way they do. Sometimes I would just like for them to shut up.

Alone with three dead bodies

2004-07-03T21:37:00.000+08:00

My roommates went home for the weekend - unlike me, home for them would mean somewhere less than a thousand kilometers from here - and so, as always, I am spending my weekend alone. This time, though, I have three silent companions bundled up conveniently inside bright blue cylindrical bags, placed in various locations within the room (near the fire exit, under the microwave, under the T.V.) - one of which is Barry, the cat Julian and I skinned during class, with whom we will both undoubtedly be spending many more hours as we poke around his insides in the attempt to learn how they actually look like. I find it surprising how easily I've adjusted to the concept of examining dead animals. Although I wasn't squeamish as a kid, I never really had an interest in Biology, and I never considered dissection among the things I'd want to try doing. As far as I was concerned, dead animals belonged as far away from me as possible. What's strange is despite that general indifference I used to have, I'm actually starting to enjoy what I'm doing. And I've found myself anticipating dissecting actual human bodies, which we'll start doing around this time next year. Maybe it's because I've realized that examining the complexities of creation is one of the most concrete ways of learning about life in general, and me in particular, and might ultimately lead me closer to discovering who I am and why I exist.

Or maybe I just find it cool to cut things up and look inside them. Either way, it doesn't really matter.

The List

2004-06-23T16:34:00.000+08:00

Sometime last week, while I was in the grip of a particularly annoying respiratory infection (I am still recovering), I got so pissed at all the stupid people around me that I would have written a scathing, lengthy entry containing numerous impolite words if I had only had strength enough to sit in front of a computer and type. Nevertheless, I've since contained my anger and I've created a list of all the people who require immediate punishment.

Note: this is to be taken in the context of an alternate universe where conditions are exactly the same except that I have absolute, unquestionable powers (this is actually true even now, people just don't realize it yet).

1. Drivers of smoke belching vehicles - They shall be given exactly one week to overhaul their engines, and those who don't comply will promptly be rounded up and shot. Not very creative, I know, but it will do. The vehicles themselves will be disposed of in a conveniently out-of-the-way area, all the better to clear up our congested cities.

2. Politicians who had the brilliant idea to allow certain countries to dump worthless spare parts into our country, thereby creating the problem I've mentioned above - These guys, being the instigators of the whole thing, and being the people who should know better, will be publicly skinned alive and left in the streets to rot. An example to others who might get similar brilliant ideas.

3. Politicians, law enforcement officials, and others in power who shamelessly neglect any reasonable measure of law enforcement and allow smoke belching vehicles to run unchecked in the streets, poisoning the citizenry - These people will be decapitated (if they hadn't already been skinned alive) after being branded with the letter S on their chests, which stands for stupid. Their severed heads, along with their bodies, will be displayed in a public area for exactly one week. Again, another example.

4. People who smoke in the streets or in any public area - They will have one hand cut off (preferably the stronger one) and they will have their noses removed. As an afterthought, I might designate one or two buildings within each city to which smoking will be limited – like a smokers' ghetto. The windows will, of course, remain closed.

5. Politicians who, until now, allow cigarette ads on TV and the radio when they have long been outlawed in most other places - Refer to punishment number 2. Any other creative mode of torture and/or execution will be appreciated.

6. People who spit on the streets (here's a clue: keep your disgusting body fluids to yourselves) - They will have their tongues severed and their lips sheared off. Repeat offenders will be smeared with their own spit and required to perform a month of community service.

7. Any other insignificant creatures who happen to incite my annoyance - They will be subject to my discretion, and punishment will vary depending on my mood. They will be sure, however, to lose any number of appendages and/or their lives.

I could go on and on, but this will do for now. With the excellent administrative policies I've come up with, I might consider running for office in the future. Or perhaps more suitably, heading a military coup.

Opium

2004-06-21T18:58:00.001+08:00

Since I'm not in the mood to do anything productive yet, and since once again all my interesting little ideas for posting have deserted me, I might as well write about a movie I just finished watching: Walking Tall by the Rock. It's funny because at the beginning when they flashed his name it could have been the title of the movie. Sort of like The Ring or The Phone or something like that. I didn't really plan on watching it (I didn't like the trailer, for one thing) but I had two compelling reasons to waste my time:

1. The afternoon was unbearably hot and I wanted to spend a couple hours without having to constantly wipe the sweat from my face.
2. I had a hangover from spending my weekend almost entirely in bed doing nothing. (I was sick and would have written a few entries about stuff I thought about except that I was too lazy, but maybe I will later) As you should know by now, making like a sloth is one of my favorite things to do, and I didn't want it to end.

So I picked the movie I thought I would least dislike and ended up watching a puzzle. It bored me a little at first, but the story showed promise. And then, when the bad guys started raining bullets on the sheriff's office and the Rock started retaliating by shooting at them with a shotgun I thought, Crap. I am stuck in a generic Filipino action movie. It had all the classic elements: The big, tough-looking hero who could get away with trashing stuff in the name of righteousness and who's only plan seemed to be 'act first, think later'. The hero's 'consort' who's only job was to act pretty and add a bit of interest in the tamer periods. The overused theme of revenge and settling old scores. And of course, plenty of ass-kicking and gunslinging. Undeniably, it was no different from the hundreds of movies that preceded it in this respect. But it was also a feel-good movie. Unlike the usual drawn-out drama and melodramatic ending, the plot moved quickly and actually had a bit of humor. The battle with the bad guys was short and sweet, and provided unconditional victory. The Rock barely got a few scratches, and while he did get a big ugly scar in his midsection, it only served to win him the sympathy of the townspeople and didn't seem to bother his leading lady at all when she took off his shirt and they made out in the sheriff's office. All the bad guys either got shot, severely beaten up, sent to prison, or all of the above. The ending was actually very satisfying. Too good to be true. But then, who would want it to be true?

The movie, I now realize, is standard fare for the masses. Nothing spectacular, but good enough. Sort of the equivalent of the McDonald's value meal I ate while watching. Nevertheless, both served my purpose.

And that's just what I wanted.

Contemplation

2004-06-08T23:30:00.000+08:00

It's been a while since I last posted. I don't have anything definite to say right now, so let me leave you with a little something I wrote some months ago, something that I think still applies to me today.

Life is a tragedy, but not quite. You see, a tragedy focuses too much on the ending - that's how it's defined, after all. A tragedy equals a bad ending. And yet despite the fact that all existence comes down to the end is death, I somehow sense that that's not really the point. I may be an irrational hopeful who blinds himself to the inevitability of death (as I suspect the vast majority of people do), but I say it's better to be irrational than to live in despair and meaninglessness.

One sad truth is that most of the time, people live their lives on hold, suspended in time, promising themselves to live with purpose, fulfill their dreams, and make everything the way it should be, right after they get done slacking off or basically just doing nothing. At least, that's the way it is with me. Oftentimes, it takes a tragedy before people finally wake up from their respective fantasy worlds, whatever they may be. I don't know how or why this happens, but it definitely does, and I don't want it to come to that point.

So in a sense the awareness of death, of how fleeting a moment our present existence is, is what ironically impels the individual to make the most out of everyday life and treasure every experience. It is uncertain what the future may bring, and all we have is the here and now. The reality of death does bring despair, but beyond that it also carries the message that life is infinitely precious, that it is something to be savored to its fullest extent to give it justice.

And so, when the time comes when all has passed and there is nothing left but goodbye, I'll have only one thing to say: I hope you had the time of your life, and I hope I did too.

Choices

2004-05-11T18:52:00.001+08:00

Yesterday afternoon I watched the last two episodes of survivor all-stars. Predictably, it was an exercise in stupidity. Disregarding the fact that it turned into a complete mush-fest (which almost made me puke), it was just a continuation of how people time and again allow themselves to get run over like little woodland creatures standing around waiting to become roadkill. There were numerous occasions when the other players could have voted either Amber or Rob off, but they didn't, because they were just too stupid to realize they were being used and manipulated. Everyone kowtowed to Rob just because he was bold enough to impose himself on them, to flatter them, to make promises he had no intention to keep. And the other players, being little woodland creatures at heart, looked on blankly as one by one they were knocked down, almost gleefully I think, by the conniving couple. There is really nothing excellent in Amber or Rob's strategy. They merely relied on a tried and true method: always expect the stupidest in people, and formulate your plans accordingly. To Amber - congratulations. With a complete lack of talent and skill (If you think about it, what else is necessary in a game of elimination but stupidity, luck, and perhaps some cunning?) you bested the other players and became the 'sole survivor'. You've proven yourself to be the least stupid among the flock.

I was watching TV yesterday afternoon and not voting because I am not yet eighteen. Which might seem to be a pity at first, but is probably for the best. My single vote wouldn't really be able to change the fact that the fate of this country has already been decided beforehand - by the carnivals disguised as campaign sorties, by butt-kissing to various 'authoritative' cult groups, by the bitter fight between candidates who will stop at nothing to be put in power, and most importantly, by the overwhelming judgment of everyone that the Filipino people are little woodland creatures being herded to their deaths.

In Case You Were Wondering

2004-04-27T20:17:00.000+08:00

I'm still alive. I don't exactly know why I've been hibernating this past week or so. It's something I've very cleverly kept myself from comprehending. And since all my little interesting ideas have hidden themselves in the clutter that is my brain, I've decided to write on something every other blogger has already had his say on - The Passion of the Christ.

Disclaimer: I have absolutely no intention of further promoting this already too-publicized movie. I think Mr. Gibson has already paid enough for that. I'm just another someone typing out words and posting them for everyone to see just because I can.

I watched the movie last Friday, more as an excuse to skip yet another boring math lecture than on any religious pretext. Although I did employ this skewed type of logic: since math doesn't matter at all in my life anyway (except as a requirement I have to get through) while Jesus' story is something that should matter to everything to me if I'm to call myself a practicing Christian (which I'm not), then it would be a much more productive use of my time to refresh myself on the major events in Christian doctrine than to mull over statistical data.

And so I went to the cinema, bracing myself for a dose of extreme violence. From all the reviews I read about the movie, I half-expected Roman soldiers to start cutting people's heads off, complete with close-ups of blood spurting out from their necks. That didn't happen, though. The violence I encountered from Jesus' flogging up to his crucifixion was tame compared to other violent movies I've seen. Yes, I admit that I found the sight of Jesus being tortured painful to watch, but the movie didn't deserve people saying the violence was wanton and uncalled-for. It's not as if Jesus' followers and other enlightened people went around grinning and eating popcorn. The violence was completely in context, and any sane viewer who pays attention will notice that the good guys did not approve of what happened. Even Pilate tried his best to prevent the outcome.

What those critics should have noticed, I think, is how the story was humanized and portrayed in a way that doesn't make you want to nod off after the first few minutes, which is what those old Holy Week movies always made me do. Also, I like the realistic portrayal of what happened - the movie didn't try to sugarcoat events or tone them down to make them more palatable.

Despite all that, though, I think the film isn't at all perfect. What I didn't like about it is that instead of focusing on historical accuracy, they added unnecessary dramatics (the crow was an insult, really) that made things seem too theatrical. Besides that, I think the film was all right, and for someone wanting to get back in touch with his Christian faith, it's a good start.

I'm Going Nucking Futs

2004-04-16T19:05:00.000+08:00

Once again, my stubborn self is refusing outright to let anything get into my head. I've been here in Manila for a week now, classes started this Wednesday, and already we have two reports due next week. I can almost predict the outcome of my weekend - I'll spend two thirds of the day sleeping, the rest dazedly walking around my room like a zombie, and the wee hours of Monday cramming for two reports I should have spent the whole weekend doing. Here is my sad state of affairs:

1. As yet I know absolutely nothing about the two subjects I'm taking this summer. This must be because I've been coming to class late again and disappearing in between periods to try to regain my sanity.

2. I have a lot of non-school-related concerns taking up space in my head that keep me from getting any real moment of peace.

3. I've been semi-sick the past few days. This is a new type of condition I picked up in the course of my stay here. Just a few sneezes, a few coughs - nothing serious enough to require any medication but enough to cause me unnecessary annoyance. The only good thing about it is that most of the time it just manages to go away by itself.

Faura looks decent at night. The yellow sodium street lamps even make it look almost beautiful.

Another Day, Another Campaign

2004-04-15T22:30:00.000+08:00

While walking to school this afternoon I had to stop in this little island in between the lanes of Taft Avenue while a caravan of horn-blasting vehicles that had bright, pink flowers painted all over them passed in front of me. This, clearly, was a campaign device very ingeniously crafted by Presidential candidate Raul Roco (sarcasm intentional). Don't get me wrong - it's not that I have anything against Roco (in fact I think he's an okay person) it's just that the streets of Manila have been saturated by the campaigning of so many would-be politicians and I'm sick of it. Ever since campaign period started I have heard popular jingles converted into campaign slogans pumped out almost daily by mobile loudspeakers, I have seen posters of artificially smiling candidates plastered on every available corner, I've endured political ads full of glowing promises that make me cringe.

I am tired of the blatant lack of creativity displayed by people running for office in this country. But I would have been willing to tolerate all that if that were their only offence. The problem is that most of the time these candidates prey on the ignorance of the masses. I heard on the news that Gloria Arroyo, current president and running candidate, attended several high school graduations in which she promised free education for the poorest among them, granted, of course, that she gets elected. This, I think, is just plain stupid. First of all, she made no attempt to quantify her statement. Who exactly are the poorest of the poor, and how many of them exactly will the government subsidize? Also, this will ultimately lead to people vying to prove that they are poorer than the next person. As head of state, I don't think this is something you want to happen to your citizens. It's like this policy I read about in the United States where dirt cheap apartment rates were provided for the poorest people, with the result that it was even harder for people with minimum wage jobs to get housing than those on social security!

Another Gloria boo-boo I read about in a newspaper is how she gained voters among the Tricycle Drivers' Association because she supported them when the MMDA (Metro Manila Development Authority) was about to outlaw them. Tricycles are these small, modified motorcycles that carry passengers who don't want to walk short distances. They are also safety hazards on the road because they very often do not have safety lights (much less seatbelts) and are usually parked in the sides of roads, clogging up the sidewalk and even taking up road space. I see her move as another selfish bid to secure her victory.

While my dad and I were on our way home one night in Davao, we had to take a different route because a triangular intersection in the middle of the city was completely taken up by a wooden stage, large posters of the candidates of Arroyo's party, and a crowd of people witnessing the campaign. That was just wrong. To think that Gloria kept on bragging of possessing the 'moral high ground' in the elections. Yeah right.

It might seem like I'm doing a Gloria-bashing here, but I'm really not. It's just that I happen to have a collection of examples of her stupidities. Most other candidates have done much the same. The point I'm trying to make is that Philippine politics is in a depressingly low state. They are no better (and are even worse) than the media, who shamelessly use the masses to further their own moneymaking ends. Filipinos have been promised a better future, one where we can hold our heads high and know that we are actually heading somewhere. But this will never materialize unless there is a radical change in our political system. Right now, while the bid for public office is one big popularity contest, where no move is too low that will secure the most number of votes, where even in the highest places the prevailing attitude is 'be content with little and do the bare minimum in all situations', and where morality serves no purpose except as a front to provide an illusion of goodness to the witless herd, the Filipino nation will remain as it has always been: fragmented, backward, a farce perpetrated by the people on top, our brothers, those who should know better. This is the ultimate betrayal, and it seems we shall always be bound by it.

The Right Kind of Emphasis

2004-04-15T21:05:00.000+08:00

I was pleasantly surprised a few days ago when I suddenly heard on the radio this song I really like called Let Your Shoulder Fall by Matthew Jay. Besides the melody, I like the noncomittal way he says the words, like he doesn't really care that much when in truth, it means all the world to him. It's a sad song, and it makes you think, and it's beautiful. Another song I heard before but didn't know the title of is Dare You to Move by Switchfoot. It's inspiring, and it really applies to my situation. Because I am an idealist, because I am so far from what I hold ideal, and because I need to lift myself up and become who I'm meant to be.

Mulling Things Over

2004-04-14T22:40:00.000+08:00

I think that my life ever since I went home for the summer has been one long therapy session with my experiences being the shrink and myself as the befuddled patient who hasn't yet resolved his many internal conflicts. I remember one particular incident when I accompanied my 'aunt', a family friend who's an ophthalmologist, while she went through her rounds before ending her work day. She had three patients confined in the hospital that day. The first we visited was a little girl, about the same age as my sister Maxine, who just had her eyes operated on to correct a congenital deformity. Since my aunt is an expert in reconstructive eye surgery, I don't think the case presented much of a problem. The little girl seemed to be doing well, and though she looked scared and uneasy (she had gauze patches over both eyes and couldn't take them off until the next day), she had her parents around to comfort her. Next was a boy around my age who sustained a major eye operation to clear the mucus that was clogging one of the sinuses close to his right eye. I thought this was pretty silly at first, but I was told that this was his second operation, and that the first one had to be done because the accumulated mucus caused his eye to bulge out. Strange, but true. The last patient we visited was the one that left the most impact on me. He was confined in the Neuro Ward, but there was a curtain separating his bed from the others. This meant I had my first sight of him from quite close by, and I was relieved that my face didn't register my astonishment at what I saw. He was a small, thin boy, maybe seven or eight years old, and his large round head was lined with staples where his hairline would be. I learned that he was run over by a truck on a highway, and though he didn't have any injuries in the lower parts of his body, his skull was fractured in front and his eyes were damaged as well, but I didn't pay much attention to what I was told about what happened the boy's eyes because I couldn't stop staring at his head. It looked so fragile, as if a single touch would cause it to break apart again. And then my aunt mentioned that there was no bone left in front of his forehead and she told me to feel it. I did, and it was so soft that I was afraid I'd press too hard and maybe injure his brain so I quickly pulled away. Throughout all this the boy was awake, and he was murmuring things I couldn't understand. He must have said something funny though, because his mother, who was lying beside him on the bed, laughed a little and asked him about it. While my aunt and the boy's mother were conversing about his treatment and how well he was doing, I thought about how much bravery that mother was showing, that she could bear to laugh and appear to take things lightly for the sake of her child.

Afterwards, I asked my aunt about the details of the accident, and learned that it was a hit-and-run case - the truck driver had sped away right after hitting the boy. The remarkable thing about it was that a witness had managed to recall the truck's plate number, and because of that, the truck's owner, a Chinese businessman, had been identified and besides paying damages was charged to shoulder all the expenses related to the boy's treatment.

The whole story made me think a lot, especially of my decision to become a physician in the future. The truth is, when I was little, I wasn't exactly sure of the one thing I wanted to be when I grew up, but I made up my mind that I very certainly wasn't going to be a doctor. I don't really know why, but that's pretty much how I felt until high school, and by then, I had decided that I was going to become a lawyer. My parents hinted now and then that being a doctor would be an ideal profession for me, but I always dismissed the idea, and being the open-minded people that they are (God bless them), they left me to whatever I wanted for myself, believing firmly that I would put my heart to whatever it was I had chosen.

Things changed, though, when I was informed that I had the opportunity to enter a course that would reduce my pre-Med time to two years and guarantee me a slot in the College of Medicine, which is of course what INTARMED is. It was then that my father had a serious talk with me about what being a doctor is really like, and why he chose it as his profession. You see, my father, like me, had also wanted to become a lawyer. But he didn't do that, and now I can't imagine what life would be if he was one. Anyway, after that, I gradually came to realize that being a doctor was what I wanted to become, and was in fact the best thing I could become. It's like this: As a lawyer, I'd be spending my time studying things created by man, things that are arbitrary, temporary, and subject to interpretation. The law I'd be studying in the Philippines would probably be completely worthless in, say, Pakistan. On the contrary, as a doctor I'd be studying the inner workings of man, a creature created by God by his design, and even if you don't believe that, the point is that the biology of man is constant, in the sense that the same basic principles govern the body of every human, whether he lives in Pakistan or anywhere else. Furthermore, what makes medicine the noblest of all professions is that it very directly upholds the dignity of man, and an understanding of it is ultimately an understanding of the self.

I admit that I have many times been reluctant to face the fact that I am now stuck in Manila and this routine I loathe. This is why I wrote this piece partly as a reminder to my self that I do, in fact, desire to become a doctor. And I do believe in the end result of what I'm undertaking, even if I complain a lot about what happens along the way. The memory of the day I spent with my aunt at the hospital will stay with me as a reminder of why I'm here in the first place - because I want to make a difference, and because I want to do something meaningful with my life. That is all I really need to know.

I Just Need To Let This Out

2004-04-13T22:42:00.000+08:00

I want to go home. The reason I've been griping about my situation ever since I got here is because I don't want to go through another month having to stress myself so much. I need to transplant my house and my family here. Or I need to transplant UPM and PGH there. I wonder which is easier. The latter, probably.

Another Litany

2004-04-13T21:34:00.000+08:00

I did not get to enroll today. There was a problem with the registration - our block was assigned to the wrong classes. This means I'll have to go back tomorrow morning, right before our classes begin in the afternoon. Talk about short notice.

I got my P.E. grade instead. And though I know it doesn't really matter because P.E. is only a pass-fail course and the teacher was kind to me (she even remembered my name!) besides, I still got irked when I found out I only got a lousy 2.25. The teacher said it's because I didn't move so well. Oookay.

Note to self: let go of misgivings over crappy grade in insignificant subject.

Afterwards I told myself, Hey, why not have a nice meal at McDonald's (I hadn't eaten at McDonald's in over a month because it's out-of-the-way from my place) and get that McFlurry you've been craving for? So of I went in a vain effort to enjoy a satisfactory fast-food experience.

The McFlurry was fine. Everything else wasn't. It started right after I paid for my order. I handed the girl at the counter a five-hundred-peso bill. "Do you have a smaller bill?", girl-at-counter asked. "No," I said, slightly apologetically. So girl-at-counter proceeded to give me one hundred-peso bill, two hundred something pesos worth of twentys, and thirteen one-peso coins. This gave the effect that in one meal, my five hundred pesos had been reduced to one hundred-peso bill, a bunch of twentys, and some heavy coins that made my wallet bulge. I was not at all happy.

I took the only available table, which happened to be close to a number of middle-aged people who were having a meeting of some kind (though how people can stand to hold meetings such a crowded place with eighties new-wave music blaring in the background is beyond my comprehension). Big mistake. Apparently, they were discussing a pyramid marketing scheme. I learned this because their 'leader' kept talking about it in a loud, grating voice. Fortunately, I managed to tune him out after he mentioned something about some guy who pawned off his cell phone to get started in the business. I managed this because I started to notice my food.

I opened my yellow styrofoam food container and discovered, to my dismay, that my eighth of a chicken was a tiny, pathetic-looking wing. Also, the rice serving looked like it would only fill a quarter of a cup. The apple pie, too, seemed smaller than I remembered. At this point I had a strong urge to take back my money and spend it instead at Chef D'Angelo's (which, by the way, I do not consider a fast food place, except during peak hours) where I would at least have had a proper meal in front of me. This, sadly, was not a possibility. Faced with my dismal-looking meal of diminished proportions, it didn't take me long to finish eating and then I was out of there, facing the filthy street called Taft Avenue like a convict just released from prison.

Considering that for the next few weeks I shall once again have to patronize fast-food chains of the same kind, I have formulated a few rules that to me are essential for one to survive this particular type of dining experience unscathed:

1. Be prepared to face long lines in front of the counters upon your arrival, reminiscent of the food rationing services provided by the Soviet Republic decades earlier. Remember: You are not there to be serviced by that particular fast-food chain. You are there to add to the profits of its owners, just like the millions of Russians who died to give glory to their Great Proletarian Republic. So wait.

2. Expect your food to look a lot less appetizing than the pretty pictures you see in the menus.

3. Ignore the loud music/noisy people/unpleasant odors/general uncomfortableness of the surroundings. Buy your meal, eat it, and leave. Do not linger, because that might keep the hordes of potential customers from eating in the same place. It is likely that the loud music/noise/etc. were purposely set up by the management to get rid of you as soon as possible. Respect their wishes.

4. Do not expect the employees to have time to cater your needs. They are probably understaffed and are too busy taking orders from the customers who just keep on coming. This also applies to people who expect clean lavatories provided with soap and toilet paper - odds are, you're on your own.

5. Finally, whatever your circumstances, always compare your situation to the worst possible scenario. Then just grit your teeth, take a few deep breaths, and repeat the words 'this could be worse' in your head until you feel a bit better. If this doesn't work, go far, far away. You aren't in the right disposition to sustain other similar encounters. Better stick to home-cooked meals.

I think that this rip-off from something JFK said best illustrates the fast-food philosophy:

Think not what your fast-food chain can do for you, rather, think of what YOU can do for your fast-food chain.

Holy

2004-04-12T20:35:00.000+08:00

Yesterday was Easter Sunday and I went to mass for the first time in three months. It took a little longer than usual. The priest had this Presbyterian from Norway profess his faith along with the rest of us and that was supposed to convert him into a Catholic. The priest asked everyone to give him a round of applause afterwards. I didn't. In my head I was wondering why on earth anyone would want to convert to the Catholic faith.

When I was studying in a Catholic school, masses and other religious services were imposed on us regularly. When the time came to recite the profession of faith (I believe in God, the father almighty, etc.) I couldn't allow myself to include the phrase 'the holy Catholic church'. I just didn't believe in it.

What I hate most about the Church is that it used to be a worldly, power-hungry institution that opressed the masses (the giving of indulgences and the Spanish Inquisition were acts of pure evil) and if there is anything I hate, it's someone, or something, that's oppressive and power-hungry. Even today, when the Church has made feeble attempts at making things right, I still observe priests and many self-righteous lay people acting exactly like the Pharisees Jesus so passionately condemned. I don't mean to say that the Church teaches people to act that way, but since a Church is supposed to be a community, I'd rather not be a part of it. Also, I agree with Martin Luther on many counts (like the issue on the adoration of Mary) and though I am not a Protestant, I very certainly do not want to be Catholic.

I agree that no religious denomination is perfect, which is why I prefer not to align myself with any and I consider myself a plain Christian. I read the Bible and I believe in Christ. I don't put any worth on tradition because Christ didn't either.

With that issue settled, my faith went on a roller coaster ride these past two weeks. I thought I got over my issues but now they're still here. I think, though, that I'll be able to deal with them in my own time and I don't need to convert denominations to put my mind to rest.

Relief

2004-04-12T16:49:00.000+08:00

This is one of the days when I regret all the more that this country was not subjected to a dictatorship under Lee Kwan Yew. I just got back from Davao (I had to leave, there's no way around it) and endured a one-and-a-half-hour flight with an infant wailing incessantly throughout the duration. This is not something you want to happen to you when you need to take a rest. I wouldn't have been so pissed off if it hadn't been for what happened right after - it took exactly 29 minutes from when the conveyor belt started running before I got my only piece of luggage. I checked. And because of that wasted time, I'll have to postpone my enrollment for the summer term tomorrow. I remember Lee saying he made it a priority to make sure airline travelers got their luggage as soon as possible so there wouldn't be any unnecessary waiting. This is a concern our short-sighted politicians wouldn't even dream of addressing. If things had only gone differently, and Singapore got Marcos while we got Lee...

Unfortunately for me, more annoyances followed. After claiming my luggage I suddenly realized I left the book I was reading in the plane, a book which would have been of great use to me and which I most likely will not get another copy of. Stupid me. And then, when I got back to the building I stay in, this creepy taxi driver practically begged me for a large tip which I grudgingly gave him in case he did anything crazy.

Now, though, I am comfortably settled in and I'll be spending the rest of the day relaxing and giving myself a well-deserved rest.

Tomorrow is a new day and a new beginning and I'll see what life has in store for me.

Here is Good

2004-04-06T14:47:00.000+08:00

I have come to the conclusion that home, indeed, is synonymous to rest, relaxation, and total comfort. I almost broke down when after three long months of (self-imposed) exile I was finally reunited with my big, brown, comfortable bed in my room that after all this time still exudes its the-great-Lyle-has-been-here-for-prolonged-periods quality. Never mind that my desk was replaced with piles of boxes in my absence. Never mind that the computer had to be reformatted which is why I am in yet another net cafe to get this entry published. In my mind's eye, there is, truly, no place like home.

Unexpectedly

2004-03-29T14:48:00.000+08:00

The concept of land and sea breezes is one of the first things I remember learning in gradeschool, back when I was still a science geek. I won't bother trying to explain it here, but it accounts for the fact that if you live near the coastline, the wind moves towards the land in the daytime and towards the sea at night. Though I live relatively near the sea in Davao, I never personally experienced this phenomenon. So you might say my learning was vicarious, which is the case with most of what I read in books. But recently, I've been noticing that walking along Padre Faura, which happens to be a street perpendicular to the Manila bay, I sometimes find myself facing the wind when walking to school in the mornings and walking home in the late afternoons. It happened again today, and it's just now that I noticed that this concept I learned early in life (and thought of at most to be something nice to know) would actually be working to my advantage at present.

Because sometimes, when I walk the street and find myself facing the wind, I forget the stench and ugliness that surround me and find that there are still some things in this congested metropolis that are beautiful.

Things are Working Out

2004-03-26T21:30:00.000+08:00

Today I scratched off another annoyance: KOM 3 is officially done for good. I just took the final exam this morning, and it felt great right after. I still have to study though. There's the third exam for Math 100 tomorrow, and the finals on Tuesday. There's Soc Sci and (maybe) the Chem finals on Monday if I want to take it. But I feel like a seasoned veteran by now. I can handle this. I won't screw up.

Tired

2004-03-24T00:13:00.000+08:00

My left hand is still numb from writing. Funny - it's been a while since I subjected my fingers to this much stress. And the results are just perfect, too. No, I did not write something meaningful and important. No, I did not take another important step towards discovering who I am. No, I did nothing to fulfill the greatness that is my destiny. I did less than that. Much less. The kind of 'less' that reminds me of dirt that gets stuck in between my toes when I walk outside on my slippers.

I woke up at 8 this morning, and I immediately realized that my Zoology Lab Manual was due to be passed at precisely that moment. That's when adrenaline started pumping through my veins. Fact: Right then, I had filled up less than an eighth of my manual. Fact: I had all weekend to do it, but I spent all my time trying to postpone the dreaded chore until the last possible moment. Fact: I started on it last night but I got tired and discouraged when I realized just how much work it would take and reverted to reading my current book instead. Fact: Exhausted, I slept at around 3 am and promised myself I'd wake up after a short nap. I didn't.

Bummer.

So I started filling up my manual like crazy and it took me until 3.30 pm. Perfect. Thirty minutes early for my Chemistry exam. I should have been happy, except for the fact that I knew literally nothing, as I mentioned previously, and I had thirty minutes to cram in as much information as I could. As expected, it didn't help much.

I won't talk about how I think I did on the test. I won't say how I felt when I saw my Zoology grades posted on a bulletin board later in the afternoon. They're not important. What's important is that I have, once again, disappointed myself.

Back to my hand. My fingertips are hurting. Not the satisfying kind of hurt that happens when I manage to write down something with a pen and paper that captures my thoughts almost perfectly and makes me feel like there's a point to living. The hurt is more of a reminder of how, hours earlier, I felt like a piece of dirt that gets stuck between my toes when I walk outside on my slippers. And now, well, let's just say that it's not just my left hand that's numb. Because my thoughts are just a big, resounding blank.

The Deed Is Done

2004-03-21T22:48:00.000+08:00

So. I finally got done moving from blog-city. I thought it would take forever, with me being an HTML ignoramus and all. But I did it. Big smile.

This is my first official post with blogger, and I know I should talk about something interesting and important. But all I can think of is that I have a sudden unexplainable craving for a cinnamon bun. It's stupid, really. I pass by Cinnzeo almost every day, on my way to the mall, and I can't remember how many times I thought about going there and deciding against it because I'm really not the cinnamon-and-sweets type. Must be the fact that I'm really, really hungry. I haven't had any meals since yesterday. Come to think of it, I haven't eaten anything yet today. I woke up at two in the afternoon, which isn't out of the ordinary since I like to sleep in on weekends. Right after that I decided to work on moving my files from blog-city to here, and making everything look decent. Just goes to show how much effort I put in for this.

Now that this is finally over, I'm eating. A lot. The mall is closed by now, sadly, so I can't get the cinnamon bun I'm craving for. But there's a convenience store where I'm staying, and I'm going on a junk-food binge. And then... well, there's another exam coming up this Tuesday. Chemistry. I used to like it, you know. Better than Biology, even. But now things are different. Because I am in Chemistry hell, along with everyone in my class. Hell being defined as a teacher who has everything in common with the Energizer bunny... she just goes on and on and on. To be fair, though, she isn't really a bad teacher. Too good, maybe, but definitely not bad. And she's a decent person. It's just that, well, I mentioned earlier that I'd been sneaking out of class without her noticing. The truth is, there wasn't a single lecture she gave where I listened. I managed last week's exam well enough by reading our course module. I'm hoping to do the same thing for Tuesday. The problem being that the exam isn't even covered by the course (we're taking up Chem 14, General Chemistry, and the Tuesday test is from Chem 18, and I don't even know what it's about) and I have to read almost the entire Chem 18 module, as opposed to reading just a few chapters.

I'm confident I'll be able to pull it off, though. I've gotten out of worse situations. I'll get out of this one.

Everything's Eventual

2004-03-18T20:50:00.000+08:00

It's been close to a month since my last post. I can't claim to have been unusually busy, although, as one classmate very aptly put it, the latter part of this semester has given a new dimension to the phrase 'Hell Week'. Because, as I mentioned earlier, I had been expecting several Hell Weeks to pass as successive waves of departmental exams for most subjects, but the phrase Hell Week implies periods in between when things are not as Hellish. Unfortunately, we didn't have them. So our Hell Weeks dragged on and on and are more accurately termed collectively as one big happy Hell Month. I won't go into detail and complain about how our insignificant, unimportant subjects reared their evil heads and made their presence felt with unreasonable requirements totally out of proportion with their designated GPA values. I can do that later.

My point is that all the added stress isn't really the reason why I haven't been blogging. You see, when you have a lot to do you're supposed to get busy and go to work. But since I have an inherent aversion to work, I didn't do that, and I ended up doing nothing. And every time I thought about blogging I would get myself in front of a PC and start typing but I couldn't make the words come out. And sometimes I'd be too lazy to even get myself in front of a PC and the thoughts I'd been keeping in my head stayed for a while but they probably got tired of being there so they left.

A lot of things have happened. I have made decisions and I have yet to reap the consequences. I don't want to review stale news, but there are a few things which I think are worth mentioning:

Last weekend I read two books. The Stranger by Albert Camus and We The Living by Ayn Rand. Both got me thinking. Because disregarding the fact that the stories are entirely different, and that one is pessemistic and the other ends with a kind of optimism, I realized that the two are essentially the same. They both talk about what it means to be alive. And they are both honest. And from entirely different perspectives they send the message that we are responsible for how our lives turn out and we need to choose to live and value our existence.

There is a song called 100 Years by Five for Fighting. The melody is beautiful. It's one of the songs I gradually learned to like. It's a story of someone's life that passes by as if years were just precious moments contained in a verse. There's a line in it, when that someone is about to die, that says, '...[there's still] time to buy and time to choose...'. And its true. Because until our last moments we keep on choosing what we make of ourselves. And when we do nothing, it's still a choice.

A few hours ago I decided to watch a movie. I did it because I needed to study for an exam in Zoology tomorrow and for another exam in Chemistry the day after that (both of which I'll fail if I take them right now), and because I felt like I would throw up if I did. So I watched The Butterfly Effect. And I was stunned. Afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking. I have always been haunted by all the 'what ifs' in life. What if I wasn't born a Christian? What if I lived somewhere else and met different people? What if I could have lived a completely different life that would give me everything I could ask for, but instead I am living this, and there's no way out because this is the one life that I have, and so I'm forever be denied of that better possibility and since I don't see it, to me it wouldn't be anything at all? These are things I've been asking myself ever since I can remember. And these are the questions the movie addresses. The movie made me realize that what we do to ourselves is so powerful and has so many repercussions, and that our choices can literally turn us into completely different people. It made me see that I am not bound to my concept of myself, that I reinforce my view of who I am and how others see me in every moment through my every action. And by simply not taking things for granted, I can change the entire course of my life, and the lives of others around me.

I remember, some time ago, that I read Stephen King's compilation of short stories, Everything's Eventual. I don't particularly remember the title story, but I remember thinking that I wouldn't want for the statement to be true. Because I can't accept that I don't have a say in how things turn out for me, because I think that when I change my whole future changes, because I think that life would be so boring when we can't decide for ourselves.

Hazy

2004-02-20T17:29:00.000+08:00

People who smoke while walking along Taft Avenue are people I do not understand. The reason why they'd want to add to all the smoke that perennially coats the air and is continually replenished by passing vehicles is a complete mystery. I suppose they want to die sooner and maybe take others with them (second-hand smoke is, of course, more potent than smoking through a filter).

But really, I don't think I'm in any position to judge, because I do not understand myself either. A few hours from now I'm taking a killer Calculus test and I know absolutely nothing about the topics. I just got done taking a Midterm exam (for Kom), again without knowing anything, and through an incredible stroke of luck it went out all right. At least I'm pretty sure I didn't fail it. I don't think I'll be as lucky for Calculus though. Which is why I should stop wasting my time here and start studying. I might still make up for my total lack of knowledge with my two remaining hours of free time.

God help me.

Priorities

2004-02-17T13:17:00.000+08:00

Recently I discovered that I have a grand total of six exams lined up for me for this week and the next. And that's okay. Because I'm not going to get myself caught in that cycle again. I'm not going to obsess over everything that doesn't really mean that much when you think about it. I mean, how is knowing how to get the derivative of a stupid function supposed to help me with living my life?

Besides, I have other things to do. Like practicing for an acoustic event this Thursday, and maybe another one the week after. I'm not playing any instrument, but I do pretty decent vocals (I think). Anyway, it's a no-brainer, really. Do I do something fun and expressive and meaningful, or something mentally and physically exhausting, not to mention totally pointless? It's not even a choice.

Oxymorons

2004-02-16T21:51:00.000+08:00

Cigarette ads are proof that the majority of people lie to themselves more than they would like to think about. After promising everything from magically acquiring the best cars, clothes, and women to becoming a rugged cowboy, cigarette ads promptly conclude with the ironic statement, 'Government/Surgeon General's Warning: Cigarette smoking is dangerous to your health'. Here we see the government coming up with the rationalization that 'We've done our moral duty to safeguard the health of our citizens with this conveniently vague warning, and look, we didn't even antagonize the multinational tobacco companies that bring us millions in revenue each year! Wow. We must be really smart.' That excuse would be perfect except for the fact that the government relies on a healthy workforce to keep itself afloat. But the government doesn't think about that. Oh no. Because that would bring about nasty issues like budget cuts due to loss of tobacco revenue, and then how could our politicians possibly steal government funds without us noticing? That would never do. That is why politicians choose a slow, agonizing death for our country rather than facing the truth.

The people who buy that advertising crap are, of course, the bigger idiots. But worse by far are the people working for ad agencies who actually come up with the ridiculous concepts. You have to give them credit though. They are smart enough to recognize that most people are perfect targets for manipulation because they're just too stupid to notice.

This is just like the very smart people at MTV who came up with 'Whatever things' and who don't seem to realize that they're contradicting themselves when they say 'Do not attempt these stunts EVER' and 'Would you like to know how to get on this show?' in the same advert. Or the brilliant people in pro-wrestling idolized by practically every male pre-teen in America who feel like they're doing a good deed when they advise their viewers to 'not do what we're doing at home' and actually expect their advice to be followed.

I feel so insecure in this world of incredibly intelligent people.

Where's Freud?

2004-02-16T21:25:00.000+08:00

I had very strange dreams over the weekend. And stranger still, I remembered most of them. Friday night (I think, it might have been Saturday) I dreamed that I had been abducted by people who broke into my room in the night. There was this guy who had a knife and I remember the very real fear and thinking that I did not want to die and that I had to find a way out of the situation. Guy-with-knife lunged at me and managed to wound me a bit but I remember getting hold of the knife before he recovered his balance and gaining the upper hand. Then I stabbed him twice in the chest. He staggered a swayed a little and I remember feeling a bit uneasy because he wasn't really down yet. So I stabbed him again on his belly and twisted the knife around and sliced upward. I wasn't really aware of any blood, just that I felt oddly satisfied when I was done. Then I had to get away. I leapt into an adjacent building and then into another one and so on until I felt that I'd lost 'them'. After that my family somehow managed to get hold of me and they drove me to this vacant lot beside a shopping mall where I would have to hide away from 'them'. But I had to get into the mall for something and inside they were everywhere and they recognized me so I had to get away again. I got outside and ran into a park with ostriches inside and there I told my sister that I would have to stay deep inside so I could remain hidden.

And then the dream just stopped. The next thing I remember is that I was in a garden with potted plants around me and there was some old guy teaching me how to properly water one of the plants. It had something to do with draining out the excess water and measuring the water level in the pot. And then I woke up.

The next night I dreamed I was a street urchin and there was someone teaching me how to read in a room inside a mansion with lots of books and colorful furniture. And then I was outside the really tall, solid fence of the mansion and I was thinking of how to smuggle a frog into the mansion without anyone noticing. Then one of my street urchin friends stuck his head on top of the fence from the inside and told me that I was being tested by the owner of the mansion, who was the same person teaching us how to read. And I remember thinking that my friend wasn't really any help, and I couldn't figure out a way to get the frog inside.

After that, I was suddenly the ruler of a particular country and I had captured and defeated an enemy and I was deciding how best to get rid of him. I remember thinking I shouldn't let him rot in prison because he might be able to escape. So I decided that a public execution would do and I ordered him to be burned at the stake. And I watched with pleasure as his body was consumed by the flames. And then I woke up.

There you go. A glimpse into my subconscious. I don't exactly know what to make of it. And if you think it's all just rubbish, well, it probably is.

Fleeting

2004-02-14T01:07:00.000+08:00

Things happen only once. And then they are gone. There are so many ways of going about the unchosen task of living. Everyone goes through life in his own unique way. But that fact - that things happen once and are never repeated - remains unchanged.

There are no rehearsals, there are no previews, there are no 30-day-limited-time-offers. There is only here and now. And then a different here and a different now. And then, well - no one knows for sure. Perhaps it goes on forever. Just like that. One step and the next. Life and death and whatever else there is that awaits us.

I am writing this down because I want to. Because I think it means something. Because I don't know the answers to what I haven't been asking.

I try to keep still but I never am, really. Everything just flows on steadily, unmindful of what I feel or think. I can't force things to stop or speed up. But eventually for me, everything will come to a halt. Abrupt or gradual, I don't know.

I would have asked a question by now if I had not known that it would be beside the point. Because my entire life is the question. And right now I have no answers. Just me. Lyle. Alive, typing, thinking, breathing, wondering.

Being.

Friday

2004-02-13T17:20:00.000+08:00

Today is Friday the Thirteenth. I didn't even notice until someone told me this afternoon. And my immediate thought was, 'Well, Friday the Thirteenths aren't so bad after all.' Because despite all the little annoyances I've had this week, I'm still having an okay day. Here are the reasons:

1. Our artificially natural group presentation for that accursed subject, KOM 3 (Speech in Filipino, the HORROR) which we did this morning, went reasonably well. Our group was, surprisingly, not given the usual bashing by our beloved professor, despite having worked on a script for the supposedly 'extemporaneous' group discussion. Apparently, lines flow more smoothly and naturally to said professor's ears when they are memorized word for word based on a script. I'm not complaining, though. We deserved an uno for what we did, after all the work we put in.

2. After resigning myself to the fact that I did not know squat about the quiz we were going to have for Zoo Lab in the afternoon and watching everyone study study study and spout incomprehensible terms (to me, at least) and deciding that I could just not care for once what grade I'd get for a stupid quiz because I didn't really study anyway, it turned out that our instructor spent close to an hour or more in preparing the slides we needed to view and in that amount of time I was able to read up on everything and realize that there wasn't really that much I needed to stuff in my head after all.

3. My financial troubles have come and gone (almost). Wednesday morning, after completely running out of money and banking on my ATM to withdraw, I was informed that my ATM account had just closed and my mom would be opening a new one but I couldn't use it until today. That turned out to be untrue, because it turns out I need to wait until Saturday to get some freaking money. Fortunately, I received the money my mom sent by courier and I'll be all right until tomorrow when I'll hopefully be able to get the money I very definitely need.

There. Three good things that make me feel better about my day. And I have a weekend of much-needed rest to look forward to. There were some strange things that happened to me though. Like today someone (I don't know who) gave me flowers. Oookay. And my previously-misplaced Chem Lab manual mysteriously appeared on my desk chair (didn't happen today but I'm still guessing who put it there - maybe my subconscious did).

Not Done

2004-02-11T00:18:00.000+08:00

I have lived with myself for seventeen years now. I've had my ups and downs. I sleep and wake and live my life like most people do. I embody everything mundane and everyday and mediocre.

I don't like it though. There's something about the thought that makes me recoil inwardly with revulsion. And yet where would the world be without the nameless, faceless masses? If I hate the masses so much, do I expect the masses to hate themselves and live with it? Am I to live with the thought that I am the exception, that what applies to them doesn't apply to me?

I have always been alone. And different. Indifferent to the fact. Not completely, though. At the back of my mind there's a little nagging thought that I should pay a bit more attention to the people around me instead of being so engrossed with myself. But usually I ignore that feeling.

Come to think of it, there are many things I ignore. Because it's often easier to leave things out of your mind and distract yourself with other, less troublesome things.

I am alive. For now, I'll leave it at that. I'm recovering from whatever it is I'm afflicted with and I'm taking my recovery one day at a time.

I Think I'm Happy

2004-02-09T23:37:00.000+08:00

My day started out all right. A 7 am class (Biology) and I wasn't even late. I had breakfast at the AS canteen like I usually do on my M-Th schedule. I was even in good enough humor to scribble some notes about plant cells - nothing taxing. And our teacher entertained us with stories about trees. And showed us a picture. Yes, trees can actually be interesting. I was content to listen and take random notes and think about a play we were having in the evening. After that was Zoology and apart from falling asleep in between the period I did well enough.

Chemistry at 11.30 was a different story. I didn't bother to follow what our dear teacher was saying. I was getting tired of hearing her voice. I quietly slipped out as she started one of her long, complicated, I'm-talking-to-myself-and-not-you lectures and spent a third of the period making visuals for a report for Chemistry Lab, which was right after her class. I've done this (sneaked out) a couple of times before and she's never noticed, bless her tiny heart. When I got back, I tuned myself out to her monologue and wrote random song lyrics on a scrap of paper.

Chemistry Lab was distressing. My group was in charge of handing out and returning materials from the stock room and instead of being able to finish early and get ready for the play like I expected, we had to wait while our classmates repeated a tedious experiment to get the expected results (they didn't) which caused a bit of a delay. When we brought back the items to the stock room, we discovered that a graduated cylinder was missing. I still can't figure out how it could have just dissapeared. And the thought of a petty pyrex glassware thief in our class is just plain creepy.

Anyway.

We got ready for the play. I was supposed to be this mime-looking guy. So they decided to put white poster paint on my face. My face did not like being treated like a poster. At first I felt all right but then my face started burning. A couple of minutes spent in front of a working air conditioner dealt with it though. And off we went to the Class 1972 Theater to compete with four other batches of Med students. We were fourth to present. The first two classes did comedies. Ours was a serious drama. With a touch of the absurd. Hence the mime-looking guy (my character was called Kapighatian, and along with other imaginary beings I was supposed to drive the main character to despair). After the second presentation we went outside and got ourselves ready. And then it began.

There were a few accidents. I won't mention them here. But I was happy with the way the play turned out in the end. Funny, though. We purposely left out humor in our play. But the Med people laughed a few times (Med people meaning those already in Med proper). And they acted strangely. In fact, I always seem to think there's something strange about them. And being around them makes me feel uneasy.

Oh well.

We didn't win, as expected. But we had fun. Took some photos. Yelled a lot (most in frustration). We had dinner in the Pit, this eating place on Pedro Gil. And we made noise. And had more fun. Then we went home. I thought sadly that our brief period of camaraderie and class unity had ended. But the event proved that we could do something productive together as a class and have lots of fun in the process.

Back in the dorm, I played three games of chess with Ants, the director and scriptwriter of our play. We often have these after-class-or-some-other-activity games. We watched some of the Grammy Awards. Then Ants went home. And I started writing here.

Strange. I don't know why I suddenly had the urge to give a summary of my day. Maybe because this isn't my usual ho-hum kind of day. And that for some unknown reason I happen to think I'm happy.

Idiots

2004-02-09T01:38:00.000+08:00

The 'Survivor All-Stars' are dumb-asses. Well, not in everything, of course. But in one very big thing that I could not believe they screwed up on.

I just watched the first two episodes tonight. I thought they would be more competitive. And they were, in a way. Too bad they just revealed how stupid they were as well.

Each 'tribe' was given very few resources after being 'abandoned' in yet another tropical island: a machete, a pot/bucket, and a map to a water reserve, which turned out to be contaminated (the water was cloudy) which meant it had to be boiled to prevent the possibility of being infected with some disease and possibly having to go home and weaken the tribe. Valid point. So they had to figure out how to make fire. Big problem there. None of the geniuses knew how (couldn't they at least have figured that out when they decided to play the game for the second time?). And that was basically the story of the first episode and part of the second. How the 'Survivors' attempted and spectacularly failed to produce fire. In the need for water. Which they had but could not use. Imagine the angst.

Let me emphasize here the fact that there were eighteen of them divided into three 'tribes'. All of them faced with the same predicament. And none of them figured out the obvious solution that was just hanging above their heads. Coconuts. Duh. They needed to hydrate themselves. Coconuts were in abundance around them. They had a machete to cut them with. How could they not have seen it?

It wouldn't have annoyed me so much if I hadn't seen one of them actually cut up a coconut and do nothing with it. I think she just poured the liquid from the coconuts into one of the buckets half filled with the contaminated water from the well. Perfect. She really worked her brain cells there.

There's more to their stupidity. On the night of the first 'tribal council', it rained. Hard. I remember thinking, Poor tribe being forced to vote someone off. They won't have the chance to collect fresh water from the rain. Because by the time they got done it wasn't raining so hard anymore. Apparently, they didn't lose out to the others at all. Because none of the other teams had the same brilliant idea that I got.

And later, they kept on harping about how much they needed water and made it their major angst-of-the-episode. When it rained again in the morning and they were already really, really thirsty, some of the guys suddenly thought, Oh, we can get water from the rain! Imagine that. And so they held their tongues out and slurped up rain water as it fell from leaves or collected it into their palms. Brilliant.

I hope the 'Survivors' don't show the same degree of stupidity as they did in the first two. That would be just sad. Seriously though, I think the 'voting-off' portion of the game has really changed with the reduction of the number of tribe members from eight to six. It becomes easier for a single person or an alliance of two to manipulate the results, and swing votes are easier to spot.

If I have the time I might just want to see succeeding episodes of this new series. I am itching to see Richard-the-big-fat-naked-gay-guy-and-former-winner-who-doesn't-deserve-to-win-again get voted off. Yes, that will just be perfect. But knowing the players, well, they just might let him win again. They are idiots like that.

Rules

2004-02-08T12:59:00.000+08:00

Awhile ago I took a palm-reading test and learned about the life, head and heart lines on the palm. According to the test I was good in 'believing in myself'. I suppose this is true in most cases. The problem being that I very often leave it at that and do nothing productive with it. What use is confidence when you're just lounging on your butt doing nothing? Where's the challenge I've been hoping to find? Or rather create?

The palmistry thing got me thinking about how people talk about following their head or their heart. Something emotional is supposed to be a 'heart' decision and something practical is supposed to come from the head. I am neither a head nor a heart person. I act by impulse. Whatever strikes my fancy in a particular moment. I'm never emotional and very seldom practical. I wonder how I should describe myself: a 'gut-feel' person?

I have a lot on my mind today. I can think of too many things to do with my time. This is in stark contrast to my usual state of a dazed stupor, content to just sit around and do nothing.

I need a break. And some quiet time to relax and to decide and make sense of everything. Rather than just barraging blindly onwards which is my usual strategy of doing things.

Disappointed?

2004-02-07T20:46:00.000+08:00

The results are in. I was right in worrying about how my recently taken exams would turn out. In descending order: 78. 59. 44. I have never gotten grades like these in my life. Grades in almost equal proportion to the effort I put in. I have no right to be unhappy. But I am. When life gives you lucky breaks too often you start acting like you deserve them. This is my little dose of reality.

I have yet another exam to take tomorrow (I mean this) afternoon. And as usual I know absolutely nothing about what I'll be tested on. Also, I have to finish the portion of the lab report that I have to redo because the other one I made was on the wrong activity. How stupid is that? Well, my life has always been perfect.

I know I should be studying or writing (the report) or cleaning up my messy room but I am compelled to do this. I want to keep a record of everything because I feel that somehow that gives them a degree of permanence. I want to make myself feel that I didn't just breeze through life and leave nothing behind. As if I never even existed. Even if all I have to show for it are random thoughts.

Smooth

2004-02-06T00:37:00.000+08:00

Tuesday night I went to Malate with Elaine, Gerald and Louie, all IMED friends. It was the first time I spent my night out there. Which should actually be surprising: though I live in Ermita, Malate is just a short walk away. I went out with the specific purpose of getting myself drunk. I had never been drunk in my life. My past alcohol intake has been very minimal. I wanted to know what it would feel like.

It was a small place, with tables placed close together around a dance floor. Loud pulsating music. People smoking. Dark, with colored lights moving around. I told myself I wouldn't dance. I didn't care to. Besides, when we got there, no one was dancing yet, except for this girl that I was told was getting paid for it. She was supposed to be there to 'encourage' people when no one wanted to dance. I don't think she was doing her job very well, though. She didn't encourage me, anyway. It was around 10:30 pm. We spent some time waiting for our orders (I ordered a mocha shake for starters) and after a while Elaine, Gerald, and Louie started dancing around with only the girl I mentioned for company and I had fun watching them have fun. They tried to make me join them once or twice and after a while I thought, what the heck, I've got nothing to lose so I went out there and it was okay. But I thought it would be better if I got a little drunk first so I ordered two beers and waited for awhile.

I do not like the taste of beer. Maybe alcohol in general. But I can sort of stand red wine, which is the only other alcoholic drink I've tried except for white wine and vodka(I think). I was determined to get drunk, though, and I didn't really start gagging or anything. I got through the two beers. I spilled a little I think. I started getting a little tipsy and getting the urge to pee every few minutes. I danced a few more times, and started getting more comfortable with it. I do not know whether to credit that to alcohol or just my improving mood. I had another beer. My head felt a little heavy (Elaine said that was a sign) and I waited for myself to blank out and lose control. It didn't happen. I was in perfect control of my faculties, albeit a bit unsteady on my feet. But I could remember everything. And my memory was one continuous flow until around 3 am when we decided to leave.

I'm not entirely sure whether I accomplished my purpose that night. I might have gotten drunk but most probably didn't. I'd rather not repeat it though. I had a 'hangover' the next day (whatever it was it wasn't a very nice experience) I figured that that plus the awful taste would cancel out the 'happy feeling' drinking brought, which in all likelihood might have just been a mood swing in itself.

Regardless of all that, I had fun with my IMED friends and I might want to repeat the experience (sans drinking) in the near future.

Normalcy

2004-02-05T11:41:00.000+08:00

A lot has happened in the two days that passed. And right now I am left numb. Which is strange. Because I happen to think that my experiences were pretty intense. And now I'm thinking: is this what everything leads to? Do we live and feel and find that there is nothing afterwards? There are memories, of course. But they can never really capture the essence of actuality. And they fade with time. Leaving behind vague fragments of the past. And of course death is the biggest mystery of all. Because despite any amount of faith in an afterlife, we are denied the certainty of what really happens afterwards. Will there even be a reality then?

I don't know. That's for certain. And no one else alive knows either. It really is the great equalizer. Every human being faces the uncertainty of death with an equal amount of vulnerability. I remember someone saying, "People are never born equal." I suppose this is true. But we are equal in our lack of certainty about death. And for that matter, every passing moment.

I did not intend to be philosophical. But I just have to wonder about the point of what I'm doing. Because I'm not doing it very well. I keep on immersing myself in all the trivialities of existence - eating, sleeping, studying, socializing. They take up all my time. But I think, it would be very sad if I spent my entire life this way. This is not what I'm supposed to do. This is not what I'm supposed to BE. I'm something else. I can feel it - beyond all this. Deeper. More real. Which is why I keep thinking that I've never lived a single day in my life the right way. I've never really been what I feel I should be.

Undecided

2004-02-03T20:21:00.000+08:00

I would write some more and I have plenty of things to say but it's getting late (for me, it is) and I have to do two extremely annoying things I've been putting off over the weekend:

1. My share of our Zoology Lab Report
2. A worthless Kom activity

I have to say bye for now. But awhile ago I was just so completely incensed by the absolute injustice of everything - Well, it seemed like everything at the time but actually it was just this one thing. And now, I feel nothing. Just the usual nagging urge when I have to do something I really really dislike. In this case the two I enumerated above. Oh well. The really nasty things are yet to come. And for the moment, I have Poirot and A Separate Peace to look forward to after all this dirty work.

Guilt

2004-02-02T20:15:00.000+08:00

I am a frog murderer. I killed two frogs two weeks ago I think. And the full realization came to me only now, after the recent onslaught of exams that occupied me the past few days. I was supposed to do a decerebration procedure, which involved cutting up the top side of a live frog's head and pulling out the brain. All that to assess what aspects of the frog's motor responses are controlled by which parts of its central nervous system. I would have objected, too, being the compassionate creature that I am, but the lab instructor said, "Oh, the operation is absolutely painless to the frog. Nothing to worry about." (not the exact words, of course, but a close approximation) and so I complied.

There were a few complications to the whole thing. First, my specimen was not exactly a frog. It was a toad. Which meant it was big and its skin was thick and bumpy. Second, I was supposed to cut through the maxillary (jaw) bone and parts of the skull, and all I had were crappy scissors from a human dissecting set that were clearly not made to cut through bone, as I was made painfully aware of the moment I began. Again, the lab instructor said, "Oh, I'm sure those scissors will do. You go right ahead." Third, the instructor was pretty vague about how to go about the whole thing. She merely told me to cut behind the eyes and take off the head and the brain with it. Not exactly illuminating.

There's more. The lab was in its usual state of sweltering heat, I was sweating like crazy, and moments after I began my first attempt my phone started vibrating in my pants pocket and just kept on going (it was a phone call, never mind who it was), which is something you never want to happen to you while dissecting a toad, particularly if you're a compassionate creature like myself.

The 'frog', too, was not behaving like it should have been. The chloroform was supposed to have sedated it and kept the whole thing painless, but unfortunately it didn't do its job as well as it should have. The 'frog' was a good actor though. After we patiently held out a chloroform-soaked cotton ball in front of its nose for some time, it appeared limp and relaxed. But when I made the move to begin cutting it up, it squirmed around and refused to keep still. Strange. Like it had somehow sensed its own death. Anyway, we had to re-apply the chloroform a couple more times until I got fed up and decided to finally get on with it.

It took me a while to cut through the jaw bone. By that time, there was yellowish-white goo that had oozed through both sides of its upper back, which I later learned was poison. Perfect. Also, a lot of blood was spewing from the cut I made, and it didn't show signs of stopping. I didn't even get to start on the more solid bones of the skull when we realized our 'frog' was dead.

Her name was Lucy, by the way.

It turned out that we cut in the wrong place - behind the exposed tympanic membrane (eardrum to laymen) when the cut was supposed to be in between the eyes and the eardrum. Well, it wasn't exactly a blunder. After all, we did cut behind the eyes like we were told.

So we decided to try again. This time with another live toad we left nameless. I was seriously doubting my scissors' capacity to do the job, but I thought maybe the right cut would make the difference. Apparently it didn't. Granted, there was no marked bleeding when I cut up the jaw, and the toad still showed signs of life, but the scissors just could not cut up the thick bone on top of its head, and in the end we had to give up trying. Which left the nameless toad with a fractured jaw and (I assume) a large amount of pain. We pithed the toad, which is just a nice way of saying we killed it by poking at and in the process destroying its brain and spinal cord. And we wrapped it up in an old newspaper with Lucy and threw it in a trash bin.

And now I'm tormented by all the ifs and could haves and I still think I could have prevented the senseless waste of amphibian life if I had just prodded for clearer instructions from the instructor or used better instruments (a scalpel, maybe, or anything else sharp) or whatever else I could've done to change the outcome of things. But it's no use. I guess my conscience will never rest.

Done

2004-01-31T14:48:00.000+08:00

I am spent. Wasted. Man, those exams were crummy. Probably my worst ones this semester. Three straight major exams.

I'm obsessing again. That's how I am.

I can't stand it. My aura is reeking of failure. Sheesh. And I almost misspelled the stupid word too.

I have to go. My paragraphs are too short but what the hell. No one else ever reads them anyway. So off I'll go to wonderland to forget about everything for a while.

I wonder when I'll get back?

Blind Spot

2004-01-31T03:10:00.000+08:00

So. This is the aftermath of two huge exams that made me feel restless all week. I thought I got done venting awhile ago at the arcade. Obviously I'm not. Which is why I'm here again in this dump (having successfully conditioned myself against a smell that I'm beginning to suspect contains traces of weed) delivering my piece.

My life is once again in an in-between state. I'm engulfed in a sea of unpleasantness that I have to cross. I can deal with the tests pretty well, though. I've been doing that since I don't know when. But it's the hordes of 'activities' I'm required to do that I find utterly distasteful.

Why have I been condemned by fate to take my KOM subjects in Filipino? Things would have been completely different otherwise.

I think there are still some things I've left unsaid but right now I really need to get back to studying for yet another test.

Another day, I guess.

Suffocation

2004-01-26T23:52:00.000+08:00

I hate the way this stupid place stinks. The smell permeates my clothing and lingers there hours after I leave. These morons just can't seem to stop smoking. Shame. It killed my 'creative writing mood'. I was about to dismiss the line of thought but the noise made my mindless game players hanging about is just terrible.

I can't do it. Not today. I'll talk freely later when I figure out how to overcome this wretched smell.

Sunday

2004-01-25T19:51:00.000+08:00

Today I did something productive. I cleaned up my room. It wasn't really anything much. I could've done a whole lot more with my time but once again I didn't. But it's a start. I think I can finally break away from this lull I'm in.

On the other hand, I am starting to freak about the progressively more numerous responsibilities that are piling up on me. This is not an isolated occurrence. It's a nasty consequence of the vicious cycle I'm trying to break.

I didn't go to church today. I haven't since I left Davao. I don't see the point when I know I won't be sincere anyway. Also, I'm just too lazy to go and that's probably the only reason. It just makes me feel better to have a justification for my actions.

I am blowing all the long-term things I've decided to carry out and I hate it. I need to lay down a more definite plan for what I should be doing. Boundaries for what I will and won't allow myself to do. I will do it within this week. I think that wouldn't be asking too much of me.

Yup. A gradual change would be best. I'm already aware of how deep and potentially hopeless my situation is. But as long as I have the strength to occassionally keep my head above the water I'm still in the game. And I still have the hope of reaching land. I just hope I don't get myself drowned before I get there.

Better?

2004-01-22T18:17:00.000+08:00

Right now I'm not in as bad a mood as I used to be but I admit that there's still a lot about my life that's still messed up. I think I'm doing better though. I read a 'Japanese' novel and it was good and I'm waiting to read the second installment of the trilogy. I just got the result of a recent exam. Owing to bonus points I got over a hundred percent. And because of those things and the fact that I now have my allowance of the week I'm feeling slightly better. Funny. Exams have this huge impact on my mood. But I never work for them. Well, yes, I cram for them, but that doesn't count. And when I do well on them I get high and act like it was destined to happen. Like, 'of course I should have done well on that exam, there's no reason I shouldn't'. But when I don't I bum around and complain and feel depressed and I'm just sick of it happening again and again.

I have to unentangle myself from the results and ask myself whether I did my best or not. Because I have always said (or thought) that that is what counts more. Except that I have never really done my best ever so what is there to ask? And my actions clearly point the other way: I'm only interested in results, and so is everyone else.

Time to change.

For the better, I hope.

Unclear

2004-01-19T18:18:00.000+08:00

Once again I'm beginning something I'm not quite sure I'll be able to end. I've had a lot of beginnings lately. And lots of endings. Most I'd rather not remember. Sitting in this stuffy, noisy, distinctly uncomfortable internet cafe, I can't help but think that I've never really lived a single day the right way in the seventeen years of my existence. How much can you accomplish in seventeen years, anyway? How much can you screw your life up? For the past few days what predominates my mind is the uncomfortableness of everything. I have this feeling in my gut that I'm not where I'm supposed to be, that I'm not doing what it is I'm supposed to do. I am in a rut, just like the countless ones I've been having ever since I can remember. What is it, really, that I'm supposed to do with my life and what is it that keeps me from finding out? I'm supposed to spend my time getting an education and I've learned a lot of things. But everything seems to be contradictory. And the only thing I'm sure of right now is how little I know of anything. I don't understand what makes me tick - why I keep doing the things I do.

I have so many things on my mind but I don't know what to start with. I think that I'm on the verge of a breakdown - and that I'll always be on the verge because that's how I always am - at the point of something but not quite getting there.

Religion - my faith. Do I even believe in anything now? Well I've lost faith in myself a long while ago and as for God - the best I can say is that I don't know. And right now that uncertainty is driving me crazy. And I am hoping that things change for the better and that my next blog will be a more optimistic one although I really don't know how that's going to happen right now. I am waiting for something that will most probably never come.