Showing posts with label akoatsiako. Show all posts
Showing posts with label akoatsiako. Show all posts

August 31, 2022

Decade Old MD

 I've been quite down these past few days, that occasional wave of sadness that comes and goes. Sometimes it clings for quite a bit. When you're immersed in that emotion, it's difficult to see the bright side. No matter how I try. 

Lately, I have been feeling unaccomplished. Trapped. Stagnant. I have a strong urge to reclaim my career. I feel that as time goes by, everything I know in the medical field will slowly fade away bringing me back to square one. I wouldn't want that.

Ten years ago today, I passed the Physicians Licensure Exam (PLE). It was the peak of joy and a feeling of success for my then 26-year old self. Today, as I reflect on the past ten years, a glimmer of gratitude came down on me. 

In the last decade, I served my hometown as a community doctor, I obtained my master's degree (MPM Major in Health Systems and Development), I finished Family Medicine residency and now a diplomate in that field, I married the best guy for me, I have housewife stints (on the second phase as of the moment), I have three beautiful daughters, I am healthy, my loved ones are healthy. Alhamdulillah.

That's more than enough to bring back the smile on my face. Allah swt is the Most Merciful. He is good, all the time. 

October 19, 2019

Semi-Zero-Social-Media Challenge

I challenged myself out-of-the-blue to disable my Instagram account and uninstall my Facebook account. I've always been like that, uninstall-reinstall. My Twitter accout is still there though, I think I need it. 

Why?

My in-service exam is fast approaching and my research proposal is still hanging. Social media is ruining my life and I am constantly conscious about it. Also, I want to go back to writing and expressing myself without limitations. Here in my blog, I am not afraid to be judged because nobody comes here to purposely read me. Nobody. Errr, perhaps one or two people. Thank YOU. But Instagram? People judge everything. That has always been my issue --- fear of being judged. Although I always say I don't care about what people think, honestly I am still a tad bit affected.

Oh well, let's see how long this lasts. Maybe 24 hours? A week? Or a month? 

Support me, yeah? 

April 5, 2016

Skinny No More

                          With my friend Mabi during an RC event.                              

The photo above popped from my #timehop app. It was from 2 years ago when I felt fantastic in a 50kg body, an ideal weight for my 5'0 (actually, 5.02 feet!) height. Growing up, I have always been on the curvy side. It's in my genes to have wide hips and large thighs, thanks to my Mom whom I love so much. Haha! I struggled to put my body frame on the normal scale, such influence of TV and print media. 

With my post-pregnancy weight still clinging on and my insatiable appetite, I know that getting back to my 50kg self is a thing of the past. I actually can, but I have embraced this figure and presently left with no desire to get that skinny again. I only aim now to have a healthy and fit body by eating healthy and doing a regular exercise. My husband and I enjoy running on the treadmill or jogging in the park together. Truth be told, I have never appreciated myself more than I do now. I love every curve on my waist because I know  that no matter what shape I am in, I am absolutely accepted and loved. Alhamdulillah. 


At The Sanctuary of Truth, Pattaya. A week before I learned I was preggers. I blogged about it HERE


July 24, 2010

Thoughts About Clerkship

Clerkship is tough like one has ever imagined. It is like going in a battle ground, thinking you’ve had all the vital weapons ready to swing your Excalibur and metal shield but you found yourself at the edge of a thick forest alone. Clueless of the kind of monstrous creature you’ll be fighting, and worse, no one’s there to back you up. You. Are. Entirely. Alone.
I was never the kind of person who complains, but I believe there’s a maximum threshold for everything which includes patience. One can never be too patient. There’s always that maximal point where the pressure chamber burst unexpectedly. Other people outside our field look at us as future doctors, indeed we are, but at this point of our lives we are slaves-slash-doctors-in-the-making. We have plenty of bosses, starting from the consultants, residents, nurses, nursing aides, and sometimes even the IWs. Oh, not to mention the patients themselves and their watchers. I do not understand the kind of stigma attached to every clerk, all eyes are on us. We are being scrutinized from our physique down to the littlest of our gestures or even the minutest whispers uttered. A single mistake is unforgivable otherwise you’d be the talk of the hospital. Good if you’re being talked solely in your department, but expect the news to encroach in the other departments as well. So even before your next rotation, predators are waiting to prey on you. Just get ready.
There are days when I do not know where to place myself, or how to act. You can never be outspoken, yet at the same time you can never be too kind. You can never ever be kind, predators have the tendency to become abusive. A mentor once shared his secret, he said: “When you’re a clerk, never say NO for an answer.” I hold on to that until one night when this amoebic predator repetitively calling me at the ER while I’m at the midst of a surgical job asking me to do something which do not belong to my scope that particular night, in fact that is her work and she’s being paid for that. So I answered the phone and talked in a very calm yet stiff sound: “Ay ma’am, naa man mi division of labor. Kung ER, ER ra ko. Dili ko pwede mag-ward karon kay daghan kaay pasyente gina-atiman nako diri. Naa man ako partner sa quarters. Palihog na lang ko adto, duol ra bitaw dira station. Kay dili jud mahimo na ibahin nako akong lawas. Isa ra biya ko ha…”. I have a hunch I was gossiped as “the clerk who did not refer blah blah’s chart to doctor blah blah”. Oh well, one cannot please everybody. I do not care what they say about me. Yes, now I can never care too much about feedbacks.
I was never exhausted like this in my entire life---both physically, intellectually and spiritually. Clerkship requires physical strength to keep you on the go. Feeling ill is a huge no-no, vitamins are our bestfriends and antibiotics are our initial shields. We are also intellectually challenged; there are days when I ask myself where have all those three long years of reading and memorizing gone? It’s depressing when you cannot answer basic medical questions. You try to dig deep down your neurons and find tangled bits and pieces of unrecalled medical knowledge. You’re blessed if the consultant is the calm one who just smiles when you cannot answer and tells you the right thing. However there are unlucky days when you get to meet the evil consultants who throw insults at you and questions your intellectual capacity in the presence of nurses, nursing students and patients. You feel as if everybody's scoffing at you!! You just wanna die immediately right then and there!!! Like you wish you never existed!!
Quitting is for the losers. And I am no loser; therefore, quitting is not an option. No damn way!!! As medical clerks, we console ourselves with the fact that no single doctor has had never undergone clerkship. We all have our fair share of stories and bloopers to tell. Maybe when we become consultants ourselves, we will look back at our mistakes and the craziness we did and laugh and shrug about it like it never happened. And it’s tempting to think about turning the table to our predators. *evil laugh*

May 25, 2010

Loner.

Caveat: This is an emo entry. Get yourself ready to puke!


I never had any problem being alone until today. I feel, um, not trashed but left out. That  photo above is exactly how I picture myself. I thought I can live alone forever. I see a lot of people everyday but none of them fills this indescribable hole boring through me. This is crazy, I know,  and this melancholy is leading nowhere. Gotta snap out of this.

***
Back to my medical world, we only have few remaining days in the surgery department. Next stop: OB-GYN. I'm prepping myself for that lochia stench. *wrinkles her nose*


May 17, 2010

Let Off Some Steam




When my teeth are itching to bite off some people's head, I:

a. write on my journal.
b. turn the radio on full blast and sing at the top of my lungs.
c. talk to a friend, whoever available to act as a shock absorber.
d. find someone or something who/that can make me laugh.
e. eat my comfort foods: pasta loaded with tons of cheese and chocolates.
f. immerse myself in the cyberspace and just click and click on whatever link I could reach.
g. because I rarely cry in front of anybody, I do it ALONE. and it happens once in a blue moon.
h. most of the time, my lips are sealed. because the moment I open my mouth, I can talk non-stop and that is what I try to prevent. :)

You, how do you let off some steam?

March 17, 2010

IFF

written at 4:30 pm; March 16, 2009; yesterday.
 

There'd be less bickering, less hurt feelings, less anger and a peaceful world if and only if people are:

a.) responsible enough to work on the job that is due to them. one doesn't need to be reminded constantly of what he should do, application of a little common sense works.

b.) hold on to their words. come on the appointed time. if one can't, let it be known immediately. don't allow others to wait until their pupils turn white.

c.) considerate and sensitive of others surrounding them.


I am so disappointed today. My patience and tolerance level are alarmingly dropping!! If people are a lot like those I have mentioned, there'd be no wasted time and sleep-deprived persons like me and most importantly, things can be done efficiently. Grr!

January 18, 2010

The Jeep Fiasco

While we are flattered when we catch an attention from the opposite sex, please show it discreetly naman. We appreciate glances BUT we are disgusted when you stare at us like you are stripping us naked. And when we catch your eyes while looking at us, we expect you to turn your gaze away first. Otherwise, we would take it as if you want to say something to us. When we raise both eyebrows, we expect you to say something and not continually stare at us while a picture of sarcasm is painted on your face. Ano, magtititigan ba tayo? And when we ask you why you are staring at us, do not throw back the question: "Why, is it bad?" because the answer is definitely YES. Why? Because, for God's sake, you are a complete stranger to us and we do not know you!! Your action only shows what kind of person you are--- a disrespectful, imprudent bastard who lacks manners.
And reminder, if you really can't help but stare at us in the jeep, do not sit beside us. You are just making yourself too obvious, it would make us very uncomfortable and do not blame us when we get fuming mad at you and you hear words you swear you don't wanna hear. Although we are both of the same tribe, it doesn't mean you are given the permission to stare at us like that. In fact, you are supposed to be more respectful and protective of us. 
Whoever you are, we hope you learned your lesson. You deserve it.
Somehow, we appreciate the apologies. We know we are drool-worthy but  like we said, never do it to any woman because what you received from us tonight is the minimum, because you know what, you deserve some spanking!!

January 3, 2010

:)

THIS IS MY FIRST POST FOR THIS YEAR:

2010--- when you double 10, it's 20; and when you half 20 it's 10. let's double everything up--hardwork, responsibility, dreams, joy, love, happiness. and, let's torn our miseries, guilt, hatred, bitterness into half. have a blessed year of the tiger people! roooaaaarrrrrr!!

October 4, 2009

On Politics

          Once in a while, we swerve out of the everyday routine that life dictates and find ourselves in situations we aren’t supposed to be in. Nevertheless, there isn’t any flickering remorse as such circumstance opened our minds and brought us into another dimension of our very existence that most medical students are heedless of. That, my friends, is the familiar word POLITICS. Yes, we hear about it everyday from the television, read political headlines on newspapers, see politicians’ faces on tarpaulins and infomercials but most medical students give them a mere shrug. Our lives revolve around the library reading books, correlating the signs and symptoms to the lab result of our patients, or digging down our cerebral cortices for the pathophysiology of the possible diagnoses jumping in and out of our heads (we’re facebook addicts too, by the way). Yes, we care, too, about our country’s governance because we are affected by our patients’ inability to buy their medicines due to poverty. We give our opinions regarding the political state of our country and find ourselves cursing the culprits of the nation’s suffering, our very own sufferings. We accuse them, the president down to the senators and the congressmen, of graft and corruption, of stealing what is supposedly for the people, of being political turncoats. We judge them just like that. Yes, I curse them and they cannot blame me.
          But I ask myself, what gave me the right other than being a natural citizen of this country to air my grievances when I haven’t even exercised my right to suffrage? I want change for the better to take place; I want a bright future for myself and for my siblings and I want to raise my future children in this country free of corruption and violence, but I dare not took the single step towards change—casting my votes during national and local elections. I had been an eligible voter for five years now and haven’t tried voting, not even once. It’s woeful, I know. It’s not my choice not to cast my vote; it’s the chaotic situation that demanded me not to do so. It’s for personal security and the realization that my right to suffrage doesn’t make any difference as obvious vote-buying and electoral manipulation seems normal as the beating of one’s heart. He who has plenty of money (which comes from god-knows-where) and who has adequate power to grip the people on their necks wins the race—it’s not about he who can bring progress to the land and can unite its people to act harmoniously as one. It is a very pitiful situation to contemplate on, making the word HOPE an illusion of the past.
          However, if I continue being an idle citizen of this nation allowing my illusion of hope to endure getting buried and trampled upon by selfish and ambitious political figures who care only about their images and their wealth, I might as well forget my delusion of a bright future and I might as well step out of medical school as all hard works shall not pay off if I continue being a passive citizen. We medical students make an implication on how we don’t care about the political happenings in the country as there are certain set of individuals responsible for political jobs the way we are responsible for treating our patients. But we must also take into consideration the web we are all moving within, that the action of the people on one side deliberately affects us on the other side.
          Hence, I encourage everyone to take a stand and get involved into the process of electing the set of people who shall run our government in the next coming years. Our choice this coming May Election will reflect on our country’s stability, our oneness as a nation, our future and most importantly, our choice will reflect what kind of people we are.
          Somehow, despite all the odds, I can see HOPE shimmering from a distance, signaling it’s not yet too late. We can do something to put a halt to our country’s suffering, thus we must act. NOW!
This time, I took the step towards my goal towards change—electoral registration. Have you?

August 29, 2009

8-29-09

in here, there is silence.
*we'll have our Operation Timbang today at the community, Tambacan.

July 11, 2009

because i am procrastinating..

i will share some lines from the book i am currently reading instead of my OB/Gyne books. it's called SURGEONS DO NOT CRY by Ting Tiongco.
*Man is a predatory animal. And in daily life, Man's favorite prey is the next man himself. Any display of weakness and uncertainty may often be exploited maximally by the person standing in line behind you on the sidewalk or in a bus. Of course, this does not happen all the time. But it happens often enough, especially between people who have nothing in common.
*All in the pretext of education and job opportunities abroad, we kill our culture.
*There is no person alive who never cheated. And there is no person alive who can guarantee that he/she will never cheat again. Given the chance, the person you meet walking down the steet WILL cheat. Some will cheat more than others. And more will cheat if they know they can get away with it.
* Man made time. And man can always make time for anything he wanted to do as Man can always claim the lack of time for anything he did not want to do.
*One's error of commission or omission may mean another person's life.
i am halfway finishing this half-inch thin collection of short stories of a surgeon from UP-PGH as i read during my spare times, or, the times when massive laziness of reading school books is all over me. just like right now. =) i will share the rest again, when i am procrastinating.

July 5, 2009

Maratbat and the Maranao by Nainobai D. Disomangcop

*i chanced upon this while doing my research for my BehavScie research proposal. Aunty Nancy is a close relative of mine. :p i'm so in love with her article that i copied it without her permission. hehe. i hope this extends a broader understanding about the Maranaos.  
The Maranaos are traditional people whose rich cultural practices continue to perplex even social scientists. Their resistance to change is seen not only in their slow modernization process, but also their continued faithfulness to customs and beliefs.

Their practice of the maratabat is a mark of distinction which makes them unique among all other ethnic groups. Maratabat is equated with “hiya” or shame, honor and dignity, rank, self-esteem or “amor-propio,” reputation and “face.” But maratabat is more than any of these. There is no single word or phrase that can clearly define maratabat, for the Maranaos have surrounded it with many socio-psychological concepts of their own. It is directly proportional to a person’s social rank. One social scientist views it as a blind, irrational pride of clan and tribe and a deep sense of personal honor and face. The substance of maratabat lies in the symbols, shared beliefs, images in the collective reputation, and in public morality of the Maranaos. When positively directed, it gives them unity, strength, and identity; it serves as a driving force in Maranao everyday life, be it social, political, or economic.

To some Maranaos the practice of maratabat is instinctive, but to others it is a learned cultural practice picked up by the children from the elders. One Maranao claimed that he never remembered being taught by his parents to do this or do that for it was expected of him, but rather he learned it gradually through observation from the old Maranaos. To give a better understanding of the process, here is an illustrative case:

Abdul was surprised one day to see his father together with some other male relatives, bringing guns, and crossing the lake. He was then in the grade school. Later, however, that one of his uncles had been killed. His father had gone out to get his uncle’s killer or any of his relatives. However, upon the admonitions of his father’s father, the relatives of the killer were spared from the vendetta.

The practice of maratabat does not bar a person with high educational attainment from killing another person once his maratabat has been transgressed. There was one law practitioner who was compelled to kill the brother of his brother’s killer because of this.

Vengeance for one’s sullied maratabat is one of the reasons why there are many army soldiers who have died in the Lanao area, explained a lady informant. The soldiers were just so trusting that they did not know the fellow next to them was their enemy. They thought that because they had not done anything (directly) to him, he was not involved. But in Maranao society, once a member of the family is in trouble, all of the relatives are on his side to protect him.

Maranaos who are enemies in Lanao would temporarily forget their animosity and become friends especially when they are in a faraway place. There are several Maranao warring families in Lanao who are close friends especially when they are in Manila. The common cause for this change of attitude is the necessity to group together when a Maranao is involved involve in some trouble.

But a Maranao does not just kill a person without a reasonable cause. Insult or defamation could goad a person into killing another. Once this is inflicted on him, he is ready to face his enemy just to uphold his “dirtied maratabat.” Trouble arising because of girls is a very common case. Even a wolf-whistle from a man could cause him trouble once a girl would inform her family of such things. This would set the scene for killing and counter-killing.

Oftentimes, because of the desire to uphold their maratabat, a killing could cause a vicious cycle for vendetta and counter-vendetta, one family avenging death of a relative until a solution is arrived at. This is where the datus play their role. Normally, marriage is one of the best solutions to the problem. A daughter or a son of the erring party is married to the son or daughter of the other party. In this way, the series of killings would be stopped. The girl, however, may have no right of her own regarding the ceremony. In many instances, though the girl feels some resentment over the arrangement, she would finally coaxed into getting married, because it is only through her that the conflict would be settled. There are some rare cases, however, where the girl would stand firm on her decision not to marry and would refuse to cohabit with her husband after the wedding ceremony. In this case, the expenses incurred during the ceremony and the bride-price is returned to the groom’s family.

An outsider to Maranao society would be surprised to find out that to work as maids, which is very common especially among urbanized Christian groups, is unknown among the Maranaos. Household servitude among Maranaos is not in accordance with the accepted mores of their society. Accordingly, financially hard-pressed individuals are prevented by well-to-do relatives from rendering household service in return for money, because it is the duty of the well-to-do relatives to extend help to their misfortunate kin. Another reason, perhaps, is the idea that working in another’s house for money would, in some way, degrade an individual. This is especially true when the individual comes from a higher stratum in society.

It is not surprising, therefore, that there are Maranaos who are poor but acquire high education, especially in the field of medicine, engineering, and law. Some of them even study in prestigious universities in Manila. This is possible because relatives contribute to the cost of education of a member of their family who desires to study. It only needs a little coaxing on the part of the individual concerned for there relatives to chip in for his education. Every now and then, regular help would be given until that person finishes his degree.

Another reason why relatives are willing to help other relatives to finance their education is the fact that extending help to these people is like an investment: financially, socially and politically, their success means raising the family maratabat.

It is not uncommon to hear some Maranaos worry because a relative is getting married. Sometimes even a close friend would show this concern. The explanation for this kind of attitude may be gleaned from the practice of maratabat. Occasions like these serve as a channel for a Maranao to assert his maratabat in the community. As such, the relative concerned is expected to contribute his share of the expenses during the ceremony. Actually, not only do these relatives extend their help on such occasions but indeed whenever the situation requires it.

The Maranao’s desire for larger family groupings works not only in the traditional context, but even in the modern legal political structure. Having a large family would give one the chance to run for an elective position in the modern legal political system because the more the followers, the better the chances of winning the race. This is achieved in the usually large Maranao family group that places importance not only on the consanguinal relationship, but affinal line as well. Through inter-marriage, a Maranao family could become a big political group that gives it the chance to wield political power and therefore dominate any political election. Relatives contribute not only their energy but also their wealth.

Furthermore, these bigwigs in local politics are also the leading social figures in the society. This is because they have the basic social economic roots that support their political careers on the local level. With economic and political influence in society, they are able to control the people, using them to advance their ambition, while the common people in turn receive help in the form of employment.

Employment is the most common way to help. Whoever is in power usually sees to it that most of his supporters, who are his relatives, get employed. In fact, a Maranao would expect an administrator who is his relative, to have him employed, whenever this is possible, regardless of his qualifications for the job. Extending help to an unfortunate raltive in terms of employment is normal in Maranao society. This, after all, is part of the maratabat of the clan.
======================

March 3, 2008

Justice for ROSKOSKI!

I feel like a wretched, good-for-naught owner upon laying my eyes on my Biochemistry book ruined, wrecked, destroyed and even lost some of its leaves. If only my piteous book could speak to me, no doubt it will utter such words:

How irresponsible of you for allowing them to borrow me and get burned above the photocopier machine. That man handled me didn’t have any tinkle of compassion. He smashed my every leaf like I’m a worthless sinner. His filthy, black-tinged hands left my once-upon-a-time glossy pages some unforgettable stinky marks. How can you afford to see me like this?”

I can hear my book growl in misery. My answer to my book would perhaps sound like:

“Roskoski, dear, I am no irresponsible owner. I love you just the way I love Harper’s, Harrison, Guyton, Snell and the rest of you. There are just some reckless borrowers who didn’t seem to see how much I care for you. You see, you’re the most precious among them all because it is you whom they successively borrowed due to their immediate need of you. God grants victory to those who forgives.”

I don’t understand why they can’t buy their own copy when it won’t cost them thousands of bucks. Imagine, I guess I am the only student in the entire college who has Roskoski—the entire freshmen and most sophomores and juniors have it photocopied. (Most didn’t even ask for my permission). My point is, they can afford Schwartz, Nelson, Williams, Goodman and Gilman, etc., that cost them a couple of grand but why not Roskoski? It is one of the cheapest medical books.

Okay, I’m NOT stingy, just to make it clear. I have willingly and wholeheartedly let them borrow it because exams are due next week, but they should have been extra careful with it. I handed it to them new, shining and sparkling. It is returned raped, torn and unloved.

JUSTICE FOR ROSKOSKI!







February 22, 2008

Rants of a Baby Girl

Childhood is part of everyone’s lives that don’t vanish abruptly only because we reach what they call adolescence and eventually, the peak, adulthood. When I was 10, I see my cousins who are in their late teenage years as way, way too old. When I turned eighteen, I told myself to change into more ladylike, the way an eighteen-year old should act. But it wasn’t easy. I’m 22 now, but I don’t feel like one. I want all aspects in me to grow, but sometimes, I don’t wanna be labeled as grown-up. Being grown-up have many restrictions, you can’t do this or that because you’re not a child anymore. Where is that blurry line that puts a mark between immaturity and childishness from maturity and adulthood?
I watched Finding Nemo last night. I still watch cartoons, I’m still fascinated with colorful things just like when I was six when Tazmanian Devil/X-Men/Ninja Turtles appears on the boob tube, or reading Archie back in fourth grade. In fact, Mulan and Monsters. Inc are one of the best movies ever created. At least, for me. I still indulge myself with ice candies available at Manang’s store, stain my teeth with chocolates, and melt candies on my saliva. I still chase butterflies and play tug-of-war with my younger brothers. I haven’t stopped cursing nasty mosquitoes every time they bit me and I still have no answer to my question: What is God's purpose in creating mosquitoes? Only as a vector for debilitating diseases? Perhaps. I haven’t gone away with my childhood. I say, gone NOT are the old days.
I am like Nemo. Or, I was. When I thought I had the mind of my own, I desperately want adventure. I was very eager to become independent and get away under the roof of my parents. I wanted to decide things on my own. I thought I was old enough. I wasn’t a rebel but I found myself arguing with my Mom sometime. My very first out-of-town-trip without my parents, but rather with high-school classmates and professors for a science field trip, was a total disaster. My father won’t let me go, he wanted to talk to the school principal. I knew then what would happen—there’d be no more field trip. I pleaded him not to talk to, otherwise, all hands will be pointed at me for spoiling it. My classmates were so excited planning out the entire journey, while I spend whole night crying hysterically at my room. I had extra-bulging eyelids and eye-bags the following day, such pitiful appearance convinced my Dad to sign the parent’s consent slip. I couldn’t contain my happiness that very moment. I felt like a bird out of its cage. The following field trips I had underwent through a loooooong sessions of debates and discussions for its approval, without the edematous eyes.
Now I understand why Papa’s so uber-exagg-strict before. I am his eldest, and he was not ready to see me swim into the vast Ocean alone. He thought I am not ready to meet huge sharks along the way. Maybe he doesn’t want to lose his kiti-kiti bulalan, his little baby girl. My younger siblings are extra-lucky because they haven’t experienced all those things. Perhaps Papa saw me unharmed when he opened the gate of the Ocean for me and so he loosened a little bit to my siblings (Read: Unfair. Hmp.) At the end of it all, he hasn’t lost his little girl. I am still exploring the Ocean and I know that for every obstacle that will come along my way, it is my family whom I shall turn my head to.

January 30, 2008

Late-Reaction Syndrome

What do you call it when a certain circumstance happened and you went initially phlegmatic? A few moments later, I mean days later, you realize you should have shown some reaction.
A month ago, I happened to connect (via text messaging) to a friend whose whereabouts I haven’t heard of for almost/more than six years. The usual “kamustahan” went on, and when the inevitable goodbye came, I said goodnight and told him how nice it is to be texting with him again. He replied: “…Ok, you too.. Just study hard, mahirap ang med. Nyt.” [Just study hard, med (pertaining to medicine) is difficult] I didn’t reply back coz I already said “goodnight” which means the end of conversation. A month later, I found the message in my inbox for it’s not my habit to erase messages immediately and that’s when the un-/intentional implication sunk in. I ponder, why did he tell me that? Does he think I’m not serious with my studies? I should have replied him immediately: “Ya, I know. And, I’m experiencing it down to the deepest layers of my bones.” But, it’s too late na already to and there’s no point of telling him that. It may be a pathetically petty thing, but somehow it has an impact on me.

January 18, 2008

The Actress

THE ACTRESS

Instead of doing what I oughtta do—study for my exam tomorrow—I cleaned the fridge, the toaster, washed the dishes, sweep the floor, do my laundry, and watched a couple of movies. Lots of time wasted. This is something I hate about myself. I sometimes set aside things that need to be accomplished first. I have this disorder that if I can’t do something I’m thinking to do, or, eat what my mouth craves for, I can’t proceed doing the more important one. So now that I’m done of those things mentioned above, I can now bury my face on my notes.

By the way, I’m loving the British accent. I wish I could speak it without ridicule.

**

I wanna write. Write about something. But there are just no ideas sprouting from my underloaded brain. There are unpredictable minutes when words unstoppably pour down from my head, but they usually happen when I’m in the middle of awkward moments to write like in the bathroom, in a jeepney, in a class with the most feared professor (you should listen, not write), or when I’m about to rest into a deep sleep (half-asleep, half-awake state).

**

I wanna tell a story. A story about someone I know whom we shall call under the alias “Hillary” to protect her privacy. It has been months since the last time I saw and talk to Hill. Few months after that, we learned that she didn’t proceed to med school as planned because she was forcibly married for some unknown reasons. She has a boyfriend so her parents’ unwished conspiracy was not a success.

I regularly read her blog. How she has improved. Her writing skills are at its peak, her choice of words is excellent and natural sarcasm (pretends to be subtle) is evident in her articles. We still have communication, of course, what’s the use of Friendster, YM, and Globe?

Her peculiarly funny demeanor didn’t change a bit. Her love for music and magazines and fashion are still the same. Also, her inner actress gestures remained. And for this year that she’s currently an OOSY (out-of-school-youth), she occupied herself with enhancing what was left with her. In spite of the undesirable circumstances, someone makes her happy. I know she’s optimistic of continuing her calling as a medical doctor. And I wish that the pillar that she and her guy built will get stronger—to prove what they wanna prove.

She used to be the single-and-independent-girl-is-fun kinda girl. We were alike, that’s why we call ourselves “buddies” because we have the same feathers, therefore we flock together. People change. Cliché. She broke our unspoken vow, one of the elements that tighten our friendship. I got mad, initially. Things like “how could she?” blah-blah. I found myself later on at the right place, I am just a friend that devoid me of any right to cease her happiness just because of one stupid unspoken vow. I wasn’t even able to stop my own best-friend from getting herself a boyfriend. Anyway, I thought, she holds herself responsible for whatever the consequences are. And now she’s happy with him. I am here left having a strong affinity with our vow.

**

If I am to put the story of my life in the big screen, I am certainly NOT the lead actress. I am the best-friend who receives the after-midnight phone call to hear the whining of the lead actress. I am the one who supplies advices, the confidant, the listening machine, the accomplice. I love my role, just being that. Apparently, I don’t like being in the limelight to receive compliment. The more you receive compliments, the more criticisms are thrown back at you. I admit, most often that not, I am afraid of criticisms. That’s why I always stay on the safer side, by being the good girl everybody knows. I can’t afford to be mean and sarcastic, although sometimes the situation calls for it. I can’t afford to throw back at people because karma gets even at me faster than I did the deed.

I am thinking of auditioning for the next lead actress role. Surely, that’s take a lot of proper attitude and hard work. Better watch out for the upcoming trailer in the cinemas, you might not recognize that the star of the next biggest motion picture is none other than, Yours Truly.


December 23, 2007

Rubik-ation


Guess what swept our classroom by storm this past month. It’s not any movie star or the latest fashion items, not even the newest published book or the just-released music album. It is this four-sided cube composing of four different colors, four rows and four columns. I’ll give you a clue: the mechanism of playing is that one has to arrange all the scattered four colors from the four rows and columns by making sure that same colors stay on the same side. Ring any bell? Ya, it’s Rubik’s cube.

More than 50% of our class’ population is addicted into this cube. From everywhere you look, even at the corners of the class, whether there is doctor or not, you can observe an individual enthralled by the magic of solving the puzzle. I belong to those less than 50 percent who were spared by the spell of Rubik’s cube. I want to learn albeit seeing my classmates wrinkling their foreheads and their eyes almost popping from their orbital sacs from figuring out how to place a single color from where it belongs without disturbing other colors made me back off. Heheh.. Cellphone na lang kinakalikot ko.


 

November 28, 2007

Choosing Hiatus

That is why it is so important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut loose…Don’t expect to get anything back, don’t expect the recognition for your efforts, don’t expect your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood…Stop being who you were and become who you are.”

            For three weeks now, she’s scrutinizing her heart as somebody stole it from her chest—crushed it, stepped on it and ripped it on the open. She saw it bleed until no more viscous blood gushed from the poor organ and it went pallor.

            She does not blame that person.

            She’d rather blame herself for being vulnerable, for letting that person snatch the organ that keeps her alive. She could have guarded it.

            She’s still on the process of picking up the fragments of her heart and vascularizing the bruised, contused, and battered organ.

            She does not deny the presence of pain, for pain makes her human. This excruciating experience may be an indicative of growth. Awareness of its presence is at the same time reducing it and gradually letting it go.

            Her world’s may be gloomy these past three weeks, but she’s optimistic that the sun will shine on her again to nurture her heart so it can return to its place and start beating again.

            She presently chooses to dwell into the state of hiatus especially in circumstances that involves the fragile heart. She chooses to preserve her heart.

In the words of a Persian sage: Love is a disease no one wants to get rid of. Those who catch it never try to get better, and those who suffer do not wish to be cured”

November 5, 2007

beinte dos

Exactly twelve years ago, I was celebrating my twelfth birthday with my group of friends back in sixth grade. Our juvenile minds were already concerned with what will become of us in the future. I imagined myself twelve years from that day as a tall, sophisticated, young lady; driving her own car; earning her own money; single; wearing a clean, white vest with a stethoscope clenched around her neck; her outfit matched with a glittering stilettos and a properly pinned hijab; and a pair of spectacles may add to my japorms.
Twelve years had passed since that afternoon and what had become of me? You see, I thought I would become a doctor at the age of twenty-two. Certainly not. I’m still in school, still a parasite to my parents. I never grew taller than five feet and two inches. I don’t know if I look sophisticated from other people’s eyes but surely, I am a young lady. I don’t have my own car because I am not yet earning my own money. (I’m gonna learn driving pretty soon). Yeah, I’m not committed. I wear clean, white uniform during schooldays, without a vest. I’m gonna have a stethoscope strangling me this semester and onwards. I’m not comfortable wearing stilettos on ordinary days and I try hard to pin my hijab so it would look orderly. I dread the day that I would wear spectacles for it indicates an eye disorder.
            At twenty two, I may not be the woman I imagined I would become but I’m proud to say that I finished a degree with quite a few flying colors and I am working on becoming that woman I dreamed of twelve years ago, without the spectacles please.
For my 22nd birthday, I made a wish list of what I want to receive this year (ei, I’m giving you guys a clue, don’t you get it? Lol!) I actually made this three weeks ago.
  1. Littman stethoscope 
  2. A pair of comfortable shoes
  3. A huge rectangular shoulder bag (to stuff in my essentials so I would no longer appear like a Christmas tree going to school with all the bitbits)
  4. An alarm clock that sounds like an earthquake that about to swallow the earth. I badly need one to keep me awake.
  5. Original DVD of House, M. D. and Grey’s Anatomy.
People, you know where to find me on my birthday. You know my number, you perfectly know where to contact me and where to mail the box! Hahah! And oh, I also like surprises.