right...

so this is the joke...


... you really have to be out of my league.

ouch.

freakin' hot, still

raining in June

still it's hot

freakin' city of concrete...

can't sleep well at night without airconditioning.

and I thought summer is over.

hottah!

Something must have triggered my sumpong. I can't really identify the specific culprit, but I highly suspect that it's an effect of my monthly menopause-inducing medication.

It started when I was preparing to go to church, and I was deciding if I would take our household help with me (who has been going to church with me since I resumed this my religious obligation) or not. Suddenly, I couldn't think of bearing her company. I know it's unfair, she hasn't done anything wrong. Or maybe I'm starting not to appreciate her presence because when she's around she just sits or stands there and says nothing at all until I talk to her. When I go silent, she goes silent too.

But I couldn't consider that as a trigger to my ill temper today.

Later while at the church grounds, walking towards the door, I noticed all the palaspas vendors blocking the way of the church-goers. Some parishioners even stop on their tracks to buy the weaved palm leaves, which cause even more slow-down on the flow of people going to the church. One middle-aged female vendor blocked my way in a swoop with a palaspas she's selling. I was instantly annoyed as the leaves would have hit my face had I not slowed down. I gestured that I wasn't interested, and I think I had frowned at the woman. I know I've lost grasp at the essence of the season because of the way I acted, but the scene on the church ground at that moment hardly showed "Holy" nor respect. Behind the sight of the sea of palaspas, I saw trade - the exchange of goods for money - and the sellers do not care where they make the transactions.

And then I saw people bunched at the front door of the church. I opted that we go for the side doors and I was right - there were not much crowd there. We were able to get inside the church, no sweat. But inside there were hardly any vacant seats. And the people that were seated, sat in a spaced manner that one would not consider squeezing into those spaces. (Pinoys have huge personal space.) We decided to stand on the sides until the end of the mass.

At first I was absolutely fine. Until more and more people trickled in. With my hot flashes, I barely stopped fanning. And then there were too many people around me that the effect of fanning has diminished. I feel guilty about not being able to properly pray. Every now and then, distractions pop out in front of me that makes my mind wander. And then with little space to move due to the crowd around me, my claustrophobia started to kick in. I was starting to feel like screaming in my head.

I decided that we get out of the church immediately after the blessing. Just as the people were raising and shuffling the palaspas in the air, we were on our way out.

At the street, it was sooo hot as the sun was directly shining at us. Jeepneys lined the lanes, making it impossible for other vehicles to pass through. I was already feeling bad from the heat when I spotted a taxi. I hailed it and told my companion to get on board. Once inside the taxi, I felt relief from the heat due to the air-conditioning. But then, something else made me even more sick - it smelled like rotten, thawed fish inside the cab. I wanted to barf but held it. After a few minutes I asked the cabbie to pull over, feigning having to buy something at a shop along the way, paid the fare, and got off with my companion. We hailed another taxi.

We headed to the mall, which is a bad decision. While half of the city's populace were in churches, the other half were in malls. Too many people undergoing retail therapy. And the crowd is maddening. Some people just stop on their tracks, insensitive of those behind them. And then, while I'm about to check out a merchandise on a rack, someone gets in the way... and stays there. (Hmp!)

It felt like my head's going to expand, so I decided to buy take out food and go home.

Home. I locked myself in my room. Felt the ire filling my head. I screamed a soundless one. And then I cried.

Feels a bit better now.

withdrawal symptoms

this is the difficult part after touring South Korea... the withdrawal symptoms!

It's not just that I'm afflicted with wanderlust, but I fell in love with the cities of Seoul and Busan. A week after I've come back from my travel (with friends) to the "sparkling" land, I still have images of these two cities flashing in my head. And at night, I still dream of being there. On my waking hours I still could smell the food, feel the biting cold in my skin, and hear the incomprehensible chattering of foreign tongues. I miss South Korea!

I am also in serious envy of that country - their advancement in technology, social systems, and citizens' discipline. If only our government officials were truly honorable and true to their duties... if only we Pinoys were patriotic enough... maybe this land of ours could even be in better state than theirs. We Pinoys show so much potential in intellect, talent, and diskarte. Our land is so rich in every aspect. Sadly, so far, hanggang potential pa rin tayo.

Pero hindi ko pa rin ipagpapalit ang Pinas. Manigas sila sa inggit, ako nakatira sa isang tropical paradise.Maybe this is just the effect of being plucked out of an environment that I've been in my entire life. New sights, new sounds...

What amazes me more is the (general) niceness of the Korean people. One allowed us to take the cab first in a taxi stop even though he and his friends got there first. "You are guests. We take care of our guests," he said.

In Busan, an ajumma gave back my extra 20,000 won after I mistakenly gave her 3 pieces of 10,000won bills to pay for a 3,000won pack of bread (thinking I gave her 3 pcs. of 1,000won bills - I was confused with the number of zeros), and then gave me the change to the 10,000won.

And the food... the food! Hindi sila nagtitipid sa ingredients. My friends and I found Crown Bakery, a bakeshop/cafe in Insa-dong where they serve goodies similar to those of Bread Talk. But you would say "Bread Talk, what?" if you saw their goodies. I had a pizza bread - its bread is almost twice the size of BT's and the topping is sooo thick! They used mozzarella that really forms a string when you bite off it. Isang bread lang, busog na ako. And their prices for their products are just right. Mas mahal pa ang same type of food dito sa Pinas.

Before going to SK, I was excited about the thought/possibility of seeing an actor in one of those novelas, but when I was there all I could do is wonder at the sights and think of immersing in the culture as much as I could with the little time we have there. Walang K-Pop sa utak ko. I enjoyed whatever it is before me, wherever it is I am in.

I highly recommend to anyone visiting SK to go to Busan. That city is just beautiful even in the cold of snow-less winter. Check out exhibit A: Yeongdo Park

Taejongdae Park

that bbq feeling

I started having my lupron shots a month ago - that med that's gonna cause me temporary menopause (to stop new cysts from growing in my ovary) for a month, and since I'm in a 6-month program, I get a shot once a month till June.

It's only the second month, and the low level of estrogen is already wreaking havoc in my body, i.e. hot flashes, night sweats, sleeplessness in the night, sleepiness by day, and mood swings. My hot flashes ain't the kind you experience when you blush when you see your crush. It's the kind of feeling you get when you run a marathon and then suddenly stopped on your tracks - it's a burning feeling from the inside. It starts at the back of the neck, or at the upper back, and then spreads (sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly) to the torso and the limbs. Even when inside an airconditioned room, I sweat like I was under the midday sun. Imagine me in the office, fanning myself to cool down while everybody else is donning a jacket. What's crazier is that when I cool down, I cool down to a chill. And then I get goosebumps from the low temperature.

Now I understand why 'occasional crying' is a menopausal symptom - the roller coaster temperature, when it happens in short intervals, is enough to drive you crazy. And frustrated. And irked. So irked, you cry. And then you get the mood swings.

"Now you know how it is to menopause," my doctor told me, "remember that when you get old."

Think about that. All that suffering plus mid-life crisis.

So, to the kid reading this: don't get irritated by your middle-aged mother's fits. (Glad I wasn't when my Mom went through this.) You don't know how it is to be barbecued from the inside every now and then.

here we go

Checked in for the surgery tomorrow. I got to the hospital with my Mom. My Pops will follow after the color-coding for the day lifts at seven.

Overheard folks at the waiting area talking about pre-surgery jitters. "It's gonna be okay, they will give you a shot to calm you down before the operation," one of them told the other.

"I think I'm gonna need that too," I thought.

Although I'm a picture of strength, inside, my heart was staging a mardi gras. "Sheeeeet... they're going to open me up!" I was screaming in my head. Still, I managed to smile and talk confidently to the admission clerk.

When we got to the nurse station, they asked us who the patient is, as both my Mom and I looked okay. I said it was I. And then they asked for my age when they filled out my patient record/form. I said "30," and the nurses gave me a second look. They thought I was much younger, they said. I was flattered, but still scared.

A nurse ushered us to my room. And then I was told that I am no longer allowed to leave the room. So my Mom, went back to the apartment to fetch my Pops. Before they got back, a nurse took my blood pressure, and then a medtech took 5cc of my blood for tests. She had a little difficulty looking for a good vein. It was a painful extraction.

While I was alone, I continued to pray. Up to that time, I couldn't believe that I'm about to go through surgery. I was feeling like I was strapped into a roller coaster with a thousand loops, and there's no going anywhere but through it. Like I was pushed on a slippery slide, I couldn't do anything to stop my fall.

I tried to get my mind of it by reading books.

And then my parents arrived. And then another medtech entered my room and asked to extract another 5cc of my blood, saying the first sample was hemolyzed - about which my mother was wondering (she's a medtech too) because it's too soon for the red blood cells to rupture. The medtech couldn't find the vein on my other arm, so she extracted blood from my left wrist. (Ouch!)

Before 9PM, I had my dinner. I was told to eat a lot.

At 9PM I was given an enema. A few minutes after, I pooped out everything I ate. (Ew.)

I had a hard time sleeping.

surgery schedule

Went to the doctor this afternoon and had my surgery scheduled. It will be on the 7th of December, so I will have to be admitted to the hospital on the 6th. The doctor advised me to eat a lot until 10PM on the day before the surgery. After which, I should go fasting.

I asked a little more questions from the doctor, which got me scared a little bit. For one, she told me that if the cyst would be very difficult to remove, they would have to take the ovary with it. So I'm praying that it won't be the case. And then, she confirmed that the incision would be vertical, like in an appendectomy. Another thing she told me is that they would still have to biopsy the cyst before they could determine whether it is endometrial, if so I would have to have injections for six months to temporarily stop my menstruation.

I went from relaxed to a bit nervous. I'm so worried about the possibilities. And I'm praying and hoping for the best.

So far, my facade is holding up although I feel like cracking inside. I need a lot more prayers. I need to strengthen my faith.

scared and all

Sometimes I see myself as a strong person - whenever I get into a difficult situation, I cry but then I force myself to go through it. I've lost count of how many times I've psyched myself that "this too will pass," "this is just a phase," and "I'm just being too negative." I create a hard shell to protect the person inside that only wants to cry.

Prayers really help. I pray a lot especially during tough times like this. Like this time, that I have cysts in my ovaries: four little ones in the left, and one, 5cm., blood-filled cyst on the right.

How did I find out? I've been bleeding in between my periods lately. Normal spotting doesn't look as red as the blood coming out of my body at a time that it's not supposed to. At first, I thought it was UTI, which also worried me a lot because it could have meant something somewhere in my urinary tract could be majorly bleeding basing on the amount of blood that's coming out. But I don't have the severe UTI symptoms, like burning feeling when you pee, or severe pain on the flank area. So, I gathered my guts and went to the hospital for a consultation. Good thing I did.

The OB-GYN first interviewed me about my symptoms, and then asked me to lay on the bed then she pressed on my lower abdomen, searching for a lump. She asked me if I felt any pain, but I didn't. That's when she recommended me for a trans-rectal scan.

You read it right, it's trans-rectal. As in right up the arse.

I went back after a day to have my TRS. And boy, was it painful, if not uncomfy. I would have opted to spare the reader the details of this, but I've decided I'm gonna document this. If you, the reader, feels queasy about this, skip this paragraph. Okay, so a probe, bigger than my thumb was stuck up my arse. The doctor told me to push, but the shy and uncomfy me wasn't able to do so. Next thing I knew, the probe was already in and I felt a tear. (I know, ew!) I had to endure that for about 5 minutes. I couldn't decide on which to focus my attention to: the discomfort and the pain, or hearing that I have cysts in my ovaries. Then the doctor said, "okay, just a little bit more and this is gonna be over," to my relief, but then again the phone rang and the assistant said, "hold on, I'm gonna have to answer that." I wanted to grab her arm and yell, "No! Stay here and let's get this over with!" But even if I tried to, I wouldn't be able to do so, since she zapped off to get the phone. I was so thankful that the phone conversation didn't take long.

After the scan, I headed immediately to my OB's office, but I was informed that she's yet to come at 1PM. At it was only a little past 11AM.

I decided to go home for the meantime, because I didn't want to wait and contemplate at the hospital. I called my boss and informed her that I'm gonna take half the day's work off so I could have the follow-up consultation. I didn't tell her about the cysts, so I think it was the reason why she asked me if I could have the consultation on another day. But I insisted and told her that my OB only comes to the hospital in the afternoon. She agreed.

At home, I got to contemplate and go anxious about what I heard from the doctor who did the scan. I refused to read the printed result that she gave me. Negative thoughts bombarded my head and I went to tears. I prayed, begged, pleaded...

And then my Mom called, asking how I was. I haven't told her about me going to the doctor yet, at the time. And so I told her, but spared her the details. I told her that I was yet to have my follow-up consultation and that I would be telling her about it after.

It broke my heart thinking about the possibilities and me not telling her everything. I worry about my Mom too, since she has a heart condition. I didn't want her to worry about something that I don't even know the answer to. If I'm gonna tell her anything, I had to know exactly what I'm having first.

Before 1PM, I headed back to the hospital. My mind was further screwed while waiting for my turn at the consultation. I kept on praying. I prayed for good news.

Consultation time. I handed the scan results to the OB, and she read it before she spoke to me. And then she explained to me the anatomy of the female reproductive organ. And then, part by part, she explained the scan results to me.

She told me that aside from the cysts, my right ovary is filled with blood. One of the theories that they, doctors, are looking at at such conditions is that part of the flesh in the uterus that turns into blood during menstruation had slipped (or somehow found its way) into my ovary, hence the blood. And the blood doesn't go anywhere. The ovary just gets filled up, menstrual period after period, and the risk in that is that at some point the cyst could burst. (Another doctor told me, another risk is that the cyst could twist along with the ovary.) She told me that there's a treatment where I could get injected with a drug that would stop my menstrual cycle for 6 months, until the cysts would disappear. But for cysts more than 4cm in size, the drug would have little to no effect. The drug can only help me with my smaller cysts in my left ovary. But for the one in the right, I would have to undergo surgery to have it removed. It has to be removed in order to save my ovary.

My hands turned cold and sweaty at that instant. The doctor tried to make me laugh, but I forgot what the joke was. I laughed a little and she seemed to be relieved. I must have looked awful to her.

And then I asked if I need to undergo surgery immediately. She told me, "The sooner, the better. But it's all up to you. You have to get yourself ready for it." I had to pick the date.

First, off I was told that I was going to be opened up. And then I have to choose when they are going to do it to me. If that's not pressure enough...

I couldn't believe myself while I watched me utter these words: "Sooner or later, I'm gonna have to have it removed, so I think we should do it within the month." I said that I'm gonna wait till my parents arrive from the province, and then we will schedule the operation.

So what's the good news? There's no mention of the "C". And my prayers might have been heard because I didn't shake and cry upon hearing what I did. I realized all that when I left the hospital and played the scene again in my head.

I told my friends whom I got to talk to, about it, right away. I wasn't seeking for sympathy, I was looking for a hand to hold and an ear to tell my concerns to. And it helped because I got to laugh while telling the whole story. And then I had the guts to call my parents to tell them about it.

I was laughing and (probably) sounding confident while I talked to my parents. My Dad even said, "I'm not worried because you don't seem to be afraid of it." I told him, "I'm actually nervous, but I know that I have to go through surgery sooner or later, so I'm choosing to have it the soonest possible time so the risks are lesser." What can I say? Though I worry about them worrying about me, lying to my parents has become a difficult thing for me to do.

I talk about it to my friends whenever I could, so I would feel less stressed about it. Although I'm thinking that I might be talking too much about it already. Anyway, nobody has complained about it yet.

I try to rationalize. I keep remembering why I should undergo surgery. I keep on praying.

I'm so scared. The last surgery I had was when I was nine, when the tip of my left index finger was amputated after getting caught in a doorjamb. I had surgery twice for it, because after the first operation (the emergency procedure) the bone was trying to protrude to they had to remove a bit off it. That entire experience wasn't pleasant at all. And then I'm having this.

Part of me is melting with fear, and part of me is trying to stay tough. I cannot be weak, at least for the sake of my family. One who has gone through the same thing might think that this is not at all a big thing. But for someone like me who go nuts at the slightest illness, and has never had a surgery in the abdominal area... this is major. Especially that I was told that the procedure is similar to a caesarian operation. My abdomen is going to have a scar. (That's one thing I'm being sentimental about, too, as absurd as it may seem. I plan to take a picture of my tummy before the surgery.)

Right now, I'm battling fear. There are times when I stop and think and couldn't believe that this is happening to me.

Apart from the surgery, I'm going to have to go through temporary menopause for six months after the operation because of the medication that I will have to go through to temporarily stop my menstruation. The doctor said that my hormonal cycle is one of the things that feed the growth of the cysts, so it has to stop for a time. The cache? Menopausal symptoms. And according to the literature that I read, there are 35 symptoms. Among them are: mood swings, hot flashes, sweaty nights, insomnia, depression, and all the things that we've witnessed our mothers went through at middle age. Menopause twice in life. Go figure.

I have warned my officemates of how I might be next year once I undergo the treatment. At this point I'm already asking for their understanding. I'm already explaining things to them so that they would know that whatever mean thing I do, it wouldn't be me, but the lack of estrogen. I'm even researching on ways to ease the symptoms.

Of all the symptoms, I fear depression the most, as I have had bouts twice before already. And it wasn't a pleasant thing at all. Talk about wondering what use there is trying to live life. You wake up in the morning and find no enthusiasm to do anything at all. And then you're constantly bombarded with bouts of anxiety. At some point I didn't know who I was. I questioned my very personality. What was the me within these flesh and bones. Good thing, I love life too much to give up. Again, prayers helped a lot during these episodes.

I've been through depression, and I know how painful it is in the mind, in the heart, and in the spirit. I fear going through it again. I hope that my prayers will again be heard. I pray that I don't go through depression again.

Here I am, scared and all. To think, that vain people purposely go under the knife to change the way they look. I wonder where they draw their courage for that.

So this is me, psyching myself for that surgery. It only feels okay when I think of holding on to The One Above for strength.

bits and pieces of the day

on my way to work, midday, the rain poured in rage again. it's not a good thing, since a drizzle is already enough to cause panic to people. the cab I was in drove through the side streets of South Triangle, windshield turning white from the onslaught of water. cars had to turn on hazard lights. I was so scared that we would bump into another car because it was so difficult to see through the white-outed glass. I thought of what the flood victims would be feeling at the time.

heard over the radio that a group of militants are expressing doubts on the intentions of the US troops who are helping in the relief and rescue operations. I couldn't help but swear. how dare them to question the presence of extra helping hands for hapless people who are already complaining on the lack of such? have these people even tried to give anything or participate in the relief operations? lives are at stake, for crying out loud! this is no time for political blah-blahs. these foreigners are helping because they decided that they like to help. whatever their intentions are, what's important is that the death toll doesn't rise anymore, that more mouths are fed, more backs are warmed, that more homes are regained, and more and lives are set right again. if these foreigners have underlying sinister intentions for helping, then shame on them. we wouldn't owe them anything if they use this situation against us. at any rate, I couldn't think of how someone or anyone could have sinister intentions for helping during disasters such as this. oh, but some people... our fellow Filipinos even, have the shameless audacity of protesting against the aid that's coming the way of our ill-fated kababayans. I hope, for their sake, that these are not the same set of people who waved the banner crying for the president to step down during the burial of Cory Aquino. some people are just crass.

on the news, a crocodile was found floating on the floodwater of Cainta, Rizal. no nearby zoo claims the reptile. authorities have checked, and so far there's no conclusion as to the truth of this story. but that picture by the one who encountered it is so convincing. I hope the reptile gets caught immediately. the flood victims don't need another threat to worry about. unless they suddenly find a taste for croc meat. we all know how starvation can skew the food chain.

checked on the oncoming storm after hearing the word "supertyphoon" from Nathaniel Cruz. "Pepeng" ("Parma" to the international community) has sustained winds of 195 kph and gustiness of up to 230 kph. It's already a Category 4 storm. "Milenyo," of two years ago, had sustained winds of 150 kph with the same gustiness. Pepeng's lowest pressure is at 920 hPA, while Milenyo's is at 950 hPA. Pepeng: stronger sustained winds, lower pressure. The deeper or lower the pressure, the stronger the storm. Now, if we would recall how Milenyo was like... let's hope for the best for this country.

told the staff who would be on duty tomorrow to bring change of clothes and toiletries to get ready for what could happen due to the storm. some suggested to chip in for food.

let's pray.

broken

broken dreams. broken lives. broken homes. broken spirits. broken souls.

Friday, the storm was merely a news item. It was just like an insignificant part of the daily stories mixed up in the lineup of things to tell the world. "Oh, another storm. It's gonna be a rainy day tomorrow." By nightfall the nightmare started to creep in. Only, no one noticed it had until the next day.

Saturday morning, I even almost had the tenacity of going malling. I looked out the window and observed the rain that has not stopped falling since the previous night and tried to encourage myself to go out despite the torrential downpour. I was planning on counting on my rain jacket. But there was a tagging of two poles in my head - feeling a bit lazy to go out because of the rain... but itching to roam. Laziness go the best of me so I didn't step out of the house. I didn't know until the afternoon that it was a decision for the best.

I "forced" myself to be a couch potato, in spite of my head screaming to go out. I slumped on the sofa and switched the TV on, only to begin witnessing the wrath of the storm that was above us. I couldn't believe what I was seeing when they showed what seemed to be a sea in the middle of the city.

One of the anchors of the noontime news program wasn't able to make it to the studio, as he was stuck in Ortigas. There, he witnessed and reported on the collapse of the Corinthian Garden wall, resulting to what looked like a waterfall dumping all that its got onto EDSA. And then news on situations from various parts of the Metro poured in. Town after town, city after city submerged into floodwater. Dams announced schedules of water release.

I was able to get a good picture of what was going on before the electricity went out. And then text messages from the Library staff trickled in. One informed me that he cannot come to work because he woke up to the scene of all his things floating on floodwater - including his clothes. I coordinated for his pinch hitter right away. It was then that I realized how skeletal our manpower is, as it would not be easy - if not impossible - for most of the librarians to make it to the office. Those who were already on duty were forced to stay for hours after their time off. One was stuck in Bulacan when a bridge collapsed and the NLEX was closed. One librarian braved flood and traffic to get to work and sub for those who were already off-duty. Even though I wasn't able to get to work, I spent much of the time coordinating and re-configuring staff schedule just to ensure continuity of the Library operations for the sake of the news programs. It's a chain of responsibilities, if you would look at it. We have to keep the news programs airing so that the public would be kept informed.

I was working like a call center agent, connecting to people well into the night. The next day, I tried to catch up on my sleep only to be woken up again by a barrage of text messages. Alas, I had to reconfigure staff schedule again, as personnel get stuck in their homes, get sick, or get overworked. I thought that I was having a bad day, but thought again when I was reminded of the flood victims.

The first weekday was no less of a chaos: relief and rescue operations here and there, images of flood victims everywhere, houses submerged in water and mud, cars stacked up and jumbled like bowling pins and turtles on their backs... everyone, everything is grinding to make things better as much and as soon as possible. But it's so hard to pick up the pieces from what Nature has left of us.

I had to fight tears as I watched stories of victims air in the primetime news. It feels as if giving goods to these people, or working for relief operations would not be enough to make things right again.

We say that the Filipino spirit is resilient. We haven't seen the conclusion of this episode. Heck, another storm is coming... so soon. It's forcing the flipped pages open again. Maybe we are strong. But the times is trying to test how strong we are. I'm starting to wonder as I watch a father break down in tears as he told the story of how he tried to save his family. "I tried all that I can, but I wasn't able to save them," he said. And then he appealed to his father on TV, "please come and help me. I can't take this anymore. I can't do this on my own."

It's frightening what's happening these days. Here in the Network, and in the newsroom, we are exposed to the events of the world. Bad news after bad news. One coming after the other in such a hasty pace. It's so difficult to keep an upright psyche with all of these. Maybe we had all these coming. What goes around comes around, and our planet is tossing our shit back to us. But no matter how you see everyone to be at fault for what's happening, there's nothing you can feel but compassion when you see who reaped what we sowed.

stand still

I stand still as I watch the entire world move around me. Funny when you consider how time flies.

Like a programmed robot, I do things at work. Spinning... spinning... spinning... I watch things happen, as if I don't have any participation in anything that transpires.

Friends doing great at work. Friends having fun with their adventures. Friends finding new loves. Friends finding new friends.

On TV are news of events, diseases, political wars, actual wars, and scandals. Mostly, negative things make the lineup of news-worthy things.

I look at myself and find that I'm still the same. Just sitting here. Sometimes standing there. Sometimes running. Sometimes, too lazy to do anything useful for anyone, including myself. Sometimes trying to break out of the monotony of everyday.

Today, I opened my eyes and saw that a mountain of responsibilities have piled up before me at work again. *Sigh* There are a LOT of things to do to get my arse off the hot seat.

And then I have to think of a subject for my piece for a charity exhibit.

And take care of various matters for the family business.

And plan my out-of-the-country travel.

In the meantime...

the heat and the question that made my mind itch

Probably, staying at the back seat of an fx taxi that's running under the noontime sun isn't a very good idea these days - even though you're in a tight budget and in a hurry to get to your destination and the almost-full AUV is your last option for a ride.

I could feel the sweat popping from my skin pores, especially on my forehead. I felt like siomai cooking in a steamer, and the chef doesn't want to remove me from the heat just yet. Even my palms were covered with sweat - they looked like I've dunked my hands in a bucket of water or something. Really.

The excessive heat was enough to drive anyone crazy... I felt like bursting out from the fx, that is an oven on wheels. However what awaits me then, outside, is the scorching sun. And fumes from vehicles running along the avenue.

What took my mind away from my ordeal was the conversation between my fellow passengers...

Nursing student 1: Target ko, makarating sa Ireland. After graduation, lalakarin ko na papers ko.

Nursing student 2: Buti ka pa may plano na. Anyway, 'yung tita ko, gusto naman akong isama sa New Zealand. Malapit ba 'yun sa Ireland?

Nursing student 1: Hindi ko alam e.

I sooo wanted to answer that question for their sake. Really. But they would be embarrassed. But then again, they should not repeat that conversation elsewhere if they want to be respected. But then again, that's none of my business.

If it was the location of Patagonia they were wondering about, I would've understood. But New Zealand? And I thought the Lord of the Rings saga has already made the country very famous.

A couple of minutes later, I still felt like I wanted to answer that question. And so I turned my attention to the scorching heat. And then I got off at my stop.

Hours later, at the office, I still couldn't stop thinking about that question. I should have butted in their conversation.

feel da heat!

Gosh! It's summer already?! T'was like just the other week, we're all chilling to our bones because of the weather. And now everyone seems to be desperate for an ice-cold drink after spending a few second under the scorching sun.

Imagine that tall glass - soda inside, swimming in cubes of ice, fizzing - dripping with dots of condensation.

It's crazy. My electric fan is close to no use - it's merely circulating warm air. I fall asleep and wake up floating in a pool of my own sweat. And since it's the season of recession, I just can't turn that airconditioner on. *sigh*

These days you just wanna... look at that.

The beach calls, doesn't it?

Don't you just want to pack up, hit the road and get to the nearest beach so you can swim on something like that?

Those are my 2007 photos of Patar Beach in Bolinao, by the way. A beach so wonderful, and yet so far (8 hours from Manila).

up and running again

I got my momentum back. At work, I mean.

Somehow, I am able to (temporarily?) put my laziness aside and focus my attention back to work. With the aid of a planner (as if blogs and MS Outlook isn't enough) that I purchased the other week, I'm tracking and planning my day-to-day activities.

The planner looks like one from Starbucks, but IMHO better - it has a nice, plain black leather cover and a page allocated to every day, which allows me to write a bunch of stuff that I plan to do, or have already done. And I tend to fill up every page. Check out Exhibit A below:


This really helps, because with the things I have to do listed, I have less time doing non-work related activities. Before, I used to freeze in thought after every accomplished task, trying to recall the next thing I'm supposed to do, which often leads me to opening Internet Explorer *grins* or one of those MS Excel trivia games.

Browsing through the pages of my planner, I get quite amazed at the volume of tasks I get to accomplish each day. I thought, "So this is being productive."

You wouldn't believe the amount of work that I have to do if only you could look at my list of objectives for the year. From the development of an in-house asset management system, to preparations for the automation of utilization of media collection, to supervising seven loony librarians... I don't think I could squeeze in play between work any longer.

But I can always try. :)

In the meantime... I'll try to get a good bunch of my objectives done at the earliest so I could take it easy towards the end of the year. And so I hope.

they all get hitched...

... which makes me wonder if it has something to do with me.

"They," meaning, the guys I have crush on.

Everytime I find a new one - a very single one - he either gets into a relationship with another girl, or gets married.

The Nose was being accused of being gay, but I liked him anyway. Months after I've known him, he got hitched with his then-preggy gee-eff.

Hugh Grant was so single when I joined the org (he was actually the reason why I joined the group), and then a few weeks later, his long-time girl-friend became his girlfriend. And then after college, he got hitched.

Josh Duhamel married Fergie. (ain't I shameless?)

And just recently, I've learned that my newest crush, whom I call "The Hair of Aragorn," is getting married on March in the beautiful Tagaytay. :(

It's kind of a Goodluck Chuck situation I'm having here. *sigh*

sniff... sniff...

Is it me, or is it the Season? Everywhere I go – the lobby, the elevators, the stairs, the corridors – people reek of designer perfume.

It’s stifling.

It seems everyone has bathed him/herself in scents in celebration of the season. It’s worse in closed quarters, like the elevators, where the air has nowhere to go. (There's a variety of musks in the atmosphere to choose from - not to mention that, a while ago in the elevator, I swear someone was hiding a banana in his/her pocket. The scent of the fruit was a refreshing change in the smell, though.)

It’s maddening.

Like in one more whiff of fragrance I’d be going down in claustrophobia.

The odd thing about it is… I seem to be the only one to notice. Or be bothered by it.

Is it the season, or is it me?

80 minus 30 equals 50

... and that is all I (or we) will get this month.

At ano raw... "happy?"

Sino'ng happy?! SINO'NG HAPPY?!!

i need a vaykay!

Drag me to the beach. I don't care if the weather is acting up. I need to swim. I need to feel the sand between my toes. I need to skip on rocks.

I need to be in an absolutely different environment from my workplace.

Argh!






I need a vacation. And I want it so bad!