I’d be devastated.

I’d dream that you were still the same one who taught me to love a few years back.

I’d probably still hold on to that even after time has passed by.

I’d be hurt if ever you can love another person as much as you loved me, if ever you did love me.

I’d secretly hope that you, me, and the future can all be written down in one sentence.

I’d wish I never met you.

I’d wish you were still mine.

down to my last chocolate

(written May 26, 2009)

this is not a love letter; i actually don’t know what this is. anyway…

i’ll try to sqeeze letters out and make my blinking cursor pregnant with words, just as how you fondly throttle the life out off an almost-empty toothpaste tube.

i’ll try to search through my fog-filled brain and look for words to describe something that, in fact, can never be captured solely through writing – ever.

i know this will be hard, but hell, i’m trying it anyway.

i was down to my last chocolate (the only gift i ever received at a time i expected santa to fill up my stockings), when you began introducing a word that is beautifully simple yet simply beautiful.

i honestly did not expect that a punk could have that much power to flip my life upside down – all in a good way.

i get nervous when you are around.

i think my lungs ceased working every time you’d talk to me.

i can feel my heart stop even with just a message from you.

now that’s the catch: i can feel my heart. beating. jeez.

we’ve been together for just a few months, but it actually feels close to forever.

i have a pair of big beautiful brown eyes (yep, i know you’ve heard this a thousand times but i am saying it again) that looks at me incredulously at my antics, that silently asks if i’m okay, that watches over me protectively, that stares deeply into space wondering what to cook for dinner or the best place to date, that melts my resolve even at the worse mood i have…

i have a pair of hands that produces music i never thought i would enjoy before, that holds on to me tight and just warms my heart, that prepares dinner for me even when i’m a few hours late for our date, that becomes the extension of your heart to mine…

i have a big heart that asks for little yet is prepared to give everything – a heart that is equivalent to a thousand other loving hearts all put together, and maybe even more. this is an overstatement and an understatement at the same time. i am blessed to say that this heart belongs to me.

and, i finally have my own capeless superhero, someone who rescues me just when the load of being one becomes too overwhelming.

no matter how i start off my sentences with “i,” these are written all because of you – with or without sense.

i have made something devoid of eloquence that every poetry or literary masterpiece has delivered; good thing i am not a poet. this is an excuse i hold on to in case i have not achieved coherence in expressing my love for you.

but there it is, all the non-sensical prelude all boils down to the strongest declaration i have ever made and will ever make: i love you. so much. ma’l.

STILL.

My Story: the Rising Action

Imma gonna start prayin’ now. Hard. No, really hard.
May all kinds of gods, and God, be with me.

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One painful step towards evolution from laminated to digital

My boss once said, “why do I have to pay them if they are taking my blood? It should be the other way around!”

I couldn’t agree with him more, but that’s not how things work in a clinic. Tsk tsk.

After a long weekend, my Monday started unconventionally. Blood was drawn out. Pain was inflicted. And out came $35 from my wallet and into the cash registrar of the ever-friendly nurse.

Working in a foreign country means that one has to have a valid work pass, and since mine’s about to expire by January of next year, the company decided to have my renewal early so as to remedy complications or problems should there be a need to do so.

Unfortunately, in order to change my laminated work pass into the new and digitalized one, I had to face one of the worse inventions of mankind (at least in my opinion)  - the syringe. Enjoying the memoirs of Anne Rice’s bloodsuckers from the Vampire Chronicles doesn’t mean I enjoy having the life of me sucked out and transferred to a small tube (of course that may be an exaggeration). Chanting “I’m a big girl now” repeatedly as a form of pep talk wasn’t working for me, especially when it got too loud for others to hear. But. I. Had. To. Do. It.

So, I went early to the polyclinic and queued for quite a while before the auntie over the queue kiosk informed me that, alas, the polyclinics do not perform the HIV testing anymore. That was one queer moment when relief and disappointment ironically hit me at the same time. Relief that I got to save a few ounces of my blood for a while, and disappointment that I have to face the same ordeal – this time it’s for real –  in less than an hour.

A few bus stops away and I reached a small private clinic who, with all force, insisted that I do all the tests in the generic check up form even when my approval letter only states that I do testing for HIV only. To explain, I have had Tuberculosis, chest xray, and general check up within two years, so by right, I really don’t have to do them all over again which is why my In Principle Approval (IPA) Letter only indicates the requirement for blood testing. Called my boss afterwards and was told that I’d be spending more than a hundred for unnecessary tests; so I took my papers and puncture-less arm with me and went to the neighboring clinic.

The clinic located just three shops away had a friendlier doctor who didn’t see me as an opportunity to draw more than just blood. I appreciated the fact that he opted for small talk will sticking the needle to my effortlessly found vein (I am horizontally challenged ie thin, by the way).  Either he was really friendly, or I was really mortified. I went to office in one piece, though, and will be picking up the results on Wednesday morning. This is one of those tests you wish you would fail. Haha.

Vacation that took one year and one month in the making

Seriously? It has been that long since I last wrote my blog?

I must make up for it then, what with an exciting trip up ahead . Oh, before I continue, Happy All Saints’ Day!

Moving on.

Got my round trip ticket to and from Singapore.

Got all seven of us round trip tickets to and from Cebu. Tis will be the first time Mom and my siblings will be riding an airplane, and all of us (except Dad) will be going outside Luzon. Yey! Thank God for promo fares.

Got a reservation for a hotel room that can fit us all, what with my big-boned brothers needing much room. Where to get the payment, though, is to follow. Haha.

Got a list of top places to visit in Cebu, plus the slippers to roam around with.

Rent a car. This would be great: fresh wind slapping your face and blowing your hair, going places, being your own master behind the wheels, the sheer ultimate pleasure of a joy ride, and the list goes on. Oh, I forgot the most important feature of all – it’s expensive. I’m assuming I have to get a van for our basketball team of a family.

Visit the tarsiers and the famous Chocolate Hills in Bohol. It’s an hour and a half away by ferry from Cebu and if my preference would be to make the most out of this vacation since Christmas would be sadly spent away from my family. Decisions on making the booking and if we should stay overnight have to be made – A.S.A.P.!

They say good things come to those who wait. I am waiting alright, and all I can say is that it is definitely bittersweet. Just 26 more days. 

Aesthetic Freedom in Facebook

With just one scroll of the mouse, I managed to annoy myself big time by seeing two pictures posted by random contacts in my Facebook.

One is a closeup of a child’s bum with diapers drawn down plastered with mushy, gooey, and ridiculously orangey yellow substance that though I do have as well, would prefer not to see – especially if it belongs to another person. What if I happened to be eating in front of my computer while mindlessly browsing through my wall? The vivid picture surely isn’t appetizing.

Just two posts down is an extreme closeup of a relative of whoever while taking his final rest inside his coffin. I could almost imagine him asking if he can grab that photo and make it as the primary picture of his Facebook. Jeez. Sure, the internet is free for all and it can get as democratic as it virtually can, but please please, bear in mind that having a little stop sign with the posts can do wonders for the sanity of others. When can we say that posting in Facebook can be a little too much?

I guess, we won’t be able to say this at all. The best gauge would probably be to put yourself in someone else’s shoes: how would you feel if shit stares you in the face?

Scoring Goals for the Long Term: Goal 1 = 0.5 pts

Don’t for one second think that any pain can stop me from my favorite sport: eating. So, I went yesterday to visit my second least favorite place in the world, the dental clinic, to put an end to the pain inflicted by being too much of a sweet tooth.

For the life of me I was really scared, not only of the dentist, but also of the price. Wishing I could have changed things, such as swapping teeth with Donny Osmond so I don’t have to go through this, I hesitantly reclined in the gadget-studded chair and accepted the fact that probably, Donny Osmond always goes to the dentist so I wouldn’t prefer that either.

I blurted out my plea for a soft, smooth, and swift execution with as minimal pain as possible with the guy in white. He was speaking in Singlish and I wasn’t able to make much out of it, what with deafness compounded by the heavy beating of my heart. A bit of inspection and tinkering, and out comes the big syringe injected twice on my gums to numb me.

Later the dentist went to the back with the assistant, stayed there for about 15 minutes doing something I’m not interested to probe further – it can either be preparing slaughtering materials or whatnots. I would have preferred the whatnots anytime. As minutes trickled by, I can slowly feel my head tilting to one side, my cheeks are puffing and gums swelling.

And then we were ready.

One girl held my head on both sides. I thought the dentist was just poking inside my mouth to see if the anesthesia worked already and was surprised that there was a left right left right swaying inside my teeth. Three minutes into dancing and off the big molar went – bloody and all. It was that fast. Good.

Afterwards, my whole body was literally shaking. My money also went as fast as my tooth went, and now there is a vacant space in my gums, as well as in my wallet.

Blue hair, you’re next. As of now, I just comfort myself by buying a big bar of Nestle Cruch and A Scent by Issey Miyake perfume I have been crushing on since I went to Orchard a few afternoons back.

GOAL #1: Blue hair and a visit to my 2nd most dreaded four-cornered room – the dentist.

Deadline: 04th July, 2010 (weekend after the salary haha!)

I have been wanting to ice up my hair in the cool shade of blue. Not totally, mind you. Dress to express, not to impress, as the saying goes.

Hospital and dental fees are way to expensive here in Singapore as compared to the Philippines, which (strongly stressed) do not necessarily  mean that the former outweighs the latter in terms of service (definitely not), safety, and quality. Everything in Singapore is expensive, even a single token’s worth at Timezone is expensive. Promising myself to take care of my biters, I’ll schedule a visit in the next two weeks.

SUMMARY:

GOAL #1: Blue hair and a visit to my 2nd most dreaded four-cornered room – the dentist. Check for the latter! 06.07.10. Blue hair to come!

GOAL #2: Learn, learn, learn!

GOAL #3: Back to writing!

Two years and a lifetime ago

Seven hundred and thirty days ago, I kept on defying gravity. Back then I felt that science shouldn’t be stronger than I am, no matter how highfaluting the reasons were.

That was really the first time I got separated from my family. During college, I braved the busy and fatiguing streets of the city as well as the hard and dangerous roads on my way to nighttime work – all these because I didn’t want to stay in a dormitory.

Graduation from college waved a bright red flag of reality in front of me. I gotta do something not only for my future, but for my family’s as well. This option of  being an OFW was introduced to me by my Aunt staying in Hawaii, and since she fastidiously supported our school fees since high school, I mustered up big loads of confidence that so I can declare and independence day of my own. I wouldn’t call this as looking for greener pastures. Afterall, I’m not a cow or something.

One hour into the flight, I was already crying my heart out. It is harder than just hard, but at least, I didn’t cry in front of them. It was purely superficial courage and a constant effort to keep a poker face and I know they had a hard time as well. That magnified my pain six times, for each of them. Why would one leave the warmth of the only people who truly loves you no matter what for a dull and callous treatment overseas? Beats me.

Generally, I am not the shallow-tears type. Back in high school recollection, I was the only one without red eyes in the room so the nun organizing the session got me into doing errands, ie buying candles or getting something outside the room, because everybody else was a train wreck. Yeah, I didn’t even cry when Leonardo DiCaprio froze to death and sank in the ocean after Titanic sank.

Even with just three hours away, no matter how much and how strong I believe that they are always in my heart, it just IS so hard to be far from where your heart is. My first Mass in Singapore was with my cousins and his family at the St. Paul’s Church in 843, Upper Serangoon Road Singapore 534683. The Gospel wouldn’t have been more appropriate:

Matthew 11:28-30

²⁸“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.²⁹Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

I think back then strong blinding lights parted the ceiling of the church and some angels were singing. I dunno, maybe the reason I wasn’t seeing well was because of too much muta (eye boogers or medically known as rheum) haha.

Anyway, it was a good passage to uplift a bit of a battered soul. I am not a religious fanatic, nor would I ever claim to be one, but I am faithful. Sometimes, you will just get so amazed that such a big universe operates in intricate ways.

To celebrate, or maybe whatever is the antonym of celebrate, I was supposed to go to Mass at the same church, but unfortunately, I think it was undergoing renovation since the hotline said there were no masses that day. So I went to the Church of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary at nearby 1259 Upper Serangoon Road, Singapore 534795.

I am not invincible, I still cry and get hurt. But this does not stop me from fighting. Happy Independence Day!

Self Pep Talk and Finding a Hero

From nonsense and mundane tasks to expressions of love and greetings, Facebook has become the ultimate spy-cum-encyclopedia-cum-site, that has cyber-ly bridged communication between long-(and short-)distanced connections.

Jumbled amid the various messages and updates in this social networking site are quotes from the Bible (or Koran, or any other religious manuscripts) and quotes that would either a.)  make you smirk, b.) make you life with the cheesy lines, or c.) strike you hard with a sudden realization. The last point is probably comparable to jumping of a high diving board and having your chest do a hard collision with the surface of the water.

“The greatest battles are fought in the mind.”

— Casey Treat

I take advantage of reading through the good quotes posted on Facebook‘s news feed. Good thing someone else bothers to actively search of ones in the hopes that someone will get struck – just like me. Admittedly, I have been thinking too much lately (please put heavy stress on the “too much” part). So, this is the reason I am having too much problems: it’s because I overthink! If the greatest battles are fought in the mind and I believe that I am, well, at an all time low, then it is me who creates it probably, or at least magnifies small ones.

When my Mom said be thankful of the wide forehead that I inherited from my Dad because apparently I have more rooms for a bigger brain (duh), I don’t think she meant that I should making it hard for myself. Life in itself is a vortex of problems, least we should do is add some more. (Honestly, I think sometimes this is just to console myself regarding my forehead haha).

This morning, during my usual 10-minute walk from the MRT to the office, the song that got stuck in my head is Bonnie Tyler’s I Need a Hero:

I need a hero, I’m holding out for at hero ’till the end of the night

He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast

And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight

It would have been wonderful if there was a person who could act like a magical bullet for all our problems, sort of what Cinderella had with her fairy godmother. Though I got to admit, she didn’t instantly solved the damsel-in-distress’ problems, but rather provided her with the means with which to aid her for that limelight with the prince.

Fairy tales, in the least, come true not only in a kid’s dream, but in some adults’ as well. In reality, however, what we can take out from it are the lessons in all virtues you can possibly name of since it would actually be impossible to get a glittering wand that can turn a pumpkin into a handsome horse carriage.

Anyway, going back to the song. I do have my heroes in life: my Dad, my Mom, my wonderful siblings, and of course, Butz. One more person I should be including in this enumeration is, surprisingly, myself. Whoever this Casey Treat is, I’ve learned that if we are the greatest enemies of ourselves, we could also be our greatest heroes as well.

T’will be damn hard to believe in others, if we don’t self practice.