of the same feather

After a long while, I was able to bond again with some of my friends from my old office, starting with a little chat in my place in Manila and ending with a dinner in Makati.

So many things have changed since we started becoming friends, the most prominent of which is two of them already married each other, as a result of a whirlwind romance (ala Robin and Mariel haha). Nevertheless, the kind of conversation never changed at all. It has always been funny, always with a dose of humor. With these people, even the most serious of talks can elicit a funny line. We never get tired of talking of old television shows, and cartoons, and magical creatures, talking as if we are so old and at the same time so young. Still, we sometimes talk of politics, latest discoveries, extenze side effects, current affairs, radio personalities, and even showbiz. Everyone has a story to tell.

I guess it is true that birds of the same feather flock together. Almost all of us like rock and its variations. We enjoy the same TV shows. We (sometimes) act like children. We like reading. We love laughing. We love teasing. The list goes on and on.

The most important things is, we feel at home with each other. With them, I can be nobody else but myself. No pretensions whatsoever.

My Harry Potter Scar

About 7 years ago, I was in a vehicular accident. I hit the windshield with my head, and well, both the windshield and my head didn't totally break. I guess we can call it a tie. Fortunately, in the hospital where I was immediately rushed, there was a cosmetic surgeon who sutured the wound in my head, using a hairstrand-thin strand to close up th wound. I think he did a fairly good job because the scar isn't as noticeable as it's supposed to. Still, to this day, I still have that long scar in the middle of my forehead, much like Harry Potter's.

Oftentimes, people do not notice this scar. I still get surprised whenever a friend I have known for several years would suddenly remark one day, "Oh, you have a scar in the forehead!" The place where my scar is located is rather conspicuous, and I do not know why some people would not readily notice, until I point it out to them.

But my grandmother never forgot about this scar. From the moment I had this, she insisted on me undergoing a plastic surgery, which I vehemently refused. Always, she was the one concerned with how I look. Back in college, she was the first person who took me to the derma and bought that expensive acne scar removal cream for me. She's also the one who buys all those Eskinol for Men for my male cousins during their teenaged years.

Up to now, I am quite comfortable with my scar and believe that it is already of part of me and my character. I never really harbored any anger toward that drunk driver who suddenly hit my car head-on. I took the accident rather coolly. Perhaps it's a symbol of how I survived figuratively and metaphorically, much like the baby Harry Potter survived Voldemort's attacks. As for my grandmother, she still feels sad every time she sees the scar that fate brought me. It feels like it hurt her more than it hurt me.

untimely flu

Of all the days in a year, why am I sick in these few days of sembreak? When I was just trying to read and relax, I caught a flu. And the coldness here in the office is only aggravating my headache. I hope this flu gets away. I still have a week to enjoy. I think I should learn more taking those damn vitamins my mother has been shoving to me.

everybody knows her

Yesterday, Lola and I went to the 2nd floor of the public market. It was my first time to go there after so many years. She insisted that we have our nails cleaned (pedicure and manicure). Neneng, the one who comes to the house to do home service, already moved some place far, so we really have to go there---to her suki.

Even before we get to the small parlor, everyone in the market is greeting her, calling her Nanay or Lola. It seemed that every tindero't tindera there know her, and she knows every one of them. When we reached the parlor, the front was already closed. Lola said to the woman in the parlor beside it, "Aba, ang agang nagsara ng matandang to ah!" It turned out, that woman was her suki's sister, and after a minute, her suki appeared. She and her daughters had to go to Bulacan, that's why they're closing early. But since Lola was a dear friend, they still accommodated me. I sat in their rustic furniture, my nails were cleaned and polished in no time.

All the time that we were there, Lola was exchanging conversations with the owner (her suki) and her daughters. It seemed they go a long way back, and Lola knows the life story of her suki's every daughter, and well, it seemed all of us her grandkids were familiar to them through her stories. They talked of people I never even heard the names of and experiences I never really knew happened. She seemed to really be the people's person.

And the best part is, she always gets discounts. :)

Because I Want To

(Forgive me if all I would ever talk about for the next days is my semester break. It's just that it rejuvenates my soul I am so happy I have this break.)

It feels so refreshing having to wake up in the morning, and the sun is already up. I have less thing to worry about, except on weekdays, I just have to go to work and go home from work.

On the first (of the two) Saturday of the break, it feels good knowing that I have all day to watch my current favorite anime (Bleach) and read my favorite author until my eye drops. I had to spend a little time working online, but it's compulsory nature is not as stressful. The beautiful thing during these days of slackness is this: I am not forcing myself to do anything. Even when I'm working at home for a few hours, I am working because I want to; it's not because I have to.

A few days ago, I was talking with a friend about going to the gym or attending free weight loss programs. I am inherently lazy in doing physical work, but lately, going to the gym is becoming appealing, probably influenced by all this sickness around me. Too bad the semestral break is too short a time to indulge myself with that. But maybe in some other break, I can finally do that. Not because I have to (and I really have to), but because I want to.

read and rest

The semester is finally over.

I have a 2-week break from school. Even before the semester started, I have already plans of how to spend the short break: reading the Anne Rice book I bought last summer (instead of apidexin reviews), watching DVDs, and spending time with my little cousins. If I can, I'd like to spend time in a place like this one:



This picture was taken last summer. On our way to Arizona from Las Vegas, we chanced upon this serene place. I think this was a conservation park, and they only charge about 10 dollars for each car, regardless of how many you are. The flowing water is part of the Colorado River, and it's actually clear. There were a a number of people around when we arrived to take our lunch ala picnic, and most of them came in families. There were some couples, and some even brought their jet-ski's with them. I even saw a couple playing catch with their dog. Because there were just a few people, the whole place remained peaceful.

This picture is one of my typical drawings since childhood. My favorite drawing is a mountain with a river at the bottom and a green land beside the water, with the clear blue skies as the background and a round yellow sun. Of course, there's always that big tree where I could just lay down, read and rest.

what you need

Nothing beats long hours of good sleep.

When I came home after my exam yesterday, at around 6 p.m., I decided to rest a bit, before I start studying again for another exam on Monday. I switched on the TV and laid my back on the folding bed in the living room. I was contemplating on trivial things like insurance quotes and ziplines and strawberry fields. I was looking back on what-ifs. I was daydreaming... then I was already sleeping.

Now, it's 9 a.m. And I just woke up. =) It's nice to have once and a while a good, quiet, LONG rest. It's like your starting on a clean slate. Good morning!

the dilemma of a weak heart

Last night was eventful in my life.

It led me to the understanding of what I already knew -- it is hard to cure a weak heart. Of course, the constantly improving fields of medicine and technology as well as industrial bearings promise cure for a weak body, or if improbable, at least alleviation of pain. But what can cure a weak heart? The constant support of people doesn't quite help as much as valium does in sleeping problems (although valium sometimes "helps" in handling pain). The companionship does not quite help treat loneliness as much as arcoxia relieves pain, albeit temporarily. Faith isn't easily infused in one's being as easily as blood is infused in one's body.

The trial in one's sickness is as much the suffering of the body as it is the suffering of the heart. But in both body and heart, although hard, there is nothing much left to do but to have continuous "medication" and "treatment" ("the fight") and of course, prayers for the body and the heart. Lots and lots of prayers.

mind power

Yesterday, I was left to watch over Mommy, so that Daddy could get her laboratory results from the hospital. When he got home, my father had a worried look. It turned out that my mother, who had been staying in the room all day for several days now, had a very low WBC count. Two days before, she was injected with something to boost her WBC; the doctor said that a sudden drop of her WBC is expected, hence the injections.

But her WBC still dropped big time. We immediately brought her to the hospital so she could again have the WBC-boost injection. Dad and I both tried to act cool about it, but I know, we're panicking inside.

All this time, I never really let mom's cancer to get to me, always acting cool about it. It was probably because I am constantly rejecting the idea of the sickness, believing that this is just a phase and believing, not hoping, that eventually mom will get better soon. But instances like this one shakes my resolve. It scares me and makes me think of how things can get worse. The memory of seeing my father lying unconscious on the floor one Christmas day comes flashing back. And it's destrying my shield from all these scary thoughts. If I could just find a way to forget all those unpleasant memories way back by and limit it to the good ones, I would. I hope it's as simple as using refrigerator filters or commercial dream catchers or just suppressing it. But it's not.

It's really so sad when you see a loved one really sick. It's more depressing when the trauma from the past is coming back. I am again practicing my poker face. I am just trying to think that, after all we went through when it was my father who was really sick, he survived it...we survived it. I hope there is really power in the mind and strength in one's will.

the end of another chapter

The most difficult part of the semester -- the finals week -- will start next week. It would have been this week if not for the gruesome, despicable blast during the salubong, injuring many of our school's students.

As all regular students, I am yet to be prepared for this. The periodic rains the past weeks have thrown me into a rather gloomy mood, losing drive for pretty much everything. I rarely go to class the past 3 weeks, so I missed out A LOT. I need to catch up double time lest I'd be dead, and how to get rid of acne would be the least of my concerns.

But I have been looking forward to this. I can't wait for this semester to be over, hopefully, wonderfully over. I can't wait to start another semester, and another, and another. The lingering uncertainty still lies whether I could still continue law school this semester, with ALL things factored in. Even if I couldn't, this semester has been a damn hard, but good one. I have a lineup of powerhouse professors, including two deans, and I have met pretty good new classmates. Again, even if I couldn't continue next semester, I am happy I was able to fight for this one.


P.S.
Thanks to my prayer warriors kg and PJVP. To eks for his unfaltering support, in every sense of the word. To lola, for everything. As always, you people are the best.

P.P.S.
I need your prayers and support again for the coming finals! =)