IT'S ALL IN MY MIND!

Friendster Friendster…

karol114 — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 07:57:24 +0000

Please forgive me for lack of a better thing to do. I thought of writing something about friendster-ing. It has been around for a while and there have been alot talk, broken friendships, and revelations from friendster. hehe! It is a fun world but one you clearly can’t totally trust. Enjoy!

This is a survey i made for myself. IT is entitled “the real score behind friendster-ing”
(I = interviewer, Riverdance - acting out a conceited bitch)

I: Do you have a friendster account?
Riverdance: Who doesn’t?

I: When did you have it?
Riverdance: 2 years after everyone started theirs.

I: So what made you have one?
Riverdance: Cause i sounded like a loser telling everyone (and proudly at that) that i am the only one who’s not interested in friendster-ing. I ate my words.

I: So what’s in your friendster?
Riverdance: Oh nothing much. I just uploaded hundreds of pictures. Majority of which are SOLO pictures. Then i placed all my credentials…you know stuff like i graduated in this and that school…stuff that will most likely boost my image…and my ego of course. Just like advertising.

I: Did it?
Riverdance: Shempre naman! Nothing wrong with upping an already blown out of proportion ego.

Interviewer’s thought bubble…ang kapal ng babaeng ito ah…
Riverdance’s thought bubble….are we done yet? I have lots of things to do pa! (rolling her eyes)

I: Is your friendster account on private setting?
Riverdance: ahhh….that’s tricky. Okay, it wasn’t for like i dunno…2 years? Then i found out that there are people copying my pictures! You know like crazy people who’s so besotted with me…wanting to get to know me…then sending me messages like “ummm…i like you. can you be my friend?” I said to myself…well ain’t that bullshit? Cause clearly, you’re not my friend and so why should we be friendster friends? So, i turned the private setting on.

I: Are you saying that all your friendster friends are real friends?
Riverdance: TOTALLY. (then she thinks) Well, i’d say 98%. But not everyone are real friends. Some are well..you know…frienemies (thanks for the term kyla!)

Interviewer’s thought bubble…ang kapaaaallll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!…………………

I: How about the “who’s viewed me”? Is that turned on too?
Riverdance: Oh that. hahaha. I’m not on anonymous setting. I never check other people’s account. That’s stalking!! I track the people checking mine. Sometimes some do check mine regularly. That’s when i know that this person is so into me.

I: There are regular visitors of your friendster account?
Riverdance: Oh yeah. A lot! Maybe you’re one too….hahahaha!!! just kidding. (but clearly not kidding at all)

Interviewer’s thought bubble…hahampasin ko na talaga ito eh…
Riverdance: Are we done yet?
Interviewer: Just one more question.

Interviewer: You’re profile is “it’s complicated”. Is it?
Riverdance: Hahaha! You got me there! (thought bubble: damn nosey bitch!)
Interviewer: Is it?
Riverdance: Come on. Can’t you take a joke? Everybody has “it’s complicated” on their status. Why can’t i?
Interviewer: So it is complicated?
Riverdance: NO. (shit i’m a very convincing actress)

Interviewer’s thought bubble…ang laaaaabo!

Interviewer: Thank you very much for this opportunity to get to know you. You look better in person than on your friendster.
Riverdance: You don’t have to say it. I already know (with a shrug). You’re very much welcome.

This blog post was meant as a joke alright? Baka may maniwala ah!! hehehe!!!

Let’s say this all together now…melaMMMMMMine!!!!

karol114 — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 07:55:46 +0000

If i hear another earthling say melaNine again, i’m gonna throw a handful of rotten bananas on his face. I’m sick of it! It is melaMMMMine! MMMMMMMMine OKAY? not with a letter N!! Damn, melanin is a skin pigment! How the hell would a skin pigment land on your milk? Go figure!

Degeneration of Love Songs

karol114 — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 02:40:03 +0000

I’d say i’d rather listen to Armida Siguion-Reyna sing kundiman on her
silly terno while waiting for her uvula to pop right out of her throat
anytime, than listen to another love song that has got nothing, (and i
mean it!) absolutely nothing worthwhile listening to.

Still
groggy from sleeping in, after a long night, i opened my shower radio
to wake me up. Now, i’m not really a fan of pop music. I listen, yes,
but i keep it in the background. This particular pop song was playing -
no big deal. Here’s when i almost choked on my toothpaste…

It’s not a bird, not a plane
It’s my heart and it’s going, gone away

Fuck
me but if i’m not mistaken, wasn’t that supposed to go something like
"it’s not a bird, it’s not a plane, IT’s SUPERMAN!!!!" ?!?!?! And what
in heaven’s name has that got to do with this love crap?

I can’t
get over it. I had to search the net for the title of this song to give
me peace. It’s full of shit . Sheer nonsense! So the title of the song
is SUPERHUMAN….by chris brown.

THAT EXPLAINS IT! Superhuman…sounds like Superman…yeah…not a bird not a plane…

Can somebody shoot me now?

NEW BLOG!

karol114 — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 03:50:30 +0000

Nothing much going on yet. I have closed my old blog to make way for a new and more fearless, uncensored and definitely more opinionated blogs to come. Please visit IT’S ALL IN MY MIND….AND BEYOND!!! at www.riverdancesmindpower.blogspot.com. Drop some comments anytime.

Confessions of a Jaded New Yorker Wannabe

karol114 — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 19:30:36 +0000

My memories of new york were that from the eyes of a 12 year old kid. i could still remember connecting the black sticky dots on the dirty pavement of downtown NYC, trying to create a constellation or something (those days i was dreaming of becoming an astronaut more than wanting to be a doctor), only realizing, after my mom’s friend told me, nonchalantly, that they were actually chewed gum that stuck to the ground after being spat and stepped on numerous times. I didn’t know how to react then - i wanted drown myself in alcohol but didn’t want to destroy my shoes. It was disaster. I overreacted but couldn’t get over the idea that NYC was everything filthy… but now, with full knowledge of NYC’s history (from the movie Gangs of New York haha), and fully aware of the must-see’s of the busiest city of America, i come back 16 years later, with one goal in mind - live out the true definition of a New Yorker…in style of course, despite the filth - literally or otherwise.

As i sit here on the cozy couch of my sister Karen’s apartment in uptown manhattan, witnessing, for the the first time in my life, snowflakes pouring heavily outside the window (pathetic diba?), with forecast of sleet later in the day; snow covering the entire playground and visibility down to zero, i felt excitement. I am in a city that never sleeps, in a place where i can be a gossip girl, strut like one of the sex in the city ladies, pretend that i know the place where heath ledger died and dismissing it like it was just around the corner, cheer for NY giants even if i couldn’t care less that they just won the superbowl in what they would apparently call the greatest game in the history (umm..i dont even know how to watch football..was it football ba? haha), eat NY pizza and cheesecakes, speak english with a swagger of an african american from Harlem or Bronx, pretend that i was so affected by the WTC bombing with tears staining my eyes, and chew and spit gum on the ground - not caring if some 12 year kid would try to connect the gum i just spat out to a constellation she was trying to create. I am a jaded New yorker…wannabe…

My first day in new york, i gave my sister a headache. I told her i wanted to ride the famed subway that had been a target by god knows whatever. I told her, in my most arrogant voice, with the african american swagger that my brother taught be before i left manila, "Yo, i’m riding that subway to times square on my own…you know what im saying?!" hahah! With eyes so wide, she gave me the weirdest look, like i grew another head or something. I’m the last person to ride a public transportation alone. I’m stupid. I get lost despite the map. it didn’t help that the subway i always had in mind was spot clean, was actually filthy, wreaking with dried urine and canal water, and with rats as big as cats running around. It was hell. If it wasn’t for the experience, and my stupid arrogance of living out the "i’m a new yorker…yeah baby!", i wouldn’t even attempt to try to experience riding their MTA. But as i said, got to have the experience…before the bragging rights.

I survived the subway after being squished between two giant men in dreadlocks and earphones blasting the tunes of Sean Paul while their heads were bobbing in and out like ducks. It was one thing to deal with jologs back home. It’s another thing to deal with…i don’t even know what to call them…hippies? I dunno…well more like i didn’t wanna waste my time trying to figure out what to call them. I’m just too caught up with the idea of being in times square - the heart of NYC.

Times Square. Broadway Avenue. 42nd street. A place where everybody wants to be in, where everybody wants to be somebody. It’s the ultimate playground for the adults. The lights are on 24/7, and everyday feels like friday. I was strolling, literally, along the 42nd street, in the sea of rushing new yorkers, unmindful of the loud grunts and jeers for me to walk faster - i was simply too engrossed looking at the bright lights, like a kid visiting the disneyworld for the first time. I would ask my sister to take a photo of me everywhere. So much for the new yorker attitude. i turned probinsyana in 1 day. "karen picture mo ako here…dito din! teka teka wait, u have to take my picture when the budweiser beer comes on the screen of times square." I drove her crazy. She wanted to throttle me right that instant, but also couldn’t stifle a laugh. Being the good sister that she is, she did indulge me eventually by taking my photo on every corner, as stupid as we might have probably appeared. I really didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to have fun…with all the documentations of course. That’s how i am - an obsessive compulsive keepsake keeper.

Ahh…travelling. It’s food for my soul - probably because i could just blend in the background, and watch everything unfold in front of me, like watching broadway. Being in a foreign place where my identity (and my color, appearance, heritage, social status, etc) matters to no one, where i can act stupidly and just laugh at myself; where the opinions of the people don’t really matter; where my life is not confined to the restrictions that has me chained at the neck by what i would have to call traditions that i have to stick to, being born to the situation that i live in; where i can be somebody i’m not. I would always camouflage as a local, act like them and enjoy the way people would react to me. It’s always a game i love to play. It feeds my spirit.

I plan to write a series of blogs while staying here in NY, just to share my thoughts. I got this inspiration from happyslip of course, but couldn’t videoblog (i’m too shy for it). For now, I’d like to end this blog by sharing with you the stupidest thing that i’ve heard somebody shout on the streets on this wintry cold day in uptown manhattan. "yeah! i ain’t going to work today cause i’m working from home. yeah. Work from home. Cause i have a laptop that connects me to the office. yeah. laptop." Do u have to go shouting to everyone that you have a laptop? What was that all about?!?! hahaha! go figure!

Say ‘i love you’ without saying it

karol114 — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 14:12:19 +0000

The occasion calls for it. (what
with valentines day only 2 days away). It’s probably high time that I introduce
this most important being in my life; my one true love. His name is Mylo, and he’s the sweetest,
cutest, most adorable love of my life.

The tiny streaks of the sun’s rays
were just starting to peek from the gray clouds of the night. The cool mist of
the previous night’s breeze still suspended in the air; the mild scent of dawn
lingering. It was early morning. New year in the lunar calendar; and my baby,
Mylo, was going berserk trying to tear his crib down, so excited to eat, run,
play around, and get away from his house and go crazy. It’s his routine. It
would always drive me nuts. For an early riser like me, he’s up even earlier –
at an ungodly hour of 5am.

A lot of famous celebrities would have pets dolled up in the
most glamorous ways that I would often doubt if they even scoop their cutie
little doggie babies’ poop and wipe its butt after. Having a pet (well, it
doesn’t sit well with me to call my baby a pet), is high maintenance. But it
was never a chore for me.

It took me 4 months or so to find the perfect baby to take
home. I read tons of ‘puppy 101’ books, went to different breeders, watched dog
whisperer on animal planet over and over (while running on treadmill of course),
and even obsessed about the jack Russell terrier in the Alpo commercial. I
wanted a baby that’s cuddly and sweet, and loyal ONLY TO ME. I wanted a big
male dog that has the temperament of a beast but would answer to my call with a
wagging tail and a big wet kiss on my cheek. So that pretty much discarded shih
tzu, yorkie, bichon frise, Labrador retriever, and all the other famous breeds
that we often see on tv. And so came my chowchow, Mylo.

I got his name from an old soap (sunset beach if anybody
ever saw it-around early 90’s) that I used to be addicted to (diba sheri?
Hahaha!). It was initially MILO but this groomer from the veterinary clinic
would always call him Mee-lo, Mee-lo and it irritated me tremendously, so I had
to alter the spelling a bit to make sure they call my baby right. So I ended up
with Mylo.

Wherever we go, we’d always hear oooohs and aaaahhs
following us. A lot of times, we would be stopped to have his picture taken by
total strangers (minsan kasama ako so kelangan pretty din ako when walking him
hehe!). Everybody loves Mylo. They go crazy over him. “he’s just like a live teddy bear!” “Can we
touch him?” “How old is he?” “Ohhh, he’s soooo adorable!” EXACTLY the way I
wanted it – people going crazy over him, but could never get near him cause he
has a bad temper and would only answer to me. So, I would often tell them, with
the nicest sweetest smile, and a few kisses on Mylo’s head (I often do this in
the vet clinic), “touch him at your own risk”.

LOYALTY. Just like
any other relationships, (human, that is, hehehe!!) loyalty tops my list of
relationship essentials. While it may be easy to connect, and to fall for any
human being, just like the way we may fall for the cutest shih tzu, or the
sweetest Labrador, there is not enough ground to start a relationship that
could stand the test of time, or trials that could weather a connection that
has been carefully built, without this secret ingredient. Loyalty is
hard-earned; not just handed on a silver platter. Without this, everything will
just be a waste of time.

It took a lot of bath time before Mylo would have me clean
his ears, clip and file his nails, touch his tail, and forcible open his mouth
to take the newspaper he loves to chew, out of his mouth. It took 2 weeks worth
of giving him his favorite treats (it was wheat bread then, pero ngayon sawa na
siya) for him to finally sit still while he lets me tie his bib around his neck
before eating. It took me 1 month of persuading him, with my sweeeetest voice,
saying “lie down Mylo….good boy!” before he’d quietly lie on his side and let
me brush the day’s worth of tangles out of his baby soft hair. And in all those times, I’ve met frustrations
and even doubts, as to whether I did make the right decision to get a baby to
love deeply, knowing he wouldn’t really be around for more than a decade with me. I’ve wiped his pee off our floor countless
times before he finally learned to pee on a wee pad. He’d pull my jammies every
morning, steal my slippers, nip my ankle, and literally pounce on me with his
heavy body just to demand that I feed him not a second less. And with all the
investments I made on him, time, sweat, frustrations (Especialy when he turned
bratty na talaga at naghunger strike when I started him on solid food!), I only
earned one thing….loyalty. And it’s probably enough. We’ve built a relationship
that has sturdy foundation that no amount of bribing (even of treats) could
destroy. That’s my baby Mylo. He only answers to me. =)

We do not have to listen to different support groups, or cry
over sad love stories, or listen to how people lament on their lost love
through tormented love songs to know that love is not something you give
easily. Love, in general, is earned; then it grows deep with each difficulty
that you both share and surpass. Love is
not something you say on an everyday basis, but something you make others feel
with every deed you do. Mylo didn’t need words to say but I know he loves me
with his life; and I would always watch him sleep in front of the electric fan
before I go to sleep, touch his head and kiss him goodnight. He knows that I
love him too without understanding the words ‘I love you’..

So what am I doing here romanticizing my relationship with
my 16 weeker now 25 pounder baby? Wala lang. The whole point is for everybody
to know and learn that although human relationships are a lot complicated, as
long as you speak with your heart, and you connect with your soul, there is no
need to say ‘I love you’. You just FEEL.

Mylo wishes to greet my blog readers a happy valentine’s day!

Blogging on blogs about life

karol114 — Sun, 03 Feb 2008 10:11:47 +0000

I find myself enjoying a lot of free time to spend with
whatever, while my friends cram for the MLE’s. (Goodluck blockmates! Sa mga
nagtataka, and this may come as a shocker I know so I’m officially announcing
it, I’m skipping MLE’s altogether na to make way for more family time, our
business, and more vacay of course!) I
recently left my job so I could go vacay again soon, and skipped a week of
cardio workout to nurse a bad lower back and weak respiratory tract. I have
been keeping myself busy of late with my 15 weeker 22 pounder very demanding –
demanding lots of hugs and kisses! Cutie kasi eh hehe! - baby Mylo, cooking
dinner (some task my mom forced me into kasi I’m a terrible cook daw), spending
warm afternoons having tea and cakes with friends, watching happyslip videos
and laughing, and of course browsing blogs. I have been trying to transfer to a
more extensive blogsite so I could include ‘feel good’ pictures with my posts,
but am halfhearted about leaving my friendster blog fanbase (naks feeling! Pero
sorry, no more messaging muna please). So, dito muna sa friendster if I’m not
writing/doodling in some page of journal.

Some blogs would talk about love lost, or hang ups from a
lost relationship, or relationships without closure under the guise of
anonymity – anonymity under the pronoun ‘HIM” or “HER”. Relationships whether
romantic or just plain friendship, would always be a part of girl talk – I am
always guilty of this too. It’s part of being a girl – trying to crack people’s
way of thinking by trying to put herself in his/her shoes, not realizing that,
you know, each individual’s belief or manner of thinking, for that matter, is a
summation of how he/she was brought up. Therefore, in conclusion to everything
I have been saying from the start of this blog, each individual’s mind is
simply uncrackable. Thus, we (especially my friend cristina, and my blockmates
too namely Pampie and Robin!!) would always end up doing role playings in our
conversations and just have a good time laughing our hearts out pretending we
are the certain “HIM or “HER”.

Relationships come and go. Some stay for keeps, while others
may come by, make you feel good, but may not stay long. It’s an accepted fact.
Some friendships may kick off well but only to end with a bitter taste in your
mouth. It could be from betrayal, dishonesty, envy, or some nasty girl
competition that I could not and would not even try to comprehend. It’s
perfectly normal and part of life we have to deal. People may come into your
life in different packages – some nicely wrapped in pretty packages, but empty
inside, some not as nicely wrapped but is a true gemstone within, some, if
you’re lucky, are true gemstones in best packages…and these people, as I would
often refer to in my previous posts, are my soulmates; and I always believe
that soulmates transcended through past lives to try to work a relationship
with the present one. I have a thing with soulmates – it is a connection that
you do not try to start cracking – you just feel. And these people, you know
are for keeps.

I live in an idealistic world where happiness means true joy
of the heart; where love is shared with family and friends and my baby of
course (baka maghunger strike again if hindi siya kasali), where afternoon tea
is spent with a warm, feel good smile that would last long after we’ve (usually
this one with cristina talaga…db cristina?) parted, and where dealings with strangers are not of mind games and
manipulations but of trying to find a true connection. I refuse to accept the
fact that life is not as simple as yes or no. I am not as jaded as I thought I
was. Stupid as I think I am, the corrupt world hasn’t touchbased with my soul.

As I deducted another year from my timeline yesterday –
another less year to live, I thought it would bring me a year closer to my next
life beyond this present one that I am living in. As I was driving to Gourmand
to have my birthday dinner with my favorite companion cristina, I couldn’t fight
the urge to look back (it has been a habit of mine to try to look back at the
exact date last year) at all the good things that has happened to me from the
time I celebrated my previous birthday to yesterday. I have met a lot of people
that really touched my heart deep, helped me grow as a person, and helped me
breeze through my struggle to get my life back – my life that I left when I
decided to take up medicine that is. While
my life may not be a perfect one, it is as close to perfect as I wanted it to
be.

My blog/friendster is always a dedication to my friends, my
family, and everyone who wants to feel good while visiting my friendster site.
This particular blog I dedicate to my family – my sister Karen in New York whom
I miss a lot, my baby Mylo (I have yet to share something about him para hindi
maghunger strike ulit), my friends and people closest to my heart next to my
sisters – kyla and cristina, my blockmates vany, paulette, pampie, robin, mommy
apple, rhiz!!! Naku miss na kita rhiz!, james, and will (what’s up with you na?!?!),
Manggy who’s so tiaga to post a comment on my blog, mga blog readers who would
always send me messages kasi ayaw magcomment (sorry, I have to turn my
messaging off kasi madami nang magulo), people who greeted me on my birthday –
thank you so much I really appreciated the texts and calls, Eric who greeted me
first, thanks so much, and my HS friends (sorry I know I’m in hiding again).
Lots of love to all of you (now I feel like a movie star haha! Thanking everyone
sa blog). Thanks for reading!

Gym Party

karol114 — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 15:36:33 +0000

Mondays are such a drag; but January
Mondays are the worst – forcing yourself to wake early just when the cool January
breeze starts to drug you, and of course, the chore of shedding unwanted pounds
collected over the weekend, on top of the holiday fats you have yet to START
burning. I’m just so lucky to be enjoying the very domestic life of managing a
household in my mom’s stead when my counterparts are cramming for another exam –
an option I had consciously trashed when I started enjoying the pure bliss of
running on, this time, treadmill number 11, that I couldn’t care less if the
world wakes up with its eyes half closed, wishing they were still in some holiday.
(I am on holiday indefinitely)

Gym Mondays, regardless of
the month, are my favorite. I would like to describe it as something similar to
a carnival in Rio.I have had months of gym Monday
observations that I can now write/share about.

As I would fondly sit on the
stationary bike for warm ups, watching the people coming and going, I have
successfully classified them into 3 different groups quite similar to high
school. There are whom I would have to call the Socialites, otherwise known as
the flirts – people (mostly ladies) coming in all made up, perfumes strong
enough to clog my poor little nose, running on treadmill with hair down, and
barely perspiring even after a good 3 to 4 hours of “workout”. These people, I don’t
even know what their business are but they are obviously taking up unwanted
space. And then, there are the Wannabe’s. The wannabe’s are people (again
mostly ladies), who obviously had no right to flirt, either because they’re too
old for the game, or too “mediocre” to be noticed. But just the same, they
still flirt, not mindful of how stupid they look. Lastly, there would be the
Antisocials. The antisocials have a world of their own – they stick to their
program as though their life depended on it. They mean business.

It was early gym Monday. I
was looking forward to it with a big smile on my face. As I picked my favorite
spot of stationary bike number 1, anticipating the show about to unfold before
me, I couldn’t hide my excitement. It was supposed to be the constellation of
all 3 classes of gym regulars. It was going to be pure entertainment. Not long,
flirt number 1 came in, pompom skirts, fitted shirt, heavy make up, red
lipstick, hair down, smelling like somebody about to go to a party…and oh! The stockings
too I might add!. I gave her credit for the amount of time she needed to get
prepared like the way she came. She would always greet everyone with the widest
smile similar to that of a campaigning politician about to step on her
motorcade, only this time, the motorcade would have to be the treadmill. Then
came Wannabe number 1. You see, wannabe number 1 is my favorite cause each time
I see her, I never fail to cringe inside. This time, she had bright pink thong
on top of her leggings. As she came strutting inside, mindless of (or probably
loving) the people staring at her, she proceeded to working her way towards the
aerobics class. Then came Flirt number 2, in her ever so fitting top that would
almost make her bosom spill out – not to mention of course, the make up, the
hair, and thong peaking out her pants. Flirt number 2 is my constant treadmill
neighbor; well more like she would always get my time slot. Wannabe number 2 is
late again. Wannabe number 2 is this guy who would always come in the tightest
shirt and shorts he could ever wear. I have absolutely no objections to his
attire. But he’s got this major BO problem he probably doesn’t even know about.
And then my comrades, the batch of the antisocials – all 3 of them would come
almost always at the same time. They mean serious treadmill business. Their
arrival would be my go signal to start racing towards treadmill number 11,
before anyone of them gets on it for a good hour or so…and rob me of my
precious bonding time with my favorite machine.

I hate having flirt number 2
as a treadmill neighbor – I’m always concerned about her bosom popping out of
her top while she desperately try to keep it from moving while on the
treadmill. It distracts me. On the other hand, having any of the antisocials
beside me would feel like a race. One would have the habit of peeking at my
meter, and then turning hers up. She’s probably the reason why I could run
10kph on a grade 4 incline. It was an unspoken competition. Though I hated it, I
never back down. Heheh! She doesn’t have the stamina to sustain it anyway. The
other would perspire like crazy that having him as a treadmill neighbor would
mean spatters of sweat on me! But overall, they are nice people.

Ahhh….the gym. It’s one place
next to heaven, despite all the twisted entertainments. The treadmill is my life;
it is where I can forget about my problems and set my mind free to wander,
think crazy possibilities, daydream, pretend i’m somebody I’m not, and just
feel good about myself. Most importantly, the treadmill would almost always
replace the adrenaline rush I have decided to abandon when I left PGH. Diffferent
people may have different reasons for hitting the gym. Whatever they are, they
have given me entertainment….and of course some entertainment for my readers
too.

When Being Somebody Doesn’t Really Matter

karol114 — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 17:43:36 +0000

As I happily lips-synced Beyonce’s song, Irreplaceable,
while on the crosstrainer earlier today, an old lady, with hair all teased up
high, glasses so big that it looked like from eons ago, and wrinkles covering
most of her face, grumpily “requested” me to move out of the machine, while
showing me the sign up sheet that she was reserved for the 5pm slot, on machine
#2. Her name boldly written: DR. EMMA. It piqued my ire and I couldn’t stop
myself from making a disgusted face as I reluctantly stepped off and
transferred to the next machine. What’s up with the DOCTOR Emma?! For
god’s sake I am a doctor too! Do I have to tell everybody that I am one?!

One of the biggest annoyance that never fail to irk me is
when I see doctors wear white coats to the mall, scrub attire to the
restaurants, or as what just happened, try to assert authority by writing down
their degree in totally inappropriate places such as, well, the gym for
example. LABELS: Dr., Atty, Engr, Manager, accountant, congressman, etc. It
gives a false sense of authority, a self proclaimed glory, and by that, a ticket
to talk down (I am guilty of this sometimes hehe), look down, and pretend that
the mighty being had just afforded them the highest human status ever to exist
– to lord over the so called commoners. Unfortunately, this always happens. I
am not saying am not guilty of this cause at times, especially when I’m
reckless on road, I always get away with it. It probably just doesn’t sit well with me when I’m on the receiving end
of it hehehe!

Being Somebody is one thing. After all, 5 years of crap in
medical school, or how many years in law school, or climbing the corporate
ladder, is a fact that is hard to discount. But being a ‘nobody’ is just as
good. A person couldn’t be measured by the number of times he graduated since
nursery (I counted mine – 6 times ako naggraduate haha), or the number of
diplomas covering the wall of his room. Cause in the end, what truly matters is
when you have become a somebody for someone – be it a patient, a lover, a
sister, or a friend, regardless of social, financial or educational status.

I have come to appreciate the way I have matured from a girl
who wanted her name to have it all (MD, PhD, etc), to just
plain simple, but appreciative of every single person that has affected my
life, one way or another. 9 years of UP culture had taught me to appreciate
that housewives are the true heroes in the family, and thus, my mom, is
probably one of the best persons in my life. Looking through people, and seeing
through their labels, and connecting with the true person inside, is always
gratifying. Kyla, despite being a kikay doctor that she is, has always been the
‘bestest’ kikay pal and life instructor of my life that I have become dependent
on her on almost every predicament coming my way of late. My newest, dearest
friend Cristina, (cristina, if you’re reading this, I always tell you how much
I truly appreciate you coming into my life), a kikay ballerina, has forever been making me smile even when
I’m going through the rotten days of my life. My blockmates, each one of them,
has seen through (or I would like to believe) my suplada façade and has come to
accept that I try so hard to be jologs too at times (at least I am trying).
Every person, no matter how high they are, status wise, will just be a
sister/brother/child when he comes home, a friend (if he truly is ah) when he
goes out with his friends or a confidant to a crying friend, or maybe an inspiration
to somebody they love.

I had a patient, bedridden for 12 years, couldn’t even move
an extremity, couldn’t even recognize anybody, but with a loving family
surrounding her. My resident had told me to start dropping hints of the
possibility of a DNR order (do not resuscitate). The family refused of course.
Why? Because this patient, was every bit the mother that she was. It broke my
heart to see her code and get revived (aside from the fact that it dragged on like that for the
whole month of my med rotation na code ng code that I am forever endorsing
her). But I guess, when you have lived and become somebody for someone, then
your life has served its purpose. I always believe that a person, cannot be
living for himself and basking in his own glory. In the end, it doesn’t really
matter anymore.

I would like to share a part of this poem written to me by a
friend recently. I have always looked back and thought of how fortunate I am to
have the love I have gotten from my friends and family. I never fail to remind my friends how happy I
am to have them. Try it. It feels good. =)

            Sometimes people come
into your life
            and you know right away,
            that they were meant to be there…
            to serve some sort of purpose,
            teach you a lesson
            or help you figure out who you are
            or who you want to become.

The challenge now is, have you already become a Somebody for
Someone? We have a lifetime to learn. =)

Manic Monday

karol114 — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 09:11:34 +0000

I woke with a start - it’s 730am! I’m NEVER ever late but
today, the blasting sounds of my alarm clock failed to wake me up. I woke 30
minutes before I’m suppose to report, on my first official day at work. I had
nobody to blame but myself, as I had once again, chatted with my dear friend
Cristina, until the wee hours of the morning. (It is a hopeless addiction
talaga!) I showered, quickly got dressed, and literally drank my oats from the
bowl and ate a big banana in 3 bites. I got into the car in slippers before
realizing it and had to hurry back to change into my shoes. It is Manic Monday!

The celtic soul music I’ve come to love wasn’t helping to
calm my nerves so I had to switch to the AM news on radio. I was at the edge of
my seat, and was trying to keep myself from blaring the horns of my car to
speed the traffic up. I was so exasperated when I found that the traffic was
extending all the way from the bottom of the old sta. mesa bridge to the end of
quirino highway. That is like a whole 2 km or so of pure shit! After holiday
rush hour traffic is the worst ever!

I finally got to PGH 2 hours late, parked the car
haphazardly (and tried to escape the guard hehe), and was fumbling for my ID in
my bag - I left it at home. I have never been so out of control in my whole
life but today, I just had to laugh at myself. I think I have yet to start
priming myself to live the life I left 6 months ago – the life of pure
adrenaline rush.

I welcomed the thought, and the feeling of finally having
something worthwhile to do. I love being in control – and being in control is
being in an oh-so-familiar place, doing the stuff I’m so used to do, and where
I’m best at – a thinking machine!

Everybody was still on a holdover from the long holiday that
by lunchtime, everybody was so ready to bolt out of the door. I’ve never felt
this good in a long long while. So, just to make myself smile the whole day I
treated myself to the simple things I’ve come to love. I bought my dearest pal
kyla some pretzels for her duty, (actually, I wanted them for myself but
couldn’t bring myself to eat cause I’m trying to shed off my holiday fats so
siya nalang!), and made chika while she was on labor watch. Hehe! It was so
funny cause I think we got carried over with our chismis that I had to kulit
her back kasi the mother might be giving birth already and she still doesn’t
know. Then I treated myself with Mcflurry M&Ms but had to eat it at home
kaya it was almost like a milkshake when I got back. (I cant eat it or I might
have diarrhea on the way home – I’m severely lactose intolerant– sad
diba?) But I really enjoyed it even if I had to drink it instead of scooping it
out. Today proved to be so insanely insane but I just had to laugh it all out.

Last stop was the gym. I just had to treat myself to a
good run on the treadmill, to keep my adrenaline rush going. Gym is like my
second home and the treadmill is my oasis. No amount of health risk can pull me away from this addiction because
I’m really stubborn about it. (try me!) Today, I spent a whole hour on the
treadmill without gasping. It was heaven. (well, not as much as I still have
to work on upping my speed again). =)

Manic Mondays. Although I swear on my soul that I’m never
as, how should I call it, undisciplined? as today, sometimes it does happen. As
I said, and despite the mania, I have never felt this good in a very long time.
Tomorrow, I’d probably do it right, just the way I am used to. Be in control.

Kyla dearest, I hope you enjoyed my pretzels! It was fat free! Promise!