Hold my hand.

Near-Infinite Possibilities. Ermita, Manila. September 2010.

"Christ, did you... did you see the streets, just the streets? There were thousands of them! Then how you do it down there, how do you choose just one... one woman, one house, one landscape to look at, one way to die...?~" 1900 (The Legend of 1900)

(it's sort of a secret of mine...choices are great, yet infinite possibilities can almost be scary. Hold my hand? I'll be stronger this way.)

Oct 4 = Day 1. :-)

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Carole King's classic song talks about the morning after…


That was the first song that I hummed the morning after "The Big Haircut".
The afternoon before, I had gone to this Korean Master Cutter lady at this hair place in Dumaguete with Mommy Tit (my aunt). She did Mommy Tit's hair, and her pixie cuts always came out really pretty, so…I told myself I'd try her out too. Not to get a pixie cut, but well…to try something new.
New. 
(That's the key word. New would mean a lot of "getting-used-to".)


A week before, I tried to ask how it would look if I got my hair straightened. One of the nurses, a friend of mine asked me, "How long is it, doc?" Hmm…middle of my back, when I undid my usual ponytail. It was unadulterated, never-been-cut-since-April hair (well, except for the regrettable "curly" bangs) that I was occasionally proud of on good days. My hair, though thin and fine, could hold a curl on its own accord, and my waves didn't have any split ends. However, because of the humidity (and because I didn't have time to fix it much), it tended to frizz and give me the appearance of being unkempt.


Before work, I figured I wanted to start with something more…subdued and polished. And so there I was, waiting. Sitting in the hairdresser's chair, watching her in the mirror while she snipped away with her razor sharp shears turning my hair ever which way, cutting off more hair than I expected. Obviously, I was too mesmerized with the speed of her reflexes that by the time she was done (and had shortened my perpetually misbehaved curly bangs), the tips were barely grazing the shoulders.


Right there and then, I thought, "Hmm…I look like someone old enough to trust, I suppose," as I fingered my new waves.


"It's cute.." she said, in halting English.


Yes, I agreed, it did look cute, but what I was worried about was the morning after. (Everything always looks cute when you step out of a salon, mind you.)


And so, the morning after, true to form, my hair was the way it always was. Waving and curling like crazy.


I don't have any regrets (ok, well, maybe a little), but I haven't seen this 'do "in action" yet, so we'll have to wait and see.


But for now, no facebook profile pictures to show yet. :-S
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"BOX" THOUGHTS

"Sprewell" giving me the look, "What's with the Camera, Lady?

The early morning bus ride to work was cold. There weren't that many people on…although each one had a two-seater to himself and herself, so when I got on, I went all the back to the back row, where it was a higher vantage point than everyone else's (and where, compression fracture injuries were more common due to bumps), and had more leg space.


 I was wearing a shorter skirt than usual (just above the knee, nothing scandalous) and my short-sleeved white coat over my blouse so it was colder. After a while, I didn't even notice the goosebumps, or that my teeth would occasionally chatter.
I was too wrapped up in my thoughts. 


The sky was grey outside, and the rains were pelting drops at the sides of the bus windows, so in a sense, there really wasn't much scenery (or greenery) to appreciate, and it felt like travelling from point A to point B in a box. Thinking in the box. Haha. I was thinking about everything, and nothing, really. I almost didn't notice Dr. Dingcong (one of the older doctors at the hospital) get on and ask why I was all the way in the back. I grinned, and told him I was sitting next to my boyfriend, I motioned to my blue JanSport backpack sitting in the seat beside me (he qualifies as a personality, because I've estimated his weight to be around 13 kilos, filled with my stuff for whenever I go on duty.)


Natalie Portman's "Where the Heart Is" was playing on the bus TV. I liked that movie. Coming of age, and more. Oh and photography. She's really smart, well-educated and pretty, one of my favorite actresses around.

 
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"RENOVATIONS"


When I got to work, I had to play patintero to avoid the puddles in the hospital driveway. Good thing the government's giving 1 Million later this month to have this fixed. Oh, and 1 million for the new OB ward. And another for the ER.
Why just now? I thought to myself ruefully. :-p
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"TWINS, PART 2"


I had another pair of pint-sized twins in my ward. A boy and a girl (I didn't deliver them), but I saw them when they were admitted, and they looked like they were improving. The suck was better, and they could consume more breast milk. Cute. I'm discharging them today.
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"bYEbYE OPD"


I'm glad I don't have to do the OPD consults nowadays, with the new set-up. They just hired a new doctor, so it loosens up the schedule. There are two doctors who take care of the business at the out-patient department while we stay with the ward patients. Although it is less patient-interactive, I reckon I'm good with the new set-up. 

Before, when we used to do it, it meant 8am to 4pm of out-patient consults (which means that you have to see, examine, admit and talk to) and then the rest of the time you spend at the ward (where you deliver babies, suture drunks up, make rounds, etc.). During my time, I'd get like, 40 (usually) to 60 (on worst) patients in a day (without PF, haha), which would leave me quite pooped by the time I'm through…and my tongue hanging out of my mouth, from talking. It almost becomes annoying when someone asks me why my hands shook one time after I injected an anesthetic on his drunk friend (who sat on a beer bottle and hurt himself when it broke).'


 He was (deathly) afraid of needles, so I gave him the courtesy of using a tuberculin syringe to inject the anesthetic. He had tough skin and I had a tough time injecting lidocaine because of that.


It was a bit annoying to have someone say that, but I could only roll my eyes (when he wasn't looking, haha) and stitch it up nice and good.


Shoo. Don't come back to my ER.
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"CLIMBING THE PAPAYA"


Sex was the topic of conversation last night at the work-table. (Close your eyes kids.)
I was doing my chart-rounds and half-listening to the casual conversation going on the table across the room. The nurses on duty at the time had started on the topic of the infamous blow job. (I apologize for being a little crass, but using fellatio wouldn't be as humorous.)


Anyway, they were very animated and it was just as fun listening to them talk about their sex lives. No names will be mentioned, of course, but since they're all in their 40's and married they were pretty comfortable talking about it.


"I only found out now that that was what it's called…I had been doing it for years!" one nurse laughingly told the other. (hunched over my charts, I had to stifle a laugh at her candor.)


I learned a new term too, "mosaka sa kapayas" which, translated from my dialect to English, it's "to climb the papaya tree". Now, I don't get why that term is connected to sex, but that's what they used. I'll have to get someone to explain it to me. Haha


Momentarily, she approached me, and the conversation continued. "You know, Doc, when you're married and in your twenties, it's like you can't get enough of it…all it takes is a look, and then off you'll go. In the thirties and especially the forties, it becomes different, it starts to wane even…" I grinned. 


"Thanks Ma'am, I'll keep that in mind." Was all I could say. I laughed, "Thank you for the advice." 

LOL. I'm not prudish, nor am I put off by it. Sex is a natural and even later, from the looks of enjoyment in their faces while talking about it, fun. 


It's actually nice to see these women talk about their sex lives as if it were not so big a deal. I for one plan to have sex until, well, in my 60's? :-p hopefully I won't have shriveled up by then. haha


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Morning rounds. See you all next time. 


Good morning!

The Little Ant (Psychiatry Residency Interview Thoughts)

Like an ant under a magnifying lens, scrutinized…waiting to be burned off, piece by piece…

That's how it felt like for me, my residency application interview, I mean.

Normally, I love interviews (I love being asked to talk), and the exchange of information up close that I get, but for some reason, this was different.

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The day before the interview, I received a text message from the department telling me that I was scheduled for an interview the next day, at 10 AM. I was surprised, because the last time I heard, I was supposed to do it later in the week. As it turned out, the consultants who composed the panel were free on that day, thus the rescheduling. It made me a little nervous, but hey, I figured I'd hoof it the next day, because the interview was inevitable anyway. 

The hospital where I did the interview is a short walk from where I lived, so walking there in a dressy blouse, pencil skirt and 3 inch heels wasn't too much of a chore. I took a trusty tote along, stuffed with some make-up, breath mints, paper, a pen, Andre Agassi's autobiography, and…a diagnostic set (don't ask me why.lol).

I met one of the applicants on the way inside, a guy from UP Manila. He was dressed all in black; slacks, long-sleeved shirt and shoes. Across his chest was the strap of a sling bag, also black. He was friendly enough and smiled at me, as we silently made our way up the office. He had just come from Laguna, which is quite a long way away from the hospital. 

There were only two of us scheduled to be interviewed that day, and the chief resident said he was the one to go first because my essay still had to be printed out. We waited for about an hour before we started. I got a phone call which I had to take outside because Globe's signal wasn't especially good inside the hospital. Anyway, by the time I got back, the other guy was already in the chief's office, being interviewed. 

For some reason, I had the weird kind of butterflies…they were uncertain, of different sizes, monarchs/little ones, all in different colors, different moods it seemed. I tried to play it cool by reading Andre Agassi, which calmed me somewhat, but I still had a strange feeling. I was nervous as hell, starting to sweat and my heart was starting to race, and stutter in its beats, and I tried to soothe it, and calm myself by telling myself how much I loved interviews. 

(Did it work? Lol. Nah.)

Presently, he came out, all smiles, grinning from ear to ear. LOL. Gee thanks, Man. 

He said they were cool, and mabait. Well, we'll have to see about that, I said, smiling nervously. I still had to wait a while longer because they still deliberated.

They called me in a few minutes later. I was thinking of a good theme song as a picker-upper while I walked towards the office, but rats, all I could come up was "Too Much Love Can Kill You" going over and over in my head. Hay dipuga. Tabang. Salamat na lang. 

The panel was composed of two consultants and the chief resident, all female. Normally ok, but I would have preferred if there was a male member. I can charm male panelists to a certain extent. Haha. Ok, kidding aside, I'm just comfortable with having different perspectives, that's all.

Speaking of perspectives, I felt like an ant under a magnifying lens, at noon. Everything about me had been laid bare. My grades, my personal information, my psychological test results, heck, even that 700 word autobiography that I started with a line about being a broken man (Freddy Mercury's "Too Much Love Can Kill You". )These were psychiatrists…experts in…people. (And BS.)

But there was no BS'ing bone in my body that morning. As the interview went on, I hoped I made a good impression and convinced them somewhat that I wanted to be a part of their team (so badly, I could have done Puss-in-Boot's look in Shrek if I was allowed to. Haha). Who wouldn't at least try to get into the country's best training program in Psychiatry, now, right? Afterwards, they told me they'll let me know.

(It wasn't very reassuring, I'll give you that.)

Afterwards, I walked back home, quite distraught. I was talking to my ma on the phone bemoaning the fact that perhaps I may not be good enough for them. I was fraught with insecurity. (i.e. Where did I go wrong? I knew I did ok in the exam… is violet the wrong color? Did I sweat too much? What? What?) And didn't feel at all like going out to lunch with anyone. (except… :-p)

Anyway, I slept it off and then I got a call from Sherry Mae, one of the old housemates at DB Ledesma in Iloilo. They were having lunch at the mall nearby, and wanted to see if I was free. Eeek! It was perfect! I needed familiar faces! J

I ended up going to lunch with them AND attending a Pediatrics lecture series with them at the same hospital…where I took notes, and even asked questions. ß Pettie: (on hearing me ask: Aba, si Steph yun…!) one of my seatmates asked me if I was going to be part of the first or second batch of Pedia pre-residents. And I went, "Nah, I'm applying for Psych, I just like kids, that's why I'm sitting in."

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Here's something that I still think about… :-p

(One of the panelists reads off part of my essay, " I'm just pieces of the man I used to be…", so tell me, how is your love life? She asks. Uhh…I pause. Maybe she read it out of context, so…How do I go about explaining the current state of my love life? :-p 

So, I said it like it was, in the most practical way I could muster. I wasn't in a relationship currently, and had gotten over a phase, but if anything should happen, then it would. (Oh, I have a boring love life, if you only knew, Ma'am. :-p)

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And Ma'am, just in case you wander into this blog anytime soon. I so badly want to be picked. You totally won't regret it. ;-)

DB Ledesma, I love you.

DB is not a boy, but he used to be, before he moved on to doing great things, and he had a hospital and a street named after him.

:-p

We had an apartment in DB Ledesma St., in Iloilo, my friends and I. I stayed there for 3 years while in Medical School. They were good (and bad/frustrating/wacky/weird) times. We were a ragtag bunch of "foreigners" (because we weren't from Iloilo) who got thrown together to live in a house. It was a two-unit set-up. I lived with my roommate Karen, and in the next room were Nickel (mayor), Pao (business manager) and Muk (class president), and in the little room was Aui (who went on to Valedictorian, by the way, but graduated a year later than we did) and in the next house were Rupie (the half-indian "super"model (haha), Roxy, Loreen (who's like a kid sister), Aileen (valedictorian) and Pettie (soul sistah, Petula).

It was a hodge-podge of characters, it was never boring around the house. It was like a home away from home, in many ways. J My favorite memories were always tied to DB moments. They were oftentimes hilarious, many were serious, but most of it was just about growing up with people you were with. Growing up isn't always pretty…but hey, it was always fun.

• We always had birthday parties…whenever one had a birthday, we'd get cake, and presents, and there'd be an eating party.
• Pao had moods, and he was always organized…but he and Nickel would laugh at my jokes, and let me put my hands in their armpits when I'm cold. (they had BIG arms…and armpits).
• Tita K made great salads…and she was the first one to get a desktop…and hook up DSL.
• Auee and her movies…she'd be laughing along to whatever it was she was watching boisterously, but we'd gotten used to that anyway. :-p
• Pettie and her cooking. And her fashion sense. And her bubuyog shades. ß she gets them off Ebay now. Lol.
• Bermoy and his piche-piche. Yum.
• Nickel and his sarcastic jokes.
• Aui and her wisdom.
• Rupie and Mike and their love affair. Oh, and rupie's fashion sense (and MAD sewing skills). I borrowed her jeans for a date once. Bad date. Great jeans. Lol.
• Mukthar (my nickname for him) was class president, but he was an all-around interesting guy. He was well-read (I borrowed his books from the shelf) but he had a funny quirk when he got drunk. Pettie mentioned it again during the sleepover…"he had a low tolerance for alcohol. One time, his friend DD brought him home drunk and we had to give him a cold shower with his clothes on while he was rambling! Hay, DB moment talaga…"
• One time, he came home having trouble breathing because of his asthma, and when they helped him up to the house, I went, "I already prepared your stuff." In my panic, I only prepared his bed, but didn't put his nebulizer together. (he could have died from the delay. Natch.) We had a laugh about it. Afterwards. So silly of me.
• Manang and her Sarsiado…and lomi balls (my favorite)… and her nice hands.
• Boy talk. With everybody. Lol. It was all so silly, really.
• My pet santan. That died.
• Pettie's fighting fish and goldfish, that also died. Lol.
• One time they dressed me up for a date. Who showed up late to pick me up. Marked X immediately in their book.
• My attempts at cooking. All were with egg…so everyone got gas afterwards.
• My roses in the mail. Delivered. Given personally. ßmy favorite kind.
• Dances.
• Early morning bathing rituals.
• Families coming over.
• Boyfriends visiting (ehem, Tita K?).
• Costume parties.
• Hugs
• Tears.
• Studying for exams out on the balcony. but not really....'cause we always wind up talking.
• Dancing to "Uptown Girl"...all of us, when the song played on the radio.
• Jerry the cutie English-speaking guy from downstairs.
• Floyd and his sax...i think he plays when he's studied too much. haha
• Meetings.
• "DB Boy", an orthopedics resident who lived on our street who we all had a crush on. lol.
• House-warming parties. 
• The July 27 rose that always stuck out from between the pages of the 16th edition Nelson's Pediatrics book.
• Tony, the skull we put in the living room  bookshelf.
• Tatay...and his pep talk in between smokes.
• boxes and boxes of notes.
• the living room bench that never got clear of clean laundry.
• Pao's gourmet cooking.
• Nickel's jokes.
• the giant TV that never worked.
• pettie and my failed "dragon" moments.
• Astie the rabbit. 
• Pettie's giant bear. that took up half her bed space.
• Muk's cold shoulder. lol. 
• not being able to walk for 3 days because of my spinal injury...with Manang hovering over me.
• Pre- and Post-tennis games.
• Movie/book/politics discussions at our room.
• videos.

met at Goldilocks at the mall near my place to "convene" about the slumber party.

Watching the premiere of Glee Season 2!

Photo-ops are hard to pass-up. That's karen, me, then chaps in white, and then Sherry. (Photo by Pettie).

Old friends mean good times together.

“Too Much Love Will Kill You”

(Disclaimer: read it through in its entirety. I hope this isn't going to be misinterpreted as the story of my love life. Just in case.. :-p)

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"I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be, too many bitter tears are raining down on me...I'm far away from home, and I've been facing this alone for much too long..."

Hearing Freddie Mercury's classic song almost everywhere these past few days gave me an idea on how to condense 29 years of living, breathing and existing into 700 words when I was at a previous loss. It seemed at first that I could not explain the whole of my personality, but just parts that hopefully will give a gist of who I am.

The song is about a man who had to make the impossible choice between two lovers; one, a lover, and the other, "the love he leaves behind". Either way, it is a hard decision, nobody wins, because someone is bound to get hurt. The conflict between his id, ego and superego is an interesting study.

I reckon I've always been fascinated by people, how they think, how they feel, and how they live their lives. Every person is an interesting study, a microcosm of a psyche unto himself or herself that warrants a careful look from the observer. At 6 years old, I started reading books, magazines, anything ofl purpose that I could get my hands on because of this. I preferred (and still do) books with complicated characters who later on reconciled with their complexities...or didn't. My journals started from when I was 7, and up to now, I scribble regular thoughts and musings, my observations of the world.

In school, I would sit in the front row (center, if I can help it), because I wanted to take in the details, I absorbed lessons that way. I preferred the humanities, and was involved in the school paper of the College of Medicine at West Visayas State University in Iloilo despite the busy schedule, because I relished the fact that there was an avenue for artistic expression and an outreach of sorts due to the medium we had a free hand in.

The adviser of our school paper was a prominent psychiatrist in Iloilo City. It is perhaps, but not exactly the reason why I made this career choice.There was an amusing, noticeable trend of editors-in-chief of the school paper ending up going into psychiatry residencies. I don't believe he exerted his influence on us in terms of career decision-making, but being under his tutelage did in fact give us a view of the intricacies of the human mind that was always exciting and enriching.

After medical school, I did my internship year in Silliman Medical Center in Dumaguete City, and gained experience in the management patients with different conditions, from all walks of life. However, I noticed myself gravitating towards the occasional psychiatric patient that wandered into the hospital. When one (of the three in Dumaguete City) psychiatrist would make rounds, I would always be at his heels, carrying the charts, wanting to see how he was going to deal with the particular patient.

One time, there was a young 18-year-old female, who had manic episodes. Her room was always full of people who either were family, or were prayer groups who "prayed over" her, believing that she was possessed by the devil, and needed intervention. Her parents were distraught and believed that to be true. The psychiatrist I was with did an interview and prescribed medication, and soon enough, the patient was discharged eventually and followed up.

Just a few months ago, in my job as a resident in one of the district hospitals in my province, I've had psychiatric consults. At that time, it was a young male, 20 years old, seemingly at the peak of his youth, who had become violent and was prone to having delusions and hallucinations. His parents and family, mountain folk, were overly-concerned and would not leave his side.

Eventually, I had to refer him to a psychiatrist in the city, for definitive management. It was quite frustrating not to be able to manage him at my level.

Mental illness is no simple matter, and with the paucity of practitioners, I want to learn more, I want to contribute. #

When you "know" (and other stories)

I was in heaven last Sunday.

My caramel Macchiato grande. Grazie.

With mountains and oodles and stacks of books everywhere, "Fully-Booked" at Bonifacio High Street ia one of my favorite places to be in.  I was there with my friend C. for a private screening of an indie film (there's actually one every month) of one of his friends (his, "famous" friends, I always tease).


I enjoyed it immensely. As of now, I cannot talk about the movie we watched, but it would suffice to say that it's probably going to be big when it comes out.

It was a good creative process. They called that gathering "The Critics Preview", and at the end of the film, the film people had a free-for-all discussion, taking in questions and comments, and getting the audience's opinions and suggestions. It was a very stimulating creative process. I especially loved the multi-layered quality of the movie. There was a rationale behind every shot they did and it was fascinating to listen to the director talk about the intricacies that went behind the making of the film.

Myself in the audience. Of course I asked me question. lol.

Sitting in the audience, I felt so giddy. I always did love being in a creative environment and I have a deep, deep respect for the talented people who value and pursue their chosen art form, seeing its completion through at all cost.


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A group of writers was heard to have once said that perhaps the hardest topic to write about was that of...love, without sounding too corny (this statement was paraphrased).

I didn't agree at first, because I've always thought of it as a fairly easy topic that anyone can relate to, everyone must have at some point or other fallen deeply and hopelessly in love and has to have some story to share about it. People fall in and out of love all the time. Then I realized that to distill it from its raw emotion to something pure and beautiful without being too heavy or overbearing as an art form is quite difficult after all.


I suppose this is true...when writing, one is tempted to add elements of oneself into the mix, with different results. What is true for one, may not necessarily be what the reader wants to take into himself or herself. It's terribly daunting a task, and the last thing you want to be is overbearing. Love, is multi-dimensional, an experience that is the different, yet is the same...yet still very different in that way, for every lover. It takes much expertise to make it come together beautifully.


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Photo by Tom Epperson.

I made a big decision a few days ago, one that involved how my career was going to flow for the next (precious) few years. It amused me how I had nurtured something for a long time, but when it finally came down to deciding whether I really wanted to go through with it, it turned out that it wasn't what I wanted after all.

As funny as it may sound, I have no regrets of letting go of something that I had thought was my dream.

Someone I admired in my field, at one time said that when she finally made a decision after being in the same situation I was, she felt utter peace. "Contrary to popular opinion, the heart and the mind are rarely in conflict."

It was a calculated risk of a  decision based on intuition and asking myself, "Is this what I really want? and "Will I be happy here?" Like most everyone I suppose, I have a built-in sense of intuition that I always listen to when it "calls".It has never failed me.

I've learned that if something doesn't feel right, and I experience much internal turmoi, it is always best not to go through with it. The last time I did, I spent a considerable amount of time involving myself in something that I didn't finish anyway.

One usually just "knows" if something is going to work out... it's almost like an evolutionary life instinct. What we do about it is entirely up to us.
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Hershey's rose, in my favorite color.

My cousin Hershey spent a few days with me at my place. She's 17 and in her sophomore year in college. Because she's a younger cousin, I feel intensely protective of her and as such, I attempted to gently giving her a talk about "the birds and the bees". It was an (internally) harrowing experience for me, because I've always thought of my younger cousins as little kids...who'll never grow up OR are too young to face what the "big bad world" has in store for them. (I was wrong, of course. LOL. You have to give kids these days more credit.)


She gave me a rose, a pink one, after we were walking around the mall and I gushed over the flowers we saw at one stand. The gift, although given out of a subtle coercion (haha) was awfully touching. I read the card, and she wrote "Thank you for being an inspiration to me..." and...she gave a piece of love advice that really had me thinking.

Surprise, surprise. :-)
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Truth?

I just realized something.

I was thinking about how, like in the King Solomon dilemma of the two mothers, where, he was made to decide as to who the real mother of the baby was. The wise king gave the baby to the woman who decided to just give the baby away to the other woman (who wasn't the mother) just so the baby wouldn't be killed.


In life, you'd have to give up something or some people because you know it'll be the best for them.
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Please, Carabao? (Photo by Tom Epperson)

Tony Soprano is becoming one of my favorite tv characters these days.

I'm a little late, but ever since I've gotten a copy of the whole six seasons from a friend, I've been watching them a little at a time. James Gandolfini fits the character to a T. Lorraine Bracco does a pretty good job as his psychiatrist, Dr. Jennifer Melfi. It must be hard to maintain a poker face when you're seeing a patient like Tony Soprano. (I reckon I should adopt her thing.)


He's sweet and funny, and he's got good intentions, despite the Mafia Boss demeanor, which makes him a lovable character.
One time, he  says to the Psychiatrist: " I think about you all the time. I'm in love with you."
And she says to him, "It is all part of the process. You're making progress."


haha. cute. all that sexual tension between them...
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Ah, L'amour fou*, thou art bane. 


(* "Crazy love")

Planner, found at Fully-booked. But I didn't buy this one, though.

The random "I" list

> i live in Malate...but have to travel all the way to Espana for work (for now.) --> not anymore. I've decided.

> I hate walking around in the rain in wet shoes...but I can't help it.It's always rainy these days.

> Life in Manila means a lot of digging into one's pockets...repeatedly. ;-)

> Who has time for love affairs? ( lol. Rhetorical question, mind you.)

> I have to wear white pants to work...we never had them back in clerkship year, let alone PGI year. Therefore tomorrow, I'm going in a dress. ;-)

> My phone (Globe) has been acting up...messages come so late. Sorry for the delay.

> I have to write an essay.

> Making a choice is hard..."it's not going to be the rest of your life, but a major part of your years will hinge on the decision" - doc e.

> Someone asked me, "Are you happy in Manila?" I was going to say..."My happiness is relative..." <-- but never got the chance to.

> The Doll's Eye reflex is for brain death testing. If your patient is braindead, there will be no movement of the eyeballs from side to side (a sign of an intact vestibulo-ocular reflex.)

> Sometimes when I go down to read at the 7th floor, i coach a chinese guy named David, who has two kids (in fact, they're walking around now the area now. I miss having kids around. <-- he asked me if I had any.) <-- they're Chinese Immigrants, his son doesn't speak English.

> One time, at 4 in the morning, I went down here (7th floor) to go online and read too, this hunky guy tried to strike up a conversation with me. I couldn't be bothered, but hey, i had to be polite. Turns out he was a waiter from one of the nearby restobars (he said, I nodded), and haha, was waiting to be let in by the people he lived with. When his phone rang, he picked it up and started talking...in Cebuano.  hehe. Patagalog-tagalog pa jud ka Dong, Bisaya ra baya pod ko. Sa mauwat lang. :-p


> I get lonely sometimes...and I never counted on this feeling. I was always raring to go on adventures. (This'll pass soon, as my friends are coming over...)

> I just realized something...there are some people, that, even though you see them everyday, you won't get bored. it seems, there's always something new to notice, to like, to love about them. it's funny. :-p

> I like cooking my own rice. and learning how to cook. I should learn how to go to the market and pick stuff.

> i have a bunch of clothes i need to wash...when i have the time.

> Ok, this was good. Totally random, but good.

> Possible Indie film screening with C. on Sunday...if i get the half that day off. Cool outing! :-)

> I miss my Meme, at my age. haha. And my pops. But since I talk to them on the phone occasionally, it's all good.

> I love randomness. and Never having to say I'm sorry.

> I love my New Kaplan and Sadock Synopsis of Psychiatry 10th Ed! <-- bought with my cousin Gerard!

> I hope I can be a good enough Ate. ;-)


ok, must study. i missed blogging. this'll have to do.


~ S.

Sunrise in "Middle Manila"

5:45 AM, Manila, Philippines.

A reason?

I love the 7th floor.


Nothing ever happens here, but I love it anyway.


Today, I'm quietly enjoying the early afternoon breeze and just thoroughly doing some R&R near the pool. There's a study area/coffee table section that's empty except for myself. There are two other people on the lounge chairs, and there are two dudes swimming in the water (and no, they have not made me pause in my typing because they don't have chiseled abs.)


Anyhoo...that's not what's important. The fact is, I haven't been writing in a while, and now, a day which I call "free" (one of the last few ones), I've decided to just park my booty down here so I can get some writing done. There's free WiFi in this area, and the breeze is really nice. (You could almost believe that you weren't in the middle of Manila.)


(I'm taking advantage of the great amenities of my uncle's condo unit and maximizing my reclusive lifetstyle. But not really...my cousin Gerard will be coming along in a while and we might watch a movie, or something.) I haven't really seen my friends this time around...I think i'm swearing off commuting for a couple of days after yesterday.


* sigh *


One of the requirements for a hospital I was applying for wanted me to get a psych test done, so I had to travel to Mandaluyong City and go into alleys and backways and just...find it. :-p As it turns out it was within a subdivision...and you'd never guess it was a psych testing facility.


The night before, I tried to look up "possibilities" in that psych test. I didn't find anything useful and maybe even didn't look hard enough to find what I wanted to look for. In a sense, I wanted to see if i could wheedle my way and get a good score on my psych test.


I didn't read enough. There was a situational/complete-this-sentence test (could be answered in English or Tagalog), an IQ test, a Minnesota, A Draw-a-Person test, and, my personal surprise favorite...the Rorschach Inkblot test. <-- I didn't see the bat or the butterfly, but I saw Napoleon the Boar from Animal Farm. <-- Uh-oh... I wonder what that means. (I only just looked up the results/interpretation this afternoon). I even said one card reminded me of the Jesus in Rio.


The Minnesota took a while...it basically asked repetitive-themed questions, all 400 of them. I just wanted to get it over with, and it was getting dark and I just wanted to go home, and eat. or rest.


I took the MRT, but ended up getting on the wrong side. and had to go all the way to North Ave station (at the opposite end), and back to Taft Station. Geesh. That and all the walking around had me swearing off commuting for a while...like, today, for example. I think I'll see Weng and JoeJoe tomorrow na lang. I just want to stay at home and maybe watch a movie later at the mall with Gerard.


Hey, I had a weird thought while commuting... i felt so "isolated" from everybody. Everyone was doing their own thing, and even though you were surrounded by all these people, it felt, well, lonely. Someone I know uses the word "Alienating".


It was weird, but I thought that if there really wasn't anyone worth staying for in such a sterile, empty (and not to mention hot and crowded) place like this, then maybe it wasn't worth it at all. (And maybe I won't always get to live in the condo.) You had to have a reason. And a damn big one. Or it wouldn't be worth it at all.


Anyway, it was a lonely moment, that one. It almost made me forget that i like adventure ever so often. (Have I matured?)


I actually haven't really decided where I want to go, because everything is happening so fast and there are many applicants for both programs... My good friend Karen, now a resident tells me that wherever I get accepted, that should count as a sign.


-----


(So what do I want now?)