New Leaf

Last year, the road to getting our license as nurses was fraught with troubles- the scarcity of cases, the last-minute filing at PRC, and personal turmoil a week before the board exam. Yet the whole ordeal made me realize how much I really valued my license. As I viewed my board rating- missing the top ten unfortunately by 1.4 points, I was happy nonetheless that all the efforts paid off.

I spent the last weeks of December last year gathering all documents, and submitted them to my three choices for medical school: UP Palo, RTR Medical Foundation, and West Visayas State University (WVSU).

By March I received a letter from WVSU stating my interview schedule. During this time as well unfortunately, Dr.Labarda of UP Palo informed all applicants that the DOH-PCSO scholarship Pinoy MD will no longer be offered for 2011- this will also mean that lateral entry (they have a curriculum which progresses from midwifery graduate-BSN-MD) from students who had their baccalaureate degree elsewhere will not be accepted. It would have been great to study there because aside from quality education, the tuition fee was affordable at around the same cost of nursing education in Tacloban, not to mention the school is only a few kilometers away from our house.

West Visayas College of Medicine was among the top five medical schools based on board exam performance for the past five years (along with UP Manila, UST, PLM, and CIM). Being a state university, the tuition is subsidized by the government so it is remarkably lower than in most schools. The selection process is stringent- first you must meet the GWA (general weighted average of grades) and NMAT requirement, those qualified for the interview will face a panel of 7 doctors who will evaluate you based on your answers, then applicants are ranked.

The applicants from other regions had a stiffer competition because per WVSU Board of Regents resolution no. 68, s. 2001, 75% of incoming students should be permanently residing in Region VI, the 25% from other regions. There were rumors that the following criteria was followed: 60% GWA, 30% NMAT score, and 10% Interview- but a classmate said someone asked the panel and they replied 40%NMAT, 30%GWA, and 30% interview. If it were the latter, then I was really doomed because of my less than stellar NMAT rating, still I was rooting that my 1.7580 GWA would help turn the tide, and if I just cinch the interview I could make it.

There were around 200 or so qualified applicants who were to be interviewed on April 12 and 13. I belonged to the first batch. I arrived ahead of time, and we were grouped and asked to write an essay. Afterwards our group went to the designated room and waited outside for our names to be called.

The tension was palpable in the air. I tried to make small talk with a seatmate who was a BS Biology graduate of WVSU, who told me last year three sections of BS Bio applied for WVSU College of Medicine and only 8 students made it. Finally my name was called, along with five other applicants.

We faced our panel and introductions were made. The doctors were actually nice and told us to relax. We began by saying something about ourselves and why we want to pursue medicine.

I think three of us in there were nurses (and many more during the second batch). I shied away from the usual responses like “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor since I was little”, but instead told them candidly of our situation, coming from an OFW family and wanting to work here in our country instead of the usual route of working abroad as a nurse. I also told them I wanted the satisfaction of working in the health care industry which to me, is more like a vocation than just a job to earn money.

They asked us about our strengths and weaknesses. They also asked us of our achievements and situations that showed our leadership potential- which wasn’t much of a problem for me since I already managed a group of people for the past two years in my previous work. They asked us if we play online games or other addictive distractions from school work, and even if we had girlfriends or boyfriends.

One heavy weight question directed to me alone was how our family would get along considering that our parents have already passed away, and what would the situation be if I indeed pursue med school in Iloilo. I told them that I was proud that my brothers and I have been working together to maintain our home, and that they are doing well independently in the US. I told them that if ever I leave, I could delegate my responsibilities to other members of our household. There was no denying it, they were also looking into my personal responsibilities here.

It took another nerve-racking two weeks before they announced the results. Like waiting for the board exam results, I spent the entire time stress eating and writing silly blogs. The verdict? I didn’t make it, and I took it as a sign from above that if I am to fulfill all my responsibilities and at the same time pursue my personal goals I have to stay here in Tacloban. Truth be told, the last few days before the results came out I was actually contemplating on staying in Tacloban even if ever I get accepted. One of the reasons was that I received the devastating news of my mother and father’s demise over the telephone- and I don’t think I could bear it if that same thing happens again with my 85 year old grandmother who has been battling breast CA for the past two years. I need to be here.

I am actually finished with my interview and physical exam here at RTRMF. Enrollment is on the 16th of May, and I thank God and the people who support me for this chance to make something out of myself. Good luck to all incoming med students all over the archipelago, see you guys in the Physician Licensure Exam. Make sure to bring your game on, because I will.

Image source

The Long Road Home

The Journey

The idea of buying a utility vehicle came about in the middle of the renovation being made in our home, and at the same time Nanay's increasingly frequent trips to the hospital. The latter had more weight, as there were several instances when we also rushed our nephew to the hospital running to the highway to catch a tricyle while the poor tyke was having febrile convulsions, and with Nanay's age and arthritic knees, she can no longer ride public transportation.

I went to six different dealers and private owners who were selling second hand cars (mainly because if we get a brand new vehicle, there would be car payments, and that would be quite a headache). My criteria was simple:decent-looking inside and out, preferably a Toyota since parts were available anywhere in the Philippines, fuel-efficient, sturdy and can withstand abuse and long travel- lastly, since our family, especially when my brothers are home on vacation, love to take trips to beaches around Leyte and Samar. I saw models ranging from Corollas to Honda City (but I heard Honda parts may be more expensive than Toyota), a Kia Sportage (but it was automatic and everyone was suggesting manual transmission), to an Isuzu Bighorn.

The final choice was a silver Toyota FX- still in good condition, owned previously by American Missionaries, and it spent most of the time in the garage so the mileage was below 50 thousand. A rare find for a second hand vehicle. We did a test drive around the city and the engine ran smoothly (very important, said my cousin), and so we went ahead with the paperwork and sealed the deal.

Shortly after the purchase, I had my first driving lesson. Just an hour at Mc Arthur Park, where the roads were wide and very few cars pass by. As any beginner, I struggled in coordinating the pedals and the stick shift, and I couldn't stay in one lane haha! (Lindsay Lohan isdatchu?) I did get to shift up to the 3rd gear, and travel along a straight road. Alas, it was pouring rain so it wasn't the most ideal driving condition: the windshield was foggy, I was getting wet because I left the window open to see the side mirror, and the road was slippery.

The real road test was our trip to Sulangan in Guiuan. My cousin drove seven of us, including my soon to be 85 years old grandmother to the miraculous Parish of St. Anthony of Padua, one of the churches I visited before taking the Nursing board exam. The distance was around 164 kilometers from Tacloban to Sulangan, making it more than 300 kilometers round trip! Eastern Samar's roads (especially Salcedo) are notorious for miles of car-wrecking potholes and rough roads- and in other parts, defective bridges.

Around 40 kilometers left to Sulangan, the car lost its brakes (turned out that the shop didn't tell us that the brake pads have never been replaced since its purchase). It was really quite a challenge, but luckily it was expertly handled by my cousin who, even during an emergency situation when Nanay had heat exhaustion, got us quickly to a hospital. We had the front brakes condemned at a shop in Guiuan before driving home with only weak brakes at the rear wheels. We arrived in Tacloban safely- after 17 hours of travel! The next day, we had a mechanic replace the brake pads, which from the long journey was the only thing which failed to pass the "extreme road test".

The Flood

After the Japan tsunami, the local weather station announced a "wind convergence" which caused heavy rains in Eastern Visayas, and in a single day cause water levels to rise around 2-4 inches per hour. On the evening of the 16th of March, flood waters started rising in our first floor. We moved all our things upstairs, but by 2am I went downstairs to discover that the water was still rising swiftly. In other areas- V&G Subdivision, the waters were waist deep, in Apitong neck deep, in Palo only the roof of some houses could be seen while the river raged on, in Nula-Tula there was a landslide.

Back at home, I decided that our family should evacuate. The Fx's floor was almost reached by the water, which was knee deep and sometimes higher outside the gate, and the exhaust pipe completely submerged in water. We asked the help of a neighbor to maneuver the car, while me and my nephews pushed the car four blocks to the highway (we were advised not to turn the engine on because it might cause extensive damage to the engine).

We parked it in front of our Barangay hall, while Nanay and the rest, with our essentials, rode a jeep to the city center. The Tacloban City Convention Center was being used as evacuation center and truckloads of people were being evacuated there. After parking it overnight, I had a mechanic look at it and voila! When we tested it, the engine still ran smoothly.

Coming home

I know by then that the FX was worth every penny. It survived both a long journey and a flood- after several days of rain (we stayed 3 days at a pension house), I was concerned of the security so we moved the FX to the City Hall parking lot. Early the next morning, I checked it and saw it was sandwiched between dump trucks used during the relief operations! I made the decision then to move the car back home.

I breathed a short prayer, turned the engine on, and with only 1 hour of first and only driving lesson, no knowledge on traffic rules, with only a few days old student driver permit- I drove the vehicle to the outskirts of Tacloban where our subdivision was.

Well thankfully, it went without incident. The ironic thing was, when I turned the sharp curve from the highway to the safer small road to our subdivision that was when I almost drove into a ditch! Turned out the previous night, a Starex went straight into the ditch and still remained there. I stuggled with turning gears in reverse, then coordinating in turning the wheels and the stick shift that several times I let go of the clutch and the engine turned off. I was so erratic that people started to gather at the Barangay Hall to stare at me (luckily the windows were tinted)- they probably thought I was a drunk driver or something.

The good thing about a second hand vehicle is that you don't really expect tip-top appearance. Over the course of a few days, I ran the FX into the neighbor's carport post, causing the a large dent and headlights to droop like intestines, I almost ran over a pedicab, snagged with a jeepney, and I still tense a little bit every time I drive. My friends tell me it is simply a rite of passage. Good thing we have a good mechanic who would fix things for like 100 or 200 pesos, as long as I buy the parts myself.

I now nicknamed the Tamaraw "Dama de Noche", because I only drive her at night or at dawn, where there would be less chances of me running into traffic authorities. Shhhhh!

Sunsets

I had the strangest dream last night.

My mom wore white- I think it was her nurse’s uniform. I was sitting on a stool with my arms resting on a counter. There were bright white lights (which I thought were fluorescent lights) above our heads and I was talking with her about food.

I didn’t really remember the conversation, but I think it went on a while. When I looked around, it was something like an airplane cockpit or a modern interior of an aircraft I saw on TV once. I was so astonished by its vividness that I suddenly woke up.

It was 3:25 AM and when I opened my eyes my gaze rested on my Mom and Dad’s portraits below the altar, visible in the darkness by the incandescent glow of the streetlamps outside- and I remembered they were already laid to rest, just two years apart.

* * *

It’s Sunday. The routine is: fix the bed, have breakfast, take my 85 year-old grandmother’s blood pressure and remind her to take her medications, and then prepare for church. The afternoon schedule varies slightly- I go to the movies or eat with old friends if my budget permits, otherwise I just curl up with a good book. Dinner comes, and that queasy feeling in my stomach ever since I realized it is only a few weeks before the result of the board exam comes out.

I’ve been sleeping in the second floor sala since Nanay moved back in our house- she was previously living with an aunt in Palo, but when Papa died last December she was here for us, and decided to stay.

My brothers and I sat down one day, and we all agreed- Nanay spent more or less thirty years of her life, the productive years, taking care of the three of us. From the time we were in Manila as kids and our parents were in Saudi, to the time we all grew up to be young men. It is our responsibility to make sure she is well taken cared of in the twilight of her years.

One night I found myself crying under the covers. It was a typical cool night in mid-January, I was checking my e-mail when our loss finally hit me. I laid on the bed and pulled the sheets over my head, trying to stifle a sob. I guess I just missed them both so badly. The past week we saw my brother off at the airport before he boarded the airline bound for the states. I’m the eldest in the family, and the one staying in the country- I guess I felt a little overwhelmed with the weight of my responsibilities and wanting to pursue my own personal and professional goals at the same time.

Sometimes I wonder about the choices we make in life. I think about fate. What if we did something differently in the past, would we still be the same person? Would we be happier? Had they never left the country, would my parents still be alive today? Would I have learned the same lessons in life if I did things perfectly, rather than what I learned through my flawed ways?

* * *

I still felt the shards of glass that hit my back for a second as a plate smashed on the concrete steps behind me. It was the morning of the concluding day of Papa’s wake in our home in Tacloban, and Nanay was instructing us on the rituals to be observed in funerals.

I found them strange- sweeping the floor but never dispose of the dirt until after the interment (so we had a pile of dust and dried leaves and matchsticks hidden just beside the flowers and the funeral lamps), we were never allowed to wear red- until forty days after Papa’s death, and before sealing the urn we cut a blessed rosary several times and placed it inside. Breaking a plate or glass was apparently one of those things.

The three of us brothers woke early that day, and the vehicle that would drive us to Abuyog, Papa’s hometown, waited for us on the street. They asked everyone to go out of the house, and I was to go out last, hugging Papa’s burial urn close to my chest.

They told us never to look back, and so I didn’t. As soon as my foot hit the pavement, the glass plate was hurled to the concrete and it shattered into a million pieces behind me. The sound seemed to reverberate in my head even as we sped through the highway.

Papa was finally going home.

* * *
The day after our father was buried was the first day of our Board Exam. I was anticipating all sorts of emotions from myself, but never had I expected I would just be calm. I wasn’t really numb, nor was I nervous, sad or excited. I simply was there for the next two days to do my best, quiet and praying that I make it through. 

Looking back the past few years, it really had been the end of an era: the conclusion of my twenties, losing both our parents, venturing into a new career path. Sometimes when I think about it, it seems too much.

I had been busy lately working on my applications to medical schools. I was stuffing photocopied documents and credentials on envelopes to be shipped to Iloilo and other med schools I applied to, when I gazed distractedly at the skyline.

The rain had just waned, and it was almost dusk. The sky seemed ablaze with fire in hues of orange, pink, and red as the rain clouds parted. It was such a stunning sight that I stopped for a moment to stare. Hard to believe only moments ago the sky wore a cloak of gray, now it was clear and absolutely beautiful.

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What's up?

I haven't really blogged in a long time- at least the creative posts. That's because I've been a little busy lately. Here's what occupied my time the past few weeks:

Med School Hunting

After the NMAT, and in-between finishing my Operating Room, NICU, and DR cases, I squeezed in some time to finally visit prospective med schools in Manila. Two of the other choice schools would be in Iloilo and Cebu, but I guess I'll have to do that another time.

I forgot how hellish it is in Manila with all the clouds of dust and soaring temperatures, and given that mere mortals such as myself commute, I was subjected to being sunbaked in a creaky old bus. No matter how clean and fresh I looked at 7am, by the time I arrived at my destination I was a mess. So much for great first impressions during the interview.

The thing is, I need to be full scholar (or in the pinoy MD at least) to study this year. Turns out all slots were filled by the time of my April NMAT and May application. Okay so here's a tip: most schools begin accepting pinoy MD applications as early as October of the preceding year, as for admissions they begin January.

I guess this is a blessing in disguise because this gives me time to finish all my cases and focus on the review for the Nursing board exam.

Ambitious Quest

I wanted to start writing again, since I have free time now and then, but I don't want to stick with the blog format anymore. It has to be a short story or a novel (naks) this time, I only hope I get struck by inspiration which will be enough to propel the story even without "technical know-how" in creative writing.

I'll begin by reading either my favorite books by Marquez or maybe Stephen King to switch to a new genre. But seriously, for my in-between time I blog for a little bit of cash. Shhhh!

Design Possibilities

I'll be doing another layout design for 2011 Orchid calendar, and quite possibly render some sketches for a Balinese house. I hope I get to manage my time just right, and of course since its May its fiesta season and that's always big deal in the province.

I'm looking forward to this June's Pintados-Kasadyaan Festival and the Sangyaw Festival here in Tacloban. I haven't missed a single year and some of the presenters have actually competed and won in the Sinulog and Aliwan Festival. Can't wait!

Life Lessons in Jogging

With so much time on my hands this summer I decided to take up running- nothing competitive really, it's more of a mix of jogging, brisk walking, and perhaps a sprint now and then when a dog is chasing me. So every 5:30 am at dawn, without as much as a splash of water on the face, I'd pick up my running shoes and head outside while the house is still in utter silence.

Sometimes I go with a pop song blaring on my headset, but it is equally alright when I enjoy the gentle sounds as the city stirs to life. I have grown fond of the routine: decide my running course, do stretching as I warm up, then off I go! I liken that feel of freedom, as I stomp my way through the concrete streets, to life's journey. When we are young we begin to decide our paths- from high school to college to finding our way through the maze of work opportunities- or the lack of it. We are prepared for the long road by years of training in school, and still oftentimes we run into unexpected places and detours.

We run with other people. Some, like those retirees huffing and puffing as they go, tend to adapt a slower pace and I zoom past them. Sometimes though, a troupe of cadets rush by, and I am left trailing behind. That's okay, I know my limits- I just learn to focus on my goal and move at my own pace.

Yesterday I planned to run from our home in Marasbaras to Burayan in San Jose, then to Cogon, then turn left to Manlurip. This was farther than I've ever gone before and the road is different because it was secluded, with fewer houses along the road- and fewer joggers. I somewhat regretted not following the usual trail- Old Sagkahan road to Magsaysay Boulevard and to Leyte Park, where I can pass through the usual landmarks.

At some point in Manlurip I stopped. Past a certain zone, there were no longer jeepneys I can catch to get a ride back home in case I get tired, and I only had a small bottle of water with me. I had no idea where this trail led, or how far till the next town, but I thought I'll follow it anyway. After running nearly six and a half kilometers, I finally reached a lovely seaside avenue which led to Mc Arthur Park in Baras Palo, Leyte. I collapsed on the grass exhausted, but very happy.

Later than day I had the fortuitous chance of seeing online my old UP comrades at the College of Architecture- those days felt like another lifetime to me. There was a distinct feel of familiarity or even nostalgia as I saw my old professors, I mean these people I met way before my working days at Infonxx or my Nursing studies in Tacloban. I didn't know why it left such a strong impression on me, perhaps because that was the environment that nurtured me during my adolescence and therefore the milieu and culture formed part of my personality. I also got to see my former classmates turn into husbands and wives, and doting parents- a little different from the path I'm following.

But like that crossroad I had encountered yesterday, I knew I had to leave the past to memory, and keep moving forward even though what's ahead is unknown. Life's like that- sometimes you never know what you're going to get- but whatever it is, is definitely better than resisting growth or change and remaining within one's comfort zone.

It doesn't mean I've turned my back to what once was- after all, I've always kept my lessons in tow as I explore new horizons.

Metamorphosis

Somewhere between nostalgia and my haste to move on, I got stuck. There was a time when the world was nothing more to me than a playground of my whims. Gone are the seemingly consequence-free days of adolescence, and the exhilarating first taste of freedom during one’s early twenties. What was once a seemingly endless pursuit of fun slowly gave way to the drudgery of work and responsibilities. When did it stop being fun, and start being burdensome?

Somewhere in a dumpster near my orthodontist’s office are my molars she extracted before straightening my teeth. Some skinny model in an ad reminds me I used to be able to eat as much and never gain a pound. And somewhere in a pile of mementos at the bottom of my closet are my old planners reminding me how busy I was with my old job- and photos to prove how happy I was. Remnants of things past.

Oh to be 24 again. When every Saturday night was spent either in a bar or in a resort, when every date was an exciting prospect, when I was willing to try the most outrageous outfit for a laugh…

Somewhere out there my first boyfriend still flashes that endearing yet empty smile. I wonder if he still travels a lot. And I wonder if they ever found the blanket I hid in the cabinet of the hotel that reeked of vomit one drunken night in Galera. My best friend and I have always planned to go back to the island where, back in the days, we were notorious party goers. But it never happened again.

Days of promiscuous dating. Of failed relationships and bad apartments. Of conversations over coffee with friends and officemates, comparing notes and trading gossip. I guess I should be past all that- after all I’ve survived everything, albeit a few scratches and heartaches- and with a few life lessons in tow.

Somewhere between now and the future, is an arduous journey I am willing to take, because I know it is time to move on. When I was very young, I made a list of varied jobs I had wanted to try (which included working in advertising, media, medicine, management) and one of the last on my list is to work in a cruise liner. That still sounds so incredibly exciting to me even now, but I know it is already far-fetched. Time has come to focus on a definite career path in the field I have currently, and finally chosen, and the time has come to work on long term goals.

I turn thirty next year, and that terrifies me a little bit. Ok, it terrifies me a lot. But for the record, I am ready to move in the right direction- as for my whims and those dreams of working as a seafarer? Let’s just say that ship has sailed.

Out of the Frying Pan, into the Fire

Middle earth? It's just UP Dil.

Hidden Valley.

Melchor Hall- where the College of Architecture used to be (before we had our own building).

Last duty at NICU, before the Cebu affiliation.

Snippets of my week in photos- a short breather after the finale of a tumultuous third year and the impending Psychiatric ward duty. A few hours from now I'll be dragging my obese suitcase to school for the assembly.

I've got butterflies thinking of the next two weeks- no internet access (prohibited, besides I don't think we'll have time), no nights out, new dorm, new patients... But it's a good scare- the kind that challenges one to adapt to new situations shake one out of complacency.

Bring it on! Haha, just please don't give me a violent patient ;-) Thanks for the visit, in the meantime I hope the archives can entertain you for a while. Carpe diem, my friend!

Who Moved my Wachamacallit?

I cleaned my room today, and this is such a rare occasion (happens only twice or thrice a year) I had to mark it on the calendar proudly, like I’d won an award or climbed a mountain. Shit, I could actually see the floor!

My room and my daily planner are contradictions. If you walk in (after pushing the door forcibly because it doesn’t open all the way because of the mattress on the floor and the bags I hung at the back of the door), you’d think it was an abandoned warehouse. Everything is in disarray- cabinets vomiting books, the closet door parted because the underwear drawers are stuffed to the brim with socks, boxers, and briefs, a locked suitcase with a conspicuous padlock lies on the floor with magazines on top, towels hung on the headboard, laptops on the pull out bed I never use, my comforter carelessly strewn on the rumpled bed, swim goggles and speedos on the chair, reference books, novels, DVDs, photocopies, projects, a manuscript, lotions, scents, chargers, and Kelly forceps (Wtf?), bags, shoes, slippers, my Clinical uniform, and a mountain of laundry litter the rest of the surfaces.

Yet in the middle of the pile are my planners (yes, three of them). They assure that everything gets done on time and future plans are set. One is for school and travel, another is for budget, bills and taxes, and the third is for fitness (ang arte!) which records my weight fluctuations, diet, dates when I last exercised (may kasama pang smiley face pagnag swim or gym)- and sometimes, if I get really crazy, I calculate calories I burned and calories I consume.

The standing policy in our house is: whatever you do, don’t touch my stuff! Sure, a snake or a scorpion may possibly be living in the crevices of that mountain of laundry, but once, all hell broke loose when a well meaning household help cleaned my room without my knowledge, and in the process, lost an important document. We had to sort the trash downstairs and comb the house to look for the item. She never attempted to clean my room again. Amazingly, even if everything was in disarray, I knew exactly where I put each item- and if someone moved it I’d know.

So there, I’m probably crazy and I’m a slob. Three cheers for acting normal today!

A Hodgepodge of Memories

I was recently tagged by Misterhubs, and I’m supposed to do an article on my funniest childhood memory. I couldn't quite decide on writing about a particular incident, so I just listed a jumble of memories that I thought showed my personality as a kid.

How I thought some phrases meant when I was a child:

Dressed chicken- a chicken with clothes.

True-to-life story- the actor dies for real, but how come Lorna Tolentino is still alive, promoting the movie? I wondered.

Legal dictionary- I thought that all other dictionaries were “illegally printed”.

Not for Hire- akala ko Not for Here, e kung hindi yun para dito, para saan?

Reg. Phil. Pat. Off on Coca Cola bottles- I thought was someone’s name.

I learned the words Mystique, invulnerable, and sinister quite early- I collected trading cards. I would save my P5 baon by walking to school, not taking my snack, and later savoring the moment as I ripped the plastic cover of assorted trading cards. Totally worth it!

Prayed really hard so I could win the school supplies raffle (a watercolor set), and was mad at God for a week because He let somebody else win.

I thought Lilet was pretty and would watch That’s Entertainment to see fans put flowers on their favorite stars. I pitied her because her braces looked like a torture device; I swear I saw her mouth bleed once.

At around 8 years old, I lectured our 9 yr old neighbor's kid on proper manners, because she always annoys me when she comes over our house and eats our food. I put matters to my own hands, much to my mom’s dismay. I pulled the kid aside one afternoon, and in our front yard, I dramatically revealed all my grievances, Cherie Gil-style.

I thought eating balot was cruel. I pitied the tiny chick so I only ate the yolk

I would cover my eyes when there were kissing scenes on tv, but in my teens, I actually snuck inside a movie theater showing an R18 movie.

There was a fire near our house in Proj 6 when I was 7 years old and Nanay pulled my brother and me to safety. A block from our house, I trudged reluctantly because I was mad at Nanay for not giving me time to look for my slippers. I thought: how embarrassing to be walking around with no slippers!

I was afraid of Bella Flores.

I cried at this pic of mama with a sea on the background because I thought she was leaving, and I was sad.

I cried at an open forum during homeroom when I told my classmates that my bestfriend Nathan had started hanging out with other kids and he was “slipping away”.

Hmm quite the drama queen from way back when, haha! I see most bloggers have been tagged already.. I'm gonna choose Mink, Joel, and Mark, my friend & online crush hehe ; )

Beach Hunting

Just got back from Guiuan.. Whew!! My ass hurts- not from what you think, but from

sitting for three hours travelling in a van. At least the task is done..

Walking towards the clearing..

Some french guy setting up his mansion by the sea..

My favorite one. I like that bent coconut tree..

Modern day Eden.

Another shot..

A long day requires a mandatory soak in the Jacuzzi ; )

The camera almost dunks into the water..

Ahh! Nice ; )

Sex Substitutes

To our English-only readers, I’m afraid most of the punchlines are in gayspeak or Filipino.. Perhaps you can try to learn a little bit. ; )

Manash! Ok, tigang na tigang ka na ever. Daig mo pa si Chastity Bono (ang tivoling anak ni Cher, gagah!) sa pagiging pure. Wiz ka nang mag-crayola, read mo na lang itech at humanap ng alternatives!

1. Kumain ng Bangus Belly. Yesteryears! Better than sex ang lasa ng fried na Bangus Belly.. It’s soft, tasty, a little salty parang… Natumbok mo mother! Alams na natin kung ano yon.

2. Kumain nga maraming Curly Tops. It’s sweet, it’s cheap, it’s the Philippine version of Hersheys! I swear, manginginig ka sa tamis after sa pangatlong box mo. Parang hinahalikan ka all over. Etching!

3. Tama na ang mga oral exercises mo, jokla! Another alternative is to have a great workout at the gym. Take note ate, may mga cuties din dito! The rush of endorphins after a great workout is tantamount to the feeling of an orgasm. Huy, secret lang natin yun ha!

4. Mag praylalu ka na pagpalain ka ng true love. Hay naku bakla ka, tawag ng laman lang yang inaatupag mo! Build on your friendships and relationships. Malay mo, the right guy is just around the corner.

O, Zsazsa Padilla, keri na yung mga tips na yan. Fly na ang lola nyo, babush!

1,460 Bad Hair Days

Snip, snip, snip. I always cringe a bit every time I’m in the barber’s seat. Yeah, you heard me right. I took a hiatus from my regular stylist because I did something drastic early this summer- I cut all my hair off. Semi-kalbo seemed all the rage those days, and so I tried it. Big mistake! The last time I did that was for CAT in high school, and I looked like Mr. Potato Head. I thought it would be sexy on me ten years later, but it turns out Mr. Potato Head ten years later still isn’t sexy. Some faces look good without much hair, but for me, I need those locks!

As I’m waiting for all of it to grow back, I can't return to “her”. I’ll just make up a story that I was not in town or something. The only thing is that I’m stuck with the barber for now (there’s not much hair to work with anyway). Don’t get me wrong, he seems competent enough (he even gives a backrub in the end hehe), but the thing about these 50-bucks-a-cut places is that they cut heads not faces. Nope, he doesn’t care if your face is round, square, oval or what. One size fits all. Snip, snip, snip, next! I give a tip bigger than the fee, just to emphasize that I need a decent cut to go with my face. So far, I’m hanging in here.

I miss Jen, my old stylist from F Salon in Greenbelt. She knew what she was doing. I don’t even have to explain what I want, she also suggests which new styles to try, or how to do my hair during night outs. It’s hard to find a decent stylist here in the province (needle in a haystack!). But after careful search, and repeated bad experiences, I finally happened upon a fairly competent one at David’s. I better not get this one pissed at me, or I might get another potato head ‘do.

The Beach House

Yipee! I've just been given a really exciting task- my Mom and brother have decided to buy a beach (or a parcel of land close to the beach ; ) in Guiuan. Where is Guiuan, you ask? This quiant fishing town is located on the eastern tip of Samar.

Guiuan has the BEST beaches. (I've been to the ones in Mindoro, Batangas, Cebu, Boracay, and I swear they don't compare!) As a matter of fact, there are presently a number of international resorts in Guiuan- the most popular of which is Surf Camp. (Click on the link to see photos) The waters surrounding Guiuan are crystal clear, so clear it makes the waters in Boracay seem like sewage in comparison. Bora has a great party scene (which you won't find in Guiuan), but as far as the nature trips are concerned- it seems overused. I think it was only in Station 2 where the waters were a bit ok (not much seaweeds floating about). The reason why that part of Samar remains unspoiled is the lack of accessibility (think Palawan), and of course the political killings in other parts of Samar may have given the island a bad rap.

I'm not even sure on how to go about it. Do I go to the town hall and inquire where land purchases are made? There are no subdivisions in Guiuan (where buying residential property would be easy) so I really have to start from scratch. And according to my lawyer friend BC, there are a number of things that need to be done as far as the sale is concerned. Whew!

Anyway, I've already started to make sketches of the beach house that I want. It was ultimately much cheaper (and practical) to design a studio type (no partitions) place instead of say, a two bedroom house. 1. My Mom and brother vacation once a year only and, 2. I am based here in Tacloban which is 3-4 hours away. No one will be living there for most of the year (hence my over-enthusiasm with iron grills on the windows and doors). Security is of paramount importance. Comfort is next, and so aside from making a terrace, I want a bathroom with a huge tub ; ) Haha! I also want the structure on stilts (concrete) so that it is protected from flood (if ever that happens) and the place will have better air circulation.

The pic of me below was taken at Crystal Beach. Check out the water!

City Girl Gets Trapped in the Boondocks with Unattractive Men

I’ve always fancied myself as a nature person. Practically every month, I make it a point to travel- from Sagada to Bontoc to Baguio to Mindoro to Panay (back when I was still working), and nowadays Marabut, and Guiuan, Eastern Samar. For most of those trips I usually stay in a comfortable hotel or hostel, and admittedly my friends and I were there because of the nightlife more than the sights. To become truly one with nature, I told myself, I need to know how to camp.

And so I applied for a membership at a local Mountaineering club in Tacloban. We went through a couple of lectures before the first event- a team building at Victor’s Peak- the highest elevation in Tacloban City.

I started off at the wrong foot. I arrived, meticulously packed (first aid kit, check! change of clothes, check! food and water, check! kikay kit, check!) and an hour late. The assembly place was empty because everyone had left. Determined not to put my efforts to waste, I persuaded one of the senior members at the club to hitch me a ride. I gracelessly rode the back of his motorcycle (with my 10 ton backpack swaying from side to side and bringing my body with it), praying I won’t fall and get run over by the ten wheeler trying to overtake us.

We finally arrived at the base of the mountain, met with glares from my fellow trainees. I thought to myself, oh dear, there were only two females (one made a pass at me during one of the lectures before), and both looked like tarzans! I had a feeling of dread slowly creeping up from my stomach. This was not going to be a good day for me.

The incline was comfortable enough for the first half hour hike. We even took pictures as we climbed up. The trouble first came when the slope suddenly became steep (maybe 60 degrees or higher) , and with my heavy pack I was having difficulty breathing. We had to stop twice so I could catch my breath and drink water. During the second stop I seriously thought I was having a heart attack- my chest pounded and I couldn’t breathe properly. One of the girls (who barely broke a sweat) suggested I drink my water slowly- one gulp, let it stay a bit in the mouth, and slowly slide it down to my throat (I know, I was totally thinking she was giving me pointers for doing the other type of mouth exercise!). After 15 minutes, we resumed our never-ending trek.

It was late afternoon when we finally arrived at the summit. And the view? Nothing spectacular.. I silently cursed myself. “I went all the way up for this?!” I decided to give it a chance and stay overnight- hoping something interesting might happen. Wrong again! The food was bad (noodles, canned goods, and all light stuff they could carry), the accommodations worse. Note: you had to pee and do number two (if you need to) in the woods.

I had to share the tent (that had the capacity for two people) with three other guys. And honey, none of them were good-looking. The guys proceeded to smoke pot, which I refused, and so I just sat there looking like a petulant princess. I decided to stop being a snob and just drown my sorrows in the liquor that the guys brought.

At promptly 11pm, torrential rain started to pour. We went inside the flimsy tent and tried to sleep. Just my luck, my corner had a drip, and my lower body was soaked in rain water. Drunk and wet (not in a good way) I swear I was going crazy!

The next day, I persuaded the guys that we go home early because I remembered had an “appointment”. Of course the rain made going down so much easier- literally. I had to hug trees and grab on to thorny branches lest I plummet to my death. When we reached the highway, I was covered in mud from head to toe. I swore never again to do anything of the sort. Memo to Thad: throw away the mountaineering gear, keep your kikay kit and stay indoors.

Pick Me Up

We’ve all been there. I once had just received a 40K+ paycheck for two weeks worth of work plus the delayed prorated salary increase, had great friends, just moved in to my first apartment, and I’ve been seeing a cutie.. Yet my mood sagged lower than an 80 year old’s boobs. Perhaps those are just days when you realize what you wanted wasn’t really what would made you happy. Or maybe I missed my folks. Or maybe “meron” lang ako nun. (hehe!)

For those days when we feel a little under the weather we need some cheering up. Loud friends and fun night outs help, but let me suggest some things you can do.

Shake the Dust Off
Maybe you carry too much baggage (past relationships, broken friendships, holding a grudge against someone) and its time to put those on the trash chute. If that doesn’t do it, confront what’s bothering you so you can deal with it and move on.

Losing it, In My Terms
During the time my parent’s marriage was on the rocks, I took most of the impact. I played mediator, not only to Mama and Papa but to the warring sides of their families. My solution? During the height of it all, I would leave the house at 6:30am (so I would avoid a confrontation with my Dad) Eat all my meals at school, and go home at 11:30pm, hammered. I’m not endorsing alcohol here, but let me explain: I am a very controlled person who always did the right thing and always got good grades.. It was simply too much for me to deal with all those and have the discipline I had. So I let go of my control (I told myself It’s human to blow a fuse once in a while) on one condition: I don’t mess up my grades. Well, I did let go that week but learned other ways to cope (see below), for the record I still had a 1.73 GWA during that sem.

Have a Little Faith
After my Karen Walker phase, I started going to church again. My approach this time was to tone down the crazy and pray a little bit more. I did feel a lot peaceful when I attended the 5:30 mass everyday after class. I was able to study pretty well for the midterms and I was less angry and snappish when Papa and I had another episode.

Put it in Perspective
Whatever it is can’t be that bad. Some people in Somalia have bigger problems than you. So stop whining, take a deep breath and do something productive.

Digging Deep

On those peaceful moments at dawn (the time I usually write), the whole house sleeps. My laptop rests atop a coffee table, and the incandescent glow of the streetlight filters through the French windows. I never turn on the fluorescent lights lest it ruin the mood
(bad for my eyes, I know). In the silence, I hear the hum of the air-conditioner, the tick of the clock, and I could swear I am back again in my two-bedroom apartment in Makati. I see myself hurriedly preparing for my shift (yet redoing my necktie several times), grabbing some leftover food from the fridge before leaving. Maybe the hustle of those days never really allowed me to think.

The stillness of the house allows memories to flood back. Why did I leave again? I was so sure back then I even influenced some of my colleagues to leave as well. A friend said: “..Di ko pa nakakalimutan yung time when you told me that you're ready to leave Infonxx and move on... Very gutsy indeed... Ayan sumunod tuloy ako...” After moving back home and deciding to study again, my confidence is shaken. I miss work and the lifestyle that came with it, and I sometimes think I’ve made a mistake.

I really had to ask myself questions like, What are my motivations? What would make me happy? And most importantly: Why am I doing this? and What is my purpose? I know you are probably cringing over there and shaking your head. I know this is not one of my crazy, entertaining posts like those parodies or those funny incidents. I really felt I needed to figure this out and, for the benefit of our younger readers, post the article. Hey, I can do more than just write about fantasies and sexual conquests! ; )

To answer this question, maybe I needed to look beyond myself. To be a better son, apo, kuya, uncle. To be a good friend, and a good citizen. These are the reasons why I get up in the morning and move my sexy ass (LOL!) out of bed and start my day. I may have my reasons for my competitiveness and my desire to be on top (although I’ve always been a bottom, if you know what I mean ; ) enough of the sexual undertones, Thad!).

I’d be lost, not because I don’t know who I am, but because I’ve forgotten who I am doing this for. There, that’s what I was looking for. The Reason. I believe I just had an epiphany.