Saturday night, I knew something was amiss: a tooth was hurting and I could feel a little swelling. By Sunday morning, it was a mess. Half my face was swollen and it was a minor miracle that I was still able to speak. I had medicine and lots of food bought for me to counter my sickness.
Come Monday morning, it was clear that I wont be getting to work. The swelling smarts to the touch and I have a constant headache. I had an officemate tell my manager my predicament, saying further that I needed to rest.
I could still joke about it, saying to some people that though I beat Pacquiao in 12 rounds, he was able to land a solid right hook to my jaw, and thus the swelling, but it didn't temper the fact that I was in constant pain. It was as if a drill was trained to my temple while even the lightest touch to my cheek sent tendrils of pain from my face down to my toes. Rest was elusive and ice cream lent only minor comfort.
Thankfully, I was given furlough from the pain thanks to consultations from doctor friends who advised the viability of mixing antibiotics with anti-inflammatory tablets, at least for certain pockets of time. It's no good getting temporary reprieve from the pain but have your liver suffer for it. One thing was clear though: going to the office was not an option.
So I sent an email to my manager, my boss, and HR head, apologizing for my absence and detailing my predicament. I even attached pictures, just to gross them out. And it worked. No work emails came my way (I kept it open, just in case) and no instant messages too, even though I was constantly online.
I wont deny it, though, had it been any other illness, I would still have made it to the office, albeit a few hours late, owing to the fact that it was constantly raining. I hate going out when it rains. But the main reason for taking a week-long absence was that of vanity. Going out of the house with my lopsided face was clearly out of the question. And the low pressures due to the storm was not helping matters. I was depressed. I felt ugly. And those two reasons combined is reason enough for me to lock myself up in my room. It's not the best excuse to file leave for work, I know, but combined with the swelling and the almost-constant pain, I felt that they are. Or at least they should be.
I'm returning from work come Monday to face the consequence of my week-long absence. A leave of more than two days would necessitate a doctor's note excusing the same, but being stuck in the house, and my problem being a dental, as opposed to a medical one, I have no note to excuse me. If HR would be strict with the handbook, my week-long absence would be inexcusable. Noted, yes, but inexcusable. I wouldn't even be surprised if there's a disciplinary note waiting for me when I arrive. But it's no use anticipating these things. We'll just see what happens when I arrive at work.
Before then, I will enjoy these last remaining hours of freedom.
Showing posts with label (un)healthy lifestyle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label (un)healthy lifestyle. Show all posts
Monday, June 18, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Addictions: Coffee
I've been off of coffee for the past three months now, and I miss it terribly. I did it out of a whim, honestly. And alright, out of health reasons, maybe. I was having mild acid reflux. But that may just have been regular office stress and not the coffee's fault.
But anyways, I did stop drinking coffee and found substitutes to it. For a time, I was guzzling copious amounts of pineapple juice just to curb my body's insistent search for caffeine. And as if in retaliation for its lack of addiction fix, my body decided to shower me with hunger pangs. An almost constant barrage of the case of the munchies. I am always hungry; never mind that I've just eaten a major meal, two hours hence and I'm already hungry.
Thus coffee was replaced with fruit juices and a wide array of food. I'm feeling fat. And still hungry.
I miss coffee. I miss the taste, I miss the smell, I miss the high. But my self-control is strong enough that I am still able to cope with its loss.
There are times though that I wonder how a hot americano would taste and feel like, the way you hold it with both hands, savoring its enticing warmth, drowning in the earthy, intoxicating smell. Ever so slowly, you reach for it and tease your lips with it, just a little at first, tasting the hotness of it, mouth aching with the sudden gush of saliva from aroused glands.
You grow bolder with each try, taking in more and more of it, enjoying the scorching in your lips, your tongue until finally you plunge full on, eyes closed and ecstatic as the hotness spreads to your whole mouth, your throat. And you go for it again and again and again some more, until all of it is spent to the very last dregs.
Then you stare at the bottom of your coffee cup, wanting more but holding back, knowing too well that too much of a good thing is bad.
But I'm still holding back from my coffee intake, and that hot raspberry americano will just have to wait some more.
And yes, I know that the one pictured above is a cup of Peppermint Mocha. It was Christmastime, and I was aiming for stickers. haha!
Friday, May 11, 2012
Indestructible
There are times when one feels vulnerable. I woke up today without a sense of balance; as if something was amiss. I still don't know what is wrong, probably it's all in my head. Thankfully I have a repertoire of obscure songs to perk me up.
Don't look no more,
Cause it'll only make your eyes sore
Hey! Count your R.E.M's,
It's comforting the sanctuary there we have
We argue sometimes and we fear we put the knife in too deep
but even when madness heads, it's only gladness I keep inside
So give me a sign
Cause we are Indestructible
Yes we are
And you are my life-line
And we are Indestructible
Yes we are
Hey, hey, you can be wicked
And you know I can be fickle sometimes too, y'know
Maybe you're my better side
Or maybe you annoy me to the point of where I'm holding this
Gun against your head, but I never said we have the same free spirit,
tell me will you cry? Don't cry
So give me a sign
Cause we are Indestructible
Yeah we are
And you are my life-line
And we are Indestructible
Yes we are
You take me as I am, mister
I've a little red devil on my shoe
You always stay real strong
You can take the rough with the smooth
And I know that we forget what we mean to say
Too proud sometimes
Guess we're only human
Cause we are Indestructible
Yeah we are
And you are my life-line
We are Indestructible
Yes we are
So give me a sign
We just have to remember that even though we may be vulnerable, what harms us -- whether real or imagined -- couldn't destroy us without our consent.
Don't look no more,
Cause it'll only make your eyes sore
Hey! Count your R.E.M's,
It's comforting the sanctuary there we have
We argue sometimes and we fear we put the knife in too deep
but even when madness heads, it's only gladness I keep inside
So give me a sign
Cause we are Indestructible
Yes we are
And you are my life-line
And we are Indestructible
Yes we are
Hey, hey, you can be wicked
And you know I can be fickle sometimes too, y'know
Maybe you're my better side
Or maybe you annoy me to the point of where I'm holding this
Gun against your head, but I never said we have the same free spirit,
tell me will you cry? Don't cry
So give me a sign
Cause we are Indestructible
Yeah we are
And you are my life-line
And we are Indestructible
Yes we are
You take me as I am, mister
I've a little red devil on my shoe
You always stay real strong
You can take the rough with the smooth
And I know that we forget what we mean to say
Too proud sometimes
Guess we're only human
Cause we are Indestructible
Yeah we are
And you are my life-line
We are Indestructible
Yes we are
So give me a sign
We just have to remember that even though we may be vulnerable, what harms us -- whether real or imagined -- couldn't destroy us without our consent.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Night Swim
It is no understatement when I say that work is stressful. What with the long hours, the unavoidable interruptions, the impossible deadlines, we're beat. And even though we're in the middle of our busy season, our manager saw it fit to grant us this one night's respite from all the madness.
Never mind that it was just an overnight affair, and that we had to pool our money to finance it. It was well worth the two or so hours to get to Pansol to enjoy the waters.
And the hot springs did not disappoint. The company did not disappoint. I was at first thinking of ditching the outing in favor of other personal matters, imagined or otherwise, but thankfully people persuaded me to come. It was a nice bonding experience, and I got to see my officemates in an environment outside of work.
In my former work, I was one of young ones. The same isn't applicable here, and I got to appreciate it now. I still don't know all of their names, though. :-)
Never mind that it was just an overnight affair, and that we had to pool our money to finance it. It was well worth the two or so hours to get to Pansol to enjoy the waters.
And the hot springs did not disappoint. The company did not disappoint. I was at first thinking of ditching the outing in favor of other personal matters, imagined or otherwise, but thankfully people persuaded me to come. It was a nice bonding experience, and I got to see my officemates in an environment outside of work.
In my former work, I was one of young ones. The same isn't applicable here, and I got to appreciate it now. I still don't know all of their names, though. :-)
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Grade School Mentality
I know I said I wont blog about work anymore, but certain developments are just begging to be picked on. So please allow me to rant a little. This is my blog after all.
It may not seem like it, but accounting is a high-pressure job. Sure, we spend the whole time sitting at our desks and facing the computer, but the pressure mounts at our side, trying to balance multiple reportorial deadlines while at the same time pacifying internal and external stakeholders. And believe me, talking with stubborn agents, irate customers and impatient stockholders can take its toll.
To take the pressure off of work, we joke around in the office. Instead of whining about the work, we laugh it off. And resume work afterward. Sometimes we even joke around while working. And what good it brought us -- employee turnover have been curbed, at least for the time being. As with my experience with the Great Place, no matter how toxic the work is, as long as the work environment remains nurturing, or at the very least, fun, your employees will not turn tail and run the opposite direction.
It isn't always the monetary factor that keeps the employee happy, after all.
Unfortunately, some departments do not think so.
The Internal Audit department has complained to the HR about our noisy behavior in the office. They talked with our manager, and it was communicated to us in turn. Since then, the jokes have been toned down. But they still found it fit to report the incident to HR.
More than that, they are apparently checking the number of times an employee is out of the desk. Which is funny because that employee they mentioned has one of the largest output at any given time. I am astounded that even at this time, they are still adhering to attendance-based management, when what they should be monitoring is performance.
And with various backlogs across all departments caused about by the changes in systems and implementations, I'm surprised that they still have the time to monitor the activities of the employees of other departments.
Furthermore, this grade school mentality is galling me to no end. All the while I thought I've already outgrown the list of noisy and absent and those not in their proper desks, but apparently, I haven't. The sergeants at arms are still roving around the classrooms with their lists, ready to rat us out to the principal if we get too noisy.
Suddenly, I feel like we're being held hostage inside our own office. You can feel the sudden drop in the atmosphere and the dreary, sleepy silence that have begun to permeate. And I will not be surprised when the resignation letters come pouring in once more, especially now that the annual audit is winding down.
It may not seem like it, but accounting is a high-pressure job. Sure, we spend the whole time sitting at our desks and facing the computer, but the pressure mounts at our side, trying to balance multiple reportorial deadlines while at the same time pacifying internal and external stakeholders. And believe me, talking with stubborn agents, irate customers and impatient stockholders can take its toll.
To take the pressure off of work, we joke around in the office. Instead of whining about the work, we laugh it off. And resume work afterward. Sometimes we even joke around while working. And what good it brought us -- employee turnover have been curbed, at least for the time being. As with my experience with the Great Place, no matter how toxic the work is, as long as the work environment remains nurturing, or at the very least, fun, your employees will not turn tail and run the opposite direction.
It isn't always the monetary factor that keeps the employee happy, after all.
Unfortunately, some departments do not think so.
The Internal Audit department has complained to the HR about our noisy behavior in the office. They talked with our manager, and it was communicated to us in turn. Since then, the jokes have been toned down. But they still found it fit to report the incident to HR.
More than that, they are apparently checking the number of times an employee is out of the desk. Which is funny because that employee they mentioned has one of the largest output at any given time. I am astounded that even at this time, they are still adhering to attendance-based management, when what they should be monitoring is performance.
And with various backlogs across all departments caused about by the changes in systems and implementations, I'm surprised that they still have the time to monitor the activities of the employees of other departments.
Furthermore, this grade school mentality is galling me to no end. All the while I thought I've already outgrown the list of noisy and absent and those not in their proper desks, but apparently, I haven't. The sergeants at arms are still roving around the classrooms with their lists, ready to rat us out to the principal if we get too noisy.
Suddenly, I feel like we're being held hostage inside our own office. You can feel the sudden drop in the atmosphere and the dreary, sleepy silence that have begun to permeate. And I will not be surprised when the resignation letters come pouring in once more, especially now that the annual audit is winding down.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Rubdown
Walking home to my jeepney stop after my post-game dinner, I notice this person at the other side of the street raise his shirt up and rub his stomach. Clad in walking shorts and basketball jersey, I surmised that he is probably from around the area; maybe from one of the houses near the bridge. I cross the street and do not make eye contact.
After a while, I see him leave the street corner; probably to go home or maybe to find a better spot. A moment later, my jeep arrives and I enjoy a peaceful, albeit noisy ride going to my street. Probably to keep himself awake along the road, the driver was playing 90s alternative band music to the speakers' maximum capacity.
I alight the jeep to walk the short distance going home when I see someone going the opposite direction. More than 6 feet tall and with considerable built, I grew weary of his presence and proceeded to walk with a steadier gait. When he was just a couple of meters from me, he raised his shirt to reveal his abdomen and low-rise jeans that promises to leave little to the imagination. Or maybe it was designed to further spark it, I don't know.
And as if on cue, he started to rub his stomach while attempting to make eye contact. I studied my feet until I passed him. But the footsteps behind me told me that he was now following me. He was still attempting eye contact as I reached home and clicked the gate locked.
This wasn't the first time I encountered people attempting a hookup. What perplexes me is their manner. Since when did rubbing one's bare stomach become the universal code for "I'm horny, let's have sex"? And the number of occurrences! Two instances in just 30 minutes. That's got to be a record, or something!
After a while, I see him leave the street corner; probably to go home or maybe to find a better spot. A moment later, my jeep arrives and I enjoy a peaceful, albeit noisy ride going to my street. Probably to keep himself awake along the road, the driver was playing 90s alternative band music to the speakers' maximum capacity.
I alight the jeep to walk the short distance going home when I see someone going the opposite direction. More than 6 feet tall and with considerable built, I grew weary of his presence and proceeded to walk with a steadier gait. When he was just a couple of meters from me, he raised his shirt to reveal his abdomen and low-rise jeans that promises to leave little to the imagination. Or maybe it was designed to further spark it, I don't know.
And as if on cue, he started to rub his stomach while attempting to make eye contact. I studied my feet until I passed him. But the footsteps behind me told me that he was now following me. He was still attempting eye contact as I reached home and clicked the gate locked.
This wasn't the first time I encountered people attempting a hookup. What perplexes me is their manner. Since when did rubbing one's bare stomach become the universal code for "I'm horny, let's have sex"? And the number of occurrences! Two instances in just 30 minutes. That's got to be a record, or something!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
To Do Lists
This is what occupies most of my waking moments for the past few months. We've yet to finalize everything, but I am hopeful we'll make it through. It isn't like we're still in square one after all; we've pushed through a long long way, and for that I am proud of our accomplishments.
But one more season like this and I'll probably loose my mind. And I almost have, for a spell. I've gone through anxiety attacks the likes of which I have not suffered before, and all because of my work.
When it comes to that, I make lists. Somehow, the act of committing into paper the number of tasks you need to accomplish eases the panic in my mind. It doesn't matter that I wouldn't be able to even hope to finish everything written, it doesn't even matter how many reams of paper is used to list down all the tasks at hand. What matters is that all the tasks are written; concrete; defined.
It's infinitely easier tackling an opponent you can see and define; rather than the monster your mind whispers you should kill.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Carbs!
We had a meeting yesterday. It started 9.30am and by 2pm, we weren't even finished. It was agreed, though, that we would have a break, but reconvene for the meeting by 3pm. Lunch, therefore, had to be really quick. I wasn't afforded my ample me-time and it blows.
By 3.30, we were back to the meeting, discussing the various issues and deficiencies that need to be addressed for the year-end closing. We finished a few minutes past 7pm.
After that whole day of meeting, I no longer had the energy to even look at my computer. I merely turned it off and promptly left the office. Who cares if, during the meeting, I'm ticking off one task after another that I need to perform; I was drained. I needed a change of venue.
I needed to perk up after that ordeal. And what better way to do so than to eat.
Introducing TOSH: Express' Carbo-overload meal. Shepherd's Pie, rice and pasta alfredo, and an iced tea for an additional 10 pesos. The whole gamut of carbs in the food pyramid: wheat, maize, potato, grains.
After finishing the whole plate, I was back to my normal, cheery self.
Good eats!
By 3.30, we were back to the meeting, discussing the various issues and deficiencies that need to be addressed for the year-end closing. We finished a few minutes past 7pm.
After that whole day of meeting, I no longer had the energy to even look at my computer. I merely turned it off and promptly left the office. Who cares if, during the meeting, I'm ticking off one task after another that I need to perform; I was drained. I needed a change of venue.
I needed to perk up after that ordeal. And what better way to do so than to eat.
Introducing TOSH: Express' Carbo-overload meal. Shepherd's Pie, rice and pasta alfredo, and an iced tea for an additional 10 pesos. The whole gamut of carbs in the food pyramid: wheat, maize, potato, grains.
After finishing the whole plate, I was back to my normal, cheery self.
Good eats!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Addictions: Wine
I've been craving for wine for some time now, and it's such happy coincidence that I some bottles at my disposal. But seeing as I am out of the house most times, I haven't had the time to enjoy my reds as they should be. And the times when I am in, I am unable to find my corkscrew.
Some two Christmases ago, a former officemate gave me a multi-tool (okay, a faux Swiss Army knife) as a gift. I seldom use it but deemed its usefulness to come in handy sometime, so I kept it. The funny thing with my stuff, I keep it, knowing it will come in handy, but it gets lost the moment I need it. And for about a week, I've been looking for that damned corkscrew, well cursory searches, that is, I've very little time spent in the house these days, and most of those times are spent sleeping.
Today though, I am happily without weekend plans and my corkscrew search was a success! So with corkscrew in hand, I slowly twisted my way onto the cork, my mouth already watering at the anticipation of that acidic earthiness the bottle promised. But no matter how much I tugged, the cork stayed firmly in place, as if in silent mocking at my apparent lack of strength.
After a few more tries, I checked the bottle and found out the problem:
My fake Swiss knife couldn't handle the cork and the wine bottle. Silly of me to think that it would open, really.
So, until I find a good enough corkscrew, that bottle of wine will continue to mock me night after night.
Damn.
Some two Christmases ago, a former officemate gave me a multi-tool (okay, a faux Swiss Army knife) as a gift. I seldom use it but deemed its usefulness to come in handy sometime, so I kept it. The funny thing with my stuff, I keep it, knowing it will come in handy, but it gets lost the moment I need it. And for about a week, I've been looking for that damned corkscrew, well cursory searches, that is, I've very little time spent in the house these days, and most of those times are spent sleeping.
Today though, I am happily without weekend plans and my corkscrew search was a success! So with corkscrew in hand, I slowly twisted my way onto the cork, my mouth already watering at the anticipation of that acidic earthiness the bottle promised. But no matter how much I tugged, the cork stayed firmly in place, as if in silent mocking at my apparent lack of strength.
After a few more tries, I checked the bottle and found out the problem:
My fake Swiss knife couldn't handle the cork and the wine bottle. Silly of me to think that it would open, really.
So, until I find a good enough corkscrew, that bottle of wine will continue to mock me night after night.
Damn.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Rewards and Punishments
Today was a busy day.
It's seldom that I get to use my holidays for myself. Usually it's either I fall into a stupor and waste it sleeping, or I work. Thankfully, today wasn't one of those days.
I did go to the office, though, but for practice. One of the drawbacks of being a newbie in a company is that you get "persuaded" into joining the Christmas party presentations. Somehow, it's become tradition that the new recruits are showcased in their full awkwardness to the whole company, as entertainment for the party.
I don't mind, though. I'm sure I can bitch my way out of participating, but that would take a lot of energy and negativity, and I don't want that. Besides, it's healthy getting to know some of the officemates in a different setting. Not to mention the benefits of the physical activity not usually afforded at work.
That was why for 3 hours, we were sweating it out, trying to learn dance step after dance step of the designated songs. We liked it so much, we booked our choreographer for more sessions tomorrow evening after work.
We started practice late though. Even though the call time was slated at 9.30 am, it wasn't until past 1.30 that we were able to start, thanks to some officemates who didn't come until after lunch. Filipino time can be such joy sometimes.
And because the practice started and ended late, I too, ended up late coming to my volleyball game. It has been a month since I last played, and, as if the game from last Saturday wasn't enough, I went ahead and played with my other group. Talk about masochism. Still, five sets in 1.5 hours, four of them consecutively, isn't so bad. And what do you know, today's physical exertion actually helped remove the aches caused by last Saturday's game!
I needed all those moving and sweating. I've been inactive for far too long. And as reward for today's activities, I went ahead and had my first taste of KFC's double down.
Wait, did I say reward? With all those cholesterol and fat, and not to mention the rice I partnered it with, maybe the more apt description would be Punishment. haha!
It's seldom that I get to use my holidays for myself. Usually it's either I fall into a stupor and waste it sleeping, or I work. Thankfully, today wasn't one of those days.
I did go to the office, though, but for practice. One of the drawbacks of being a newbie in a company is that you get "persuaded" into joining the Christmas party presentations. Somehow, it's become tradition that the new recruits are showcased in their full awkwardness to the whole company, as entertainment for the party.
I don't mind, though. I'm sure I can bitch my way out of participating, but that would take a lot of energy and negativity, and I don't want that. Besides, it's healthy getting to know some of the officemates in a different setting. Not to mention the benefits of the physical activity not usually afforded at work.
That was why for 3 hours, we were sweating it out, trying to learn dance step after dance step of the designated songs. We liked it so much, we booked our choreographer for more sessions tomorrow evening after work.
We started practice late though. Even though the call time was slated at 9.30 am, it wasn't until past 1.30 that we were able to start, thanks to some officemates who didn't come until after lunch. Filipino time can be such joy sometimes.
And because the practice started and ended late, I too, ended up late coming to my volleyball game. It has been a month since I last played, and, as if the game from last Saturday wasn't enough, I went ahead and played with my other group. Talk about masochism. Still, five sets in 1.5 hours, four of them consecutively, isn't so bad. And what do you know, today's physical exertion actually helped remove the aches caused by last Saturday's game!
I needed all those moving and sweating. I've been inactive for far too long. And as reward for today's activities, I went ahead and had my first taste of KFC's double down.
Wait, did I say reward? With all those cholesterol and fat, and not to mention the rice I partnered it with, maybe the more apt description would be Punishment. haha!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Something New
I got sick the whole of last week. I'm still a bit sick even now.
I get monumentally ugly when I get sick, and it wrecks havoc on my self-esteem.
So when I got a bit better, I opted to have a haircut, and let all that negativity flow away from me like the mass of hair shorn from my head.
I had it cut really short this time.
I love it.
I get monumentally ugly when I get sick, and it wrecks havoc on my self-esteem.
So when I got a bit better, I opted to have a haircut, and let all that negativity flow away from me like the mass of hair shorn from my head.
I had it cut really short this time.
I love it.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Mondays
I have long decided not to get affected by it, but it seems I really can't let it go. So now, I'll say it outright: I actually hate Mondays.
It didn't feel this way initially, I seem to vaguely remember a distant time when I looked forward to Mondays, but I can't seem to remember a concrete day of when that was. Thinking as far back as y school days, I know I disliked Mondays as well. I mean, who wouldn't when Mondays meant returning to school? Still I know there was a time when I did like Mondays.
But rather than waste my energies thinking about phantom memories of cherished Mondays, why don't I just waste more energy enumerating why I hate this day? Because surely, I think I can so many bad things about this day, more than any other.
Monday means work. Lots of work. The return to the office not only promises a new deluge of tasks -- it delivers. No wonder more people suffer heart attacks on a Monday compared to other days of the week, just the thought of all that work waiting there to drown you and suffocate you is enough to stop your heart from beating.
Monday ruins schedules. No matter how you set your schedule for the week, expect it to all come flying out the window come Monday. I had a game plan set from last week; a set goal to finish. I was aiming for the stars (well, not really) then Monday rears its head and greets me with other things to do, more concerns that would need your attention. More stressors to disrupt your calm and turn it into calamity.
And don't expect for Monday's effects to be localized on Monday. Its effects will surely cling on to Tuesday, and if you get lucky, can run all the way till Friday. No matter how hard you prevent it, when Monday decides to screw you over, it will and it can. Late last week, I was talking with a colleague and she kept on saying that Tuesday is the sibling of Monday. I couldn't fathom what it was she meant until this afternoon, when during a staff meeting, it was decided that we needed to work on a Tuesday, which has been declared a holiday. Then it dawned on me. Tuesday is Monday's sibling because Monday's woes are Tuesday's concerns.
I can go on and on citing example after example of Monday and its abuses. I can fill page after page of woes and disappointments to allay my case. I was prepared to do so, but then you called me from out of the blue, and suddenly I don't hate Mondays at all...
Monday, September 13, 2010
Addictions: Playing and Watching
Last Tuesday, I played volleyball for the first time in more than two years, maybe almost three. I never had any formal training on the sport; I was a novice back then, I felt even more so that night. Worse, I felt heavy. I couldn't run as fast, couldn't jump as high, couldn't reach as far. Not that my prowess were marvelous then, but that night, I felt more inadequate than the first times I played the sport.
I was sweating profusely. I was grasping for breath. I was straining to keep up. I was drawing on every bit of energy I had. I liked it; I missed it. It has been far too long since I exerted myself physically, and the quickened beat of my heart was a welcome disruption to my lethargic state.
I knew, even while playing, that I was in for a lot of hurt the next day; I embraced it. My friends advised me to take painkillers before going to sleep, as they were sure, as I was, that I will be in a lot of pain the next day. I also know that I must keep my muscles warm and to raise my legs higher that my heart in order to avoid cramps. I accepted those measures to be helpful but promptly threw them out of the window. I was too tired to buy medicine, too lazy to prepare my bed for the raises, too stifled not to use the AC.
I woke up to pain like I have never experienced before, and got reacquainted with muscles I've forgotten I had. My whole body, from my neck to the soles of my feet, was sore. Every muscle was resonating different intensities of hurt; sinews singing discomfort with every move. It was like an orchestra of ailments afflicting my body with every move. I loved it; I never felt so alive and aware of my body.
I tried to assume normalcy even through the pain but my body wont hear of it. I couldn't move without experiencing pins and needles running through by body; my usual stride therefore, was out of the question. I was moving at a third of my usual speeds, and I was furious about it. Coming from someone who sprints from one area of the office to another because it's boring to just walk, being hindered like such was a nightmare. The slow speed, the inability to quicken one's pace - both of which I detest in other people - I am now suffering.
The physical pain, however, did not deter me from going to Shangri-la to watch the Cine Europa offerings. Thanks to Friday being declared as holiday, I was able to spend the whole day watching movies. Never mind that I was painfully aware of each of the sixty nine steps from my room to the ground floor, and almost the same number of steps leading to the Magallanes terminal; I had to reach Shang in time for the movies.
And it was like a trip to Europe as I queued first for Bulgaria, then the Czech Republic, then Denmark. And never mind that in my weakened condition, I was travelling alone. I only got to meet up with fellow travelers as we closed the day with a trip to Finland.
There are 22 films to be enjoyed this season of Cine Europa, and I plan to make the most of it.
But Tuesday is again at hand and I may want to subject myself to more physical torment.
We'll see.
I was sweating profusely. I was grasping for breath. I was straining to keep up. I was drawing on every bit of energy I had. I liked it; I missed it. It has been far too long since I exerted myself physically, and the quickened beat of my heart was a welcome disruption to my lethargic state.
I knew, even while playing, that I was in for a lot of hurt the next day; I embraced it. My friends advised me to take painkillers before going to sleep, as they were sure, as I was, that I will be in a lot of pain the next day. I also know that I must keep my muscles warm and to raise my legs higher that my heart in order to avoid cramps. I accepted those measures to be helpful but promptly threw them out of the window. I was too tired to buy medicine, too lazy to prepare my bed for the raises, too stifled not to use the AC.
I woke up to pain like I have never experienced before, and got reacquainted with muscles I've forgotten I had. My whole body, from my neck to the soles of my feet, was sore. Every muscle was resonating different intensities of hurt; sinews singing discomfort with every move. It was like an orchestra of ailments afflicting my body with every move. I loved it; I never felt so alive and aware of my body.
I tried to assume normalcy even through the pain but my body wont hear of it. I couldn't move without experiencing pins and needles running through by body; my usual stride therefore, was out of the question. I was moving at a third of my usual speeds, and I was furious about it. Coming from someone who sprints from one area of the office to another because it's boring to just walk, being hindered like such was a nightmare. The slow speed, the inability to quicken one's pace - both of which I detest in other people - I am now suffering.
The physical pain, however, did not deter me from going to Shangri-la to watch the Cine Europa offerings. Thanks to Friday being declared as holiday, I was able to spend the whole day watching movies. Never mind that I was painfully aware of each of the sixty nine steps from my room to the ground floor, and almost the same number of steps leading to the Magallanes terminal; I had to reach Shang in time for the movies.
And it was like a trip to Europe as I queued first for Bulgaria, then the Czech Republic, then Denmark. And never mind that in my weakened condition, I was travelling alone. I only got to meet up with fellow travelers as we closed the day with a trip to Finland.
There are 22 films to be enjoyed this season of Cine Europa, and I plan to make the most of it.
But Tuesday is again at hand and I may want to subject myself to more physical torment.
We'll see.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Clean Room
Then my workload suddenly multiplied exponentially and I was left with little time under my domain. It didn't help as well that I kept changing rooms, or rather, Matriarch kept moving me from room to room. There even came a point that I transfered rooms thrice in the same year. I lost track of some of my stuff because of that, and my drive to clean wavered. After all, why should I exert too much effort in cleaning room when I am not even assured of my permanence in that place.
Over time the zealous urge to clean was lost, and my room became a seeming jungle of books and knick-knacks piled to one place or another with no logic or organization. The old twice a week purging was lost until it became a chore to be done only on the bluest of moons.
And today was one of those rare celestial occurrences.
The day started out lazily, but thankfully, I was able to pick up enough steam and start my erstwhile favorite activity. More than just moving dirt around, cleaning my room also involves moving the furnitures around. The purging isn't complete when I am not able to move stuff about. And therein lies the heart of my problem: my stuff are too bulky, or too large to move around. For a long time, I've been trying out in my head different permutations of how to rearrange the furnitures, but I was stuck with the old one I used to have. It did serve its purpose, but it left me with too little floor space to move about that you have no other choice but lie in the bed once inside the room. For month after month, I have been lethargic while within my domain because its arrangement left nothing else to do inside.
Finally, after months of merely thinking about it, I decided to clean, and to move my things about. And there were some...things... that gave me quite a stir. I do love our pets; they even sleep with me on the bed sometimes, but those rascals have turned the space under my bed into their personal cesspool, taking care to do their business on the farthest side, out of reach and out of sight of my previous cursory cleanings. No wonder my room smells like dog! Further cleaning also revealed a bunch of papers remnants from my old job. I confess, it gave me a certain amount of vindictive glee throwing those papers out.
Finally, I have a clean room, or at least clean enough to be comfortable with. I still have some more things to do, which will be done over the next weekends to come, but at least I have made considerable headstart today.
photo credit
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Waist of the Matter.
I put on my jeans which I bought last year and it fit me perfectly. I checked around the waist and it was an exact fit, as if the pants were tailor-made to my size.
I suffered from mild panic.
Rewind a year ago and I still remember my friend and colege blockmate asking me for my size. I told her I was a 28, but normally wear a 29. I'm not much of a fan of tight fits. Knowing better, blockmate insisted that I buy size 30, claiming that it would fit better. Inwardly, I suspected that she doesn't carry odd sizes, thus her insistence in stocks two sizes larger than my actual fit. I didn't bother to argue.
A year has passed since then, and I find myself filling my jeans perfectly at the waist. Living it day to day, I almost didn't realize how much I have foregone this year in terms of extra-curricular and physical activity. Strenuous and excessive amounts of overtime took its toll and has now presented me with a weakened state of physique.
I used to play volleyball regularly twice a week, and when late last year, I met a group of mountaineers, I began joining minor treks and beach outings. I was at my best form then; I felt taller, my scoliosis didn't seem to bother me anymore. I was reading faster and more varied authors, even.
Then the Circus started.
I began losing contact with most of my groups. My twice-weekly volleyabll was replaced with daily overtime. My monthly treks were replaces with weekend overtime. What's even more perplexing was that the more time I render at the Great Place, the more work seemed to pile up. My morning stretch routine was replaced with extended wallowing under the covers; my games replaced by irregular rotations of binge-eating and meal-skipping.
They say it takes at least three weeks to form a habit. I can't even comit two days straight to relearn my morning stretches. Thus, I'm stuck with a screaming spine, prolonged mornings of lethargy, and two inches gained in nine months.
Loss of self esteem doesn't even begin to describe what I'm suffering. I've become alienated from my groups and I only have myself to blame.
A few days ago, Brunswick paid me a surprise visit at the Great Place. He was at the area and decided to rescue me from my mundane existence, if even for a few minutes. Quick updates about the various people I lost contact with ensued, and I was cornered into promising to rejoin the group in the near future. I appreciate Brunswick's going out of his way to reconnect with me. I plan to repay his efforts by re-establishing with my network. My days of wallowing are long overdue, and it needs to stop, effective immediately.
I need to move once more, and in more ways than one.
I suffered from mild panic.
Rewind a year ago and I still remember my friend and colege blockmate asking me for my size. I told her I was a 28, but normally wear a 29. I'm not much of a fan of tight fits. Knowing better, blockmate insisted that I buy size 30, claiming that it would fit better. Inwardly, I suspected that she doesn't carry odd sizes, thus her insistence in stocks two sizes larger than my actual fit. I didn't bother to argue.
A year has passed since then, and I find myself filling my jeans perfectly at the waist. Living it day to day, I almost didn't realize how much I have foregone this year in terms of extra-curricular and physical activity. Strenuous and excessive amounts of overtime took its toll and has now presented me with a weakened state of physique.
I used to play volleyball regularly twice a week, and when late last year, I met a group of mountaineers, I began joining minor treks and beach outings. I was at my best form then; I felt taller, my scoliosis didn't seem to bother me anymore. I was reading faster and more varied authors, even.
Then the Circus started.
I began losing contact with most of my groups. My twice-weekly volleyabll was replaced with daily overtime. My monthly treks were replaces with weekend overtime. What's even more perplexing was that the more time I render at the Great Place, the more work seemed to pile up. My morning stretch routine was replaced with extended wallowing under the covers; my games replaced by irregular rotations of binge-eating and meal-skipping.
They say it takes at least three weeks to form a habit. I can't even comit two days straight to relearn my morning stretches. Thus, I'm stuck with a screaming spine, prolonged mornings of lethargy, and two inches gained in nine months.
Loss of self esteem doesn't even begin to describe what I'm suffering. I've become alienated from my groups and I only have myself to blame.
A few days ago, Brunswick paid me a surprise visit at the Great Place. He was at the area and decided to rescue me from my mundane existence, if even for a few minutes. Quick updates about the various people I lost contact with ensued, and I was cornered into promising to rejoin the group in the near future. I appreciate Brunswick's going out of his way to reconnect with me. I plan to repay his efforts by re-establishing with my network. My days of wallowing are long overdue, and it needs to stop, effective immediately.
I need to move once more, and in more ways than one.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Reports!
Midyear reporting has finally concluded, with our consolidated reports presented to the owners. After weeks of pain-staking knit-picking over all possible details of our work, finally, the report is done.
It is because of this numerical balancing act that I have been going home late for the past weeks. I never imagined that I would get to stay in the office til past 3 am. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever stop to consider such possibility. Which is quite odd, considering that my profession is known for unrivaled hours of officework. I guess I just didn't want to entertain the possibility. I can get lazy that way.
Having had very little sleep, I seem jovial enough today, which is quite weird. It's rather out of sync with my personality. It is funny sometimes, that during your time of least sleep, is the time that you are unusually awake and alert. That is exactly my case right now; wide awake and perpetually hungry, but otherwise, I feel fine. Although, I'm suspecting that my current uplifted mood has something to do with Superior's being out of the office, and with other officemates being out as well. I don't like to really dwell on the matter, but the presence of some people clearly put pressure on me.
It does put a strain on a person, the perpetual overtime. And it gets more stressful when, after all the effort and time you exerted, everything goes back to you because the format isn't right. But I don't want to dwell on specifics. The reports are done, and I want it over with. Move on to the next slew of hurdles to tackle.
Up next: Monthend reporting.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Holiday Lethargy
Despite my denials, and my continued whinings about it, I am a schedule-bound person. The amount of effort I put in anything I do is proportional to the urgency of said affair in my narrow circle of priorities. I don't consider myself goal-oriented, as my ultimate goal is to be able to do nothing but not be subject to the indignity of dying of starvation because I don't have money to spend. Selfish, I know, but there it is. I want a simple life of luxuries with no regard for accounting, but since this simple dream is not possible, I work. And bind myself to schedules.
This is the reason why I hate holidays. Holidays are the worst disruptors of schedules, cutting briskly to a halt everything you have prepared the entire week, and bringing your momentum down to a simmering pool of inactivity. Yesterday, I spent the whole day lying in bed, half awake and trying adrently to raise myself up. I failed spectacularly. Only after I received an sms verifying if I would continue with an appointment did I have the needed motivation to get up and move.
Today is another of those days. I still haven't gone up out of bed, and it's already 1pm. The lethargy from yesterday has brought about this infuriating inactivity upon me. I was supposed to go somewhere today (to work, actually) but I still cannot muster the necessary drive to do so. Even my room is suffering from this debilitating disease. I haven't picked up a single clutter in so long, the whole place is becoming more and more like a pigsty, minus the mud, thankfully. The mind and body is in limbo, due to my lack of anything concrete to stand on. I just hate it.
And still, I'm in my room, lying on my bed, and dreaming of the unfinished works I have left behind for another day.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Shirking Responsibilities: Shang
I bailed out from rendering overtime and accompanying an officemate yesterday in order to watch a movie. I was trying to rest my eyes from work by browsing on the internet when I chanced upon an article about the French Film Festival. The movies are for free. Immediately, I texted some friends, asking them if they are interested.
EyviCat and Gentle responded to the affirmative, so we agreed to meet at the Edsa Shangri-La for the movie. I was at the place at around 7pm; the movie will start by 8. But when I got to the ticket booth, an unassuming sign brought despair to my heart: There are no more tickets to the movie we were supposed to watch. As an addendum to that disheartening sign was another note stating that tickets were to be dispensed 2 hours before the scheduled screening. My being an hour early therefore was nothing, for the tickets have run out an hour before I got there. Disappointed, I informed Gentle and EyviCat of the unfortunate incident.
Seeing as we already took the effort to travel to Shangri-La (EyviCat and I came from Makati, Gentle, from Mandaluyong) it would be a waste of effort if we decide to just go home. We agreed to have dinner in the area instead. While waiting for the two of them to get to the area, I entertained myself by going to the bookstore. Good thing there was a nearby Powerbooks, and though their selection was rather slim, it was enough to while the time away, sifting through books and browsing those that have caught my interest. I was able to add another book (or five) to my mental list of books to buy.
At last, dinner. We spent some time deciding on where to eat. The Mall was filled with establishments that I want to try, but those said establishments are also full of customers. I have no patience with the waiting list. After circling the area for food, we decided to dine at the Green Tomato. Incidentally, this was also the first restaurant that EyviCat recommended as good in the area.
With our original plan thwarted, and lacking the drive to establish new plans, we decided to go home after the dinner. I was home at around 11pm. I'm no longer used to going home early.
photocredit
EyviCat and Gentle responded to the affirmative, so we agreed to meet at the Edsa Shangri-La for the movie. I was at the place at around 7pm; the movie will start by 8. But when I got to the ticket booth, an unassuming sign brought despair to my heart: There are no more tickets to the movie we were supposed to watch. As an addendum to that disheartening sign was another note stating that tickets were to be dispensed 2 hours before the scheduled screening. My being an hour early therefore was nothing, for the tickets have run out an hour before I got there. Disappointed, I informed Gentle and EyviCat of the unfortunate incident.
Seeing as we already took the effort to travel to Shangri-La (EyviCat and I came from Makati, Gentle, from Mandaluyong) it would be a waste of effort if we decide to just go home. We agreed to have dinner in the area instead. While waiting for the two of them to get to the area, I entertained myself by going to the bookstore. Good thing there was a nearby Powerbooks, and though their selection was rather slim, it was enough to while the time away, sifting through books and browsing those that have caught my interest. I was able to add another book (or five) to my mental list of books to buy.
At last, dinner. We spent some time deciding on where to eat. The Mall was filled with establishments that I want to try, but those said establishments are also full of customers. I have no patience with the waiting list. After circling the area for food, we decided to dine at the Green Tomato. Incidentally, this was also the first restaurant that EyviCat recommended as good in the area.
With our original plan thwarted, and lacking the drive to establish new plans, we decided to go home after the dinner. I was home at around 11pm. I'm no longer used to going home early.
photocredit
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Friday
It seemed like the floods would never abate, as the typhoon continued its torrential, unforgiving downpour. It's already nearing past 12am, and still, I am stuck in the office, stranded because of the freakish weather, with no choice but to continue working for lack of anything better to do. Our deadlines are about, so at least I am being productive.
Finally, by 12.30, my officemates did relent, and we decided to finally try to go home. What greeted us downstairs was receeding flood waters deep enough to cover the sidewalk. Once again, our office address lives up to its name, being the Primary River in our side of the town. No choice but to try and hail a tricycle to ferry us along the ten meters of flooded road we must travel in order to get to high ground, and then to home. Thankfully, the trike driver we were able to hail was generous enough no to have overcharged us. We have had bad experiences in the past wherein the drivers bill us unconscionable amounts for that short trip, making full use of those murky, impassable waters to try to milk us of our hard-earned peso.
I was able to go home, late as it is, but the sandman has already made his rounds, and I missed my appointment on dreamland. Try as I might, sleep just wouldn't come, despite the fact that I had been awake for the past 20 hours, and was working for 15 of those hours. Thankfully, sleep did come around 3 am, cutting me off mid-thought.
------
I was violently riven from my slumber by a sudden realization that I am late. It's our company outing, and our call time was 6am. Sure enough, I woke up just a few minutes past the hour. It was a good thing all my preparations were done before going to bed, so it was just a matter of fixing myself and going to the office as fast as I can. The bus we rented was slated to leave at 6.30 am, which means that a good number of people will probably get to the office around 7 am; and the bus would be able to leave an hour late. Getting to the bus before the stated departure time therefore means that I get to have good seats. Coupled by the hard rain we are experiencing, it is understandable that most of our number would be late.
Sure enough, most of our officemates were not yet there when I got in. I was able to get a seat at the back of the bus. I would have wanted a window seat at the back, but that was good enough for me, at least. And since we were still waiting for a few more officemates to get to the bus, I was able to go up the office and fix myself my morning cup of coffee, which I put on a take-out cup I "borrowed" from the office pantry.
The trip going to the resort was wet, but otherwise uneventful. I busied myself with my coffee and with watching the on-board movie: DOA: Dead on Arrival. My eyesight, imprfect as it is, and with me in the farthest row of the bus, it was quite a challenge for me to follow what I was watching. It was a good thing that I was able to see that flick long before, or I would have been irritable to all the distractions getting in the way of my movie viewing. I did bring a book with me to keep me from boredom during the trip, but it didn't occur to me to take it out of the bag just then. Probably, I just forgot that I had it in the first place.
Two hours later, we got to our destination. The weather became welcoming, with the rain coming to a halt, and the sun finally showing up to reign the heavens. After a few photo-op sessions around the resort, we were ready to swim. The group I mingled with chose the pool at the back of the resort, which produced artificial waves. I busied myself with jumping along with every crest, and finding that perfect spot where the waves are at their highest. It was rather disorienting, actually, because I'm seeing the waves, but the water wasn't salty. Also, I can feel the water pushing me, but the accompanying pull was missing; talk about incomplete. I guess it's impossible to replicate tidal ebb and flow.
I was prepared to be disappointed with our company outing. I have even made plans should I decide to leave our venue. Thankfully, the group I mingled with were fun enough, and wacky enough that I enjoyed the company. We basked in the sun all afternoon, jumping along with the artificial waves, that I ended up scorched and sunburnt, and aching all over -- my first physical activity in months.
I guess things turn out differently from what one is expecting, and sometimes, these unexpected results are better than what is originally planned. This is especially true in my case, for I have expected the worst scenarios to present itself, but instead, the results were quite favorable and enjoyable. I don't know... I guess, I'm just falling back into my habit of over-thinking...
Finally, by 12.30, my officemates did relent, and we decided to finally try to go home. What greeted us downstairs was receeding flood waters deep enough to cover the sidewalk. Once again, our office address lives up to its name, being the Primary River in our side of the town. No choice but to try and hail a tricycle to ferry us along the ten meters of flooded road we must travel in order to get to high ground, and then to home. Thankfully, the trike driver we were able to hail was generous enough no to have overcharged us. We have had bad experiences in the past wherein the drivers bill us unconscionable amounts for that short trip, making full use of those murky, impassable waters to try to milk us of our hard-earned peso.
I was able to go home, late as it is, but the sandman has already made his rounds, and I missed my appointment on dreamland. Try as I might, sleep just wouldn't come, despite the fact that I had been awake for the past 20 hours, and was working for 15 of those hours. Thankfully, sleep did come around 3 am, cutting me off mid-thought.
------
I was violently riven from my slumber by a sudden realization that I am late. It's our company outing, and our call time was 6am. Sure enough, I woke up just a few minutes past the hour. It was a good thing all my preparations were done before going to bed, so it was just a matter of fixing myself and going to the office as fast as I can. The bus we rented was slated to leave at 6.30 am, which means that a good number of people will probably get to the office around 7 am; and the bus would be able to leave an hour late. Getting to the bus before the stated departure time therefore means that I get to have good seats. Coupled by the hard rain we are experiencing, it is understandable that most of our number would be late.
Sure enough, most of our officemates were not yet there when I got in. I was able to get a seat at the back of the bus. I would have wanted a window seat at the back, but that was good enough for me, at least. And since we were still waiting for a few more officemates to get to the bus, I was able to go up the office and fix myself my morning cup of coffee, which I put on a take-out cup I "borrowed" from the office pantry.
The trip going to the resort was wet, but otherwise uneventful. I busied myself with my coffee and with watching the on-board movie: DOA: Dead on Arrival. My eyesight, imprfect as it is, and with me in the farthest row of the bus, it was quite a challenge for me to follow what I was watching. It was a good thing that I was able to see that flick long before, or I would have been irritable to all the distractions getting in the way of my movie viewing. I did bring a book with me to keep me from boredom during the trip, but it didn't occur to me to take it out of the bag just then. Probably, I just forgot that I had it in the first place.
Two hours later, we got to our destination. The weather became welcoming, with the rain coming to a halt, and the sun finally showing up to reign the heavens. After a few photo-op sessions around the resort, we were ready to swim. The group I mingled with chose the pool at the back of the resort, which produced artificial waves. I busied myself with jumping along with every crest, and finding that perfect spot where the waves are at their highest. It was rather disorienting, actually, because I'm seeing the waves, but the water wasn't salty. Also, I can feel the water pushing me, but the accompanying pull was missing; talk about incomplete. I guess it's impossible to replicate tidal ebb and flow.
I was prepared to be disappointed with our company outing. I have even made plans should I decide to leave our venue. Thankfully, the group I mingled with were fun enough, and wacky enough that I enjoyed the company. We basked in the sun all afternoon, jumping along with the artificial waves, that I ended up scorched and sunburnt, and aching all over -- my first physical activity in months.
I guess things turn out differently from what one is expecting, and sometimes, these unexpected results are better than what is originally planned. This is especially true in my case, for I have expected the worst scenarios to present itself, but instead, the results were quite favorable and enjoyable. I don't know... I guess, I'm just falling back into my habit of over-thinking...
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
WAR!
War is brewing in our neighborhood. You can feel the oppressing miasma all over the place, blanketing everything with its evil stench. Even nature is rendered powerless over this intangible force of other-worldly presence: the winds seem to stand still, or else refuse to blow in this direction; summer nights turn cold, then humid, with no regard to barometric readings. The sun's summer rays seem blunted and incapable of giving heat. And all the while, an unnerving uneasiness has laid claim to the populace.
Wartime is nigh, and all about, preparations for the slaughter to come are being made. War drums have been released from their hallowed place of rest as advanced guards make ready their war paints and feathered armors. Banners of the various warring clans are hung all over the place, signifying an areas colors and affiliation. And inside the various households are a myriad of preparations of secret weapons that would, inevitably, lead to mass destruction.
War is near, and its name is Fiesta.
The first blow has been struck: psychological warfare through videoke-terrorism. A neighboring baranggay closed off a section of a busy thoroughfare to make room for the platform where the town's most prized terrorists will perform their renditions of hits, past, present and future, and sometimes in medley.
I can only squirm in terror as they let a banshee let loose over The Cranberries' "Zombie" and Regine Velazques' "Shine," followed by another terrorists' rendition of The Calling's "Stigmatize." Anytime soon, I'm expecting them to deploy their coup de grace: an unending medley of April Boy Regino "hits." Such vile, twisted actions are more than enough to render anyone in a state of hopelessness and utter terror, prompting anyone to reach for an icepick to gouge their eyes and shatter their eardrums in order to end the misery.
Coming home late and tired from work, I haven't the emotional fortitude to weather such viscious attacks on my psyche. The walls of my room seem infantile and ill-built to protect me from this cachophonic assult, as the voices seem to penetrate, and permeate from the very walls. Soon, the last remaining drops of my self-control would vanish like evanescent mist on a desert afternoon and render me immobile, irrational and insane; a dead husk of mutable flesh. I do not know how much more of this inhumane assault on my eardrums I can take.
Wartime is nigh, and all about, preparations for the slaughter to come are being made. War drums have been released from their hallowed place of rest as advanced guards make ready their war paints and feathered armors. Banners of the various warring clans are hung all over the place, signifying an areas colors and affiliation. And inside the various households are a myriad of preparations of secret weapons that would, inevitably, lead to mass destruction.
War is near, and its name is Fiesta.
The first blow has been struck: psychological warfare through videoke-terrorism. A neighboring baranggay closed off a section of a busy thoroughfare to make room for the platform where the town's most prized terrorists will perform their renditions of hits, past, present and future, and sometimes in medley.
I can only squirm in terror as they let a banshee let loose over The Cranberries' "Zombie" and Regine Velazques' "Shine," followed by another terrorists' rendition of The Calling's "Stigmatize." Anytime soon, I'm expecting them to deploy their coup de grace: an unending medley of April Boy Regino "hits." Such vile, twisted actions are more than enough to render anyone in a state of hopelessness and utter terror, prompting anyone to reach for an icepick to gouge their eyes and shatter their eardrums in order to end the misery.
Coming home late and tired from work, I haven't the emotional fortitude to weather such viscious attacks on my psyche. The walls of my room seem infantile and ill-built to protect me from this cachophonic assult, as the voices seem to penetrate, and permeate from the very walls. Soon, the last remaining drops of my self-control would vanish like evanescent mist on a desert afternoon and render me immobile, irrational and insane; a dead husk of mutable flesh. I do not know how much more of this inhumane assault on my eardrums I can take.
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