Friday night. Ads. Oui. Mango. Bruce. Beer. Hypothetical questions. What-if-scenarios. Our lovelives. The excess or lack thereof. Not quite flirting. Later: road trip. Mico. Peng. More alcohol. Food (finally). More laughs. And absurd scenarios. Wrapped it up. More anything-and-everything conversations in the car. Late night/early morning. Should be too tired to care. Both happy and disgruntled. Bipolarity and hyperthyroidism acting up. Urgh.
*****
I don't like how it started. Even less that they actually followed through with it. No beef with the act, per se. It's actually a good thing. But I don't like the fact that the idea came from her (she should have known better, really) and he's so eager to take her up on it.

My ringtone for him is Mr. Brightside. Had no idea I'd soundtrack this moment with it.

How irritatingly appropriate.

It shouldn't matter. Even I know that. Self-doubt and the green-eyed monster are holding hands again, making googly eyes at each other while they grind my ego to dust as they skip merrily along. Looks like they don't intend to let each other go anytime soon.

At least my monsters seem happy together. Can't say the same for myself.

Lech.
*****
"I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...

Taffy stuck, tongue tied
Stuttered shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine

I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding

I am
colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am.... fine
I am fine."
--Colorblind, Counting Crows.

That's it. then?

That's all?

I feel that I should write more about it, but frankly, I don't know what to say.

*****

SO WE'LL GO NO MORE a-ROVING
--Lord Byron

So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be just as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

This morning, I was pissed off.

By afternoon, I was despondent.

Right now? I'm just tired.

Tired of feeling like I'm missing out on something important.

Or there's something I'm just not getting.

Or that the joke's on me.

There must be more to my life than this pervasive disappointment.

I don't think I can take it if all there is to it is THIS.

Maybe this is proof that my life really is going in circles:

(See March 27 entry and compare)

TRAGEDIA.

Another not-to-miss get-together that I, of course, missed. (Welcome home, Ads instead of Steph’s bridal shower).

Again in QC.

I missed my ride(What’s new?).

Got reprimanded again for wanting to take a cab alone late at night.

Cursed the lack of personal transportation and the decision to forego more zeros in my bank account for the measly pay in med.

Gnashed my teeth in disappointment, imagining the belly laughs and kwentos I’m missing.

Fell asleep with a wrinkle above my brow.

COMEDIA.

Get my gym endorphin rush.

Meet up with my cousins and go on an impromptu mall trip.

Laugh as a favorite cousin goes crazy in Zara.

Not just look at, but buy a shirt that makes me laugh (Retail therapy: good for the soul).

Eat a hearty Japanese meal and pile on the wasabi.

Watch a no-brainer movie and laugh as cars try very hard to save a hillbilly hell from going kaput.
In the middle of passing around a box of Nerds, realize that life is so much better when my cousins are around.

More retail therapy in Mango.

Finally tell Heidi about that strange-small-world incident with Whitey from Bora. Be amused by the play of emotions that run across her face.

Fiddle around with Photoshop, even if it’s just to make sure I have the right shade of lipstick for my next batch of to-print photos.

Sleep.

Thank God for small favors.

Dream.
******
Heidi got worried when I wondered out loud about where on earth I was going to find Mr. Right/Now.

She has nothing to worry about. It’s me who has to play Go Fish/Hide and Seek.
******
"So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
Therell be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
Were captive on the carousel of time
We cant return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game."
--The Circle Game, Joni Mitchell.

This is going to sound a bit retarded and a tad bit too late: I got my first paycheck last Tuesday. Yes, I know, I know…If I didn’t go the long route, I would have been writing about this eons ago. But I did. This is the first time I ever formally received money for services rendered. I’m excited about that, so sue me.

I’m sure my friends would roll their eyes at how much I made. Pocket change for a lot of them, I’m sure. Even I know it’s barely enough to get me by until the next paycheck, but it’s mine; I made it through honest-to-goodness work. Now I don’t have to dig into my already dented savings to get me through the day and scrounge around my bags in the closet to see if I have enough change to get me to and fro work.

I’m worried about when I go into residency, though. Back to earning just a notch above minimum wage and being the 2nd lowest life form in the archaic medical hierarchy. I’m sure my fellow aliping sagigilids will be happy to hear of another fool joining their ranks. Another pair of hands = less work in the day’s share of drudgery.

******
Xmen at SM Mall of Asia with Ryan last Saturday. Found both movie and mall overrated and/or overhyped. There was nothing new to see and I kept getting disappointed that they fiddled around too much with the timelines and stories. Since when was the Dark Phoenix a manifestation of Jean’s suppressed powers? Psylocke didn’t seem to have enough appeal. Wolverine came across like a pansy (No berserker fury?). Rogue was too safe. I was so distracted that I even missed Jubilee’s appearance.

No more Xmen sequels. No more visits to Mall of Asia.

That’s a promise.

*****
Ada’s coming home next week. Yay. Work’s been occupying my days, but my nights just don’t seem complete without meeting up with Ads and the rest of the people for some alcohol and belly laughs. I can’t wait to hear about Coachella and NY, if only to share in another person’s happiness.

An old yaya of mine told me that since I have two moles at the sole of my right foot, I would be traveling a lot. If that’s the case, then why am I still stuck here?

*****
How many times today did people ask me to pray for them?

1.) Brianny and Han asked me to pray for their MLE’s this June.
2.) Armand asked me (and the rest of our 4A classmates) to pray for our Senior year class adviser who passed away early this morning.
3.) Ivy asked me to pray for her upcoming nursing boards 2 weeks from now.
4.) Mango asked me to pray for her “situation.”

Do I seem that close to God? Are my prayers really that powerful? If so, how come I haven’t had my own prayers answered yet?

*****

I like the fact that I have work and I’m applying what I learned in 6 years of med school, but I know that it’s still not what I want to do.

Honestly? If money were no object, I want to be a hedonist.

Attend all the writing workshops that I can. Write the great Filipino novel. But in English. Get published. Refine my untrained artist’s hand. Write my own comic book. Buy the newest iMac. Take up photography and buy an SLR. Dabble in film. Support indie endeavors. Expand my library. Buy and read at least one book a week. Have my own private island. Get my scuba license. Then take underwater pictures. Go to CIA. Eat my way around the world. Get drunk at all the wineries in France. Make my own ricotta and sourdough. Buy a Sabatier. Learn how to fly. And buy a private jet. Purchase Real estate in Makati, Boracay, Palawan, Manhattan, Provence, Milan, Tokyo and London. Buy haute couture. Go to design school in Italy and NY. And learn how to sew and drape. Take shoe design next. And elevate Marikina to a whole new level. Listen to all the cool up-and-coming indie bands before they sell out. Write one of their cool songs. Be a make-up artist. See Tori Amos live in concert. Watch Conan goof around on the set of Late Night. Finally go down to 3% body fat.

Nowhere does med fit in all this.

*Sigh*

*****
I’m still writing about work.

Lech.

When I started this, I swore I would keep my griping to a minimum. And here I am, doing just the opposite.

But what else is there to write about? My life nowadays is so unbelievingly SANE. I’m not serial dating. I’m not trying to hook up with any exes. I’m putting my money back into my savings. I’m actually being nice to everyone.

Everything’s fine. And almost mind-numbingly boring.

Paging Clementine. Earth 2’s Joel Barrish needs you.

*****
THE BOSS’ 80’s WORKWHORE’S ANTHEM:

“I get up in the evening,
and I aint got nothing to say
I come home in the morning,
I go to bed feeling the same way
I aint nothing but tired,
Man, Im just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

You can’t start a fire,
You can’t start a fire without a spark
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark

Message keeps getting clearer,
Radios on and I’m moving round the place
I check myself out in the mirror
I wanna change my clothes,my hair,my face
Man I aint getting nowhere
Just sitting in a dump like this
There’s something happening somewhere baby
I just know that there is

You cant start a fire...

You sit around getting older
There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me
I’ll shake this world off my shoulders
Come baby, this laughs on me

Stay on the streets of this town
And they’ll be carving you up alright
They say you got to stay hungry
Hey baby Im just about starving tonight
I’m dying for some action
I’m sick of sitting round here
Trying to write this book
I need a love reaction
Come on now baby give me just one look

You cant start a fire.”
--Dancing in the Dark, Bruce Springsteen.

My new master.

I’m halfway through my first week of training at the new clinic. The workload is OK, though the paperwork is a bitch sometimes. I’m really thankful for Peng and Mango’s help. I can breathe a little easier knowing that I at least have a semi-regular source of income for the next few months. It’s the tail-end of summer anyway; I think I have to retire the beach bunny persona until next year.
*****

Looking out the clinic window, I realized I’ve walked these streets for ten years. I remembered my quiet sense of accomplishment when I conquered this slice of concrete jungle straight out of CSA’s sheltered halls. From chauffer to tsuper, from conformity to individuality: The cowboy in me was born here.
It seems I keep getting pulled back here. It’s not love that I feel for Manila (that’s reserved for Makati and Alabang). I think I feel a sense of responsibility when I’m here. It keeps shaping me into a more capable individual. The perfect word, I think, is gritty. I mean that both literally and figuratively. Manila sticks to you, and no matter how much polish you acquire, there’s always that tough layer you can’t scrub away.
*****

The strangest thing about being a medical examiner, by far? Going to lunch and realizing that I can describe in graphic detail every ball, dick and hairy ass of all the men I was riding down the elevator with.
The fantasy of a lot of gay men, I’m sure. But until I find that someone I really want to fantasize about, I’d rather salivate over the tandoori chicken and moussaka at Spirals.

1. Unnecessary paperwork, and

2. Window shuffling that goes hand in hand with...

3. Bureaucracy.

4. The illogical reasoning of parents.

********
"Every finger in the room
is pointed at me.
I wanna spit in their faces but
I'm afraid of that might bring.
I've got a bowling ball in my stomach.
I've got a desert in my mouth.
Figures that my courage
would choose to sell out now.

I've been looking for a savior
in these dirty streets.
Looking for a savior
beneath these dirty sheets.
I've bee raising up my hands,
drive another nail in.
Just what God needs: one more victim.

Why do we crucify ourselves?
Everyday, crucify ourselves.
Nothing I do is good enough for you.
Crucify myself.
You see my heart is sick of being,
you see my heart is sick of being
in chains."
--Crucify, Tori Amos.

1. A hippo named Tinkerbell.

2. Her surrogate "mom" named Mark.

3. Dave Chappelle's internet-as-a-real-place sketch.

4. Conan as Fabio.

5. Got the job.

Knots: 13

Shots of vodka: 25-30

Men overboard: 0

Alcohol casualties: 1

********
(now listening to...)

"Don't look down, looks like trouble
Distant sound, must be trouble
All that I have learnt
Goes out the window
When I'm not home

Relocate to ice and idle notions
Of misplacement, traces of some other
Sound is rushing up to meet me
Cos I'm not home,
I'm not home

There's water here to last all year
Just don't rush me don't make me
Crawl

Can I have another day to think
Can I take the shade beneath the trees

There's
Water here to last all year
Just don't rush me don't make me crawl
To
You..."
--There's Water Here, The Delays