The day i told myself i wont post a blog but i still did anyway coz i cant figure out something better to do...

So i face my computer with a lot of things racing through my head. I didnt go to work today because its Tuesday. Im off on Tuesdays and Thursdays and weekends. I spent the day designing and finishing a backdrop for my church's 15th year anniversary celebration on Sunday. It should be fun!!! I had so much doing the art works and stuff. Ive missed being creative. Sometimes i feel like things come too easy nowadays that many situations dont warrant much thinking anymore. Well, its just my own opinion. ..

Anyway, I love art really. Today my friend made me look at this real nice world-class painting and asked me to write a reaction on it. Just one paragraph. Im thankful that he didnt make me do anything longer than that 'cause I dont think I would have had enough zest to force out of myself to do it. I happen to have written his lil sister's book report too last week so I feel like I've had "a little" enough of stuff that reminds me of my "sweet school days".

Wait, im not done with this blog yet but im kinda sleepy so maybe i'll just write something better the next time i tell myself i wont post a blog but still do it anyway coz i cant figure out something better to do...

Or I could write about a dead roach or something...

About the dead mouse behind my closet

Yes, I can't believe im posting a blog entry about a dead mouse, but uhumm I'm doing it. Ive not been online for ages and I actually feel like I'm doing this all over again...like I'm new on the internet or something... like this is the first time I've ever blogged... NOT! Hahaha! I'm just trying to recondition myself here.

Okay, back to the ridiculous dead mouse story...

I was cleaning up my room after about 48 years and tadaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.... I saw a dead little mouse behind my closet. So here I go shriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!!!!!!!

"What's wrong?" It's my brother to the rescue.
Poker face. "A dead mouse, look." I said trying to look sheepish so he'd help me get rid of it.
"Oh please... You're not afraid of live mice." Yeah, my sheepish face didnt work. And he wasnt there to the rescue after all.
"Yeah but this is dead. Its different. Its creepier when its dead...And it stinks too..." I argued.
I think I saw my brother in an expression of wanting to erase his face or something.
"You're hopeless..." he said and took the dustpan and swept the dead mouse away.

Yay bro! And that's basically the story of the dead mouse.

What i'm trying to point out here is not the fact that I'm such a whiny little scaredy cat (I'm scared of even big dead spiders too) or that i hate dead mice. Truth is, I dunno why im writing about this. But its a simple scenario of my not-so-simple life that made so much impact on me. There are lessons to learn from a dead mouse. Lessons of courage. I know i shouldn't have shrieked. I could have swept it out myself and spared myself of being called hopeless and feeling like a total whining loser. And there's the realization that a dead mouse is kinda like spilt milk...its something not worth crying over (or in this case, shrieking over). And there's the other realization that yeah, I guess I really am hopeless sometimes. And that sometimes, my brother does little heroic acts I take for granted because I'm busy being self-centered and trying to be a hero myself.

Oh and yeah, I should be cleaning up my room more frequently.

Well, there's lots to learn from a dead mouse, indeed.

Ghosts

There are ghosts at my work place. Lots of them of all shapes and sizes. I could also mean just the annoying people that my friends and i refer to as "ghosts", but in this case i mean the entities from the other realm. Yes, the real goosebump-causing, hair-raising ones.

I saw a man wearing white standing 5 meters away from me outside the kitchen behind a glass wall that lead to the stairs. He was watching me drain the sterilized hospital trays. His top looked like a chef's uniform, but i couldn't see his face. I went back into the room and told my staff about him. It was a bit odd having someone there, we thought, because we are on the third floor and nobody really comes up there just for the mere purpose of watching. In the first place, there's nothing worthy of watching in the dietary department... except maybe the food??

My staff said that the man could just be the guy who sometimes goes up to our floor to clean up. I agreed and went back outside to go on with what i was doing. I looked at where he was standing but he was gone. I roamed my eyes throughout the whole area but he was nowhere to be found, so i just stopped looking. After about ten seconds, i accidentally just looked and i found him standing near the spot where he previously stood and he was still watching. It gave me the creeps and I wondered where he came from cause he got there so fast, but I went inside not saying a thing. I just kept on convincing myself that it was a hospital personnel.

That was until the "clean-up" guy came in rushing to tell us the news that a patient downstairs, whose room was near the spot where I saw the man, saw a creepy figure opening the room door. That patient asked to be transferred to another room. I asked the guy if he was the one watching me drain the trays. He said it wasnt him. So we rushed to the exact site where I saw the man. We found out that he was standing in a spot that is not possible to be stood upon by a normal person. The area was covered with grills that couldnt be pushed and there was no way any ordinary person can get in there.

There was a bit of a commotion when people learned about my "sighting". They wanted to know how "he" looked like and if he floated or what. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and make "him" think he's so important. He's not. He's just some bored entity trying to scare the heck out of me. Then people started telling me their own experiences and those of others. They told me about babies crying at night, patients being awakened by a mystery person, a man wearing black, a little girl, a cat following a nurse, a lady wearing white in the x-ray room, a head floating around...

With everything I heard, I just kind of automatically got used to the idea that I have more to see so I guess I've somehow prepared for it.

And yesterday it happened again. I saw a shadow on the wall and it walked really fast, like it was trying to escape from my presence. That was right after the hospital administrator herself had her first share of the creeps. She was inside a room checking on a sleeping patient and the doorknob suddenly turned. And it just kept turning like the person outside was having a hard time getting in for some reason. She just stared at it for a moment and she saw that the door was not even locked. She thought that a nurse was trying to get in to check on the vital signs of the patient, so the doctor opened the door. But yeah you guessed it, there was nobody outside the door. There was not even a single person on the floor. So she rushed to the nurses' station and asked everyone if anybody went to that room. Of course there was no one. Anyway, the shadow that I saw was at the wall of that same room. I think it went real fast cause I was singing something that it couldnt take.

Everytime I pass by those areas now, I sing. I think it makes them tremble. Funny. And I enjoy the idea of scaring them. I only wish it scares the "other ghosts" too so they would shut up and mind their own beeswaxes!

I think i was a boy in my past life...

Hahaha! (Okay, how many blogs should start with hahaha?). Its a signal that this is going to be pretty insane.

I don't believe in past lives really, but i still say this statement coz theres no other way i can think of putting it. It just got into me how I seem to like doing boy stuff. I like to play the drums (Yes, the drums magnetize me and when i see one, I rush to play even when im wearing a skirt! Mock me!). I like cars and races. I like video games. I like watching NBA and NFL. But no, I don't like women. Just because I'm having "men fatigue" doesn't mean I'm gay. Uh-ugh. I'm just a girl cowboy...or something. Hahaha!

Maybe this is the reason why its easy for me to be friends and get along well with guys. My social circle isn't an all-girly group either. The only problem I usually have is that men start to eventually ask for more than friendship. It happens many times. Sometimes I feel like its not really possible to keep something "platonic" with them. But I do have guy friends who are just there to stay insane and goof around through thick or thin, in sickness or in health.

I'm close with my bro as well. We went to the same schools together and I remember that when we used to bump into each other in campus, we were either borrowing money to buy junkies or telling each other to piss off and keep away from each other's friends. He's two years younger than me. We fight a lot, yeah. That's normal...especially that we're both obnoxious beings who emerged from the same unobnoxious womb. But my brother influences my liking for basketball and football. He's the only sibling I have, by the way. I have two older "sisters", who are my cousins and whom I'm very close with as well. They were the ones responsible for "honing" the girly side of me... I'm just guessing.

My dad's one of my best friends as well (My mom too, but were talking about the origin of my "boyhood" and its influences). He doesnt treat me like a boy but he's my jogging bud. And he's the funniest guy I know. I think I got a huge part of the insanity from him ( Too bad he won't read this). His jokes are hilarious and whenever he's around, there's always laughter. He has very creative ways of telling you his friend's names. He gives out funny clues and stuff and until you're almost choking from too much laughing, he won't stop. Yep, that's my dad. When he talks about serious things like the fact that I would be married in the future, he puts in a way that is not irritatingly pressuringly baffling. That I'm close with him makes me feel like any "men problems" I may have can just be laughed off. Not that they should ot be taken seriously. They should just be taken lightly. The song "Butterfly Kisses" tells our story. Its about a dad singing a song about his little girl from the time she learned how to ride a pony to when she turned 16 to when he had to give her away on her wedding day...

Okay, before this turns into something gooeystick, I have to find my point. My point is that there's my dad and bro to blame for my boyish interests. This is something rather inconspicuous really. People don't think these are what I like to do until they see me hitting the drum set wearing a nicey-nicey skirty with dangling earrings and makeup. Or till they learn I cheer for Lakers like there's no tomorrow and that I know the history of the NBA.

Case closed. I'm a boy. Live with it.

And no, Ricky D, I don't smile more widely about the dessert thing (In reference to the comment I got to the blog entry below this). I pretend I don't hear it. Thats easier. ;-)

My Thoughts Disintegrated

So I'm supposed to be in my office now but i went out looking for a computer shop where I can blog. Yes, I'm this terrible! I'm bored.

I now work in a hospital as Chief Dietitian. I started Monday of last week. And well, I got my first pay yesterday. Yay! Thats awesome, I know. I can go shopping this weekend. At this hour, it usually gets real boring coz theres nothing to do. And I'm allowed to go out. So here I am now doing something totally not related to my job. It's called de-stressing.

Hey I need a break anyway. I've not really asked for a break out loud but they gave me one now. I've not been in-front of the computer for days coz i get totally exhausted and when I get home, I'd be a dead cabbage. I'd just take a shower and crash. No more quality time with my pc. Yes, no dinner too. I'm an undernourished nutritionist. My mom got a good look of me the other day and she was like, "You look like a stick." And I replied, "At least a smiling stick, ma!"

Starting next week, I can already report to work on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays only. But for my first two weeks (which will end this Friday), I have to be at the hospital everyday to familiarize myself with the routines and stuff. But I'm already familiar. SO now I'm re-familiarizing myself with my blogging habit.

For days, I've been putting up with everyone getting so excited to "meet the newbie". I'm glad everyone's been nice. But i've also been putting up with this doctor who goes to my area after lunch declaring that my smile is his dessert. And this other guy who keeps popping on the fridge near my office to get water about 7 times in a minute and then asking me stuff like how old i am or where i live or do i have a boyfriend tralalala. And these buncha students doing on-the-job training who hang out near the stairs that lead to the Dietary Department. There are men everywhere. My friends say they think I should wear a helmet. But I dont need that. My defenses are up even if I don't tell them. It's called "men fatigue".

Anyway, my friend Michael is helping me with my moving to Australia. I've changed my mind about going to Singapore to work. I've just laid out better plans, which I'm still prayin for.

Before I got this job, my thoughts were disintegrated. They were everywhere and no one could talk to me straight. All I could do right was to write poetry. BUt then this job came and the hope of getting the paper I need to go to Australia. I'm just thankful. I see a little direction now. ANd I'm really happy about how things are going.

This job is tiring. Really tiring. There's no elevator and my department is on the third floor while my office and the nurses' station is on the first floor. Imagine how many times I have to go up and down in a day. My consolation is that my staff's a crazy and happy bunch. They keep me sane.

And yes, Im ready to throw away the treadmill.

Okay, I gotta go back to the hospital now.

Warped

Today is a warped day. What's a warped day like? Simple. It is one that has the following characteristics in no particular order, which would manifest in you possibly all together or one at a time:

1. Lack of coordination
   
2. Inability to think (or walk) straight
   
3. Slurred speech
   
4. Incoherent blabbering
   
5. Inexplicable gestures
   

And these are not induced by alcohol or drugs or any chemical substances. They just happen like some weird inexplicable phenomenon you can't control.

Here's a scenario....

I went by the grocery store just to pick up something before going to work. I saw an acquiantance, who I've seen for about four times already just this morning. So in staggering steps, I went up to her...

"Hi! What are you doing here?"

She just smiled. Duhhhhhh at me! She's grocery shopping, what the heck?!

"Errr-- I mean, I see you everywhere. You're ubiquitous!" I said. I thought I said that so fast I saw her eyebrows twitch.

"I'm what?" She asked with a short laugh, her eyes conspicuously showing that she thinks I must be on drugs on something.

"Oh nothin. Don't mind me, I'm a mental asylum escapee..." I said, in a dead seious tone that made it sound like I was saying something with so much sense.

"You're a what?" She laughed like there's no tomorrow. And I was drumming on the shelf (Why on earth?!)

I came to myself and I wondered why I said that. I forced a laugh and told her I should be shopping. But I wasnt really there to shop so I wondered again why I said that. But anyway, I left her... probably believing that I am really what I claim to be... a mental asylum escapee.

You get the point? Anywayzzz, I think I have developed this great liking for the word "warped". I don't know why, but it started when I was in the hospital (If you dont know the story, see my blog entitled "What The Heck?!" at www.bubblegumbraininaknapsack.blogspot.com). Maybe its because I like how it sounds... and also 'cause thats how I see things sometimes.

I wrote a poem when I was in the hospital and it had the lines "My vision showed everything warped." But I wrote a new poem and entitled it "Warped". I figured I should give it a little independence and let the word stand by itself.

Warped

I wrote you something

But left it inside my head

Circling, hanging

Like a disease ready to spread.

And its going to burst

Anytime I decide

Like a little curse

That toppled on my pride.

For when I see you,

I remember all throughout

Like the times I had the flu

I wish to sneeze it all out.

But when I wrote you something,

I didnt have strength enough

To pretend I'm hurting

'Cause I'm not, I'm really not;

And what I feel right now

Are the knots in my stomach.

I'm tired somehow,

Somehow it's all warped.

I swiped a little dignity

But it turned out a scrap;

I suspended in monotony.

So I'm whispering,

Wishing I could go back

To the time I was wishing

That you would come back,

So I can let you know

What's hanging in my head.

But seeing your shadow

Leaves it all dead.

I'm out.

A Blog of Thanks To An Unknown Friend (Rewritten)

I have written this blog before on my other blogger account www.bubblegumbraininaknapsack.blogspot.com It's a tribute to my "unknown" friend Ricky D (www.chachonips.blogspot.com), the first person to ever post a comment on my very first blog (which was entitled "A Blog About Sex"). However, I deleted some blogs (including my very first blog) one insane day when I thought it was the best way to forget some things that I wanted to let go of. I also deleted even the tribute for Rick from my page, which included a poem. But I didn't really completely delete it. I copied it onto Word and saved it. When he had learned about the deletion, he didnt understand why I had to do that. Well, ummm...I didn't really understand either. I just thought at that moment that it was the right thing to do. (Blame it on the impulses of my youth.) But rest assured, whatever I wrote on there, I meant all of 'em. I was just confused.

When I read what I saved, I thought its better to rewrite it. I know that most of the time, the original piece always is the best, but I have found a deeper reason for doing this. The girl who wrote that tribute before isn't the same girl who is re-writing it now. I could still feel the negative vibes that girl was feeling towards some people while she was posting that blog, despite that it was about something positive...which is moving on.

Let me just tell you why I wrote that "Blog of Thanks" for my friend. Its true that we are just strangers in this "crazy mixed-up internet of ours" (these are his words). But Ricky D and Bubblebrain (that's me) surprisingly stepped into some parallel dimension at the same point in time. At a simultaneous moment, they were overwhelmed and overcome by considerable grief due to "relationship problems" (an understatement). When I say "parallel", I mean it was a totally amusingly similar situation. And yet they don't know each other. They are just a buncha goofballs commenting on each other's blog pages.

Maybe Ricky D thought that my deletion of that blog meant that I was not sincere when I wrote it. He stopped posting comments and "avoided" my page for a time. And whoa, that boggled me! His insights have become like a staple to my blog life.

But I'm glad he's back...and with a photo too!

I re-wrote this because I wanted to "refresh" it (And I hope it's okay, Ricky D). I feel like I'm a different person now. But even if I feel that way, I won't cease thanking people who have helped (and still are helping) me truly move forward....even those I haven't even met in person yet.

So Ricky D, THANKS...AGAIN. ;-) And good luck on finding yourself like you told me you wanted to do.

The Day After My Birthday

The day after my birthday, my grandma died. She's my dad's aunt, the last of my late grandma's sisters. She had cancer.

I remember the time when we first learned she was sick. The doctor couldn't tell her, so my dad and aunt had to do it. She said she was ready to hear anything then, but when she was told of the situation, she was so scared. She felt too weak just hearing that she was sick.

Despite that she wasnt told about what the doctor really said---that she only had a few, VERY FEW, months to live--she was the one who kept repeating it. She kept saying she wasn't going to probably live that long and would rather just let it be.... like she wanted to die right then. She wanted to stop all treatments. She didn't want the cure.

But of course, no one listened to her. She was admitting defeat. Not good. Very wrong. But we all fought for her and kept lifting her spirits up. We wanted her to go on with that fight. Miracles do happen...and that's something that I personally believe, having had my own near-death experience when I was four years old.

When I was four, I died for about fifteen minutes. My heart stopped beating. I used to write endlessly about this before. I kept telling it to friends a long time ago. But I got tired somehow. But everytime something like this happens...everytime death waves its eerie wand indicating its near presence at any place, I remember my experience. There were white lights and people crying around me. And I was sitting on the hospital bed just looking around. I never really understood what was happening. But that is all I could remember of it.

So everytime someone gives up on life and seemingly welcomes death with open arms, I clench my fists. I hate to hear something like that. Life is too sweet to give up on...even if death is starting to do the cradling.

Dying must be a weird experience. I am always boggled by how much time it actually takes to lose our life. A nanosecond? Shorter? I dunno, but maybe it happens so fast, the body doesnt even realize whats going on at that instant. See, I died....for fifteen minutes... but I cant even explain what happened...or how it happened. It was called clinical death. But I came back with more sense. I came back and now I regard life with more significance.

I know there's eternity. Life doesnt really stop at death. But how do these things really happen?

Anyway, my grandma fought. I know she didn't want to, but she did fight. And for that, I'm proud of her.

When she was getting weak, we were all kind of accepting that she might not be with us for long. But I was going to have my birthday. I prayed that she won't go on my birthday. I didnt tell it to her. I just whispered it to God. And God must have granted my wish. She took her the day after.

Her fight isn't over just because she lost her life. She wasn't defeated... because I'm here writing about how she fought. She fought with so much courage. She fought with love. She fought with a smile. She fought. And all our fond memories of her and lessons she taught us will live on. I must have written this line a couple of times before, but despite that I can never really explain how she actually fought, the world will know through me...and all the people who love her... that death never really won.

Burpday Blog

Today's my birthday! It's happy. Totally awesome! I love it! This is my best birthday ever! That's all I can say.

What's new?

I made this new account so I can move on and kinda' quit sitting in a corner wondering about ME, ME, and ME. I hate it that I've been focusing too much on myself lately-- my growth (or UNgrowth), mistakes, failures, and other stuff. I think I've had enough of the "all-self phase" of my life. I'm not saying that it's bad to do a little self-assessment and to think about what you're going to do. But OVERdoing it is what makes it bad. (Well, I think overdoing anything is bad, anyway).

So I've decided to focus more on other people that surrounds me. My friends, my family, people I bump into...I want to talk about them more. I happen to be addicted to tributes (just as to being hugged). Not that I won't be blogging about myself completely anymore. I'm just going to...ummm... be a lil less of the self-important sponge twit that I usually am. I'd also like to try to notice more of my surroundings. I've been too busy sulking and crying about my problems and "spilt glasses of milk" that I've kinda' forgotten how it is to roam my eyes around and appreciate the things around me.

I guess I like the new person that I am now. I don't care what others would think of what I would write but I'm free to do whatever because this is MY account. MINE. Mruwahahaha! So in the next days, you'll read more crazy stuff... about me...and lots of other people (and things) that have made (and still continue to make) a difference in my life that everyone else can learn special lessons from.

But lemme celebrate my birthday first. :D

This is my last day being 22

Tomorrow's my birthday!!! And yeah, im announcing it. My mom thinks I'm insane for doing that 'czuse most people would rather keep their birthdays to themselves. But no, not me. Hahaha! I love to have fun on my day. And it is MY day after all. Its the only time of the year when I am excused for even the silliest things I am capable of doing.

This is the second blogger account I've done. Ive been blogging about my burpday for days on the other account and I'm sure my friends must be tired of reading about it now. But as I always say, my birthdays are always a celebration of the friendships I have made throughout the years. My friends make me feel special and they are huge reasons why life is worth living as well. Yeah yeah, I may sound too cliche-ish and nerdy and cheesy and all the vomit-inducing stuff but I mean it everytime I say that.

So anyway, i'm really looking forward to another year of whacks on the head, cartwheels, and tip-toes on broken glasses that life makes me experience to make me a strong human being... and to scoff at me too.

And I'm looking forward to the weirdest birthday greetings, red and heart-shaped gifts I would be receiving (which I get every year coz of the Valentine's Day aftermaths.).

Urrrrrgggggghhhhhh, I'm getting older!!! Aaaaaaah!!!!! (That's high-pitched.) Okies, I'm over reacting. Bummer, I have to grow up. And I'm like, "Awwwww... do i really have to?"

Yes, I have to. But I'm sure it wouldn't be too bad if I let little nawdy rascal me sneak in once in a while. There are always going to be days that would need her, I'm sure. Mruwahaha!

Alright, I'm outta' here for now. I gotta go make something worth remembering out of my last day being 22. Hmmm...

This what ya call starting anew...

LIFE IS SUCH A BUMMER SOMETIMES. It goes round and round and when you look at it closely...even intelligently sometimes... it doesn't seem to make any good sense.

That's sometimes. I'm not saying always. And well, I'm tired of rolling around going nowhere and doing meaningless things, meeting meaningless people. It's very true that what robs us of all our strengths and our capacities to think is not the overload of things to do, but having too much of what we don't really need to do. And I have a lot of that. SO, I'm throwing 'em away.

But even if life isn't perfect and sometimes I feel like it always whacks me in the head for no apparent reason...or slaps me too hard...or breaks my bones...or drains me of all my energy, I still love it. And I guess just by doing that-- declaring to life's poker face that I still love it despite everything-- I WIN.

So lemme start anew...for real...and more seriously this time.

CONGRATULATE ME, FOLKS! :) I win, I win, I win!!! :-)