I haven't been successful in starting a healthcare reform movement here at home, but I was certainly able to get half of the house to sit through the entire length of Sicko, and on their own accord! Ha! And they did get the message, despite Moore's awfully exaggerated and/or oversimplified statements. And I'm glad. Because what matters more than the turkey we had today (Wait, we didn't have turkey at all!) is the fact that they've snapped out of their America-is-so-perfect haze... for now. Ah well, there will be more films to show them in the future, yes?

During the movie, my dad told me that back home one of his ex-coworkers had gotten an inner ear operation kind of thing. He didn't go much into the details, I guess because he didn't know them. But the whole point is that my dad's former employer, a fairly competitive bank, paid for the entire thing, THE ENTIRE THING, meds included. He then asked me, "Ibig sabihin mas maganda pa sa Pilipinas?"

I wanted to slap him, laugh at his face then say "Took you this long to realize it?" But then I would have been thrown out in the cold, which is not exactly ideal since temps are dropping below freezing tonight, plus it's Thanksgiving, and we're supposed to be thankful about all the wonderful things that have happened to us in the past year. None of us should be wearing our grudge-badges tonight, even if it's tempting to do so at these family things.

I digress, though. The fact is that the Philippines is still paradise. I still think about our house, with our three coconut trees (Yeah, we had coconut trees. Isn't that great?), with the ivy, with our enormous rocking chairs, with the birds to wake you up in the morning and the crickets to lull you to sleep at night. The racially homogenous communities and the faces that smile through all the hardship life has managed to throw at us have become elements of my wet dreams. *sigh*

There are only two differences between living here in America and living in the Philippines. First, food is cheap here. Almost nobody is hungry. [But don't think that America is poverty-free, because that would be a gross lie. Oh, they have poor people here, and like all poor people they too worry about housing and healthcare and steady employment.] And secondly, nobody is happy here. I think it's because of all the working they do. Nobody has time to enjoy the money they make, that's provded they make enough that they have some left off after taxes and all their expenses.

People wonder why I don't want to be an American, as if the answer wasn't obvious.

So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, if there's one thing I'm thankful for:

I am thankful that I am a Filipino.

Labels: thoughts

kitten posted @ 11:23 PM |



I slept a good part of this day, which is great since I have been more sleep-deprived than usual because of the caffeine that seem to make it into my system by my "sniffing the fumes" during the weekend. But then, I fail to mention why I was so willing to curl up under the sheets in broad daylight: my head was throbbing. It happened while I was reading in the train. I've never before had problems with reading while the train is in motion, and I don't know what to blame it on besides the fact that I think I need new glasses.

I don't wear my glasses because they make me look like a complete dork (not that I'm not one already). And all things considered, my eye sight is pretty good. There are just moments, such as the train incident today, that remind me that my vision isn't as good as I think it is.

When I came home today, my grandma, I think, wanted to spend a few good minutes interacting, but I dismissed her and told her my head was throbbing. She told me the exact same thing I was thinking: I need to get re-prescripted and for now, need to lie down and sleep.

Lovely. Insurance or no insurance, glasses are expensive. And contacts are out of question due to my lax PCS [personal care system]. Bleh.

On other news, when I told one of my friends what happened with Becca yesterday, I got a "That was harsh." Haha. Well, it was harsh, wasn't it? But I can think of a couple of things I would like to tell Becca, if I get the chance, and none of them have anything to do with hate, anger or my personal favorite loneliness. As a matter of fact, I feel that it is now my responsibility to tell her how I really felt about her, if I had failed to make that known in the process, in which case she would have to be incredibly stupid to miss the message. Regardless, the speech would probably go something like: "I really did love you, you know. Even if I never told you, I hope that I had shown you, even in the littlest ways, that I cared for you a lot." or something to that effect, at least.

*sigh*

Among my list of videos to watch over Thanksgiving weekend are Sicko, Fahrenheit 9/11 and An Inconvenient Truth. This means hours of getting my family to please, please, please watch them with me, so that my family won't remain as ignorant indifferent of the world as they currently are. But, as I have been dismissed by these guys a million times even before Michael Moore's films, I know that all I'll get from my coercive efforts are "I have better things to do" or "You watch them if you like them so much." Pfft.

[The title is totally unrelated to the content, I know. Haha.]

Labels: love, thoughts

kitten posted @ 9:46 PM |



I was about forty-five minutes early for the Calculus exam, which is fine since I had Becca to kill time with. While she and I desperately tried to study, our hands were a lovely knot I held on my lap.

She looked up from her work and asked me what I was thinking about.

"Nothing. Just. Nothing. Forget it," I said.

"No, tell me."

"I'll tell you after the exam, okay?"

"You'll tell me now," she said.

"Or else what?"

"No 'or else' because you'll tell me now," she said.

I told her about the teacher certification process. I told her about the citizenship requirement. I told her everything I was thinking, everything I was feeling. I emptied myself completely because I knew she would understand.

"Well, just get naturalized then. It's no big deal," she said.

I frowned. "No big deal? If it's no big deal, why get naturalized at all? This is a big deal. It's a very big deal," I told her. I was trying not to sound upset.

"Everything to you is a big deal."

"What does that mean?"

"Look, getting naturalized is practical more than anything else, okay? It doesn't make you any less Filipino or any more American. It's just a piece of paper."

"No, it's not. I don't want to be an American. Don't you get it? I love being Filipino."

"You don't have to stop being Filipino."

"But I'll be American."

"It just helps you get around. You'll need a decent job, you'll need property, you'll need to get naturalized sooner or later if you intend to stay here."

I sighed. "I feel like I'm betraying a part of me," I told her. I was sad.

"Just think of it as one of those things you have to do because you don't have a choice."

"But I do have a choice."

It was then that I noticed how aggravated she was getting. For a moment, I was afraid. I squeezed my hand to squeeze hers but I realized that she had let go of mine. She was shaking her head. She was laughing, pretending the impending signs of doom weren't there.

A cold fear gripped every single part of my body. I sought her hand. I needed to hold it, to feel it. I needed the comfort that only she could bring. But she folded her arms. And I was left staring at the floor where we sat, praying that none of it was so.

"You're different, and you're wonderful..."

I looked at her. She kept talking. But I wasn't catching the words. All that I understood was "not working" and "too different for me and for your own good."

I don't know what she was waiting for me to say. I didn't understand more than half of what she said. I just looked at her. I just kept looking. And all the while I was thinking, "No. Don't leave me," but somehow the words would not come.

"Say something," she said. "Say anything."

"I think, Becca, you already spoke for the both of us."

--------------
Mabuhay ang Moonpools and Caterpillars! I haven't listened to these guys since I broke the tape I had of their album, Lucky Dumpling. Think about it, the album was on a tape. Some of you people reading this might even be saying "What's a tape?" Idiots.

But before I had any of the [little] knowledge of music that I had now, I've already loved them. It was a shame that they only made one official record, and that they never made it big. Their music makes me really, really want to go home. I don't know if people can hear it, but in their music I hear the makings of Parokya ni Edgar, Barbie's Cradle, the original Imago, and maybe even Moonstar88 before they got all jologs. And if I were not the die-hard Moonpools fan that I am, I would say that their music is home-grown, but it's not. They were Glendale-based. And, haha, the reason I started listening to them was because I heard my aunt would blast the cassette recoder while she and I did our chores.

"One day soon it's gonna happen to you and when it does it won't be pretty."

Hear that Becca?

Labels: feelings, pissed

kitten posted @ 11:06 PM |



The weekend before Thanksgiving is sooo not the weekend when I want to be having weird pains all over my body. My left eye is going on relapse and I look, well, actually, quite the same. But it still doesn't change the fact that I feel like I have a pebble the size of a grape pressing on my left eye. For some reason, my right shoulder is killing me, but then I tend to exaggerate things. I'm still trying to figure out whether it's because of the way I lay down on the bed or whether it's because I haven't had the time to do my yoga lately. [Of course, I use the word "lately" as if I'm only referring to a week's worth inactivity, when in fact it has been... I don't even know anymore.]

[edit]

Okay, let me paste this comment that has been posted on my Friendster.

"hi honey!!;) i missyeuw nah...mxtah na kitten kuh?...;) paramdam ka naman poh...;) col mo ko sa house...i still have the same one...;) missyeuw babe..;) yngat!;) muahy!;) "

Now... First reaction: WTF?! This comment is from my, uh, ex who I haven't seen or talked to since my first year in high school.

Second reaction: I dated this girl?! :( Oh god, I honestly want to cry. I mean seriously. I missyeuw nah... Holymotheroffriggingawd. I can't believe I dated her! All the intricacies of the English language has been lost on her. Missyeuw babe... Hayup. I'm sorry. I just can't imagine having dated someone who seems to have the depth of a wading pool.

Third reaction: She's asking me to call her as if doing so won't cost me money. It's one of two things, then. Either she thinks I can actually afford to call her or she has no idea that I'm now in Jersey City. OMG, is it possible that I dated somebody else with the same name? [As far as I know, though, she's the only one in this earth with the name... Sorry, name withheld. Kawawa naman eh.] Because, OMG, if this is my idea of a person I can be with, I need to do some serious soul searching. Oh, oh, oh. I also have lost her number. Haha.

Final reaction: What does she want? No, what do all my exs want, huh? Why can't they just leave me the fuck in peace so I can go about my daily life? I mean, can't a person burn bridges anymore, huh? *deep breath* Sorry. Just hate it when my exs contact me. *deep breath*

--------------
Becca asked me whether I think I'm a religious person. I laughed and told her that I'm spiritual but not religious. She looked at me funny, then asked "What the hell does that mean?" Haha. Isn't she cute? :)

I told her that I believe in a god. I believe that there is something bigger than me out there, although I can't say what or who. I told her that I believe in transcendence. Then I told her that I can't say I believe in Christ or Allah and all those other deity. (Although, if given the freedom, I'd probably worship Odin coz he's really cool.) I'm spiritual, like, I respect life and value good deeds and all those other hippie shit.

Then she grabbed the earphone pendant (Made it myself, btw.) I was wearing around my neck and said "Why do you wear this?"

"Well," I began. "Music is my religion."

She laughed then said "You're so weird. Seriously."

So I told her "You're finally catching on."

Then she was quiet. Uh, yikes?

Labels: love, thoughts

kitten posted @ 9:37 PM |



They do. Mine tastes like, uh, paper that's been soaked in nutmeg and cinnamon. Yeah. So it basically tastes like wet cinn-meg cardboard. Oh yeah. Nevertheless, this is the only meal I will be having for the day so... *eats*

Ew.

---------------
Whenever I tell stories like the one I am about to tell you, I feel that the reaction I will get from people is "That's rich coming from someone who doesn't believe in God." And I can't really blame anyone for thinking that since I do happen to display a certain amount of aetheism. But what I have come to understand, and this I do not bother to explain to other people, is that there is something bigger out there. I don't know what or who it is. I just know that nothing is ever in my control.

I woke up late today, *tsk tsk* super late that I didn't even get to make myself a cup of coffee. As a result, I was dozing off on the train to school. Now, there's a certain plane of consciousness where you are neither asleep nor awake, where your mind continues to work but your body does not, and I guess I went into that a while ago. But as far as I was concerned, I "knew" I was awake.

Apparently, I wasn't awake because I felt a hand shake me awake. I opened my eyes and saw this Indian girl. I would have missed my stop (well, not really, since my stop is the last one. But then I would have ended up in the place where trains go after they reach the last stop and I have no intention of finding out where that is. Haha.). But divine providence, my dears! Divine providence.

Go ahead, start telling me that I have no right to talk about divine providence. All I know is that there is something or someone out there that will always be looking out for me. And I am thankful.

Labels: thoughts

kitten posted @ 12:35 PM |



We sat together, talking about high school. I asked him if he graduated from a public school, he said yes. He asked me if I graduated from a private school, I said yes. He asked me if it was an exclusive girl school, I said yes. Then he said "I wish I went to an all girl school." I laughed hard. That's Igor for you.

He was busy doodling, making meaningless shapes. "I am going to draw you the cutest snail you will ever see," I told him.


This was the snail i came up with. He laughed then proceeded to draw a snail himself.

I couldn't believe it. His snail was cuter than mine. I looked up at him, and he was beaming. He knew my snail was no longer the cutest in the world.

I got bored. I started folding a little paper heart out of the writing the both of us were supposed to be doing. He watched me carefully, and I looked up now and again, enjoying his fascination. When I was done, I gave the heart to him.

He examined it, the way a doctor would examine his patient. Then he tore a piece of his notebook, and started folding away. I caught myself watching with the same fascination he displayed minutes before. When he was done, he handed his creation to me.

It was a shuriken. I couldn't help but laugh at the utter juvenility of it. He was laughing too.

For a moment, I couldn't look at him and he was evading my eyes too. And to break the silence I said, "Thank you." But I didn't know exactly what I was thanking him for.

---------------
I am such a dork, but I want that best-seller collection e-book. NAO PLOX.

Haha.

Labels: nonsense

kitten posted @ 8:12 PM |



She's one of the freshmen I work with at Snyder. Then again, I shouldn't say that I work with her since she doesn't really come in for tutoring. She comes in mostly to talk to me.

She and I happen to love music, which is basically super glue in my world. She, like me, is quite different. I've read her poetry, I've listened to her music and her stories and I can say that at one point, all three of those coincide. I guess you can say that I see a little of myself in her: there is hardly any distinction between my writing, my music and my life. But there's something else about Chelsea that draws me to her. She strikes me, and I say this only because there is no other way to say it, as a deeply disturbed person.

You can say I'm psychoanalyzing her a little too much, that I'm scribbling all of these notes about her when I could be helping her out or something. But the truth is that I don't know where to start. All I know is that when people are deviant, it is because they have lost the concept of the norm. And socialization is the best way to relearn everything.

Professor Veysey said that labeling a person as a deviant never helps. There is a clinical term for Chelsea's condition, but I won't use it, although I am tempted to. I believe that Professor Veysey is right: doing so will only send Chelsea to her doom.

She talks a lot. Half the time, I really have no idea what she's talking about. But I nod, I try to listen and I ask questions. I know it sounds stupid but I believe that people who have different needs don't need to be institutionalized, nor do they need to go through the grieving-seeking help-getting better-relapse process. I think that all Chelsea needs is somebody to talk to. I've said it before and I'll say it again. We all just need somebody to talk to.

Next term is going to be hell, I know it. I really know it. And a part of me is saying Don't be stupid. Quit that tutoring gig. But then a part of me, a really huge part of me is telling me that there are students there who could use my help. Damn superhero complex...

Final thought: Even superheroes have demons.

---------------
Reading Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America by Barbara Ehrenreich has opened my eyes to the harsh reality of life everywhere. American dream, my ass. It doesn't matter where you are. It doesn't matter which continent, which country, which city, which street. Strife is a given.

---------------
Speaking of my eyes, my left eye slash my left eye socket hurts like crazy. Do we have lymph nodes there? Because the ones under my ears are swollen, I'm guessing the ones around the eye area, if there are any, are swelling up too. It would be a convenient explanation and I'd stop fussing about it. Still, I look like somebody beat me up. Then again, I always look like somebody beat me up.

Oooh, and I thought about taking a picture of my face, but I still have some self-respect left so, yeah, NO. Just take my word for it. It looks bad. All it needs is some black and blue.

Labels: me, thoughts

kitten posted @ 9:21 PM |



Rave:
(1) I am virtually lab free for the rest of the term and I aced the last TA-OK so... *sings* Celebrate good times, c'mon!

Rants:
(1) I was blocked by the Registrar's system this morning. I was unable to add/drop courses and by the time I could, ooh, my Psych102 of choice was filled. The suckiest part is not the fact that the class was filled, but that all other alternate classes were in conflict with my required courses. I'm missing three fucking credits for the requirement at HC. Holy shit. There will be hell to pay. I SWEAR.
(2) Bad day at Colloquium. I almost cried. It was stupid. But everything they were talking about just hit so close to home. If there's one thing I find difficult to tolerate, it's lack of understanding.
(3) Bad day in general. Woke up late and all that stuff.

In Between:
(1) "I admire you for your candor." :)

---------------
Dear Valium*,

You really shook me today with what you said. And the last thing I expected for you to do was follow me down the staircase. I said it a while ago, and I will say it again: It was unnecessary. Some things, I have learned are better left unsaid or really just don't need to be said. But I thank you, nonetheless. You were one of the two things that went right today.

I admire you for your candor too.


*real name withheld

Labels: love, pissed

kitten posted @ 8:15 PM |



Working twelve hours sucks. I'm beat.

---------------
I wanted to write something about social control in action in the school system but I find that all I do is stare into nothingness until all things get blurred.

I guess I'll save it. *shrugs*

Labels: nonsense

kitten posted @ 11:29 PM |



I am tired.

The feelings are here but the words aren't coming. I can't form sentences that are coherent, expressive and/or just plain clear enough. So random words, put them together yourself, figure it out (if you want to).

Philosopher. Me. Lonely. Liberal arts major. High-level math. UNDERSESTIMATED. Carried away. Possibly happy. Hesitant. Afraid. Tired. Toxic. Teacher certification. Naturalization. Dread. Lonely. Skeleton. Lillies. First draft. Something Corporate. Aesthetic experience. MAE. Lu. Jacob Marshall. Throwing up. Dumb blondes. Comfort food grades. Understand. SPEAK MY LANGUAGE. Lonely. Stupid. Obedient. Rain. Weeping inside. Water. Future. Loss. Inadequate. Dying inside.

*cries*

You can't make it better. Nobody can, so don't even ask.

*cries*

Labels: nonsense

kitten posted @ 11:37 PM |



I stood near the end of the line for the bus as I waited for everybody else to board. I looked around and saw that there were only a handful of us still waiting to get on. The [no-so-old] man standing in front of me signalled me to go on before he did. I smiled then shook my head. He smiled then said something, but I didn't catch it because my Zen [as usual] was playing really loud. I pulled one earphone out and asked "What?"

He said "Age before beauty, right?"

I managed to force a laugh and then I said, "No, it's not that. I live pretty close by so I don't really need to get a seat."

The truth is that I was pretty embarassed by what he said. Age before beauty. Had it been a younger man, I would have gladly stepped in front of him and said thank you. But it wasn't a young man. It was an old man. I am so ashamed because I forgot, for a second there, that he wasn't just an old person. He was a man too, whose manliness depended on showing off his chivalry to young'uns like me. After all, there are other qualities that define manliness besides brute strength even after brute strength is gone.

Chivalry is not dead
But it hangs by a thread.

I didn't mean for that to rhyme. But whatever. It works. :)

---------------
I learned a new word today: Facefucked. Hm, it's a good word. It means "stalked at Facebook." I love talking to Igor. It's always a learning experience.

Sure, let that be the reason why I love talking to him.

Labels: feelings, thoughts

kitten posted @ 7:15 PM |



I should really be working on revising that little C+ tragedy of mine, but my creative juices seem to want to alot themselves to imagining how my conversation with Jayar tomorrow will go. It's not as productive, of course, but it's hell entertaining! Oh, I wonder if he would be able to tell that I have missed him. Oooh, and I wonder what questions he'll ask me. Oooh, and I wonder if we'll laugh a lot or if we'll have uncomfortable silences. Oooh, and I wonder if he'll have as much fun as me. HA! Imagining rocks!

Other news: Professor Benson said I had a unique style. I HAVE A STYLE, people. I didn't even know that. Ha! But I'm taking that complement! :)

So yeah. We wrote little pretend letters to C.P. Ellis and she had me read mine in class. I swear, I was shaking. I mean, I don't mind people reading my work. But having to come up front and read it WHILE PEOPLE ARE STARING AT YOU WITH JUDGEMENTAL EYES, holy shit, is just terrifying. But yes. No getting away from Professor Benson; she is far too coercive. And I do suffer from her praise in class, you know. I hate being singled out. I mean, single me out in your head, woman. Don't let everybody else know, for chrissakes.

I've been trying to look at all the stuff I've written in the past months and see what "style" she's talking about. As of late, I have no clue whatsoever on what she's talking about. I could ask her, you know, but that's just awkward and I don't fish for complements. They just come to me. Haha.

Planning for next term sucks. Right now, I have HonEngComp 104, GenBio102, Philo103, Psych102 and Math237 on my list of classes that I want to take. Exciting? Not really. Just getting rid of all the gen-ed requirements.

Oooh, and a really, really good thing about being part of the Honors College is that we register before everybody else. Ha! Way cool. :) I register on Monday.

Labels: nonsense

kitten posted @ 9:05 PM |