Incandescence

Congratulations. Even though many people have made me angry, sad, a combination of the two, no one has made me so mad, sad, overcome with emotion, to scream at him or her in front of a class. (Even in the Darkest Days of the STR Research saga, no, I never screamed at one of my groupmates in front of the class and our teacher - who would be horrified, probably.)

Let me correct that: no one has made me so overcome with emotion to scream at him or her in front of a class during an oral report. (I am just thankful that my teacher said kind words to me afterwards, telling me that what I reported on was right anyhow.)

Such a dubious honor, and I award it to people (if only it had only been one, but no, it's almost the whole enchilada - block) I thought would never make me feel this way.

Key word here? Thought.

I should be embarrassed, and I am (but not because I shouted in front of the class). I should be angry now, but I'm not.

I'm just sad.

Maybe that's worse.

Hey, limbic system? Could you stop cranking out this sad feeling I'm experiencing? Yeah, like that will work.

Anger, I'm an Aries. I don't put stock much in Astrology anymore (although I have many books attesting to a long-ago belief in it) but Aries people are said to be quick to anger, yet their anger burns out quickly. I don't easily get angry, but the latter bit's true.

Sadness... that takes a while longer to disappear.

I just know, though, that what happened today would never happen to any other person here, so I wonder what my classmates thought of me that made it ok for this to happen.

Maybe I'm too much of a doormat. Maybe.

Maybe I'm just not right for this.

Everything's fucked up.

*channelling Deathly Hallows* Not my world, you bitch bastard unknown-superior-being-that-wants-me-to-snuff-it!

I know I'm too far gone when even quoting Harry Potter doesn't amuse me even a bit. (And I can't think of a shorter name for the thing messing up my life. I'd like to call it U-No-Poo, but that would be copyright infringement. And unoriginal. And just plain sad on a whole other level.)

And in conclusion, I've just failed the test of my life. Thank you, and good night good morning. Please don't wait up, I don't want anyone to see me like this.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to honor the passing of my highly faithful-

Ehh, no one here except me and a congregation of stuffed toys.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears

Wrong occasion.

Fourscore and seven years ago

What The Hell.

Let's cut to the chase.

Yesterday, yesterday was the day I had something very near to my brain killed. It was a painful death, which resulted in the destruction of peripheral observers and my inevitable exposure to a dangerous substance.

Yesterday, a vein died.

Alas, poor Vein! I knew it, readers, a vein with infinite blood-carrying duties, of most excellent fancy.

Fitting, but ah well.

The vein in question was located somewhere up my nose, and was put to death (actually cauterized) by my doctor specializing in matters of the nose (and ears and throat). The murder weapon utilized in this case is the much maligned yet undoubtedly powerful substance Silver Nitrate (AgNO3). It was a very painful death (even with the aid of an anesthetic) and up to now I still feel the pain from which it was burned away.

Now why would I allow (and pay, even) for the death of my beloved vein (actually, it's more of a blood vessel, but it seems more dramatic -and takes less letters- to use vein; also, my doctor expressly called it a vein) who has undoubtedly served me well all these years by helping to carry blood back to my heart? How could it have wronged me by doing its duty?

Err, it all has to do with my imposed new favorite chemical substance, formalin, which I am in direct contact with at least two times a week (as of now).

Since I have allergic rhinitis, I am generally more prone to nosebleeds than the average person. Unfortunately formalin (in large quantities) apparently irritated my (already irritated) nose to the point of the blood vessel tearing and there we go. I had observed nosebleeds for err, all the days I had up close and personal encounters with my formalin-drenched friend and thus came to the doctor wondering why.

So now I mourn the passing of a vein which could not withstand the chemical inhalant of preservation and wonder had I had continued with my original planned course (Chemical Engineering/Management Engineering) if my vein would still be alive and not ever have to die.

(At least it didn't come to the point of blood coming out of my eyes. Yes, my doctor warned me about it when he was convincing me to undergo the cauterization.)

***

There's more than one way to skin a cat, they say.

Well, now I know ONE way to skin a cat.

Unfortunately the ONE way I know of skinning a cat involves a lot of sweat, up close and personal encounters with said cat and formalin it's soaked in, lots of tears (bodily reaction to said formalin, emotional response to desecrating/massacring cat body), and sharp blades (trust me, the ordinary dull scalpel blades that can be used successfully on frogs won't work so well here).

( All this for the chance to wear a white blouse and pants with a nameplate brandished on your chest. )

***

Speaking of dissection of cats, it is more costly to acquire several cat corpses for extensive study than frogs because cats are more expensive (I think it's 350 pesos for one cat as opposed to 50 pesos for a frog.). I was thinking this while I entered school last Friday when I saw a cheery announcement at the guard's table: "Kittens 4 adoption, c guard on duty!"

Oh shoot. Please, not the kittens too. :(

***

A few hours with you all is more than I could ever have hoped for.

I missed you, Potassium people. Even though I had second thoughts (and third thoughts and even first thoughts) about going (since I knew exactly who were going), I'm glad I went.

Evil Manila flood making us late be damned. :(

***

Last Sunday I watched Pisay at the CCP with my mom (and Vinni and his parents, coincidentally). I won’t give away anything, really, but it does explain some of the Pisay myths that have been passed down for ages (for example, the myth of why there is no Calcium section anymore).

I’m amused at seeing my brother’s dorm room (I think it’s my brother’s dorm room) in the movie =P

A more coherent review will come after July 31, one that will dwell on plot points and stuff, so as to not spoil those who are watching on that date.

Short safe review: Waaaaah. It’s good. I miss Pisay even more than ever. =(

***

The Obligatory 20 things you want to say to 20 people but know you never will meme. Perfect for people like me who are extremely passive and sometimes feel the need to punch a person or something.

Very much inspired by Josef-san's version :) (since his version was the first one I saw).

Obligatory Disclaimer to protect self: Won't confirm or deny any of these pointing to a specific person. (I have a feeling what I'll write is totally obvious, but ah well.)

Ah, no. 17 is obviously a living famous person that I will never meet. But I do think the world would be much better off without him/her.

( Sometimes, sometimes when I dissect animals, I superimpose your face on theirs and end up having to watch myself lest I whisper your name and let my classmates know that sometimes I wish to vivisect you. I'm not proud of it, even more since you don't even look like the animals I superimpose your visage on. )

I will not confirm any of the 20 here (in lj or at my multiply), but if you catch up to me somewhere and you're relatively trustworthy I'll confirm any correct guess. (As long, of course, as you aren't the person being referred to by the number.)

***

Someone asked me to update and write about my thoughts on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (otherwise known as Book 7, DH, the end of the HP series). I will not do this right now because I know that some of my classmates/friends (who read this lj) have not finished (or even started =P) the book. Wait a while, I'll do it eventually. (Honestly, I don't think I can write about it without using spoilers.)

Actually, I still haven't recovered from reading it.

And honestly, how do you say goodbye to a series you started reading when you were 10? :( I'm still trying to figure that out.

***

While dissecting, a cry arose from my classmates (who were hoping to escape the horror following our Bio Lab class otherwise known as Field Demonstration: UP Manila Style!): "Sunog!"

Lo and behold, looking out the corridor windows gave me the gristly sight of a large smoke cloud. I mistakenly thought the Supreme Court was burning again (ignoring the direction of the cloud, stupidly) but eventually found out that it was the Court of Appeals (or part of it) that had given in to its innate inflammability.

Supreme Court, Court of Appeals, what next? Department of Justice? >_<

***

[Comments screened because of this.]

I’ve known of this since July 20 (the video was released on July 19) but debated with myself on whether I should post this. After consulting with some people, though, I’ve decided to do so. I'm not going to say anything; I'm just leaving you with this because I believe that we should know (or those who wish to know have the right to know) the latest developments of the case. (This does explain what I have said in recent posts, though.)

( Inabswelto na ng Malacanang sa pananagutang aministratibo ang isang estudyante na pinagbintangang naglagay ng nakalalasong mercury sa tubig ng kanyang kaklase. )

I believe that I have done an infinitely stupid thing yet I have not been adequately punished for it. Thank the cosmos.

In my defense, I say that my brain was addled by simultaneously finalizing our research paper and studying for my Stat finals (and post-finals test).

In my rush to get to school (because I was unfortunately running late) for the test, I accidentally…

( I don’t know why odd things always happen to me at the end of a grading period. )

***

I now have a new friend/stuffed toy/general oddity to keep me company as I sleep/write/procrastinate/study/watch anime/(insert other actions here).

My brother is amused by it because unlike most stuffed toys (which are generally animals), it is a…

( G. A. S. P. )

***

It’s summer! (Or what little there is of it before it’s time to go back to the grade grind.) I am currently celebrating it by …

*crickets chirp*

Err.

I celebrate it by…

*looks embarrassed*

Having lots of guilt-free sleep marathons.

Well, and writing and writing, but that’s after I’ve woken up and eaten something (or right before I sleep).

***
( For those who like Wicked (book or musical, preferably musical, or both), Youtube, and the Sims: hopefully not mutually exclusive groups. )

Seeing videos like these make me realize how much one can do with one computer game (and a lot of expansions and customized stuff).

In other The Sims related news, there is apparently going to be a Sims movie (info taken from here). *gasp* I wonder what kind of plot it would have…

***

The most epic Pokemon battle of all time!!!!

Rated PG-13 for multiple swearing, a cellphone, the lack of a Hyper Beam TM, and Ditto appearances. :)

I think my brain exploded from the battle. >_< But now I want to do something like that with my Pokemon game…

***

Belated happy birthday to Hopia-san, Danni, and Patrick :)

***

( Is that what you’ve learned in your Science intensive course other than the difference between basalt and granite and the stages of ecological succession? )

***

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-847403360680458951&hl=en

Topless sandals?????

Picture and description taken from the website:



Topless sandals simulate walking barefoot while protecting your feet. Topless sandals stick to the bottom of your feet, but leave no residue on your feet when you take them off. The "stick" is guaranteed for a year, which is the typical life span of a flip flop. Topless sandals are basically topless flip flops, but so much cooler. You'll be amazed at how many heads you turn while wearing your topless sandals. People will literally think you are barefoot and so will your feet. Topless-Sandal.com is the official topless sandals store and topless sandals accessories store for items such as toe rings, foot jewelry, and anklet bracelets. Tell your family and friends about the hottest item on the Internet - the topless sandal. Our topless sandals make great stocking stuffers at low prices. Topless sandals are just plain fun and feel great on your feet. Go Topless!

And allegedly (according to an email I got today) these are available at the Ateneo Mall.

***

For those wondering why there is hardly anything relating to my real life here…

Sometimes real life is just too painful to write about.

[started at 11:23 pm, April 14, 2007]

I look at the clock. It’s 11:23 pm, and the sky has long gone dark and the neighborhood silenced. It’s always been a clock-watching day, this day. Every time this day in the year goes by, my awareness of the different clocks in my domicile increases proportionally to my decreased need for sleep. And now that the day is over, time seems to have slowed to a crawl, that I’ve typed this sentence and it’s only 11:25 pm by my electronic clock.

It’s funny. I don’t profess to love my birthday; it is always a day celebrated other than for my birth. If it’s not Black Saturday, Good Friday, Maundy Thursday, any other day in Holy Week, it’s Income Tax Day and my parents are indisposed as they calculate tax returns of other people. If it’s not any of these days, it’s the day of a boxing match of Pacquiao. Good heavens.

Yes, yes. And of course to my family (or at least part of them) I take the back seat once again as my boxing fanatic family members head off to watch it Pay-Per-View style.

I’ve never really liked my birthday. When I was a child, I thought that 13 was a grand old age and that when I turned it, something would pop and I’d be magically transformed into a different person. When I was 13, I thought I would wait until 18 for the magical transformation. But it was not to be, as 18 rolled around and nothing dramatic happened to me. (Unless you count having one’s hair flung about by a rollercoaster, I mean, Space Mountain in Hongkong Disneyland.)

It’s 11:33 pm. I’ve stopped to pet a stuffed toy on its head and pull on socks to warm my chilled feet. I’m 18, and in a few minutes I’ll be 19. (If you want to get technical, I’ll turn 19 on 1:43 am, since I was born at that time almost 19 years ago.) 19 and the whole world is still unexplored by me. 19 and I’ve never been able to sit on my hair or bake a cake. 19 and I still wonder if I made the right decision almost one year ago by following up on my checking a single box less than a year before that.

I wonder.

With 19, then 20 and I’ll be entering med proper. With 20 comes 21, 22, 23, and soon I’ll be 24 and walking through PGH as an intern. With 24 comes 25 and I’ll take the boards. And with 25, the real world beckons.

It’s 11:37 pm. The socks aren’t helping my feet at all; they’re turning into foot-shaped (what else would they be shaped like?) ice cubes. I feel my hair tickling my lower back, the ends long enough to enter my pants. It’s odd to think that a year and four months ago my hair was just past my shoulders. Time, and 17 turns to 18 and now it’s 23 minutes to 19 and my hair is past my waist.

With 18 came my first hold departure order, my first step into college, my first step into a PGH ward. With 18 came the feelings of sadness with the departure of many friends, of not being able to see them or even talk to them. With 18 came the meeting of new friends, of interacting with them and seeing who they were and who they weren’t. With 18 came the reminder that life goes on, even though you wish for it to stop.

With 18 came the decision to break off the thread that connects me to you, that pale thread which I hope has not turned red.

With 18 came the learning to twirl and spin and step in time to music, to skin a frog after destroying its brain and to identify its muscles. With 18 came the label of supposed intelligence and the knowledge of the hatred of others not qualified for it. With 18 came the grief at seeing people suffer and not being able to help them. With 18 came the leaving, and the leaving remains tucked in the heart of a girl and it may never go away.

With 18 came the world anew and I received it and walked on it with eyes aglow. Looking at the world in these last moments before 19, it’s so much more than what I saw of it when 18 was just a second achieved.

It’s now 11:50 pm. I have given up my feet for lost, they might turn black from the cold and eventually fall off. My hair needs to be brushed, but I can’t find my comb. There’s 9 minutes to the last day of summer, how many hours until Pacquiao enters the boxing ring, and months and months until I see you again. If I see you again.

I don’t want to count anymore. (But it’s 11:54 pm.) Has it all been in vain, everything I’ve done? I don’t know.

Who knows what 19 will bring? Desecration of cat carcasses and organic chemistry, I know, and maybe even old friends that may return. But there are still many things hidden in the shadows, and I’ll need to count down the minutes to get closer to them.

It’s 11:59 pm. Let my last thought before 19 be this: perhaps it wasn’t a bad year after all.

And let my first thought at 19 be this: perhaps this won’t be a bad year after all.

****

taken from chnzo, ballisticgal, voldemort_a, and uno_animo

How it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc.)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button

( A hypothetical soundtrack that dictates my hypothetical life? )

Remind me never to do this again unless I have given my Windows Media Player a severe talking-to.

And now I want to write an actual story based on this. Nooooooooooo.

My first death.

My first death.

I knew it would eventually happen, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. I'm not even in med proper, for goodness sake.

But I really couldn’t do anything; when we entered the ward area, they were already doing a cardiac massage and using an ambibag on the patient. My friend and I asked some nurses if the person was dying and they said that it was a normal routine thing. We were dubious (because the cardiac massage seemed so urgent), but we nodded and moved on.

After watching our nurse (whom we shadowed for the day) do nasal feeding (which I have discussed weeks ago), we went to someone’s hospital bed and helped in cleaning her forced wound. I say “forced” because the lady had a tube inserted in her body (and I mean that there was a large long tube that entered her side; the tube’s cross-sectional diameter was nearly the size of a 25 centavo coin) to help drain phlegm from her lungs. We used betadine, soaking some cotton balls in it and applying them to the area radially outward from the wound. Then we heard it.

I’ll never forget that sound in my whole life. I swear I’ll never forget it.

It was a desperate, disbelieving cry that tore at my heart and broke it into a million pieces. The four of us looked in the direction the sound was coming from and it was a woman clutching the body of the patient we saw earlier getting a cardiac massage who was screaming and crying and...

I remember the words the nurse we shadowed told us when we asked her if the patient was dead; they burrowed deep in my mind and my heart and echo in my ears as I now try and solve stoichiometry problems as practice for our Chem Departmental Exam this Saturday.

“Oo, normal na yan. Pag bago ka, iisipin mo na sana may nagawa ka pa para buhay pa siya. Pero mawawala rin iyan, nagiging normal nalang.”

When I shadowed a nurse in Ward 3, he told me that he would always remember the day a patient of his died (the first one assigned to him who died) – December 22, 2005 (well, either 22th or 24th – my memory is going bad again). He told us the same thing: the first patient will always be the one burned in one’s memory.

I keep seeing the scene play out in my mind. The woman screaming as she held the patient and the nurses going about their business like nothing life-changing had happened. Some of the patients looking on from their own beds and others just asleep or otherwise uninterested.

The four of us assigned to Ward 1, looking at it from a short distance and not being able to do anything at all.

I couldn’t have done anything. None of us could. The patient had so many diseases (we read the Clinical Abstract but couldn’t understand the doctor’s/nurse’s handwriting) and has had labored breathing for a long time already, a medical clerk told us. The patient had so many problems, some of them dating back to 1998. We just came when it was Code Red already; we were there when her life was extinguished like a finger does to a weakened flame.

The nurse told us that cardiac massage was a normal procedure and there was nothing to worry about, yet when I researched it using the internet later I found out it is used when the patient had already gone into cardiac arrest. Perhaps it is normal in this ward… I don’t know the death rate of patients in PGH. Maybe they didn’t want to scare us… we looked so young compared to the interns and medical clerks and everyone else surrounding us.

Eventually the woman stopped crying, and a nurse appeared to detach the stuff hooked up to the patient. White dividers were placed around the bed, and the nurse did her work like she’s done it a hundred times before. Maybe she has.

I didn’t even find out her name.

I don’t know why, but that seems important.

I hate this feeling of helplessness. I was nothing but a spectator to this death, which may have been normal to the veterans of PGH yet has changed the life of the woman crying because of her. I know I’m just a first year student. I know I couldn’t have done anything to help.

Yet I still hate myself for not being able to do anything.

I don’t ever want to feel this again. I don’t ever want to watch a life snuff out right before my eyes like this again, with the world having to quickly return to normal.

But I know I’ll feel this again, I’ll feel this a thousand times even as I become more learned and understand more the medical explanations behind each death, each life-threatening disease. I think my heart will still break with every death I witness, and my world will be thrust into darkness and I’ll struggle to break free so I can try again to make a better myself to try and prevent any more of this. The cycle will go on and on and on and eventually death will become familiar to me.

I hate this feeling.

But I’d rather feel it and hate it than feel nothing at all.

***

Would it had been better had I not seen it today?

No, it wouldn’t.

I would be happier, yes, but it’s better to see it now instead of pretending that the path I takes leads to many more situations where nothing more can be done, where lives just flutter away like a butterfly with wings.

I’ve been wearing a blindfold in Intarmed. Sometimes the blindfold slips down and I catch a glimpse of something yet it fixes itself and I can continue my life like nothing had happened.

I feel that right now the blindfold has been yanked off, my eyes seeing exactly what the world has in store for me.

I don’t think I want to find it and put it back over my eyes again.

***

This is for you, Nya :)

Well, and anyone who wants to see my jellyfish stuffed toy with my newly-acquired shrimp stuffed toy :)

( The cnidarian and the crustacean (?). )

***

( It's a superduck :) )

***

( And why do we play with them, subject them to stimuli that would be considered inhumane had the subjects been like us? )

***

Belated happy birthday Kel-san ^^

And advanced happy birthday to Anne, my fellow legal classmate who’s the only one older than me in the whole of Intarmed.

***

( It was a fly’s wing. )

***



Yay strawberries!!!!

Infinitely more healthy than what I normally eat (cup noodles, fastfood offerings and potato chips)!

***

Sometimes I wish you’d read my blog.

But then I think that it’s better that you don’t (to my knowledge) because you might think I’m obsessed with you and what you think of me.

I’m not.

I just wonder what you’ll think of me, comparing the me expressed with words and the me that interacts with you and making a conclusion as to who I really am.

I wonder which one you’d prefer.

***

One week to go before it's the day again, and I wonder if I'll forget about it with the numerous requirements that threaten to engulf me.

Yet I don't think I can forget, because it may not be tattooed on my skin yet it's made an indelible mark on my soul.

I saw a tumor almost as big as my head last Wednesday.

Turn back now if your stomach is extremely weak.

( Do you know that diapers can be used as bandages? )

***

Happy birthday Fria-san :) And Sir Vlad (as if he knows about this blog, lol)!

***

I have finally done one of the eight things I wanted to do before I died :)

I finally found a shrimp stuffed toy :) :) And it's sitting on my table right now, sort of encouraging me to finish up my Chem Formal Lab Report with its smile. (Wait, do shrimps even smile? Lol.)

Granted, it is a cheesy one (bought from a famous restaurant chain) but still :)

Now it can join my jellyfish, octopus, mollusk, spider, caterpillar, and two lobsters in my invertebrate collection :)

Cheers :)

***

I hate writer’s block.

But do you know what I hate more than writer’s block?

I hate knowing exactly what I want to write and not being able to write it because I lack time to commit it to paper, Livejournal, or even a Microsoft Word file.

Bah.

***

My teacher likes to make pronouncements that shock the populace (I mean, Intarmed 2013).

After getting our results of the last departmental exam, he then said this: “Lahat ng 85 and above ay may plus 10.” Shocked and some happy gasps were heard. “Pero, lahat ng 60 and below ay may minus 10.” Outraged gasps were then heard. (I’m not sure if this holds for all the tests or if it’s on a test-to-test basis.)

I am not affected by either as of now, but it’s very very disturbing.

Then again, my brother (from Ateneo) tells me that there’s this teacher there who has this grading curve where the people with the lowest grades in a class will automatically fail. The teacher taught this class with Management Eng and Management Honors and the lowest grades there was around 80%. Sure enough, those with 80% failed.

Eep. Hopefully there are no teachers like that here.

***

I didn’t massacre search for the ganglia and other parts of the nervous system of our frog last Friday (my groupmates did), so Vinni-san can rest easy because I won’t be describing it so intensely. (Joan and I studied slides of the frog and human spinal cord and took pictures of it using Dingdong’s cameraphone.)

( “But…” )

***

[I said three days, and I extend by one. Maybe I was attacked by an eleventh-hour cowardly bug, but better late than never. I'm sorry to be so erm, mad in this entry but this has been a long time coming. And if you don't understand a thing, it's definitely not directed at you :)]

( I don't believe in your pretty words, those that fill up my cellphone's inbox and whirl around in my mind.  )

[Note 1: I don’t care anymore. Think of this as my last move in our twisted game. Besides, I think you still won anyway because it’s you after all. Let me go down with readable prose, at least.]

[Note 2: And I think this wins the longest post in my lj award (not counting Contest or memorial posts). Thank you for reading, if you did, even if you skipped parts of it.]

[Note 3: Hey, mutual friend? I'm not mad at you. I won't be mad at you either if you go tell him about this entry either.]

On Tuesday, I committed school-sanctioned murder.

The murder weapon? Formalin.

My partner-in-crime? Joan.

And death only came to our victim after we forcibly disintegrated its brain and spinal cord (using a probe) and removed most of its skin cells. It tried weakly (unintentionally) to poison us when we cut off its cheeks (where the poison was stored/secreted) but it only got a bit of Joan’s cheek.

I know it’s normal, and it’s for science (and I did learn a lot from the experience), but for some reason I still feel sorry for the frog.

There was so much blood, gushing from the holes we made and falling down on the ground. And even as we skinned it, we saw its heart beat weakly and oh, its body is so cold.

And then it’s the end and we wash up our scalpels and scissors, pouring the diluted formalin in our glass jar and there you go in, frog, and that’s that. No more eleventh hour reprieve, no more last bids for freedom.

And on Tuesday, oh dear Tuesday, it’s your muscles next. (To my knowledge, that is.)

***

Is it sadistic to derive pleasure from causing an animal pain?

Because in some weird bizarre way I enjoyed skinning our frog, enjoyed snipping the fragile threads holding the epithelial skin cells to the muscles, enjoyed seeing its muscles in all their nakedness. (Of course, I did have a cold so I couldn’t smell it – my classmates all complained about the frog’s smell.) And while we relieved our frog of its largest organ, its heart kept beating, reminding us that our specimen was still alive. And I’d feel a pang of guilt for the frog and think and then Ma’am will remind us to continue skinning and I’d pick up the scalpel and scissors again and snip snip snip I go and more of the skin ends up on the board where the frog’s pinned to. (We drove pins through its erm, paws. We all thought of “Crucifixion,” except the hind feet weren’t pinned together but separated.)

I couldn’t really hold the frog while it was alive (alive and not paralyzed), but it seemed normal (and even natural) to hold it once it stopped being able to move.

Its muscles are fascinating. They were slippery and dark red and cold to the touch and when we removed the skin we tried not to cut them (and I think we succeeded, to a point). I kept thinking to myself, I’m holding a naked muscle (not encased by skin) that isn’t cooked in my hand, a muscle still attached to a living organism. It’s fascinating, from its surprisingly tough dark skin (hard to cut even with the sharp pairs of scissors included in our dissecting kits) to its very small thumbs (the indicator of whether a frog is male or female – I think ours was male since its thumbs were a bit swollen, but one of my classmates reckons he got a pregnant frog), to its cheeks which secrete a creamy yellow poison to its weakly beating heart. And we’ve only started observing it externally. Do you know how to remove the skin of a frog stuck to its feet? You pull it off like you would a glove (although it needs more pressure).

There’s a psychological thing here, but I’m missing it by a mile.

I wonder how I’ll feel when it’s cat-dissecting time. Wait, I think the cats will be killed before we dissect them. Maybe when it’s shark-dissecting time.

***

Why is it that nothing goes right?

Or maybe everything’s just wrong.

Same banana.

Or maybe not.

***

I blush when I think of it, although I think I shouldn’t.

But it’s like an entirely new feeling now, blushing like this. It’s not because of embarrassment, nor is it because I feel sick, but…

Maybe, just maybe, I’m feeling something for someone I haven’t known for a long time now.

Or maybe I’m still sick.

***

You know those times when you just want to curl up and sleep but you can’t because propriety demands you stay awake?

Danged propriety.

***

I’m still sick and I know I’m not getting better.

And you know something? It’s all your fault.

***

I honestly think life should have save points. You know, those areas in role-playing video games where one can save before embarking on a new adventure or continuing one. Imagine saving before tests, before confessing, before mouthing off to a teacher… Then you can reset to the last saved part of your life if you don’t like the results.

Then again, I’d probably end up saving every three minutes or so. So I’ll just hover around the save areas for the rest of my life. Donk.

***

I have a new friend. She’s (I think she’s female) terribly light and rather brittle, and she can accompany me to school in my backpack. I’m terribly interested in her (at least I need to be interested) and I know I’ll learn a lot from her.

And she only cost 60 pesos (thank you UP Manila for the price cut)! Hee, it’s weird having a frog skeleton on your bed.

***

Many people tell me to not listen to her, but it's like a knife in one's heart when she reminds you that you're not like other people, that you're not biologically perfect like them.

I shouldn't listen.

But I'm required to.

***

The Math Long Test I had earlier killed me.

But at least there were no swimming cockroaches (although when we left the campus Joan and Joanne encountered a lot of them on the street) nor rain (it rained the day before) nor denial of the right to use calculators.

Or something like that.

And now it's time to study for my two departmental exams tomorrow. Donk.

***

Belated happy birthday Nya :)

***

It’s you I still dream about.

And it’s you that keeps me wanting not to wake up anymore.

Have you ever woken up, thinking there was no point to waking up? That waking up would just make you face everything you've run away from, all those things you wish just didn't exist?

I've been waking up and thinking that for a long while now.

Regardless, even if I'm scandalously late (and my phone is missing yet again, hiding beneath my bed for unknown reasons!), Meri Kurisumasu, Maligayang Pasko, Merry Christmas. :)

***

This Christmas I received seven bags. :) I like bags.

But of course Christmas means something else, which is the mutilation of my French first first name. Gah. You know it's bad when it's the relative you see the most that massacres your name beyond recognition (only one r, i before a, etc.) and the relatives you forgot you had spell your name perfectly.

Eighteen Christmases have shown me one thing: no matter how easy it is supposedly to pronounce one's name (on record, only one person has mispronounced my first first name, and that's my English teacher in 2nd year), it is only too easy to misspell it.

Still, it was an interesting Christmas. Thanks to everyone that texted me :) I would have texted but my phone is still hiding under the bed. >_<

***

My family decided to eat at Makati Shang for Christmas dinner.

Hee, who should be at a nearby table but Zsa Zsa Padilla and Dolphy. I didn't recognize any of the other people they were with though.

That takes care of my Celebrity Sighting quota for the year. :)

***

Hey Block 13, you know that book we're supposed to read for Humanidades 1? "Ang Daigdig ng Tao?"

Its author just passed away a few days ago this year. :(

***

It's never been an option to admit I love you, you know.

Believe me, I've tried. I've tried and tried and looked for all the opportunities to do so, even making plans for them when they wouldn't come into my life.

It's first year all over again and I'm answering a long test in Integrated Science, scribbling down answers on a piece of intermediate pad paper rapidly since I studied hard and know all the answers. I write and write and suddenly you stand up and submit your paper and all the names and scientific information in my mind disappears in an instant and my heart beats faster and nothing is left but my thinking about you, you, and only you and soon the bell rings and my paper's only half finished and I leave the classroom in a daze.

All those years and I wait, wait and wait, and still nothing comes to pass. Then it's all gone wrong and it's you and me under one of those large trees and it's your voice I remember from that night, your firm voice telling me it's all just a game, a game and my heart cracks and it's all lost and you turn away like a gentleman does so I can cry without being shamed, with only the tree and the rain as my witnesses. Yet you're still there, just a foot away, and I want to speak but my voice has gone raspy and tears are the only thing I can express coherently.

It's all a game for you.

I wish you'd realize it never was.

Maybe, maybe everything now is because of you. Maybe my insomnia, my nonexistent attention span, my pale face and wish to run away from everything is because of this uncertainty that has always surrounded us, cloaked us and made what could be into what never was.

And now I sleep and sleep, hoping never to wake up, never to see the sunlight filter into my room past the venetian blinds. Let me stay in my dreams, Sandman, don't bring me back into this waking world. Please. Because I know what will be the thought in my mind when I wake up, when I wipe the tears from my eyes and touch my damp pillow and bring it out to dry.

I'll never be able to say it now.

***

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I can't wait. :)

Wow, the series I started reading in grade 5 is about to get finished soon. I think I'm going to feel what I felt when I finished Book 13 of Series of Unfortunate Events, only on a much larger scale because HP... for some days, it was all I had to think about positively.

***

It's apparently illegal and immoral to sell one's kidney.

According to the Department of Health, at least.

***

( The Letter Meme, where Jar-san gave me the letter O. Gah. )

Okay, this was hard. Gaah.

***

Why is it that relatives never get clothes sizes right? You gain weight or maintain it and they give you stuff that won't fit a toddler. You lose weight and they give you stuff that'd fit a sumo wrestler. >_<

***

My brother wants to buy a Magic Sing. Help!

It's been more than a week and I come back to find my lj world turned upside down. So many quizzes/memes (like that Tarot Cart quiz which was uber-popular), so many outpourings from peoples' minds to read, to absorb, to try to understand. Sometimes I come away from an entry nodding my head, it's like someone stole the words right out of my head. Other times I end up shaking my head, lost at the prose my friend has written. Have I really been away so long? I don't think so. Maybe the world, this world with all my lj friends is moving too fast, and how can a simple child like me understand it using the middle as the start and the beginning as the end? It's not natural.

It's like I'm trapped in a time warp, thinking and dreaming and thinking and dreaming the same thoughts and the same dreams over and over again, and my lj friends' entries are the only things that prove to me that this time warp exists only for me.

It's been a hard week. Hard is actually too vague even for my tastes. It was exhausting, draining, and all my resources (financial, mental, physical, humoral, emotional, and otherwise) are gone, depleted, flushed down the toilet bowl. And with all these that happen, everything is magnified and made so much worse in the dreams that visit me while my head rests on my faithful cotton-covered pillow. Vivid images come in the night, sweet and gruesome come together in the Sandman's visit and I wake up disoriented, my heart pounding, my breathing forced. And these images stay embedded on my eyelids for all of the new day, and whether I'm closing my eyes in tiredness in Chem lab or blinking in dismay in Kom III I see them, just an eyelid away.

And I am undone again, again and again and again.

While my chosen overloaded life full of stairs and blue books is very stressful, it's never stopped me from posting before. Even now I could have typed something earlier but...

It's hard to just sit down and type, type, type. I feel like someone's looking over my shoulder as I press my fingers on the keyboard keys in a seemingly random manner, and I keep looking over my right shoulder to see if anyone's staring at me from my bed. I'm normally not a paranoid person, but...

Right now, I am one.

***

I missed some memes. Bah. Let's place them here and I dunno, keep them presented here forever for posterity. Donk.

( The Tarot Card thing. )

Hmmm, interesting. And I've always liked this card :)

Not to mention that no one else's gotten this result yet :)

ganked from most everyone on my friendslist :)

01. Pick your birth month.
02. Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you.
03. Bold the five-ten that best apply to you.
04. Copy to your own journal, with all twelve months under an LJ-cut

APRIL: Active and dynamic. Decisive and hasty but tends to regret. Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention. Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people's problems. Brave and fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Emotional. Aggressive. Hasty. Good memory. Moving. Motivates oneself and others. Sickness usually of the head and chest. (At sa marami pang parte ng katawan.) Sexy in a way that only their lover can see.

( The other months. )

Puro strikethrough ata 'to ah. >_< Mas malapit pa nga yung sa mga ibang month eh. :(

Wala pa atang gumagawa ng April eh :)

***

Let me just say what many people have said already:

Vitriol is a poison.

It's a very bad poison that disfigured Two Face (of DC comics). "Vitriol" throwing is very common in certain detective/mystery novels of a certain era.

No matter what form it is, I don't like it. It is commonly known now as sulfuric acid.

And to end my little educational lesson, I shall share this rhyme from the US:
Little Johnny took a drink, but he shall drink no more.
For what he thought was H2O was H2SO4.

(Mostly taken from here.)

***

It's funny. UP is known for freedom and all that, especially regarding what it teaches its students. (I refer to you PanPil people who had to bring porn to class especially, our Kom I class which had many "descriptive passages", and my Humanidades 1 class which makes us very familiar with gay/lesbian lit.)

Let me share the funniest bit of censorship Intarmed 2013 (and some non-block people) encountered yesterday.

We had to watch Pocahontas 2 for SocSci 1 yesterday. Our teacher didn't show up, but we still watched the movie. (And I have no idea why we watched Pocahontas 2 first instead of Pocahontas 1. Maybe the first one is more important. Anyway we'll watch the first next Tuesday.)

( I will reveal the ending of Pocahontas 2. Gasp. And the censorship. Don't read if you don't want to be spoiled. )

***

Belated happy birthday Jman-san :)

***

I said earlier that my life seems to be trapped in a time warp.

Apparently my phone came along for the ride. >_<

***

(Thank you Wikipedia for the pictures.)

Okay, this is for someone who asked me:

This is Igglybuff, the preevolution of Jigglypuff.


This is Cleffa, the preevolution of Clefairy.

Both are pink baby pokemon. Both are normal type.

And they're both cute, I think :)

***

Do you guys remember the pass the message part of the Pisay 4th year retreat?

We did something like that for Kom III. First, the class was divided into three groups. There was a story (yes, a story, not just a statement) given to two people of each group. Since the story was in English, they would have to translate it and one of them would give the pertinent details (translated) to the next person in the group. And that person would pass it on and so on until it reaches the last person in the group. The last person would tell the story to the class.

For posterity's sake, I shall place the pertinent details of the story: (Please correct me if I missed something/typed something wrong.) // (Thanks Joan-san :))
"Marahil na alam ninyo ang tungkol sa kultong Dakobor. Itong kulto ay galing sa Russia ngunit pumunta itong Kanlurang Canada sa katapusan ng 17th siglo. Itong kulto ay kontrobersyal sapagkat sa tagsibol ay hinuhubad nila ang kanilang mga

Isang maaaliwalas na araw ng tagsibol, may isang batang pumuntang palengke na hubad. Nakita ng isang pulis ang batang iyon at gusto niya itong hulihin. Hinabol ng pulis ang bata ngunit hindi niya ito maabutan. Naisipan ng pulis na tanggalin ang kanyang dyaket (at t-shirt) ngunit nung ginawa niya ito ay hindi niya pa rin mahuli yung bata. Naisipan naman niya tanggalin ang kanyang sapatos ngunit wala rin itong napala. Tinanggal rin niya ang kanyang pantalon ngunit hindi pa rin niya nahuli ang bata kaya tinanggal na niya rin ang iba pa niyang panamit. Nahuli niya rin ang bata pagkatapos ngunit lahat ng manonood ay hindi alam kung sino yung pulis at sino yung bata."

Yes, I know the story is weird. I guess the policeman (or policewoman) must be inordinately small or the child must be inordinately tall for this to happen. Or something.

Now this is a very complicated story but passing it became horror because my groupmate accidentally changed the cult's name (Dakobor) to Baccara/Bakara/Bacarra. Donk.

Still, it was fun. Baccara. Gah. That name (and Dakobor) will forever be embedded in my mind.

***

I've been asking this of a lot of Intarmed students since we got the assignment to search for the lyrics of Colors of the Wind (from Pocahontas).

What the heck is a "blue corn moon?" Is it a blue moon made of corn? Or is it a blue moon that comes during the corn's harvest time?

Or is my trying to find logic (and astronomical continuity) in a children's song futile? XP

***

Pauline-san, was the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade cool? I heard they had a new Pikachu balloon :)

***

I'd like to type more but I think this is long enough for now.

I just hope that with the two days of rest that follow, I can visit dreamland without you, you with that mocking face of yours, walking beside me.