Wednesday, July 21, 2010
On Spontaneity and Denial
Spontaneous isn’t really spontaneous. Everything is linked, a chain of events that may seem sudden but is actually gradual and progressive, distorted only by our relative view of time. Coincidence is non-existent, it is only our denial of the way of the universe. Things happen for a multitude of reasons, reasons that we don’t always accept, and in so denying we fail to see the real masterpiece of life, the masterpiece that wonderfully blends the pastel and dark colors of existence.
Change and The World Behind
I have spent the past year thinking how tainted I have become, and how much more darkness I shall come to embrace in the future.
The concept of “killing for the sake of justice” gradually became acceptable when before I considered it the ultimate sin, the point of no return. I think to myself, ‘Is this part of growing up? Is innocence just a boon only for children?’
Two weeks ago, they called two Code Blues in the E.R of the hospital I was training in. As one patient’s wife howled for her husband to fight, to keep on living, I wanted to cry with her. I felt for her, but there’s this one nasty thought in the back of my mind. It said, ‘That’s not pain. There’s still hope. I want to see real pain.’
I don’t fear for my sanity, I am perfectly sane. What I fear for, is what my morals would come to as I age. When one by one “childish” dreams and ideals get crushed, where else could I turn?
What else would I deem acceptable in the coming days?
The concept of “killing for the sake of justice” gradually became acceptable when before I considered it the ultimate sin, the point of no return. I think to myself, ‘Is this part of growing up? Is innocence just a boon only for children?’
Two weeks ago, they called two Code Blues in the E.R of the hospital I was training in. As one patient’s wife howled for her husband to fight, to keep on living, I wanted to cry with her. I felt for her, but there’s this one nasty thought in the back of my mind. It said, ‘That’s not pain. There’s still hope. I want to see real pain.’
I don’t fear for my sanity, I am perfectly sane. What I fear for, is what my morals would come to as I age. When one by one “childish” dreams and ideals get crushed, where else could I turn?
What else would I deem acceptable in the coming days?
Change and The World Behind
I have spent the past year thinking how tainted I have become, and how much more darkness I shall come to embrace in the future.
The concept of “killing for the sake of justice” gradually became acceptable when before I considered it the ultimate sin, the point of no return. I think to myself, ‘Is this part of growing up? Is innocence just a boon only for children?’
Two weeks ago, they called two Code Blues in the E.R of the hospital I was training in. As one patient’s wife howled for her husband to fight, to keep on living, I wanted to cry with her. I felt for her, but there’s this one nasty thought in the back of my mind. It said, ‘That’s not pain. There’s still hope. I want to see real pain.’
I don’t fear for my sanity, I am perfectly sane. What I fear for, is what my morals would come to as I age. When one by one “childish” dreams and ideals get crushed, where else could I turn?
What else would I deem acceptable in the coming days?
The concept of “killing for the sake of justice” gradually became acceptable when before I considered it the ultimate sin, the point of no return. I think to myself, ‘Is this part of growing up? Is innocence just a boon only for children?’
Two weeks ago, they called two Code Blues in the E.R of the hospital I was training in. As one patient’s wife howled for her husband to fight, to keep on living, I wanted to cry with her. I felt for her, but there’s this one nasty thought in the back of my mind. It said, ‘That’s not pain. There’s still hope. I want to see real pain.’
I don’t fear for my sanity, I am perfectly sane. What I fear for, is what my morals would come to as I age. When one by one “childish” dreams and ideals get crushed, where else could I turn?
What else would I deem acceptable in the coming days?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Passing the Board Exams: When the What Ifs Become The What Nows
The results of the November 2009 Nursing Licensure Exams was released the evening of January 31, 2010. I wanted to pass, but I have long since resigned myself to the thought that I have failed. That was why I applied for a job as an English instructor for Koreans. In the morning of February 1, 2010, my classmates and I were sending text messages to buy the newspapers that would have the list of examinees. We were also all joking that we failed. I was on my way to training then. When I reached Ortigas, they texted me that all three of us passed (the other two passed the June 2009). I was happy, but I couldn’t believe it. I told them so. Nakulitan na sila sa akin, because I kept asking,“Ano nga kasi?”
Afterwards my father texted me that someone told him the results were released on the internet. I didn’t tell him that the results were out the night before; I wanted to see for myself first. Then he told me that I passed. That was when I believed.
From that moment on, I was overwhelmed by the possibilities before me. Nursing oversupply and job shortage aside, I suddenly wanted to be a nurse. I was excited to attend trainings and to prepare my documents. To that end, I quit my “job” (I was still waiting for the evaluation, anyway, and the quitting factors just kept building one on top of another—it’s a very long story). In addition, my parents were pushing me to go with the trainings.
I took a moment for some introspective thinking, and suddenly I was scared. It was one thing to dream about working in a hospital, to volunteer, to attend IV trainings, etc. To be able to do it, now that was a completely different matter for me, at least. It’s like, this is it. I’m leaving the safe world of schooling and entering the real world. This time mistakes won’t be tolerated. A little mistake could cause a person’s life.
Then there were the financial matters. My parents were willing to pay the training fees but I feel like I should earn money for myself now. I couldn’t work, training makes it impossible for me to have a full-time job. However, I couldn’t stand doing nothing at home waiting for training schedules. That is aside from the fact that my bitchy sister kept shouting at me to go find a job. Even if I do, the newly passed nurses would only increase in the next board exams and the competition will only add up. That would make it harder to get into trainings and do volunteer work, and of course, do a real hospital job.
Afterwards my father texted me that someone told him the results were released on the internet. I didn’t tell him that the results were out the night before; I wanted to see for myself first. Then he told me that I passed. That was when I believed.
From that moment on, I was overwhelmed by the possibilities before me. Nursing oversupply and job shortage aside, I suddenly wanted to be a nurse. I was excited to attend trainings and to prepare my documents. To that end, I quit my “job” (I was still waiting for the evaluation, anyway, and the quitting factors just kept building one on top of another—it’s a very long story). In addition, my parents were pushing me to go with the trainings.
I took a moment for some introspective thinking, and suddenly I was scared. It was one thing to dream about working in a hospital, to volunteer, to attend IV trainings, etc. To be able to do it, now that was a completely different matter for me, at least. It’s like, this is it. I’m leaving the safe world of schooling and entering the real world. This time mistakes won’t be tolerated. A little mistake could cause a person’s life.
Then there were the financial matters. My parents were willing to pay the training fees but I feel like I should earn money for myself now. I couldn’t work, training makes it impossible for me to have a full-time job. However, I couldn’t stand doing nothing at home waiting for training schedules. That is aside from the fact that my bitchy sister kept shouting at me to go find a job. Even if I do, the newly passed nurses would only increase in the next board exams and the competition will only add up. That would make it harder to get into trainings and do volunteer work, and of course, do a real hospital job.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Drabble
Damn. I did it again. Used up all my happiness in one day, and all I've got for the night are thoughts filled with self-pity and self-hate. I don't know how many times I've talked myself in and out of these moments. At times it seems like I've been doing it all my life.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A Shadow of Contradictions
I was walking along a dim corridor with my hands on my ears. I didn't want to hear the demon's cackle. I was so afraid. My "sister" serves him. If I do what she says I still might live. But I can't take it anymore. I want to run, to escape.
I reached the end of the corridor. A familiar flight of stairs stared down at me. I looked to my right. A door-less room beckoned. An open chapel, thank heavens. I walked inside, eyes taking in the carpet, the flowers, the gold, the magnificence that accompanied worship.
I froze. There was something wrong. Ahead of me, before the altar steps stood two statues on either side. I recognized the one on the right as that of the previous Pope. Slowly, with great horror coursing through my body, I turned to the other statue. It had the same grand red robes and mitre as the first statue, but the figure was black. For a split second, it reminded me of the Black Nazarene, and then with absolute certainty I knew what, or who, it was. The Black Pope. The Antichrist. I ran out of the room as fast as I could, only to be blocked by a familiar half-robed statue. I pressed on with one goal: to get out. I fervently hoped I could duck under his arms as he swooped down to catch me. I could not.
He lifted me up by the waist, his arms locking me to his marble body. Every bit of my body screamed at the touch, as if I might burn. I must not get caught. I must run away. With a renewed strength I struggled with all that I have. I must have taken him by surprise. He dropped me. As soon as I touched the floor I ran and kept running without looking back, without caring if the familiar statue followed.
Then I heard voices. My mother and sister were talking. Suddenly it came to me: that for all the deaths that I have seen, for all the fear I have experienced, with my heart bounding rapidly in my chest, that I was, in fact, dreaming.
The sounds of reality woke me, but not completely. Half of me was still trying to escape the demon and my "sister". I refused to wake. I was determined to see my dream to the end, to emerge victorious in a dream in which I was probably meant to die nightmare-fashion. And so the conscious mind joined the unconscious to preserve the present mind, distorting the natural flow of dreams that is both beautiful and ugly, fascinating and terrifying, all of which are according to the thoughts of the Self, more hidden than exposed, even from himself.
I reached the end of the corridor. A familiar flight of stairs stared down at me. I looked to my right. A door-less room beckoned. An open chapel, thank heavens. I walked inside, eyes taking in the carpet, the flowers, the gold, the magnificence that accompanied worship.
I froze. There was something wrong. Ahead of me, before the altar steps stood two statues on either side. I recognized the one on the right as that of the previous Pope. Slowly, with great horror coursing through my body, I turned to the other statue. It had the same grand red robes and mitre as the first statue, but the figure was black. For a split second, it reminded me of the Black Nazarene, and then with absolute certainty I knew what, or who, it was. The Black Pope. The Antichrist. I ran out of the room as fast as I could, only to be blocked by a familiar half-robed statue. I pressed on with one goal: to get out. I fervently hoped I could duck under his arms as he swooped down to catch me. I could not.
He lifted me up by the waist, his arms locking me to his marble body. Every bit of my body screamed at the touch, as if I might burn. I must not get caught. I must run away. With a renewed strength I struggled with all that I have. I must have taken him by surprise. He dropped me. As soon as I touched the floor I ran and kept running without looking back, without caring if the familiar statue followed.
Then I heard voices. My mother and sister were talking. Suddenly it came to me: that for all the deaths that I have seen, for all the fear I have experienced, with my heart bounding rapidly in my chest, that I was, in fact, dreaming.
The sounds of reality woke me, but not completely. Half of me was still trying to escape the demon and my "sister". I refused to wake. I was determined to see my dream to the end, to emerge victorious in a dream in which I was probably meant to die nightmare-fashion. And so the conscious mind joined the unconscious to preserve the present mind, distorting the natural flow of dreams that is both beautiful and ugly, fascinating and terrifying, all of which are according to the thoughts of the Self, more hidden than exposed, even from himself.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Random Things
Entry 3
Meditated for about 15 minutes. Got the hang of it at last after a long period of not meditating (review). Remembered how to do it right, saw a few things, then got startled out of it.
Entry 4
I remembered something I saw months ago. A series of arched corridors encircling a hall with a throne, all made up of ice or crystal.
Entry 5
Saw this months ago also. A sort of a magician’s workshop with all sorts of clutter. And with someone scary that arrived after me.
Meditated for about 15 minutes. Got the hang of it at last after a long period of not meditating (review). Remembered how to do it right, saw a few things, then got startled out of it.
Entry 4
I remembered something I saw months ago. A series of arched corridors encircling a hall with a throne, all made up of ice or crystal.
Entry 5
Saw this months ago also. A sort of a magician’s workshop with all sorts of clutter. And with someone scary that arrived after me.
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