to the edge of the earth and back.

I had a good idea for a post; I swear I did.

Er...

I love lamp!

:D

iconic

This is my boyfriend - Ikuta Toma. Wouldn't you just love to hold hands with him in the cold rain?

Yes.

Summer! There's too much to do in too little time. Work takes up most of my waking hours...and I spend the rest of my time trying to get some sleep...to get ready for more days of work. It's a vicious cycle. Not that I'm complaining or anything. I love my job. What's not to love about a job that practically landed on my lap while I tried to keep my mouth open to probing alien dental instruments. It was like Christmas, but with money. Haha. Ahh. Sorry.

I honestly love my job, though. On lazy days, I get paid to read F. Sionil Jose's Mass, but let's keep that a secret [okay, internets?]. I get to say that I work in the medical field, and by that I mean...I hound insurance people for claims and make sure that patients still have $$ left in their annual maximums so we can keep the $$ coming in by the loads. But it ain't as grand as it sounds.

What makes me uncomfortable is the constant stereotyping and categorizing that's essentially inseparable to the job description. We give out goodie bags filled with toothbrushes, toothpaste, and dental floss, and it's my assignment to separate these items into bags for either "men," "women," or "kids." Okay, so for the kids it's pretty dang obvious that they get the Spongebob stuff [which I like!], but it's pretty awkward to separate the pink from the blue when you've taken Anthro 3AC like I did. For an entire semester, it was drilled in our heads that the distinction between genders is a societal creation, and by doing my job at the dental office, I was propagating this norm. As whats-her-face [a theorist we read in RS 90B] said, norms are violent because they are, for certain, going to exclude some category. This little girl, for instance, surprised me when she declined my offer of Disney princess stickers after she got her teeth cleaned. She opted for Superman stickers.

"I know Superman's for boys, but I like Superman," she said to her mom.

Awww, the little anthropologist.

I hated Anthro, btw.

Anyway, the stereotyping goes on with the profuse magazine-offering that is part of my job. When the patients are seated in the...room, I have to offer them magazines so they won't be bored. For Filipinas who speak Tagalog, I grab one of the many Star Studio or Yes! magazines from the shelves, never mind that almost all of them are several years old. For Mr. X, who walked in in a dress shirt that spoke "business intellectual" to me, I chose a copy of the National Geographic and Food and Wine. In some cases, the doctor intervenes when he knows what the patient prefers; "Give him a sports magazine," he'd say. And we'd have very little to choose from save for bundles of cycling magazines and ESPN in Spanish.

Is stereotyping in the workplace bad? What if you're all the same ethnicity?

Either way, I still feel awkward when put in a position where I have to stereotype or categorize, but I guess it's all part of the job.

run.

I know for a fact that I am a mean person. I just develop dislikes for certain people's attitudes. It's a hateful disposition, but I can't help myself.

Enter 1. 1 makes everything it touches...seem childish and stupid. While everyone else around it seems to flourish and mature, 1 chooses to trap itself in a bubble of insolent childishness, which is of course unbearable to those who have actually had a taste of the real world without someone's shadow to protect them. GROW UP. You're not gonna be shielded forever. LIFE SUCKS. It's unfair; deal with it. YOU WON'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT, and if you stay bashful and childish like you always do, you won't progress mentally.

2 is amazing. I love you. Every word that comes out of your mouth needs to be written down, broken down, or laughed at. You are simply you. Uncorrupted.

3. You haven't changed a bit. You are still dripping with a plastic veneer that I'd like to peel off and hurl over a cliff. And maybe take you with it. I don't think I'll ever have the guts to face you without a sneer, so...it's probably best if I never, ever see you again. NOBODY GIVES A CRAP about what you have to say. LEARN TO SHUT IT because not everyone is interested in what your shit smelled like this morning. Get over yourself, please.

4. My favorite flake. Simply unbearable. What lies you weave. It's true that diction really is everything; what you say and what you don't say can make a world of a difference. See, I hate liars, so by default...[hmm...I won't bother writing the syllogism anymore. It's too obvious.]

Haha. I am so hateful. I'm going to hell.

viva la vida [and religious imagery]!

[Coldplay's Viva La Vida is one of few artistically inspiring songs in a long while. Hurray for Christology and religious imagery!]

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sweep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing:
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never, never an honest word
That was when I ruled the world


It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in.
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

08

I went to Western High School's graduation today. Ah, nostalgia. To think that it was a year ago when I myself was standing in that football field, enrobed in white and clad with trinkets and sashes that indicated my triumph over that merciless beast - high school.

They were all so happy. I bet they were all dressed in their best, ready to celebrate the biggest event in their lives.

For some, I know for certain that this high school graduation will be the crowning peak of their lives. They may never be as high up on a pedestal as they were today, for after tonight, all of their paths must fork and wind towards different directions. Some will go off to college...get their bachelors'...their masters'...but some still will remain stagnant at where they are, and perhaps even backpedal towards meager jobs at McDonald's or at Knott's Berry Farm.

They were all so happy. I wonder if all of them have given a thought as to what they're going to do in a few years. I wonder if they'll all outgrow the drama of four years spent in an isolated society kept alive by stereotypes, labels, and cliches. I wonder if they'll ever form happier memories, or if they'll just keep on looking back at their yearbooks and recall their high school lives.

In all honesty, I do believe that it is during high school that the strong are weeded out amongst the weak. How you fare in those four years determines where you go forward in life. Shallow though it may have been, I guess high school really is all that important.

Scars of Time

It's been a week.

I don't understand why my emotions keep wavering. One moment, I'm completely assured that this is what I want - that both of us are headed towards right directions (away from one another, might I add), and the next moment I'm on the verge of tears because I fear that I've lost what may perhaps be the most beautiful thing in my life.

This is really...tough. I don't know where I'm going to get the strength to fight my sadness, when he had been the constant shoulder I cried on. He had been the sole listener to all my plights, and now he's gone. To whom am I going to vent all of these emotions? Surely, if I keep these to myself, I'd burst like a bubble.

I just wish I knew if we made the right decision or not. I just wish I could peer into my future to see what lies ahead, just so I know what to do.

I am still in love with you. It's hard to force myself to feel otherwise. But because we say it's not working, I have no choice but to feed myself half-hearted rationalizations.

But time will pass, and wounds will give way to scars.

My, what a beautiful scar this one will be.