Hospitals

So tonight I thought about becoming a doctor (physician, as per AMA) again. I don't know if it's because I saw Enchanted today, and McDreamy was in it. Maybe. Or maybe because I accompanied Roger to the hospital today and saw all those doctors in their professional-looking white coats and their nameplates with "M.D." after their names. Roger asked me about med reps, too, and for some reason, I woke up from my evening nap (yes, I take naps in the evening... pretty much anytime I want to, actually, if I'm just at home... batugan much) thinking about those nifty little prescription pads: the generic, hospital-issue ones; the commercial ones from pharma companies that the docs end up giving to their children (these were the reason I decided to come up with a signature even when I don't think I knew how to write yet); and the neat- and kind of classic-looking but somehow very practical personalized ones, with the doctor's name at the top, followed by his/her contact information and clinic schedule. But yes, for the first time in a while, I gave attention to the thought (usually I let it just sort of brush the surface of my immediate consciousness and allow it to be a fleeting thought). I do come from a family of doctors. I did take a pre-med course. I think I have the brains for it, and I suppose I have an EQ sufficient to gather the discipline for it. So what if it'll take me years and years before I actually become a doctor, and I'll be more than 30 by the time I have a life and a career? So what if I have to go through the ordeal of school again? I'm really planning to go back to school anyway. And at the end of it, I'll be a doctor! A friggin doctor! But, as always, I came to the same conclusion: no go.

If I go into med, I'll have to give up my art, my music, my dreams (and I don't mean dreams like ambitions, not really). I won't have time to just think and feel and be, to explore the world and my mind and everything beyond and in between. And all that is essential to me. I know because I lost it once (with my current job, which left me no time at the end of the day to even just think, and which I am leaving very, very soon... I'm not just saying that, either; I'm handing in my resignation next week, hooray for me!), and it was horrible, like I didn't know what to do with myself when I had free time, and I just didn't know who I was or what I was all about anymore--and I'm still going through the process of finding it. Retracing my steps, being moody and impulsive sometimes, the occasional cry or all-out bawl. It's fun, exciting, painful sometimes... but it's a journey. What I mean is, I am actually moving. I am no longer stagnant; my life is no longer stagnant. I'm headed somewhere again. For someone whose occupation on Friendster is "explorer," dammit, it's about time.

I took my youngest full sister (I have a half-sister) to see a movie (Enchanted) earlier. She's 14 today (technically yesterday; it's past midnight). My mom told me that she cried last night because my lolo is in the hospital (minor surgery to remove a tennis-ball-sized cyst under his armpit, *youch*), which means no family celebration today. There'll be another time, for sure, but she had this day all planned out: instead of dinner, sit-down ice cream at the newly opened Haagen-Dazs ice cream parlor in Town. She's big on birthdays, and for likely longer than a month or two, she'd been really looking forward to today, thinking that today would be her day. She even prayed that there would be classes today (typhoons waiting to happen lately) so that everyone at school could greet her. So she felt bad about today not being her day, after having looked forward to it for so long: she's a kid; at the same time, she felt guilty about feeling bad about it: she's a good kid. Good thing I bought her a 5-pack of these cute miniature boxed chocolate candies. When I got home, I left them outside her door with a note that said, "NO GUILT. We cannot help how we feel. It is how we choose to act that counts. Happy 14th birthday!"

This morning, there was a thank you note from her under my door. I decided to ask some of my friends to text her a greeting. After much debate with myself, I also decided to skip work, visit my lolo if I could (which I ended up not doing; he was in recovery till the afternoon, and after that, it started to rain pretty hard, with some pretty strong winds), and take my sister out. She was so happy when she got home from school; she was practically skipping. I gave her 3 options: shopping on a P500 budget (so that isn't really shopping, but I'm not rich yet, ok?), a nice meal/dinner, or a movie and cheap food. After some deliberation, she went with option 3. So she dressed up all nice (I didn't bother to change out of the shorts and a giant T-shirt I had been wearing all day), we headed to Town, bought the movie tickets, and got some KFC (which really isn't so cheap, after all) to eat during the movie. She loved the movie, kept giving me these awwwwwww! looks, got all blubbery but didn't cry (which she was so proud about; she always cries), and spilled some of her KFC on her nice little birthday dress-top thing (the new ultimate sandwich really is ultimate, but it's kind of hard/messy to eat; worth it, though). On the way back to the car, she raved about the movie and told me about Ashlee Simpson getting her face done (we saw an ad with her on it, and she looks hella different), and we got our feet wet braving the floody puddles in the parking lot. At home, she hugged me and told me thank you. I told her to wash her feet, and as she hopped along on her merry way, I got into my room (sanctuary), eased myself onto my bed, pulled up the covers, read a bit (Stephen King's Dreamcatchers; I'm pretty far along now but still don't know what I think of it, though at this point, I think I liked all the others I've read better), and had a lovely lovely gorgeous sleep. Whose arms I must now return to.

Three

You: with the big, soft eyes
long-lashed and glassy
You: with the loving hands
expressive and protective
You: with your strong arms
warm and cozy, like home
You: with the childlike smile
naughty, innocent, a little bit of both
You: with your solid body
meat and bone and sinew
You: with your temper
you heat up so fast
(I must always be with you
touch my palm to the nape of your neck
and think cool, think water
to calm you)
You: with your ardor
it's the one thing guaranteed to overwhelm me to tears
You: with the sheer intensity of your desire
(it) drives me to blissful surrender
You, with that frank guilelessness
so that I hate myself for knowing I might only hurt you
You: with that subdued playfulness
that endears everyone to you

I have come to know this much of you
I have come to see this much of you
I have come to love this much of you
And I will never be the same

Good in the World and Another Movie

Okay, so my first post was kind of negative. Just so happened that I had just watched the film before I started writing. But I don't think that the world is all evil and doomed and beyond hope. Heheh. There still is much good in the world. I promise!

So I saw another movie, Save the Last Dance 2. No, this is NOT a movie blog. Again, just so happened that I saw two movies on the same day, and both elicited reactions, one coz it was quite good, and the other coz it was quite the opposite. Felt kind of cheated after. I mean, for one thing, the main character was the same as the one in the first movie (the storyline was supposed to be a continuation of that of the first), but the actress was different, and her portrayal of the role and the way she danced were incredibly different from the first. Kind of disconcerting. Not only was the acting inconsistent; it also wasn't very good. The story wasn't too great either. There was no conflict! I mean, there were little conflicts, but they weren't drawn out well, and they were easily resolvable and did not merit all the drama. There were some interesting ideas about art/music/dance and classical vs. modern in there, but they were barely touched on. And, ok, I'm normally forgiving about the story aspect of dance movies because i watch them mostly for the dancing, but the dancing wasn't even all that hot. Kind of boring actually. No spice, no oomph, no "flava," yknow?

What a waste.

Helter Skelter

The thing is, I might have fallen for his whole propaganda, too, had I been lost and alone and feeling misunderstood and unjustly treated by people in the "normal" world. He offered food, shelter, company, a sense of belongingness to a "family" and of indispensability, but beyond that, blasphemously akin to the Jesus Christ he claimed to be, he offered a ready-made synthetic soul crafted in his image and likeness, complete with a twisted belief system whose faith centered around himself and his desires. Which is the what lost souls look for: an object of faith, something spiritual and transcendent to cling on to. And it was instant, immediate; it eliminated need for long, lonely, sleepless nights of thinking and soul searching and philosophizing and the trial-and-error process of searching for meaning. So, in as much as I'd like to pass off his followers as stupid and insist that any person with a shred of intelligence never would've fallen for any of it, I just can't. Because he preyed not on weak minds but on weak spirits. Kind of a scary thought, particularly because many people these days seem to be out of touch with their inner selves. With such an abundance of hungry souls who don't know where go, if another man came along, one much like Manson but more charismatic, more intelligent, more strategic and patient, and with more resources at hand... I can only imagine what would happen. Or, with all the holy wars going on, is it already happening?