Countdown

5 May 2013

I’m pushing myself too hard that I am wrung out. Up to now I’m still not sure if I use my mind more than my heart.

I was excited today. Sam had to leave for home. Though I dislike the thought of it, I was comforted by the change of scenery and the movies that come with the bus trips.

The deworming guide makes me crazy. I don’t know if I could stand it any longer. I really planned to not write anything repulsive or depressing but I feel I have to let this out. My mind is so full and so wracked up I no longer know what to do. This happens to me so often, me getting at the end of my rope and not knowing what else to do.

What happens to me whenever I am working is this: I whip up something. It is in my voice. My voice is too chatty, nonsensical and monotonous. But I find it warm and friendly, very conversational. That’s not how scientific writing, which is required of me from the office, should be. I still can’t get it! Haaah! So frustrating! When I try writing in a formal tone I sound like an automaton, totally devoid of emotion. And when I’m in that frame of mind, I can’t make my writing sound simple. It becomes totally obfuscating the reader would rather be in a labyrinth since GPS already exists. Why does that style of writing evade me? I cannot fathom how they do it. My hunch is that I have chanelled myself out too much into the realm of formal English and extreme pedantry I totally lose everything. Even my demeanor changes. I act as if I lack life and the level of thought I’m currently in is so deep even I get lost in it, completely clueless as to how to find my way back. My humor would not even put up with me that I do not find everything funny as I used to.

I remember that I wrote before that it was as if I was trying not to be myself in my work. I am surrounded by people who are judgmental of whatever I say that I am readily convinced to shut up. I cannot separate aspects of me as easily. If I change one part of me, all others change too. So when I tried to become stuffy just to sound formal in my writing or at least formidable to be believed in by others, I am becoming more confused as to who I am. 

Changing one’s frame of mind really is powerful. Whether it works for good or bad, it really works.

Okay, after all that out, let’s get back to Sam. When we were on our bus voyage to Batangas port, I was having a good time. I was even thinking that I would go and write about a lot of things I missed writing from days ago. One was when I got to Tagaytay, not just to pass by, but to actually stay there in a hotel.

I just saw that I am out of my mind lately. I had an entry, anything but lukewarm which I dated April 4 which I actually wrote May 4.

To the Tagaytay team outing again, there were a lot of chances for me to be happy: plenty of things to be thankful for and to enjoy. Because I am taking work so seriously, I am crippled. I cannot walk out of where I am now. I want that to change.

In the Tagaytay trip, as expected, we had an alcohol night. My back was so hot and itchy and it’s difficult to breathe. Red spots must be erupting in my back was what I thought as I was emptying my second bottle of San Mig light. The moon was a waning gibbous, in a curious red hue. My bladder was showing off how small it was and my kidneys were working so fast, I peed at three minute intervals. I felt woozy already but I was able to walk straight. To me I was walking straight, but I was drunk so that observation is not reliable. Maybe they were too so there’s no issue.

Before going to the “red light district,” we had a feast at Josephine’s, something I would’ve enjoyed. It’s food! The satisfaction was not optimum. Kept on calling Sam and Grace alternately and texting Grace messages of deep regret and shame. I just told her that Donya Buding, her hard disk drive, which she entrusted to me, can no longer be accessed. It won’t open anymore. I was throwing shit at Sam as well. It was worse when I was back during Labor Day. We marched to Grace and I was yelling at her at the street. It’s a disgusting habit. To the dumpster is where that belongs.

Grace remained true to her name. At ten pm before her trip to Ho Chi Minh, Sam and I were at her door. So Jade’s out of the condo, renting some place else and Grace was still all hospitable. How could she do it? She’s amazing. I’m sure she’ll meet her objective in Vietnam – to win souls and make disciples.

The sphere of Grace’s influence was on me May 1. Jerome told the story of his dad and their farm on our trip from Tagaytay, before we arrived at King Bee, the Chinese restaurant by a gate to Sta. Rosa Estates 2. I saw from the road Ling’s house. Nostalgia was a fire. I also set my eyes twice on Ling’s beloved alma mater, the Adventist University of the Philippines (AUP). I texted Em immediately after I saw their grounds as our junior doctor informed us that the expanse of uninterrupted land was AUP.

Jerome told us how they are literally living on faith as a family, under his father’s leadership. Our team leader also was telling stories of his life, imparting nuggets of life lessons which left us unblemished by raw reality. Three stories of inspiration in a day and one wallowing heart. I hope I had a weeping heart, even for a day. Why can’t I weep?

I’m writing in chunks as if I don’t care about chronology. Sorry. I type as they appeal before me to present their case. Before we went to Tagaytay, the three of us (I and the interns) had to travel to Katipunan so we could hitch a ride with our male research associate (only one male research associate’s left now. The other, my immediate supervisor, already left the team.). We were late. I thought we wouldn’t make it on time to the hotel. We did. He said he drove fast. Maybe I didn’t know what fast was then or I was imperceptive to it because I was in a car. (Just another side story, at periods when I was stressed, I always imagine myself driving a car through the race track at top speed. I miss my bike already and the surfeit of stars in my familiar galaxy.)

A guy at the Recto station helped us purchase tickets faster because the ticket dispensing machine spewed out coins we fed to it at random for no particular reason than to exasperate us. The LRT2 administration probably should shut those machines off than deceive passengers that they work.

I am now recounting the moments when God was waving a hand at me, “Hello! I exist and I love you. Please believe me.” Permit me to use fortunate (though I do not believe in luck) because I am. I am granted grace. I receive those that I have not worked for, generously. It was I who set up scrawny boundaries.

I spent 2 days and a night at Tagaytay. I did not pay for it. I stayed in a hotel and had free meals – at Josephine’s, the Manor Café and King Bee. My travel fees were accounted for by free car rides. What had I done but look through the passenger side mirror and alternately smile and wince. When I find something humorous, I kill the smile away immediately. I can’t relax. Healthy state of mind, auto restore! chanted like the red power ranger. Transform! Autobots assemble! I’m mixing them up deliberately.

I am blessed and loved but if I bottle up, intent on staying stagnant, not receiving my portion from life, I’ll wither.