tales of my busted ankle: boredom = the coolest ipod in the multiverse

3:47 pm

being a highly dual individual, i tend to see the good and bad of things quite easily.

given my sprained ankle, i was unable to go to work since friday evening. with the doctor's "yes," i could be able to go to work tomorrow, which is good news for me.

since the night of my little accident, i've been idle at home. now the mere thought of idleness makes me...bored. then again, as i mentioned in my last post, maybe this is the break that i was secretly hoping for.

so what i ended up mostly doing was update my playlist. i've imported a bunch of cd's into my music player. my musical taste amuses me sometimes--i have nirvana, me first and the gimme-gimmes (a punk band specializing in covers of pop songs), early madonna, modern kylie, antonio vivaldi, frank sinatra, and johann pachelbel in that 500-song white contraption.

my ipod is the best in the multiverse. beat that.

tales of my busted ankle

i sprained my left ankle two days ago. i was going down the steps of our third floor apartment and was almost out the gate, when whoosh! i suddenly flew. i have no recollection of my anti-gravity moment, but i do know that i landed.. badly.

quite immediately, my ankle became swollen and painful as heck. obviously, i ended up not going to work that night.

i slept off the worst part of the pain then. there were no tears for this crybaby, just grogginess and a lot of discomfort. that, and impatience: i wanted to know when i was gonna be better. i was declaring platitudes of "i'm gonna get better by tuesday, i swear it!"

the next day the swelling tamed down, and i realized how hard it was to be (temporarily) physically incapacitated. don't get me wrong, i already am, given my awful eyesight--but i manage to get by with what my HMO manual calls "corrective devices." this was different. walking around our apartment with one good foot and another one dragging behind was...odd. all right, annoying. in tagalog, hasel. given my legendary impatience, i even went so far as to hopping on my right leg--of course it became painful later, ha ha, serves me right.

strangely, my inner hypochondriac didn't jump to life, as it normally does in situations like these. see, i've never, ever been confined in a hospital. i always made sure that i'd be well enough not to be dressed in a hospital gown, injected with intravenous fluids, and fussed over by well-meaning relatives and friends. the thought alone scares me.

so i went to a nearby clinic a while ago and had my foot x-rayed as well. now i walk abnormally fast, given my impatient streak, but today i was limping steadily along. funnily enough, i was right--the doc advised me that i could go back to work tuesday.

i miss normal mobility, i'll have you know--then again, this may well be an unexpected break. in fact i spent the whole of last night importing cd's to the laptop and updating my ipod list.

and yes i know i should be more careful next time

sometimes, it can get to you...

on a slightly negative note, i'm pissed right now. i really am. it's a common fact that life will not exactly work the way you want it.

i am well aware that there are some things i cannot change. i just feel that entitled to more than what i am being given or what i see in front of me.

argh

==

i took this personal DNA test last night and i realized that this part is oh-so-true:

You're not rigid in your beliefs about the world, and you don't want to impose your perspective on others, but at the same time, you know that plenty of people don't always act responsibly.

it's "best friend" day

(originally posted 11.24, 12:01 am)

bea
and i were scheduled to meet up at greenbelt for dinner and happy feet.
mark called me and we chatted up while i was walking to fish & co.

bei arrived. we ate, watched movie, and went our separate ways.

i go online when i get back. i text bei that i'm technically home. mark's online but he's busy, i don't bug him.

gp goes online a few minutes later, buzzes. we talk. i bug mark after a few.



these are people i haven't heard from for quite some time now--and i am very happy that i have. all in the same day, no less.

Happy Feet

Rating:	★★★
Category:	Movies
Genre:	Animation

You may find it happy, but I didn't. Not much, at least.

Okay, so Happy Feet starts out cute. Real cute. Along the way more cuteness ensues, along with the heart-stopping chase scene, and even more cuteness. Slight sadness, too. Then cuteness.

And then political issues come in.

I would have appreciated the sudden change of direction if the moviemakers weren't so blatant about it. It suddenly wasn't so cute anymore.

Don't get me wrong. It was still cute.

House MD - Seasons 1 & 2

Rating:	★★★★
Category:	Other

So one day my older sister Teena brought home a very much pirated but nicely-functioning two-DVD set of House MD. Initially I had my typical cynical apprehension. Still reeling from annoyance at the callousness of Grey's Anatomy (fine--I like it, but it just irritates me), I had misgivings with yet another medical drama.

Ranting about Grey's will completely derail me from this review, but getting straight to my point--House MD just freaking rocks.

House is, erm, Dr. Gregory House, head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine of the Princeton Plainsboro Training Hospital in New Jersey. Played by British actor Hugh Laurie who has traces of the accent whatsoever, House is an antagonistic, manipulative yet brilliant doctor. Along with him are Dr. Eric Foreman, a no-nonsense neurologist; Dr. Robert Chase, the pretty-boy-with-brains intensivist; and Dr. Allison Cameron, the emotional and infatuated-with-House immunologist. Paraphrasing the DVD cover blurb, he and his team of medical sleuths uncover weekly mysteries.

The first season was highly charged and exciting--everything was established and put in its place. House's impeccable wit and sarcasm was effectively put into play, and he seemed to be invincible all the time. One particular scene I adored was when House pulled out tiny figurines from a toddler's nostril.

The next season, on the other hand, became a bit of a drag for me--maybe it was because it showed more humanized characters, House himself especially. In spite of that, my two favorite episodes are from the second season: Euphoria Part One and Two, which I will not spoil because I want you to watch this series.

So, there. Get your copies.

Bea's birthday!

Start:

Dec 12, '06 12:00a

a letter to God

dear Lord,

everything's crazy right now, in a very good sense. there is no other word for me to describe my entire situation--or, to put it ever so succinctly, my LIFE.

i'm beginning to ask if i even DESERVE all of this, but i won't, because that would be unwise and demeaning to You. i'm just so THANKFUL right now, YOU have NO IDEA.

i can only say THANK YOU. THANK YOU. and THANK YOU.

and thank you even MORE.

cineuropa!!

Link

Team Aki team building

Start:	Nov 15, '06
End:	Nov 16, '06
Location:	Concepcion, Marikina

ate karess

i have two younger siblings from my father. their names and ages are abigail, eight years old, and jose maria the fourth, four years old. i first met them when i first went to baguio july of last year. i initially found them to be the pesky, annoying, KSP-type--then again you know how these things typically are.

admittedly i am the typical bunso, and you know how bunsos operate. they're spoiled, used to getting their way, and used to getting all the attention, aside from being affectionate and happy-go-lucky. so being ever-so-typically bunso (not to mention immature), i resented a lot of things. sure, the kids are faultless, but i hated them for no clear reason.

i rememberan incident on how my insecurity was manifested. the first one was the first time abby and i met each other. it was the morning after i arrived from manila, and abby and i were downstairs having breakfast. my older sisters and i call our pop "daddy," but abby and max address him as "papa." so abbey was clearly perplexed (and i think at that point still unaware of our existence) for the name i called our father.

"bakit daddy yung tawag mo sa kanya?" abby asked, with all the innocence of seven-year-olds.

"eh daddy ko siya eh," was my snide, sarcasm-infused reply. it was short of saying that "hey, little girl, he is MY daddy, no matter what."

i have been to baguio from last weekend and somehow had a POV shift. of course the ilang was ever-present, but kids are evidently unaware of complications like these. abby and max flocked to kat and i, their older sisters. the last time i went to baguio was christmastime, and in spite of all my wicked stepsister shenanigans, the kids were still...nice. abby was still as sweet and affectionate (and LOUD) as ever. max, who had started school this year, had developed the habit of speaking english, which was funny and endearing.

i don't know what brought on this change, but i feel so much better about them now. i was with them for three days. i realized that i had ate potential, and that you could occasionally use sarcasm to scold your younger kin, just like what teena does. i even prepared max's bedtime milk. woah.

so there. being an older sister isn't all that it's cracked up to be. i just need more lessons in that department, though.

==

oh and you wanna know something cool? i'm the middlest-middle kid now.

GP's birthday

Start:

Oct 24, '06 12:00a

people

phonetography

gotta love camera phones. hahaha!

Xazia & Zoilo.3gp

Two of the most adorable kids on the planet.

bonnie somerville's winding road

this song oh-so-perfectly sums up everything that i am feeling/going through/experiencing at the moment. if you can, go download it. 

 

amazing how one night can change your life

 

==

 

Artist: Bonnie Somerville Lyrics
Song: Winding Road Lyrics

Well, the rain keeps on coming down
It feels like a flood in my head
And that road keeps on calling me
Screaming to everything lying ahead

And it's a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
I still don't know
Where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
I still have hope
I'm gonna find my way home

And I can see a little house
On top of the hill
And I can smell the ocean
The salt in the air
And I can see you
You're standing there
And you're washing your car
And I can see California sun in your hair

And its a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
Still don't know
Where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
Still have hope
I'm gonna find my way home

All these dreams took me so far
And I felt I just couldn't go on
And I want to hang
Out the window of your car
And see just how good this baby can run

'Cause it's a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
And I still don't know
Where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
Still have hope
We're gonna find our way home

It's a winding road
Still have hope
One day we'll find our way home
It's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
Still have hope
We're gonna find our way home

It's a long way home
It's a long way home

hard work

admittedly, being a baby Christian is hard work.

Jesus always stressed the importance of loving God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and loving your neighbor as yourself.

in my case, however... *sigh*.

last sunday the topic was on walking with God, and there were three ways in order for anyone to do this: first was obedience, second was agreement, and third was intimacy. enoch was the benchmark for walking with God. we don't know absolutely anything about him: all we know is that he lived for 365 years and didn't die. God just took him away, because he simply walked with God.

it was also stressed that God wasn't looking for diplomas or vital statistics or whatever--God just wants us to obey, agree, and be intimate with him. THAT simple.

admittedly i have a penchant for complicating things. i think and overthink, analyze and overanalyze. i find it difficult to accept simple truth. i'm not content with just what what is presented to me: it has to be proven down to the very last fiber. that belief is quite contradictory to the Christian faith, because that very word--faith--is the beginning and end of all things.

along with that is my (almost) natural tendency to criticize. my good friend karl characterized me as a nitpicker. admittedly, i do find pleasure in finding fault in things--especially other people. i tend to judge quickly. i mean, i claim to be a Christian yet I have like ten million sins a day. i'm turning into something i don't want to be: a hypocrite.

then again that's when the simplicity of wanting to walk with God comes in. Lord, i don't want to be like that anymore. i don't want to judge and okray and just be freaking mean anymore.

*cough sniffle* Yay!

Yay! New Multiply up. I'm still under the weather--in fact, I have been since Friday. Note to self: REALLY quit smoking. Too much of it + lack of sleep due to odd work hours = not good at all.

Anyway, I've tinkering with my brand-spanking new Multiply site, and I wanted to make good use of it. The old one (under username GodofDeath) I deleted because it was so...I dunno, corny and useless. I couldn't upload my other photos because my DeviantArt is working weird.

I miss my FOTOCAM (Photography for Comm Arts majors) days. I wish I had an SLR cam with me and some ISO 400 film so I could snap snap snap all I want.



Oh and I miss writing too. I haven't really written anything in quite a while. A bunch of reviews, yes, but not really good old features. I haven't also done prod work in quite a while, and I miss the panic and tiredness and flurry of it all.

Maybe I should just rest and revive my health instead

Casablanca

Rating:	★★★★
Category:	Movies
Genre:	Classics

Admittedly, I'm a classic movie junkie. I guess my college sophomore year Introduction to Film (INTROFI) days haven't wavered in spite of uber-busyness.

And after one such extended day-off period, I kicked back and watched this wonderful film.

From what I remember, back in the day they made films in sets. Looking at this movie, you'd be surprised at how natural everything looks. Casablanca, located at the tip of French Morocco, is like the Catholic notion of Purgatory--you can't go to the New World or go back to German-occupied France, so you're stuck there until you get a visa. Now you really can't get a visa unless you're filthy rich, because you "buy" it from the Captain of Police--which is pretty much like the Philippines in that respect.

Underneath the rich political storyline is the romantic one that accompanies it. Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart, who rocks) is a bitter, cynical, jaded, younameit cafe owner who "doesn't stick out (his) neck for anybody." Suddenly Ilea (Ingrid Bergman, all needy and good at it) pops out of nowhere, and the flashback explains why Rick was smoking and drinking himself to pieces after Ilea left the cafe. It appears that they had a wonderful affair in Paris, but when the Germans marched into France and Rick and Ilea were set to leave, she didn't come along with him. Which explains the bitterness and et cetera.

Dialogue was witty, too: I found myself chuckling at more than a few scenes. This film may also induce some tears. Not in my case, though. Hahaha.

From this point I'll stop because I'll get ahead of myself and not let you watch it. It may be a hard find in video stores, but once you find it, it's a gem.

Smaller and Smaller Circles

Rating:	★★★★
Category:	Books
Genre:	Mystery & Thrillers
Author:	FC Batacan

Once upon a time, a friend saw me reading this in our org office-slash-tambayan more than a few months ago. He remarked that this was an engaging read. I had to take his word for it: he was a former Literature major.

He was right. It *is* an engaging read. The fact that this novel is also detective fiction makes it all the more interesting. I mean, you don't really get to read a lot of Pinoy detfic books out there, do you?

Gus Saenz the protagonist exudes this charisma of sorts that makes him...attractive. The fact that he's a priest also makes it pretty cool. You don't really hear of priests doing dirty forensic work--and in the Philippines, no less.

Jerome, his assistant, is somewhat typecasted as the typical hotheaded sidekick, but he has a mind of his own. He doesn't hang on to Saenz's every word. And he complements Saenz's cool.

The killer wasn't creepy enough, but his handiwork was. I swear, I was kinikilabutan as badly as I read Edgar Allan Poe back in sixth grade. Vivid imagery and all that. This is probably what I like best about this book.

It's a good buy, too, for just Php130. I haven't gotten myself a copy yet, but I know I will.

The Alchemist

Rating:	★★★★★
Category:	Books
Genre:	Literature & Fiction
Author:	Paulo Coelho

Let me start off by saying that I used to HATE this book because everyone was raving about it. "Everyone," from critics, to my PHILORL seatmate, to my Friendster friends. Being the then-non conformist that I was, I took an instant dislike to it. There was no way I would read it, not ever. I was vehemently against it even if I hadn't read it yet.

Then I did, and I realized how wrong I was.

If you've read a few of his books (previously I've read "Veronika Decides to Die", parts of "Eleven Minutes", and a smaller part of "By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept"), you'd easily grow accustomed to his light and simple writing style. He has a very light touch of humor that is so subtle you really wouldn't sense it immediately. Compared to the previous three I've read, however, The Alchemist deserves a second, third, and umpteenth read (and I must say that "Veronika Decides to Die" is a close second to that).

Oh, and get this--this book made me cry. Thrice. It was the first time that a book ever had that kind of effect on me.

So much for the vehemence.

Daddy's 60th

Start:	Oct 20, '06 01:00a
End:	Oct 22, '06
Location:	Baguio

miscellaneousness

electronicated

http://electronicated.blogspot.com
where I actually blog. nothing much to find here, except for random eclavu stuff.

cleaning toilets. it's one of my favorite things t...

cleaning toilets. it's one of my favorite things to do.

seriously. i know i'm the world's OC-est slob (i can alphabetize my CD collection and manage to make my workstation resemble a papermill wastage factory), but give me some soap, a sponge (or a handheld brush) and a toilet, and i'm done for.

you're probably wondering where gloves are in the equation. well, i clean sans gloves. it's just said sponge or brush between me and the toilet. i've never used gloves, but i'm not too bent on the idea of trying them, either. gloves are messy, heavy, annoyingly rubbery, and...they harbor germs. well, my hands get germy too, but at least they won't get moldy and smelly after i wash them ten million times.

it's a ritualistic thing more than anything else. and, at the end of the ritual, i see a sparkly, pearly-white toilet in front of me. and i smile.

whee.

==

listen to this song:

fidelity

and love it.

Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall
Just to break my fall