Exactly who was it that said this wasn't going to be awkward again?

Warning: This post is bound to have abuse of adjectives and conjunctions, inaccurate use of metaphors, and improper use of tenses.

So. In case there're people who are like me that haven't noticed, it's December now. Yes, quite. Last time I checked I was still with my buddy angst as we whined about the variable called time and my fair weather friend called life while I slept in bed with half my textbooks buried with me. Now that I have resurfaced from this thing called school and have again been participating in the things called holidays and good cheer, please to be letting me be show you my existence this past months in fast forward.

So. It all started out jolly and well, and well, it all went to pieces. But that's fine because I enjoyed my clinicals and met a bunch of 'older adults' as we say them, as I went bumbling around in the hospitals like a non-bull in a tea shop* while I figured out how to actually use bed sheets and pillow cases on actual beds, fumbled through head-to-toe assessments, asked awkward personal questions about people's dental hygiene and bowel movements, managed not to manhandle clients as I gave bed baths, deciphered the language of scribbles adapted by healthcare providers, mentally talked myself through as I gave clients there daily medications, wore my purple scrubs, lived through being called adorable, and ultimately laughed at myself literally and figuratively as I ungracefully toddled through these eight weeks. All in all, if you're looking for awkwardness, why, I believe that there's no need to look further as I am at your service.

I've just had five exams this week and I'm supposed to be typing (I feel like that's just what I've been doing these past months. Seriously. Ugh.) my portfolio. I just wanted to say that I am done with this semester. Woohoo. :D So I have a ten-day break which I will spend catching up on sleep, my reading, watching movies and TV, and preparing for my next class which is on January 4th. And if you're wondering, yes, I will be doing it on that order, exactly that order.

I'm actually wrapping gifts right now too. Okay, I've only done one yet but I will manage to wrap all of them. Maybe.

Obviously, I am in dazed state of mind again. So. Let's just end this with more Christmas-y pictures. One more at least.


Have a bright and cheery Christmas!
_
*There's a misconception or overly used metaphor that when you put a bull in a tea shop, they will wreck the fine china and all that, but in reality, bulls, like any sane creature, would actually not break the china and the tea sets since they would avoid colliding with the cabinets or whatever the china is stored on. So, no, bulls aren't masochistic creatures that destroy china/tea shops.

Manliness is a sport.

Watched Manny Pacquiao's fight tonight against Miguel Cotto in my aunt's house across the street. Both guys were amazing! I loved how Manny smiled from the moment he walked to the ring to the moment he was saying his thanks to his supporters. I liked how he got me excited about the fight, even though I'm not a big fan of boxing, and I liked rooting for him. He was favored to win but there were doubts, and in the end it wasn't about winning or losing anymore, or who had a half-inch more in arm length, or who was faster, or even stronger. I admired Cotto's desire to last til the last round. 12 rounds of heavy beating does not sound fun, but Cotto stood up after every time he was knocked down, even after being bludgeoned and bloodied. Both of them had fighting spirit. Some people might say that there was a disadvantage of speed and strength, well of course there is; for everything there will always be someone lesser or greater.

Personally, I thought that it was a great match; I enjoyed how they both hang on, Manny for stepping up and showing that "Yes, I challenged you and I intend to prove to everyone that I deserve to win this title", and Cotto, for not backing down in all the twelve rounds even when it was going south for him. I thought that was a "I accept your challenge, let the best man win." Of course, I'm totally putting so much emotion (mushy stuff) in their fight when boxing is such a manly sport. I just admired both of them that I'm gushing over this, which is weird since I was yelling "Just punch him!!" and "No! Just stay still and get punched! Stop moving around" repeatedly earlier. My aunts were saying that we (my uncles, my tita, my lola, and my uncle's kids who were visiting) were a bunch of bloodthirsty people. I don't quite agree. Yeah, there's all that blood and violence, but it's more athleticism and skill, like any other game or sport out there. Although, I guess I'm a fan of more contact sports since I also like football. I think I like the rush of having people play together, be a team, and play a good game. And in boxing, well my dad used to box during his academy days, but more than that, I admire boxing since it is kind of vulnerable. I mean, the fact that a person has to put them self out there and say "Yeah, I can do this. I can defeat this person". You really have to be sure, you really have to train, and you really have to get hurt in order to claim, that yes, you did indeed prove yourself as a person and as a boxer. It's very emotional, I tell you. (Yeah, whatever, you're a total girl). What, I'm just happy, I'm allowed to be mushy when I'm happy, ok?

Loves like a hurricane. I am a tree.

SPAM: Now in your friendly neighborhood stores. Okay, not that spam, more like video spam. But before all that: Disclaimer: I do not own any of the videos, lyrics, or the music below. I am posting this for fun, not profit.

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about, the way
That He loves us
|How He Loves - David Crowder Band|

Oh God, I know, it’s so much more than I can dream
It’s far beyond anything I can conceive
|Heaven Is The Face - Steven Curtis Chapman|

Late have I loved you
You waited for me
I searched for you
What took me so long?
|Alive Again - Matt Maher|

Not to undermine the consequence
But you are not what you do
And when you need it most
I have a hundred reasons why I love you
|Boys (Lesson One) - Jars of Clay|

No matter how much I get sucked in the mayhem, all I have to do is close my eyes, take a breath, and think of You. And not once have You failed to make me smile and made me feel whole again.

Default to bland

I suppose this one is long overdue. I've been so busy lately that I don't even remember the last time I blogged. The last months have been devoted to studying, studying, and catching up on sleep. If you've read my previous posts you know that I've been whining about my desire to be part of a nursing program. Well, I got my wish. And you know what they say about wishing, being careful and all that. I was just so happy to finally be in the program, done with prerequisites, free from community colleges, that I got so caught up and eventually crashed down without me even noticing it.

I suppose it started with the fact that the first week was greatly exciting and overwhelming. It was like gulping down ice cream too quickly, your teeth tingle, your mouth bursts with cold and sugar, and your poor brain protests with a painful jolt. But by then I was already way into my third week. I was driving home, listening to the white noise of the radio, when I just started crying. I was tired, frustrated, miserable, and I was just done. I've met all my weekly requirements, I've gotten high 80s and 90s, I've never been late for a class, and I diligently brought all my notes and books every time. All good and great, except for the fact that I only ate once a day, forgot to pee, woke up at 5 in the morning and slept at 3 in the morning, did not know what I was doing half of the time, nor did I know how my mom was despite the fact we lived in the same house.

I suppose it was such a revelation that I just drove home with mascara blurring my eyes and my unchecked sobs choking me. I had the same problems before, pricy tuition rates, demanding (psycho) professors, simultaneous assignment due dates, not sleeping, not eating, and all that jazz when I was taking prerequisites. So what was different, if I got through all those, why was I so desperate this time? I know that nursing isn't easy, but I was just ready to tear my hair off. And I hated it. The irony of being in a Christian University was the fact that I left God the moment I got in the program. "Thanks, I can handle it from here," was basically what I said. I didn't get really far though. I was so lost and broken down without Him. I felt the desperation in my bones, but still I felt His comfort when I stayed up to 3AM typing my papers, I saw Him making me smile as I drove to school watching the silly antics of clever birds and fluffy bunny clouds, and I felt His embrace as I tiredly crept under the cover of my blankets.

The first three weeks in nursing were the most difficult for me. Not because of the overwhelming material or the lack of sleep, but because I was alone and apart from God. My prayers were half uttered, half meant. And I missed how I was before, how I was excited to go to school to learn new things, how I would say "Yay, two more exams to go", and I missed how I actually enjoyed getting high grades. I suppose it totally sucks when your life is on default to bland. Not excited by anything, always trying to catch up with time and due dates, and just being caught up in yourself. But it's easy to be stuck in that situation, it's so easy to just coast along passively. But I know better, and I refuse to live mediocrely when I have experienced an all-consuming, passion-filled life.

This isn't about being angsty or emo, or "woe is me, my life is hard", whatever you call it. It's about choosing to live more, being more, growing more. And it hurts to move forward, but it's worse to stubbornly lock yourself in corner, gathering dust like a piece of furniture. I know I'll probably get hurt more, break down, bleed, get my heart broken, get pushed to my knees, and fall down that pit once more in the future, but that's life. We don't get to live life safely in a bubble and pretend that all's good and dandy. There is no easy way. I can fully say now that I am once again back to my upbeat, perky, optimistic self and as long as I push my self to live then it's okay. And I would like to stay that way. What about you? What's keeping you defaulted to bland? What's stopping you from life?

I think this video conveys how I feel perfectly.

My life on a shuffled fast track

I felt like being silly today. So a meme for you people. :)

RULES
1. Put Your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc on Shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS
*Disclaimer: I do not own any of the mentioned songs or lyrics. I am not doing this for profit.

Are you male or female?
+ Pagbabalik by Asin
Bayan ko, nahan ka. Ako ngayo'y nag-iisa
Nais ko magbalik, sa iyo Bayan ko
Kung ako’y nagkamali sa landas na aking tinahak
- I am asexual apparently. I am a country. Heh.

Describe yourself.
+ Wedding March by Felix Mendelssohn
This is instrumental. It’s happy, funky, and familiar. /cough/

What do people feel when they're around you?
+ Goodbye Skyline by Danger Is My Middle Name
The darkness is disrupted by a whisper softer than a breeze and oh so tender like tender busted lips,
I'm laughing at those quips, I'm so damn happy why am I in pain?
The darkness is dispersed beneath the moonlight, pale as your skin and oh so bright.
Strike my heart with stakes or burn me up in flames, I'm waiting for someone to put them out.
Goodbye skyline, I'll be just fine.
–This sounds like a sadistic/masochistic relationship. Huh.

Describe your current relationship.
+ Anna by Top Suzara
I long to tell you
How much I need you
If I could find the words to say
I’d never have to feel this way
Not knowin’ just what to do when I’m with you
- Apparently being single gives me narcissistic tendencies.

Where would you like to be now?
+ For What It’s Worth by Amber Pacific
We missed our chance
I won't forget
As time will only tell where to go

How do you feel about love?
+ I’ve Got You Under My Skin by Patrick Ki
Another instrumental. It’s mellow and for all the percussion instruments sounds wispy. Erm, yeah.

What's your life like?
+ Mistakes We Knew We Were Making by Straylight Run
We'll get over it
Sad, strong, safe and sober
We'll move forward
And know where we went wrong
But you can't go home again
- Bleak, it seems.

What would you ask for if you had only one wish?
+ Caruso by Russell Watson
I love you so much
I really love you, so much
now it's a tie that melts the blood inside the veins, you know
- Love,so much of it. Apparently.

Say something wise.
+ Love On The Rocks by Sara Bareilles
You love the chase but hate me for the runaround
We both just tired of the whole thing.
You tell me what you want you need you know you have to have
And I just pretend I'm listening
- Um. Whut?

If someone says "Is this ok?" you say:
+ One (Blake’s Got A New Face) by Vampire Weekend
Oh, your collegiate grief
Has left you dowdy in sweatshirts
Absolute Horror
- Exactly.

How would you describe yourself?
+ Divertimento No. 1 in B flat major by Joseph Haydn
A classical piece. Again, mellow, almost like a song.

What do you like in a guy/girl?
+ Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Lay off
Don’t stray
Well, my kind's, your kind
I’ll stay the same!
- Fidelity?

How do you feel today?
+ Venus by Frankie Avalon
Venus, if you will
Please send a little girl for me to thrill
A girl who wants my kisses and my arms
A girl with all the charms of you
- I'm channeling Katy Perry looks like it.

What's the purpose of your life?
+ Hit the Heartbreaks by Black Kids
Oh, boo, what can I do?
It's not me, yeah, it's you
You've been hittin' the heartbrakes hard.
- I’m still debating whether I’m the one saying that or the one being told.

What is your motto?
+ Beautiful by Kari Jobe
I am letting go of all I've held
of every motive, every burden,
everything that's of myself
- That sounds about right.

What do your friends think of you?
+ The One I Love by Sufjan Stevens
This one goes out to the one I love
This one goes out to the one I left behind
A simple thought to occupy my mind
This one goes out to the one I love
- Uh. They liiiike me.

What do you think of your parents?
+ You Make Me Feel Brand New by Simply Red
Only you
Came when I needed a friend
Believed in me through thick and thin
This song is for you
Filled with gratitude and love
God bless you
- My parents. The make me feel brand new. :)

What do you think about very often?
+ Just You and Me by Zee Avi
We can build our own little world
where no one else can come through
We can live in huts made out of grass
we can greet father time as he walks pass
we can press our feet into the dirt
a little mud, no, it wouldn't hurt
- Ah travel, vacation, mud. What more do I need to think of?

What is 2+2?
+ If by Bread.
The answer is philosophical then.

What do you think of your best friend?
+ Kabilugan Ng Buwan by Drip
Kapanahunan na naman
Ng paglalambingan
At kasama kitang mamasyal

Sa kung saan

Kabilugan ng buwan

At ang hangin ay may kalamigan

Aakapin kita mahal ko

Sa buong magdamag

What do you think of the person you like?
+ Nothing Sacred by Russel Watson
If we can say goodbye
Is nothing sacred anymore?
- A bit presumptuous, Kat.

What's your life story?
+ Itoshii Hito by Miyavi
My beloved
It's not "I could die for you," but rather,
I've decided "I'll live for you"
- I choose life.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
+ She Wore Velvet by Bobby Vinton
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
- Pfft. Yes, my life’s dream.

What will you dance to at your wedding?
+ Dancing When the Stars Go Blue by Tim McGraw
Dancin' where the stars go blue
Dancin' where the evening fell
Dancin' in your wooden shoes
In a wedding gown
- That sounds apt. Ironically.

What will they play at your funeral?
+ Last Song by Gackt
The continually falling sadness
Changes into pure white snow
Through it all, I raised my head to the sky
Before this body disappears now, if my wish reaches you
Please hold me tight just once more
Even if I disappear along with this white snow
I want to always bloom in your heart
- Again, apt.

What's your hobby?
+ The Hat by Ingrid Michaelson
I knitted you a hat all blue and gold
To keep your ears warm from the Binghamton cold
It was my first one and it was too small
It didn't fit you at all, but you wore it just the same
- Knitting. Always wanted to try it. Sounds fun.

What's your biggest secret?
+ I’m Making Eyes At You by Black Kids
Oh please don't, please don't speak
You'll kill the mystique
Oh baby let's not, let's not dance
We'll ruin our chances
Oh, in between the drinks
I can't help but think that
Even as we speak
We kill the mystique
- I secretly don’t know how to dance. HAHAHAHA

Playing Hooky...

I finally get a break, in a form of the academic Spring Break. I feel ambivalent though since I'm still thinking of the many things I need to do, like my Utopia outline, my Statistics homework, my Pathophysiology case studies and notes, and my World Religion worksheets, and oh, start my research for my Health Care Ethics presentation. It's not really a break, I say, when my brain is still working and fried. But beggars can't be choosers, I certainly am appreciative of the break of driving 34 miles everyday, of waking up before my alarm does, and of struggling with a parking space, and not to mention the familiarity of facing some of my zany professors. Yup, I am totally happy right now even with the workload.

I've been back to college for three months now. I've been handling the stress pretty well (are you sure?!) considering the fact that I have a full load. Famous last words, Kat (cue evil, maniacal laughter). The only thing more stressful than class requirements are people. I have met the most awesome, weirdest, world-record breaking, insane, dumb-founding, and memorable people this semester. Take my Patho professor, I've been complaining about her all semester. Maybe it's because she doesn't have PowerPoint or it could be the fact that she has time to have manicures twice a week but no time to change the erroneous exams she gives us. But it could just be the fact that people who took her last semester absolutely adore her, but I'm still waiting for that person to come to class. Mondays and Wednesdays are devoted to complaints against her. Maybe it's my pride that's bruised for getting Bs in her exams and not As.

And then there's my classmate in Patho, B. She's fifteen years my senior, one of the smartest persons I know, and one of the most interesting. It could be because she has experienced most of the diseases we've covered in class: Hemolytic anemia of the newborn, Jaundiced at birth, Constantly low blood pressure even with medication, hypovolemic shock, congenital heart problems, anaphylactic shock, and oh, she's allergic to 80% of the medication out there. That's what I call phenomenal. But it could also be because she's on counseling right now because her husband is a jerk. Case in point when he let their health insurance lapse, and when he constantly goes hiking when he should be job hunting, and when he should at least wash the dishes since he's the one at home. Makes me want to stay the heck away from marriage. Whatever the reason I find her fascinating we get along famously. Thick as thieves, as Lemony Snicket would say.

Another professor, my Buddhist World Religions teacher, makes me laugh. It could be because of the fact that she keeps saying she's a double capricorn and won't grow up, whatever that means. Or the fact that she disses all religions, even hers, but especially mine. Or maybe it's because she owns tons of cats, has myasthenia gravis, and keeps saying "I'm not ready for this" when it comes to our exams. She certainly is quirky, you have to admit a person who's willing to sabotage their jury duty is something.

Then there's Maria, of the Filipino-French-Vietnamese parentage. She's divorced, loves dancing, and is usually late for class. She's divorced because her ex-husband was pre-meditatively killing her. Isn't that obvious when your spouse lists down a number of ways to make you angry when he knows you have a heart problem, and then conveniently says, "I love you" afterwards in an attempt to soothe you? Or it could be the way he conveniently leaves a "Dear John" letter for her in his bag and dismissing it as "nothing." But then later you change jobs, change cellphone numbers, and refuse to leave a forwarding address. Charming.

There's tons more of people that make my list. And in their own way, make me laugh, cringe, gape in shock, roll my eyes, and just about see life in their eyes. Why the list? Well, they make me realize that everyone is a small person in the universe. All of us have our own little worlds but it all comes down to the fact that everyone living has stress, crappy spouses, insane professors, cats, and mounds of homework. It humbles me that I am not alone in my misery but with other people I can be free to laugh, cry, scream in frustration, and live.

So I'm playing hooky, with the knowledge that it's okay to just be sometimes.

A Break From the Pity Party

My pity party is finally in conclusion. After weeks of tears, hair pulling, and sequestering myself in my room, I am now salvaging my pride and resurfacing as a human being. Maybe I should leave it at this. I should just exercise my facial muscles and smile again. But I need to write or I'll forever hold it and drag it with me to my last breath.

Ah, drama, how you fill my life with angst and profound melancholic monologues. I went to church yesterday with my Dad. I didn't want to since I had cramps and all that lovely time of the month joys of being a woman. But I knew he would be disappointed and I would feel guilty, so there we were. The guest preacher was funny, self-deprecating, and honestly confessed to a family case of inherited depression and self-medication. My kind of person. His message was aptly entitled "I Am Not A Victim." Huh. And there I was enraptured as he talked of his granddaughter's weepy soccer game, Jesus' miserable time on earth, his mom's seemingly pointless death, a parents' brutally murdered son, the elevator of choice: up for heaven and down for hell, and of why God doesn't answer our most esoteric question: Why?

"Because He's God, and He's right, and you don't get to ask that question." He was kidding, of course, but yeah, it feels that way sometimes. When my uncle passed away, I asked God why; Why did He allow my uncle to die when He could just have healed him? So I was angry and hurt, and it hurt more that I was angry at God when I've loved Him since I've known Him. Add to the fact that I was stressed out over my classes, and being bombarded by blasphemous statements by my World Religions professor, having no time to clean the house, piling papers needed to be started, and having someone tailgate me to the point of hitting my car's rear end. Ah, hell. Wonderful.

I used to think that asking God why would result in being struck by lightning and damnation to a voidless, dark, pit. But I learned recently that if you're honest with God, He'll be equally honest with you. It didn't matter what God's answer was, in hindsight, I just wanted the assurance that He would answer. The preacher said that asking God why should not were we should exert our effort, but in searching for God's plan for us. Pain happens, and you could either choose being a victim, or believing that God has a plan. Jesus suffered on earth too, but have you ever felt that he was a victim in all that you've read of him? I'm sure he didn't enjoy some or most of the experiences he's had on earth, similarly, we don't either.

Sometimes life is hell. But hell, as I learned yesterday, is just the absence of God. When we choose to be victims, we take God out of the equation and instead believe that life is just random and out of control. I don't want to be a victim, I want God there with me. As my Patho prof says, "there are no victims, only volunteers." I certainly don't want to volunteer for hell. So I'll start by pressing the Up button; it's tempting to stay wallowing in hell but no thanks.

with these hands

When I look at my hands I always remember what my eldest sister said, "Artist hands." Long, thin fingers, unmanicured. Scars on on finger, two moles on another. I like my hands. We used to have a family friend visit us on the Farm when I was younger. I remember her teaching me how to color. That is my earliest memory of liking art. When I grew up I always asked my parents to buy me coloring books and crayons. Crayolas and coloring books were there in place of dolls and dresses.

I was never a girly girl to begin with. So dolls still scare me to this day. Another cousin of mine, Kuya Steve, is a great artist. I remember when we visited in Manila I would go to his room just to look at the paintings on his walls and even on his ceiling. He made me draw a vase of flowers once but the Crayola coloring me just looked at the pencil and blank piece of paper like it was alien. I attempted to draw but it ended up looking like an abstract piece. It still makes me laugh when I think of that.

Highschool crept up and my parents no longer thought coloring books were appropriate for me. I got distracted by computer games but I still liked pastels and watercolors. One time though, a teacher wanted the whole class to draw him a horse. A horse. Not everyone in our class has seen a horse, they were all city kids. And even if I knew how a horse looked like I couldn't draw one to save my soul. A stick figure horse was unacceptable. But lo and behold, this one guy was an artist. So our classmates commissioned him to draw a horse for every one of us. He saved us all, with his artist hands and his horse.

I became really envious of him. Not that I wanted to save the class with horses. No, what I wanted was to have his artist hands so I wouldn't need someone to save me because they can conjure a horse on paper. So I started drawing again, and asked my parents to buy me sketchpads and pencils. My sister Darlene also encouraged me to draw since she was really good at drawing, coloring, painting...okay, she was good at all kinds of art. And I wanted to be an artist too, innate talent or no.

Fast forward years later, I have artist hands, after all. What I lacked was practice. And now that I stopped drawing, my art looks like stick figures again. I look at my hands now and know what they are capable of doing. I look at my hands and wish I can draw every single day. I seem to have lost my muse. I know that is not true, what I lost is my first love. Art is and will always be my first love. So now that I'm back to rank Amateur, all I can do is draw and draw and draw until art comes back to me. You accept art in whatever form because art will come to you however it wishes.

Lessons from our backyard

For the past six weeks my Dad has been with us here in Arizona. In the last couple of years, six weeks is not the longest we have been together, but six weeks weighs more than a year's worth of Skype video chats, sparse cellphone conversations, and at most, bi-weekly emails. I have never thought about the strangeness of this situation a lot. Since it's not like I think it is strange. Not seeing or talking or hearing from my Dad daily is as normal as my hair tangling up like a wretched hairball. Both are certainly unappealing, though hairballs are generally more disgusting. By unappealing, I mean that daughters usually want to know how their father is faring and vice versa. In my case, I DO want to know how my father is faring but again, in my case, that's just not always been possible. There was that one simple hang up with us not being in the same house, or even in the same continent. Good news, we're in the same planet.

I have (as you mostly are all probably aware) always been a daddy's girl. My mom and I are close but my dad and I just mesh better. As cliched as being a daddy's girl is, I think it's enjoyable. Most of the time, anyway. My dad is a military man, a math man, a straight forward and loyal man, a Bible man, a generous man, a well respected man. Not in that exact order but he is certainly the kind of guy you want with you when your car breaks down or when you are lost in this crazy Twilight Zone kind of place. Being with him again has reminded me and shown me that as smart mouthed and sarcastic I am most of the time, I still need my dad in my life. Especially since I usually keep everything to myself to the point of bursting my figurative innards.

Ever since I can remember I have always tagged along with my dad. Driving with him to Manila or taking the bus back to the Farm, I have always been by his side. Most of our conversations were conducted on the move or during nap time when I was trying to make him sleep so I could play. One time when I was four and my brother would not let me join him and his friends play, I went to my parents' room and sat beside my dad. I was clearly sulking so my dad asked me what happened. And I just told him, "I wish I was born a guy, then I could do whatever I wanted." My dad just laughed at that and replied, "Not every thing's going to be okay if you were a guy. That's why God didn't make you that way." I just humphed and stayed quiet. When I was five, I told him I wanted to be an assassin when I grew up. My eldest sister looked at me then at my dad when he calmly said, "That's not really an easy profession, why don't you choose something else?" My sister wholeheartedly agreed with him.

There were many instances of me saying some random thing to him and he would respond in a straight forward manner, despite the amusement or astonishment to my sentiments. I have always felt that he was not talking to me as a child but as a person. Once, we were parked somewhere and just sat there watching jeepneys when I noticed the signs painted on the sides of the jeeps. I asked him, "So where is 'Vice Versa' located in Cebu?" He was silent for a couple of seconds before responding, "Vice Versa?" I nodded as he started saying, "It means it also goes the other way around. It's not a place in Cebu." And with that, I sat silently, and we burst out laughing. There goes my English classes.

The past six weeks, he's been taking care of our backyard. My dad's first love is planting, and plants love him too. So my mom has given him the task of planting new plants and flowers in place of the ones that have succumbed to the desert heat. The plants which have been withering before are now basking on growth since my dad started caring for them. Another project he was tasked to do was to replant the uprooted tree on my aunt's backyard. He took me there one afternoon with his shovel, his ropes, a couple of stakes, and my car's jack. All the while I was angsting over what my mom told me just hours ago. He did all the talking while tying up the tree, talking about his childhood and how my grandfather gave him a job in the farm. I sat on the loose rocks and listened to him talk of responsibility and the hardship of sacrifice. In the end, we prayed and he asked me if I was hurt by what my mom said. I tried explaining but all he wanted was a Yes or No answer. I said yes, and he replied, "Ok. It's okay to tell her you were hurt."

I've learned a lot from my dad, and I'm still learning. I've learned that it's okay to say what you feel, and that you should. I learned that driving a car should only be done when you are sure of what you're doing. I've learned that math will not eat you alive, and that anything can be learned if you are willing to. I've learned how to really plant a flower and not see it die in two days. I've learned how to cement bricks, the difference between cementing and plastering, and that if you get cement on your hair you can wash it off as long as it hasn't hardened yet. I've learned that gardening and watering plants are relaxing and enjoyable work. I've learned that taking a break can be relaxing and enjoyable too, especially after you really worked hard.

My dad is a great influence in my life, and by great I mean in intensity and ability. I went back to Philippines one time to figure out if I should take Nursing or not. My mom wanted me to, of course, but she wanted me to decide. My dad gave me a verse in Psalm and I decided on Nursing. "Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me." Despite the fact that Art was my first love, I decided on taking a risk with Nursing because of my dad's confidence and support in me. And in times when I doubt myself for my choice, I remember that verse and feel better again.

I had a conversation on the phone once with my dad where he was asking me if I missed him. I thought about it for a second before I answered, "No." He was clearly taken aback by that and replied in a hurt voice, "Oh, why don't you miss me? Why did you answer no?" I just said, "Well I don't miss you right now. And you told me not to lie." My mom had to explain to him later that I was just an abnormal kid and did not think normally. The truth is I miss him everyday. But I just don't think of him so I don't miss him so I don't think I miss him. It's not logical but that's just the way I cope with not seeing my family. For me it's not absence making a heart fonder, but out of sight, out of mind. But when I do say I miss someone, I really do miss them. Cross my heart.

So when my dad goes to San Francisco tomorrow, I may not get to say goodby to him at the airport. Or I may forget to email him in a week. But I think it's safe to say that I will miss him even as I bury myself on schoolwork and reading. Lessons from our backyard go from mundane to enlightening, from poignant to silly, and from father to daughter but the answer to "Do you miss me?" will always be "Yes," from now to forever.

to hear you say that

there's so many things i want to say. the things that i keep inside and exchange a smile instead. it's funny how as an introvert i rarely say what i want to. it annoys my sisters, or rather bothers them, i should say. when they ask me what i want, without fail i answer "just choose what you want, it's fine by me." and they ask me again what i want, i reply minutes (eternities) later. i know how to choose, i just don't choose for myself. i don't really blame anyone for that. it's my flaw that i nourished growing up. i let other people take away my power of choice. what i eat, when i eat, which dress i buy, which shoe i wear, what class i take, when i take the class, which movie to watch, and so on. you may say, but kat those are such small decisions, they don't really matter. indeed, but they matter to me.

i want to change. i don't want to rely on other people to live my life for me. i don't like living that way. it isn't because of me wanting control. it's just me wanting to be free of other people controlling me. i know that they mean well, and i know they want what's best for me but that can only go so far. if i let other people choose how i live my life, i might as well give them my life to do away with it. i am not rebelling. that's absurd. i just want to make my own choices. i just want to be able to make my own mistakes and know that they're still proud of me. not that i made a mistake but because i am my own person.

my dad wrote me an email a while ago which made me cry for some reason. he said he was proud of me for getting the grade i wanted in my classes and for learning a lot the past semester. why cry? i guess because it meant a lot to me. i made a choice the last semester to not give up until i finished. usually i'd just say i don't care anymore, que sera, sera. but this time, i decided to push myself more and refuse to back down. it was a great feeling when i finally got the grade i worked so much for. i felt so accomplished. and it made me happy that i made my parents happy. to hear them say that i did great was momentous. hopefully, it will remind me that i have the power to choose. to choose whether i want to be great or not. or whether i eat that chocolate or not. whatever.

there goes that dream.

I want to be a cow. Because cows don't need to drink milk, and they say "Moo."
I want to be orange. Because it's glaringly obvious, in an 'in your face' kind of way.
I want to be a calendar. Because I wouldn't have to worry about losing track of days.
I want to be music. Because music doesn't worry about not being heard.
I want to be a pair of slippers. Because being barefoot isn't all that great.
I want to be a satellite. Because. Just because it's cool.
I want to be an amusing, witty comeback. Because it just begs to be used.
I want to be a speck of dust. Because, why not, right?
I want to be a dictionary. Because we sometimes need words to convey stuff, articulately.
I want to be lightning during a storm. Because I get to touch the heavens and the earth.
I want to be a black Sharpie marker. Because it's bold, that's why.
I want to be a nostalgic summer day. Because of the warm breeze and rustling trees.
I want to be a shiny, new toy. Because it's exciting and fun.
I want to be a serious conversation. Because of awkward silences that have meaning, depth.
I want to be a letter in the alphabet. Because you'll miss me when I'm not there.
I want to be a picture on your desk. Because you smile when you see me.
I want to be a sandcastle. Because of your effort and teamwork, and memories.
I want to be a worn book. Because it shows the adventure of my existence.
I want to be a great, epic movie. Because, well, I love movies.
I want to be the sky. Because duh. It's the sky!!
I want to be joy. Because I'm permanent in your heart.
I want to be a doorbell. Because, again, why not?
I want to be the caps lock button. Because IT CAN EXPRESS HOW YOU FEEL.
I want to be the neighbor's barking dog. Because anything annoying can also be cute.
I want to be a special moment. Because it's a turning point.
I want to be a map without the water. Because don't you want to know what's under all that ocean you see?
I want to be a question mark. Because questions need answers.
I want to be that silly inside joke. Because it gets you laughing all the time.
I want to be a chocolate parfait. Because it sounds better than chocolate ice cream.
I want to be the computer cursor. Because, try using your computer without one sometime, eh.
I want to be a dream. Because it urges you onward.

Spring.

I'm just pausing in writing a lab report on membrane transport. I feel like my head will explode with the monotony of repetitive words like solution, diffusion, reagents, and unsupported hypothesis.

My arm hurts less now, not that it was hurting a lot to start with (I accidentally burned myself). But I think the burns are slowly healing, I hope so anyway. I didn't even feel pain when I burned myself... tsk tsk tsk. Ouch. Oh well. Maybe my brain was just too busy absorbing three chapters before our second Bio exam.

Speaking of Bio exams, I hope I get a higher score this time. Our professor is so hopelessly disorganized but extremely demanding. My classmates say that he's in his own universe. Funny, I think so too. He is so weird. But I appreciate his weirdness these days unlike before. But I hope that he'll be more organized. Seriously, our first lab reports we gave him early September was just returned this week, mid October. Yeah, I think that's a big time span...but who knows maybe he really is extremely busy.

Argh. I scratched my car. Idiot. Who doesn't notice a huge pole in the middle of a parking lot? Seriously. I got the car scratched when I was parking. Who does that?! Only me, I tell you. Good thing Mama didn't get mad at me. Papa reminded me that I shouldn't "move the car when unsure." Sigh, at least it wasn't worse. Thank God.

It's almost Mama's birthday. A week away from now. I still don't have a gift for her though. I don't know what to get her. Hmm...

Oh my gosh. I have issues. I've been eating chocolate since September that it's not funny anymore. Chocolate = comfort food. Maybe. But comfort food is not equal to healthy. My brain says "but it has antioxidants and stuff," yeah, I'm also going to be a diabetic if I keep at it. So I must resist!!

I have new acquaintances from class. Sounds fun. They're mostly girls. Tiana and Leean are my age. They sit next to me in lecture.  Rebecca, whom I call Debbie/Becky, is my age also, maybe. She's usually my lab partner along with Tina who is slightly older, like 10 years older and married. Tina and Tiana are my study buddies. They try to study and I entertain them. Anyway, guys from my class are okay-okay. Muhammad is usually the guy who asks how I did in the test or something. Howard, the blond behind me in lecture, always or most usually asks the prof a question he can't answer. I don't know who I pity more, Howard or our disorganized prof.

Anyway, maybe this 27th Mama and I are going to the lake with her previous work pals. Dee invited us to her boat. Wow, I'll be acquainted with a large body of water. Huzzah! I miss the beach. It's almost nearing November...Mama is having her trip. Shucks, sucks to be alone but good thing I'm used to it, ne?

So this ends my blog update of my boxed life. And I'm off to make more icedtea and go back to writing that elusive lab report.

Yosh :)

I got my instruction permit this morning so I can finally drive again, with adult supervision though. I'm back to square one but that's fine with me since I'm not exactly a pro at driving yet. :) I am a scary driver. *cue maniacal laughter* Tsh. I'll improve, have faith. *hahaha*

Seriously, getting a license back in the Philippines was way easier than getting one here. There are a lot scary drivers back in the Philippines but it's scarier to drive here since the police actually catch bad drivers. :) In the Philippines, you either don't get caught or get caught because of a corrupt cop. Hey, I'm not saying all cops are bad but they do exist. No offense.

I'll just have to do my best and practice driving again so I can drive myself to school. Next thing I have to do is look for a job, part-time or something like that. I need to earn money for gas and allowance and other needed necessities. Redundant but true. LOL. Growing up. I'm growing up. *hums excitedly*