Of Blast Sites and Rugby Boys

Due to my self-imposed exile from the Philippine media (and at times, the rest of the world) and my inability to afford cable subscription, I own a TV but only use it to watch DVD's. I figured, anything that I want to watch I can get from the internet or from my friendly neighborhood pirates. I don't need to get any more disappointed in the industry that I previously wanted to be a part of, and day-to-day exposure to local news and shows kinda does that. Plus, I have this weird tendency to continue staring at the TV even when I hate what I'm watching. So now, I choose to choose what I watch.

But I digress.

Last night (or was it last, last night?) I got a text message from a friend about the local news calling the Glorietta blast site, "Ground Zero" and how annoying it is that they're hyping things up again. Now, I understand that this is big news. I'm also sorry for the loss of the people whose family members have died in this unfortunate event but come on... Ground Zero???

Lemme get this straight, you're actually likening this to an aircraft smashing into a 110-story building killing thousands of people and striking fear and terror in the people of one of the world's superpowers? Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly in love with the US - I get yelled at every night by the dumb racists who live there - but at times like these, is that all that you can do, create a Filipino version of something that's theirs? By doing that you're actually insulting the people who died and were hurt in Glorietta, all the casualties of World Trade, and heck yes, even the suicide bomber in the 9/11 attack. By sensationalizing the news local media has managed to reduce this into a mere copycat of a much larger thing when we should be focusing on how stupid this actually is. Yes this is stupid - it has accomplished nothing. Did the bomber/s hang around long enough for the bomb to actually blast him/them into pieces as well? People like that guy/those guys should realize that this isn't helping. If you're not satisfied with how things are going around here (i.e., the Philippines) and you can't think of anything that actually would help, you just either think harder or shut up and get over it. Otherwise, if you really need to kill someone, kill yourself. No need to include everybody else. At least the 9/11 bomber had enough sense to make it a suicide mission. Ok, ok, kidding. But really, half-meant.

And so now I go into my second blog topic for today: my apparent desensitization. I dunno if there actually is such a word but my friend told me I was "desensitized" and so I transformed it into a noun to describe the process. My friend saw a couple of kid junkies preparing their night's stash of rugby and commented that it was depressing, and I told him I somehow didn't see it that way. Ergo, the description. Am I? I know that at a certain level I might be, but in this situation, I just thought, "Heck, at least they're happy." Of course I know I have no way of knowing if they actually are happy, but I dunno, I just thought they might be. At least after they get the rugby-high they will be.

Maybe I am desensitized.

Of Burnout and Psychosomatic Illnesses

A few weeks ago I was wondering how I can sleep so little and yet wake up so refreshed and energized, it's like I slept for 8 hours in a king-size bed in down covers with an 800+ thread count. ( In reality, I sleep for about 4-5 hours in an uncomfortably narrow leather couch. See how it amazes me?) During Friday nights I go out to work, I manage to not sleep the whole day on Saturday, sleep a little on Sunday, sleep a little again on Monday and again start the daily ritual of going to work. Not a problem.



Just when I thought though that I had finally managed to condition myself to maximise my time, I went back to my old sleeping issues. Now, I can sleep for 9 hours and wake up as if I'd been running the whole time. I'm tired, I get cranky easily and I feel as if I'm always on the verge of catching a fever, which I never actually catch. (Not that I'd actually want to, but what's the use of feeling sick if you can't excuse yourself from work because of it?) After pushing myself to go to work every weekday for the last 5 months (which is a feat for me, really), I started to not go to work again. I don't feel well, yes, but I stil could've gone there if I wanted to. I didn't have any gimmicks to go to, no other valid reason apart from I don't feel like it. I spent my shift hours alternately staring at my laptop, the TV screen and my ceiling and pestering other people who were about to sleep at their respective homes. Maybe the sudden resignation of 6 people around me (3 of whom were close to me and the other 3 weren't) forced me to re-think my situation and reminded me of who I really was. I'm not this corporate drone I keep pretending to be. I am not this eager beaver desperately wanting the validation of a mentor. Why do I try so hard to be so unlike good old me?

Ugh. Burnout again, eh?

I need to get myself checked tomorrow, er, later. I actually think I made myself sick. My throat's all scratchy, my nose is clogged, and again, that semi-imaginary fever. Last thing I need is to spend money on medicine for illnesses my brain is convincing me that I have.

I need to pull myself together... again... soon.

Restart and Shut Down

It's funny how last week I thought I had it all figured out. I was gonna try and make a difference at work, I was gonna look for ways on how I can do writing-related stuff in the finance field that'd keep me afloat until I get the courage and savings to move outta here, and then I'd actually move out - sometime next year supposedly - and start working on a new career.

It's funny how one weekend can change all that. Almost funny how the people who were supposed to back you up, who were supposed to be happy you were happy would be bitter that you seem to be having the time of your life. Even worse, I wasn't. I was trying to keep it all together so I could stay sane, so I wouldn't be so much of a bitch to everybody and give myself a break, but it was misconstrued, and now I have to suffer. They look at me differently because they think I'm lucky to have this life. Little do they understand that I only look happy from their perspective because they don't look closely enough, that during the times when I feel alone, or when I'm a mess, they're not there, and I'm too stubborn to actually ask them to be there.

They never heard a word from me. I never told them how unfair it was that they only look for me when they need something from me, never told them how hurtful it was that they only seem to value me when I can provide something for them. Even now as I type words into this website that they'd never see, I know it won't matter because they'd never figure out that this is me.

I need to pick up the pieces of my life and draft a plan B real soon, because my plan A won't work. I feel like I'm floating around drifting from relationships - filial, platonic and romantic - and all I really have is myself. I gotta figure things out real soon, I can't afford to fall apart again. Not now when I actually saw an opportunity to change. Not now when for the first time I was actually able to start.

Welcome Back!

3 welcome posts so far. damn, i suck as a blogger!

Hopefully though i'd be able to blog a bit more often this time. Self-improvement project's on the way, goals and deadlines set. Hafta monitor my progress and see what I can actually do with my life when i pull the reins in and try to take control. Need to stop bitchin about the way things are and actually try and do something about 'em instead.

Let's hope it actually takes me somewhere.