simpleng hiling–impromptu

December 14, 2009

Too often, we sing songs out of mechanical habit. More often than not, we sing because the melody’s catchy or the artist is a worldwide phenomenon, but by impulse, we sing because we’re infected by the emotion of the song. Nowadays, we sing alongside Ryan Cayabyab Jose Mari Chan, as well as local artists that sing for politicians like Regine Velasquez and Chito Miranda. Abs-cbn’s “Star ng Pasko” is even a crowd favorite. Obviously, music takes up a huge chunk in the Filipinos’ identity, and why shouldn’t it be? It adds to the merriment of the festive lights of the season, and it can boost our already happy nature as we busy ourselves with preparations for the upcoming banquet this twenty-fifth of December.

Yet, in the midst of all the shiny gifts, the elegant decorations, the caroling in the streets and the noise from the firecrackers, have we ever stopped to actually prepare ourselves? Did we take time to actually listen not only to the common message of the songs outpouring in the radio, but to really hear out and take to heart the need to share our blessings, especially in this time of waiting?

In the aftermath of Ondoy and the recent Maguindanao massacre, the spirit of Christmas is lost, floating and sinking alternately in the wave of political campaigns and terrorism. It doesn’t help either that most companies still take advantage and repackage the significance of one special infant’s birth in an effort to sell their products. Yes, it is wonderful news that we as a people have decided to share our sufferings together and that the majority extended their help for the rehabilitation of the victims. There are also organizations going out of their way to reach out to those who have less in life, and although more and more individuals took notice and contributed their share, there are still even more people who need your love. There are still millions of children dying everyday because of hunger or from abuse of their fragile bodies.

While we wait out for the coming of our Savior, let us take our excesses in our hands and give them to those who need it the most. Love your fellow brothers, even if they cannot love you in return. And while we’re at it, let us remember that we don’t have to tell the whole world about it, for the true sense of giving is the act of sharing ourselves without expecting, not even a dose of recognition for our efforts, anything in return.

About three Christmases ago, I heard this song for the first time, and while listening to it, my eyes heated up. I repeated the song over and over and it’s been in my system since then. It’s entitled “My grown up Christmas list”, which was originally by David Foster and Linda Thompson-Jenner, but whose lyrics were edited by Amy Grant years later. You should listen to it. You don’t have to be eighteen to listen to it because what’s important is that you assimilate the song’s love and selflessness. Like I said, music is a huge part of who we are, and although our preferences vary, it would be good for humanity for us to listen to songs that pluck at our souls more frequently than usual, because sometimes, we all get too caught up with our selfish rants that we forget to listen to our graces. I’m not a child, but my heart still can dream. Share the love, and love would never end.

i could have been a rock

December 8, 2009

sometimes it’s comforting to actually have time for yourself to think and to appreciate all that surrounds you, but at other times, the presence of another individual can be soothing and priceless.

i’ve tried my hand at fiction, again, but i’m not sure if it’ll last long enough for me to actually finish something.

you ever wonder how amazing words are? how they can affect one so much that the power overcomes our weaknesses, our frailty? take “i miss you” for example. it’s only three syllables but its mere utterance can make your day a whole lot better. i think it has to do with the fact that people want to be wanted, that humans live to be needed, and stating something like yearning is proof that we can’t live alone. it also implies that being who you are, just living out your life, not merely existing ’cause that’s a different story, can be enough impact on another person that at some point of separation, you are sought after and wanted.

but it’s different when relationships evolve and people’s roles change. i believe the time spent together really is a factor in the quality of the relationship between any two people. see, they may be inseparable in the first semester, but break them off and place them in separate sections and drifting apart is bound to happen. the challenge then is to maintain or at least regulate what you’ve both establish before the separation.

augh. but why am i even talking about relationships when i can’t even keep up with my old friends? why couldn’t i just be a rock? if i had been one, all i’d do is sit idle day in and day out and i wouldn’t have to worry one bit.

there’s this movie, “departures” i saw last December 2. and it made me think so much that i came to a point when i concluded to myself that i could be Japanese. the people of Japan are known for their subtlety and the simplicity of their movies, of their stories and their music. and it got to me: i could survive in Japan or wherever Japanese people are. i could be Japanese. i can go on appreciating landscapes and instrumental piano, cello pieces and the beauty of death for twenty-four hours and i still wouldn’t tire of it!

so much for patriotism.

Helen

October 29, 2009

My patient had Schizophrenia, undifferentiated, and i found out later on that she had been in DMC for quite a while now.

We left Davao at 5:30 in the morning of October 24 and arrived in CDO around 12:45-1:00 in the afternoon.

so that’s it for the basics. now for the meat of the meal:

After the 2-week duty, I realize that somehow my thirst for growth and development, for self-actualization and wholeness, grew a thousand-fold! I guess it has much to do with the fact that I only saw the bigger picture in Davao. I was also able to take in the impact of love and support from the family and the relevance of functional support systems in the mental hygiene and health of an individual. Finally, I measured myself and contemplated with much scrutiny the whole of my being and the purpose of my life.

I guess the two-week exposure was a makeshift pilgrimage for me. At the end of the day, I asked myself, why shouldn’t I be a nurse?

of grades and nursing

September 12, 2009

so how am i supposed to explain this phenomenon that seems to drag on and on and on?

we spend time, energy, sweat, saliva and materials, and yet we get almost nothing in exchange. aren’t we really just working for nothing but letters and numerical figures by the end of each semester? and when i think about it, grades aren’t even real! hell, they’re not even tangible. but we go through oceans and move beyond continents just for a measly letter off the alphabet that supposedly summarizes our performance! ha! one letter to cover the entire scope of my skills and the things that i learned?

and from that grade, from that single character written down in ink, lays our future. that letter can either make or break our sanity, can either be the drug to trigger our highs or the alcohol to pull us down the drain. that small figure stands as the main chairman between father and son, daughter and mother, aunts and neices/nephews on whether they’d share an open thrapeutic relationship or not.

and from there, comes the need to fulfill expectations and the illusion that we have to redeem ourselves for the sake of our parents and our ever supportive families.

when you think about it, it’s the angst ridden teenagers like me who would still suffer in the end. and they call it a fair system. pfft.

moving on.