Monday, August 31, 2009

A Post Mortem Story


Cold mist blew against Juan’s ears and filled his senses. He looked around him and saw a seemingly endless hallway, surrounded with white walls, with open doors a meter apart from each other. The tiled floor felt cold against his bare feet.

He started walking a few inches from where he started and then he heard it: the resounding voices of his parents crying from the door beside him. He decided to enter.

There he saw his mother and father, crying over a body lying lifeless on a hospital bed. With them is a female nurse silently praying beside them. Her dress sleek white, hair placed under a cap.

Juan looked at his parents and figured that they looked much older than he last saw them. Then he tried peering at the body, but could not recognize who it was. He wanted to step closer to embrace his grieving parents, but his body remained flinched and contented watching from afar.

After praying, he saw the nurse took a pillow and placed it under the corpse’s head. Then he remembered all the times he used his head to think of evil things: greed, jealousy, revenge, pain, sadness, lust, prejudice, hate.

The nurse leaned over to close the dead man’s eyes. Juan instinctively touched his own eyes and thought of the moments when he used his sense of sight in bad light: cheating in his exam, looking perversely at attractive women, seeing criminals doing evil in front of him yet he did nothing.

Then nurse started taking out the watch and jewelries worn by the deceased and handed it to the sobbing parents. Juan recognized the ring that the nurse took out last: it was his college ring. Juan then remembered how much time he spent on material things, how he preferred to work for more money than spend time with his family or go to church.

The tube placed inside the body’s mouth was carefully pulled out by the nurse, and later on was discarded in a yellow bag. Juan looked closely at the tube that was once connected to the body, and reminisced all the connections he had lost in his lifetime. How his uncaring attitude scared off the people who loved him dearly.

He then saw the nurse got a small towel from the bedside and placed it under the corpse’s chin to close its mouth. Juan recalled the times when he used his own mouth to hurt people with the words he would tell them; and the times where gluttony got the best of him not realizing that a lot of people in this world is hungry for food.

The nurse then took another towel and tenderly gave a quick bed bath, eyeing carefully on the soiled areas of the body. Juan remembered all the vices he had: alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and sexual promiscuousness. He knew these practices would take a toll on his body that he considered God’s temple, yet he let the bad habits take over him.

Using cotton balls, the nurse gently covered the dead body’s ears. Juan remembered how he always failed to listen to people--- how he would close his mind to his friends and relatives’ advices for his betterment. All he heard was the voice of pleasure and earthly desires that continually flickered and defeated the remaining spark of his good light.

She then used disposable pads to take off the feces from the corpse’s buttocks, which reminded Juan how poorly he dealt with reconciling his sins. He left the people around him with so much emotional mess that he always failed to clean up by asking for forgiveness.

Aside from the identification bracelet worn at the wrist of the dead man, the nurse placed another name tag on the right ankle. From where he was, Juan was able to read what was written on it: “Juan dela Cruz.” It made him ask himself, “How will my name be remembered by the people I shared my life with?” He wondered how his memory will be celebrated--- or loathed.

The nurse then made the bed occupied by the deceased by changing linens and gave a chance for his parents to view the body. Both of them were crying hardly as the nurse cared for the body.

Even Juan was surprised for he never saw his father shed tears in his lifetime. His Dad used to be an unbreakable, strict man which Juan rebelled against because he wanted freedom from his persevering guidance. The father was repeatedly saying, “Sorry, Anak…” as he held the deceased’s arm tightly.

And it was not the first time for Juan to see his mother crying. She cried when he went home with bruises because of school gang riots. She cried when she found out that he had to repeat his second year in high school--- twice. She cried every time his father would hit him for every shortcoming he did as a child. He thought his death will free her from the stress he gave her. He felt his parent’s pain--- far deeper than he ever felt before.

His mother was holding a rosary against the body. Juan tried to count the times when he prayed and just remained silent to hear God talking to him. He realized the time he spent for prayer was too far less from being enough.

A tear escaped from Juan’s eye. He wiped it with his hand and saw it glistening in his fingers. He saw hope.

After a few minutes, the nurse came back. She wrapped the corpse with the linens. Then Juan realized what he needed in life. He needed a sense of security, like the sense of comfort he received everytime he would tuck himself in the blankets in his bedroom when he felt alone. And he knew now where to find it.

Suddenly, the scene blurred and faded in complete sheer darkness.

Juan opened his eyes and found out he was still very alive. He was sitting on a chair while in front of a computer. Blood was splattered all over the keyboard in front of him. The light from the desktop monitor was glaring at his newly awoken state. A knife felt cold against his feet. It was a dream.

He took two pillow cases from his bed beside him and tied it tightly on his bleeding wrists.


He sat up straight, took the mouse and clicked on Microsoft Word and started typing on the keyboard:

“A Post Mortem Story”


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PS.

wind_psycho: I am NOT suicidal--- and definitely NOT emo.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Kwekquation 5: Am I Text Clingy?




Successful and lasting romantic relationships are honed by a balance of communication and distance. Through time we have heard break ups because one person in the relationship demands more time than necessary. Even love psychologists say that some space apart between lovers is healthy so that each individual in that bond would grow singly and doubly. Being too clingy to your partner might actually cause you to fall apart because of the thing we call, “romantic asphyxiation.”

Kwek-Kwek Kwekquation #5
AM I TEXT-CLINGY?

In this contemporary era, clinginess is a behavior we may assess through the way we utilize the common cellphone text messaging medium in connecting with our partners. I realized this a few months ago, because I’ve had text-clingy tendencies with my muse before. Now, I guess I’ve controlled that habit that makes me doubly frustrated.

Well… How about you?

Here’s the solution:




Where:

N: NATURE OF TEXT MESSAGES
In a scale of 1 to 10, how emergent and necessary are the majority of your text messages? (1 being, “nku bhe, tgal mgrply, 2 mins n q pnghhntay, anu na lab mu b q?” and 10 being, “love, sori ngabmbala kta. Nkidnap ako ng abu sayaf!”

for N1, rate yourself;
for N2, rate your partner.

F1: FREQUENCY OF YOUR TEXT MESSAGE
In your approximation, what is the average number of text messages you send to your partner in a day?

F2: FREQUENCY OF YOUR PARTNER’S TEXT MESSAGE
In your approximation, what is the average number of text messages you partner sends to you in a day?

B: AMOUNT OF TIME BUSY
In a scale of 1 to 10, how busy are you in a normal day? (1 being, “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….” and 10 being, “I work 25 hours a day, and too busy to even answer this simple equation.”)

for B1, rate yourself;
for B2, rate your partner.


SCORES:
The median value is 1. So, if you scored proximate to this value then you balance your time well with your partner, and not in any way asphyxiates nor leave him/her dangling freely.

If your scored way higher, then may be you are text-clingy as evidenced by too many unnecessary messages sent when you know for a fact that both of you might be very busy with your usual lives. Be content with the time your partner gives you though it is still not ample enough for you, as long as it is spent with significance.

If you scored way lower, it can only mean two things: (1) your partner is the one who is text clingy as evidenced by a deficit in your number of text messages compared to him/her, and you’re the victim of the asphyxiation, or; (2) you only send messages to your partner during dire need. You know, sometimes sweet nothings sent in moderation can really help brighten a day in your sweetheart’s life.





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Saturday, August 8, 2009

Tangentiality of Thoughts

One. During these days, money matter. When I borrowed a pen from a student and accidentally broke it, I promised to replace it. When I asked another student how a G-TEC costs, I was surprised to know that it was priced over sixty pesos.If I was a student with extremely rich parents which this pupil obviously had, would I really spend that much for a lousy ballpen?

Why can’t all goods be like fishballs that has remained fifty centavos since my birth?

Two. I’m pissed at people doubting my abilities just because I’m: (1) young; (2) inexperienced; (3) seemingly way too happy with my life. Just today, I heard feedbacks on these people questioning the Dean gave me a chance to teach advanced subjects for the course. Well, that’s another case of seniority complex and age related ethnocentrism.

The Dean defended me in the faculty meeting by saying she’d rather give tasks to those who can deliver--- really deliver.

Three. The weather lately has been so erratic. I just wonder how preschool teachers nowadays teach their students about weather--- the simple sunny, cloudy, rainy and windy day. I could hear the teacher saying,”Hey kids, today is a sunny day!” Then a pupil would raise his hand and retort, “Hallur, rainy day kaya kanina sa’min!”

As early as post-toddlerhood, adults should be able to instill to them the concept of global warming.

Four. Love’s path and career path in our lives do not coincide, nor do they have the same loops, humps, zigzags and dead ends. The transition phase of love is not similar to job hunting, that before you terminate your current job, you should make sure that you have found a secure employment to get into after resigning.

Closure of an old love is needed for a new one to begin.

Five. I realize that my only kababatas are my cousins. It’s how funny how we argued from toys to school work, talked about from video games to our work status. Some of us are married, had kids. I finished fifth in our batch in college and became an instructor. One works for an international company. Others are team leaders in call centers. Others just grew vertically and shrunk horizontally. All of us are aging with grace.

I’m happy with my generation. We made our elders proud.

Six. My young age is usually kept from the class’ knowledge for security. A student, who professed she had a slight fondness over me went to me and told me, “I’ve searched you in google sir. You’re twenty two.

Just how do you free yourself from cyberstalking?

Seven. I just realized that sixty percent of what we say about us is not true. Seventy percent of the faults we see in other people are the same unacceptable traits that we have.

At least I know, at the end of the day, I can readily admit I’m wrong if I feel I am. And I may just be wrong with the figures I've given.

Eight. I...

Nine. Am...

Ten. Tired....