Powetree

I ate an early dinner yesterday evening and crawled into my bed to get a very late siesta. I grabbed a small notebook from the shelf along the way to try to read myself to sleep. The notebook was rather familiar to me. It was a collection of poetry I wrote from years ago which I intend to (hopefully) publish in the future.

Reading through the poems I wrote, I felt a little sad. They were very powerful, intense and passionate--as I was then. I wrote with angst, with vengeance for trespasses both real and imagined. I wrote with the blind conviction of a fanatic, blood and tears pouring from pen into parchment. I wrote like a victim. I wrote like a god.

I don't know which one made me more sad--having to read the anxiety and the drama that goes along with puberty and channeled into dark poetry or having to read sad but beautiful poetry written by my own hands realizing I will never get close to writing them again. I remember it was so easy to write then. I would lie in bed, with a pen and whatsoever paper I can get my hands on--tissue, scratch, receipts--and write. The outcomes were not great all the time, but I think they're rather good. Now, each time I managed to find the time and be inspired to write about something, I break. The words don't come as easily anymore. It seems my hands no longer remember how to write, my mind to imagine and my soul to empathize. Is it because I grew up and left all the angst behind me? Is it because requitted love is not as inspiring as an unrequitted one? Is it because I finally got to realize that poetry as an art eventually becomes obsolete when work and personal responsibilities eventually take the spotlight in someone's life?

As I write now, I remember the poetry I wrote and their words reverberated in my core. I guess we all do need something to get us through the day. I wrote them to get through mine. I think, it was wrong to feel sad reading through them. Moreover, I should've been proud. For those brief years, at least, I was able to write like a victim. And I wrote like a god.

The Heat is On

As I predicted, the past two weeks had been very hectic for me. I can breathe a little easier for now, but that is just about it. I have so much to write about and so little time to do so. So I'll keep this post rather short.

Swamped with work, classes and make-up classes for two weeks, my body is just about to give up. Adding more to the stress, is the pressure of processing my papers as soon as possible to have myself recredentialed to another state. My first choice, of course, is Ohio so I can watch a live game by Lebron james and the Cleveland Cavaliers. But then, Lebron may be transferring to another team come 2010. I am now considering Pennsylvania as my other State. The main reason I chose that is because Tepi will be going there as well. So at least, if I have someone close to me with me, I won't feel as nervous and as stressed as I would be alone. For the record, I have never ever been completely independent my whole life and that would be a very big challenge for me. A year has already passed since I passed my Toefl and I believe once I have started processing my papers, I would have to take a leave off from work to study the stateboards. Were it still taken in Guam, I will have studied while working at the same time. But because of the leakage scandal and the test's transferrence to the mainland, the level of exam difficulty I believe was raised three notches higher. Woe is me.

Adding to the stress, is the possibility that the PT office will be virtually empty by the end of the first semester. Ms Aj, Ms Ronz, and Ms Sheila are closest as possible to having themselves interviewed. Tepi will follow soon after. Left lurking in the school corridors would be Raymund and yours truly. To add to that, it is increasingly difficult to find new faculty to replace them. Furthermore, the College is also planning to open an OT department to fill the soon-to-be incredibly state-of-the-art PT department at the hospital.

It makes me want to jump out the window from the pressure. And I know soon, either Zaw, Jenny, or Emz will draw first blood on that US license. Once, one of them has it, I believe that everything will snowball. I hope it's not too early to say that the predictions of former teachers like Doc Alekz that our batch is very lucky because by the time we graduate, the demand for PT in the US will rise again. For the time being, it seems so. I hope I can get there on time.

Ang Sa Facebook na Bala

This and next week would probably be two of my most hectic weeks for the entire semester. I have a lot to do, stuff to finish, books to read, practicals to schedule, schedules to reschedule and I am wearing out. I would've wanted to take solace in alcohol but I don't think it would be helpful at this time. I probably won't be able to get drunk for the next two weeks. Soooo sad.

I thought I was supposed to have a class right at this time but Ms AJ told me she would still be the lecturer, and so here I am, writing once more.

Since I am virtually stuck on Facebook, I want to rant about some things. I have about 1400+ friends on FB. Don't be alarmed. I am not that friendly anyway. I added people I don't know because of my Mafia Wars application. I placed them on a list called "Loser Mafia Friends" and I placed people I know on my "Real Frenz" list so I can chat up with them if I wanted to. If an FB friend post in his/her wall in a foreign language aside from English, I automatically hide him/her. Even real friends who post nonsense are automatically hidden. I also hide friends who post every few minutes to announce whatever bullstuff they are doing as if people are dying to take part in the blow-by-blow account of their lives. I don't delete them as friends but I hide them. Bwahaha.

One thing that also pisses me off and merits automatic inhibition from my wall feeds are friends who post about their love lives on FB. Don't get me wrong. Professing your love for your partner, spouse, fubu or whoever is perfectly okay as long as you don't do it on a regular basis. Posting "Sigh! I miss him so much", followed after an hour or two by "Love is...." followed by "Wishes to spend the day with him" sends a shiver up my scoliotic spine. WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR F*****G LOVELIFE OR YOUR NEED FOR ONE? You don't have to advertise your profession of love for whoever prick you are interested with because NOBODY cares except you. The prick is probably having an affair somewhere right now and never uses Facebook kay nasa Friendster stage pa lang xa. I mean why do you have to post everything? Why? Because it's your wall and you can do anything with it? That's right. As I also reserve my right to hide you and never hear from you again. We are still friends though, technically, but that's just about it.

Murphy's Law

Murphy's Law states that whatever bad might happen will. Today is an exemplary proof of that.

I woke up early and finished off my facebook duties playing all my applications, accepting friends and making comments. I ate breakfast and prepared my travelling bag. I was going to Bacolod to meet up with Dame for a nice and cozy weekend R and R. It was a rainy day so I wore a jacket and went straight to school. I had a short class at 12 lunchtime and my stockpile of testpapers are still in limbo awaiting checking. The bag was quite heavy, with Dame's hair spa containers, lotions and other preservatives. Plus, I bought a book along so I could study for Monday's class.

After class, I went straight to Biscocho Haus to buy some pasalubongs and to eat lunch there as well. The rain was starting to pour a little heavier and the smell of steaming hot dinuguan is too tantalizing to resist. Alas, they don't have rice anymore. They even ran out of puto. After I finished buying a box of biscocho, I decided to eat somewhere else. Fortunately, across the street was a small eatery serving bopiz, one of my favorite spicy foods ever. The food was divine and I felt better even after carrying my heavy travelling bag over one shoulder and the box of biscocho on the other hand.

Then, I remembered I had to get some money from the ATM machine so I took a detour towards SM Delgado. I went straight to BDO Valeria and waited in line. The line was relatively long so I was starting to get impatient. As my turn was nearing, the guy who was withdrawing kept for very long. I saw on the screen something written like "Please take your cash". Problem was, the screen never changed for about 10 minutes. The ATM hanged and crashed. I wasted my time waiting in line for nothing. Irked but helpless I crossed the street and went inside SM BDO. 2 ATM machines were offline, the other one can only process balance inquiries and the last one had people falling in line like fans wanting to see their dead idol in Rudy Fernandez's wake. This time, I'm starting to get impatient walking around for nothing, carrying a heavy bag and straining my shoulders. I strode towards BDO Quezon, hoping for a ray of light. The stupid contraption of a machine called ATM was once again offline. Cursing under my breath, I stomped towards Robinson's to get my money. The rain was pouring but it was humid and I was sweating. My armpits and my brows were sweating profusely like I had a workout. And as fate would have it, offline man ang depota nga ATM sa Robinson's! Argh!

I angrily texted Dame if it would be possible for her to withdraw from her ATM and I will just replace it when I come back and she said yes. I checked my watch and hurriedly commuted towards the pier. When I got off the jeepney, I saw people walking away from the pier and I happily grinned that I made it on time. Time check 1:45. Next trip is 2pm Weesam Express and 2:15pm OceanJet. I will make it! Hurray! My luck is finally changing!

Boom! I spoke to soon. The booking counter for OceanJet was swarmed with commuters. They were noisy, rowdy and wet from the rain. They looked like refugees from war. As I entered the crowd, I heard the terrible whispers of my fellow would-be passengers. Weesam Express announced at 10am that they will cancel all their trips from Iloilo to Bacolod for today. Apparently, their two boats need repairs. This explains why everyone is crowding at Ocean Jet. It's Friday and everybody wanted to kill to go home. I fell in line to get a ticket. The line is a short version of the Great Wall of China but wound like multiple letter Z's attached end to end to accomodate everyone. To make matters worse, it was raining. Hard. As I inched my way towards the counter, they announced that the 3:45 trip is already fully booked. Steam rose from my nostrils as I gritted my teeth in frustration. Soon after they announced they are giving out 5:15 pm tickets. Chance passengers only. WHAT? YUDIPOTA! GINAGO NA GID NA YA! I'm wetter than a pornstar's mons from falling in line in the pouring rain tas hambalon lang chance passenger ko? YUT imo na lang na! Some people approached me and told me to go to Dumangas and take a RO-RO with them. It was okay actually I'd be paying 250 pesos for the entire trip. Problem is I would arrive in the evening when I don't have a bus or a van to take me to Dame's hometown. that would be a double whammy.

Defeated and chilled, I decided to just go home. I tetxed Dame and she was very understanding about it thankfully. As I was walking away, I made a mental image of myself cursing the heavens and shouting "Bakit ako pa?" BAKIT AKO PAAAAA...... kag nadanlog ko. Mayo lang ke nakapanguyapot sa railings. Ay linte na pangabuhi ni ah. -.-

Licenxa

I almost jumped out of my chair in shock last night when I heard that only 2 out of the 6 board takers from school passed the PT licensure exams held during the weekend. It's a big blow to the morale of the institution and the college. It is a bigger blow to the PT faculty, including myself, because such result puts into question the competency of its mentors to educate. And although I have been teaching for less than a year and I haven't really handled this particular batch of boardtakers, still this does not spare me from the burden of having to bear the dismay of those on top. We only had a 33% passing rate when the national rate is about 40+%. That is dismal.

Right after the board exams, the takers confided to Ms Tep and Ms Ronz that the APK (Anatomy, Physiology and Kinesiology) part of the exam was a killer. APK used to be the easiest as most of the questions were recycled. I noticed that year after year the exam gets harder and harder to pass. Yes, when the demand for PTs abroad went from a surge to a standstill, the exams (including the one I took in 2006) were a bit easier. Now that the demand is on the rise again (thanks to the baby boomer generation), the exams tend to get a little bit harder each time. This does not spare the State Board Exams necessary to work in the US. I remember 3-4 years back a lot of people kept on passing the US exam on the first take. These days, if you pass the exam on the first take it's either you are indeed well prepared, smart or just damn lucky.

I had a lot of hopes for this batch of takers. I even told my colleagues at work that the least we can get is a 4 out of 6. I was even betting for a clean slate. However, this did not translate into reality. I am frustrated. Part of me wanted to console those who did not pass telling them in God's time we shall be colleagues as well. But a part of me is still in shock. A thousand people took the exam, 400+ passed. You only need 1 out that 400+ new licenses. How come you did not get it? The main reason is: YOU LOST FOCUS. The local board exam is overrated. It's just that from the academe, the PT student has already conditioned his mind that the exam is a terrible, extremely difficult test that it must be a gargantuan prize to pass it. It is NOT. If it were so hard, only 5 people out of a 100 should pass if that were the case. It's not luck and it is not God's will. God's will is for you to be prepared come exam time. He will not just wave his miraculous hand and make you pass if you did not prepare well or if you lost focus somewhere along the way even if you went to church everyday and lit candles for his glory.

For what it's worth though, a license is never a trophy for being a good and decent PT. There may be a lot out there who have good decision-making skills in the clinic who do not have a license. I, for one, have a license but I am not as confident in the clinic as I am in the platform of a classroom. What's the use of having a license then aside from the legalities and stuff? It makes you credible and statured in the field of PT. That's why we all aspire to have it.

For those who passed, kudos and goodluck in your career. For those who didn't, I will not give you a pat on the back and tell you it's okay because I know it's not. I will not tell you better luck next time because I don't believe in luck. I will not patronize and I will not pretend to understand how you feel because, honestly, I don't know. I will just let you be, let you rise from the ashes, build up momentum and take that elusive piece of plastic with your name and number on it. By then, I will shake you hand, congratulate you, patronize a little bit, and together, perhaps, we shall altogether reach for our American dreams.

Uniporme

It's been a terribly long time since I filled up my pages. I promised to revive this sorry excuse for a blog but unfortunately, since I don't have something worthwhile to talk about I decided to put it on hold again.

I'm screwed. I have a lot of things to do at hand in preparation for the compressed Midterms at school and yet I have to leave it all behind when I got to Bacolod on the weekend. Also, I can no longer roam freely around the campus. A new directive for the faculty to comply with is that we should wear a color-coded uniform for each day of the weak and that means I have to wear slacks. It should have been easy just to obey this new rule. Problem is, I hate wearing slacks and polo shirts. As for you who know me, I have always been the T-shirt and jeans kinda guy. So everytime I go to school, I am compelled to hide within the corners of my college office and only venture out into the wilderness if and only if it's utterly important. I have to decrease the chances of me meeting up with a superior and get reprimanded for my uniform. I can't even go to the canteen to have lunch lest I be confronted.

I certainly cannot understand the concept of me, the great Toto Dyud, wearing faculty uniform to "look" professional. That is pure bullstuff. As a teacher, I prepare well for my classes, even burning the midnight oil which I didn't do way back in college. I discuss well and with passion. There are many out there who wear their uniforms but suck at educating kids. They may look professional, but damn me they are tramps. There are many who are overly strict over matters that should not be of great concern like hounding students over the color of their hair, or ponytail, or missing pin or cufflinks. Trivial matters like that should not be too fussed over with. A simple comment to catch the student's attention is enough. Anyway, they are in college. They know what's right from wrong. You don't have to impose your will over them. I find some professors so pathetic they constantly report student activities to college heads. By constantly, I mean always. Like, don't they have anything more worthwhile to do with they bloody lives?

However, in a way, I feel sorry for them. Not only because they are losers who want to make young people miserable, but also because all their lives they followed the rules. They never broke them. They are these people whose lives are so patterned and predictable the only things that could break that mundanity is a stroke or a freak accident resulting in death. These are people who have nothing exciting to talk about their lives with their grandchildren only that they did very well in school. It's a sad thing really. Nothing worthwhile ever happened to their lives except that they went to school, graduated, worked, got married, had children, retired, and died.

Sooner or later, I will be forced to comply with the school policy lest I find myself out of work. But never fear, my adoring legion of admirers. I will still be the great Toto Dyud that you love and worship--- just a little more cultured, say, a little more "professional".

Octopus Man

For days now, I kept on seeing ads for the Discovery Channel documentary entitled "Octoman". I was actually intrigued by the documentary. Luckily enough, I managed to catch its premier tonight.

The Octopus-Man is a freakshow favorite here in the Philippines. He has seven limbs in total, politically incorrect as an octopus should have eight. I was surprised to learn he is an Ilonggo. Had he been a singer, an actor, an athlete, or a beauty queen, the media would probably have had his face plastered all over the frontnews praising how his talent or beauty has given "honor" to his country. Alas, beauty queen he is not. He is a freak of nature. He has had an unformed twin brother attached to him, hence the extra limbs. His only bet on newsworthiness is a short skit on features, Sagip Kapamilya, Wish Ko Lang, Maalaala mo Kaya or Kuya Kim's MatangLawin. If I were completely apathetic, I would call him hideous. The kind of ugly that will put Quasimodo to shame. I am not talking about his face (which is rather average), but his overall appearance is simply appalling.

As would have been expected, the only job he's been in is showbusiness--albeit not the red-carpet type. He is a carnival star, raking in his income by attracting fiesta goers to stare at his deformities. However, 10 years ago he decided to finally end his life with the moving carnival. He eloped with a magician's assistant, ran off to a far-off place somewhere in Panay island, and raised a daughter, who I find to be rather charming and pretty. Nobody knew where he went, not even the carnival people.

He was finally located by a researcher and was interviewed. At present, he is already suffering from quite a lot of ailments. To make the long stroy short, he was brought to Manila to be examined for his condition. Examination revealed him to have high blood pressure and so on and so fort. The hypertension and stomach ulcers were attributed to the extra appendages on his body. It was found out that his extra appendages were indeed a twin brother but he is parasitic by nature. Therefore, he shares the blood, nerves and nutrients of the Octoman.

After careful analysis, lab exams and all, it was revealed that he could be operated upon. What's more, the doctors are offering the operation for free. Octoman went home and discussed the proposal to his family. According to the doctors, he's got a good chance of success. Now here comes the anti-climactic part. THE FOOL DID NOT GET THE OPERATION! His reason was, God made me this way. I have accepted it and I will die this way. What the fuck was that all about? What a complete waste of airtime. What a complete waste of MY time! Damn, there are soooo many people who need operations everyday and they can't have it cause they don't have money. And here comes Octoman being offered a complicated operation for free to save his life and improve his quality of life and he fucking refuses it. Because God made him this way.

Yes, I think maybe you would think I am being severely and unwarrantedly blasphemous. But damn is he stupid! If I were an Octoman and I prayed to God to make me normal, he wouldn't snap his fingers or zap me to normalcy. That is too predictable. God works in mysterious ways and he only gives opportunities that would make Octoman "normal". The first one he gave was that magician assistant and their daughter. The next one would be this free operation by experts. Now, which one is more disrespectful to God, my ranting about how people just accept how things are because God made them that way or him turning his back on a perfectly humbling philanthropic experience that would have been a work of mercy for the doctors?

Instead of I getting inspired by that docu, it made me angry and feel a lot less sorry for him. Stupid people irritate me. Stupid people making God as an excuse for their cowardice or melodrama make me furious. And stupid people getting airtime make me livid. I got all of that tonight.