IngliseraKuno

Now, I think I deserve a bout of depression. Aside from all the funny stuff going around my life (which is actually usual, and I am being stupid and dwelling on each mad detail), a doctor harassed my sister in a way much like an insane person would. A doctor. Her OBGYN, who, after the time we sought her second opinion, gave us a very good impression we decided right there and then that she was the right one to do the procedure on my sister who lost her baby. So the procedure went as planned, done and my sister was ready to move on. After losing the baby, she wanted to go back to normal in any which way she could. Her husband, however, requested that the baby be blessed by the Church. We had to get the baby out of the hospital to do that. I called the medical director of the hospital to inquire about the protocol for such. We have not yet done this in our lives, so...Anyway, my sister worked around the requirements, which included a letter of authority from her OBGYN. My sister prompt...

I was staring at five or six pieces of bread, toasted with butter and marmalade. It was left untouched after a hasty dinner of eggs and that. We did not eat much of the bread as it did funny stuff to sugar levels. I suddenly had this picture of hungry street children in my mind as I took a puff of the usual smokes I have after a meal. They are probably begging for food now somewhere, and the bread in front of me is slowly being nibbled at by ants. We indulge. We waste. We lose. We regret. We learn. And we start over. Today is a sad day. We lost a baby. We had once fought over 'India', that's the name I wanted for the baby. The whole bunch thought it was weird. India. I will call her that always. The lady doctor said she wished she could explain why this happened. She wished she had the answers, she said, as she looked at the pale, stoic face of my sister. I remember sweating profusely as I listened to the doctor say those words, 'embryonic demise'. 'I no l...

How can patience be measured? If it is through the  number of times you kept silent even when you are lied to, then perhaps I have been patient. If it is through the tens of times you know, deep in your heart, that you are being played and manipulated, yet you say nothing, close your eyes and push back the tears, then perhaps I have been patient. If is through the hundreds of times you hold you hand out to help, left unappreciated by those who should, yet try to make others understand how it feels to be alone and shunned despite of, you get a shrug in reply and you are told, let it pass, then perhaps I have been patient. If is through the thousand of times you have tried to be a better in acknowledgement of your faults and weaknesses, yet still seen as undeserving of respect, then perhaps I have been patient. If it is through the millions of times you love and give, and love and give, and love and give, yet at the end of each day, you feel inadequate, then perhaps I have ...

Utmost self-restraint. That's what I should exercise. I get in trouble by not saying anything, but then again I get in trouble, too, for speaking my mind. Given the choice, I would rather speak my mind but observe tact and prudence. There are some who worry that I say too much. They get nervous for me, I get that. But what to do? I am wired this way, and I do not want to pretend. However, in the light of the lists coming out of people having negotiations with Janet Napoles, I  would like to say, even as I write these true-to-life stories in my blog, evidence is crucial. I do not mention names, but people who read my blogs, assume. That's the way it goes. Assumption is the mother of all f-up's, I heard in one movie. If that is the case with me and my blogs, then, it is safe to say that it is the same, if for example the media gets hold of a list of senators who had so-called negotiations with Janet Napoles. It is sooooo easy to poke people to talk about those in the list...

I am tired. I am tired of being the strong one. In my family. In work. In all. I feel worn out, I feel old, I feel ugly. I am tired of being talked about, blamed, criticized, ridiculed, cheapened, and spit at behind my back. I am tired of helping others. I am tired of always being there for those who need me. I am tired of putting myself at risk for others. I am tired of being used. I am tired of others taking advantage of me. I am tired of feeling I can solve the problems of the world. I wish I could stop. I wish I would stop.  Stop taking on responsibility other than what I should have. No more 'walking the extra mile.' Stop listening to all that is said about me, because in the end, I know the truth and I am fine with that. My conversations with God reassure me. Stop helping others UNLESS I can, ONLY that which I can do. No more. No less. Stop allowing myself to be used. Stop thinking that I can solve the problems of the world because I can't. I ...

The most awful conversation I had in my life was with this former boss and a friend who, in an attempt to run for public office, requested that the department assign me in his province, his target constituency. He said he would beg my new boss for my transfer if he had to. He was once at the helm of this department, but even if I was close to this guy (we go way back, we were friends) I did not get promoted nor was given any preferential attention during his term of office. He told me then that if I thought that my connection with him would take me places, I assumed wrong. I was speechless when he said that. So, when he called  years later after he left the department to tell me he wanted me and my help, I was flattered. Of course. Of all the people that he could have requested to head the department in his province, he chose me. I got his call late at night, so I slept with a smile on my face. In fact, hindsight, I thought I said, yes to him. But I did not, really. When I woke up ...

I really don't get it. When people pretend to have plenty, but actually don't. I find it as the height of hypocrisy, and worse a mind disease, like a delusion of some sort. Of course that's just me. It is ok, I guess for soothing your bruised ego, but transient. After basking in the satisfaction that you have 'showed' others you are rich, or richer in some sense, reality is a cruel tutor. It pulls you back in, and slaps you 360 degress across the face. There are several reasons I think some people pretend to be rich: one, they need to maintain a certain status in a society; two, they want to be in a certain status in a society; they need to belong in any society. The first set of pretenders are those who are forced to project an aura of wealth, so that they continue to be part of the elite in which they used to belong (read: they were rich but became poor by some misfortune). The second set are those who 'climb the social ladder', meaning they are not actu...