No Refuge

So I just submitted my "re-application" to the place where I used to work... and almost immediately it felt like one of the worst decisions I've made in my life. Do I not remember where I was and how I felt back then? And does any sane person who has already resigned actually apply for the same job in the same company after a certain amount of time?! I am so pathetic. Not that it was actually my own decision. My dad has been pressuring me for months, and I figured that this was the only logical way to finally put an end to it. And of course some of my friends from where I used to work kept on saying that it would be the right thing to do--- and if there's one thing about me, I find it hard to say no to my close friends. And when they keep on pestering me to do something, I would most probably give in even if I do not really want to. A few of my friends know this idiosyncrasy of mine... it's a good thing they seldom exploit it. One of them even accompanied me as I submitted the application form--- to make sure I don't back out. I was already there, and I did not want to linger any longer. So I filled out the form as fast as I could, and said to myself to hell with it. Within a few hours, the news started to spread slowly.

Among the early comments:

If he really wants to work here, Why did he quit in the first place?

If he wanted to come back, why did it take this long to decide?

I bet he was just forced by his father.

He's not a child anymore! Until now his decisions are based on what his father wants!?

If I had my way I'm going to give him a very hard time.

I'm going to endorse him, so that his seniors will give him a hard time.

He needs to prove that this is what he really wants.

He needs to work 10 times harder.

I'll always remind him that he was a quitter.

Great. The next five to six years would probably feel like five hundred. I have to swallow my pride and I have to deal with all the shame... plus the added pressure of knowing that a number of people do not want me back there. If I really decide to come back, it would be a decision that I should stick with. Quitting for the second time is not an option. Either I don't go on with it, or stick with it if I do.


*****

Last night I went out with friends from where I used to work. Of course my "re-application" was brought up, and I just had to express my doubts, which they dismissed outright. I can't really get unbiased advice from them, who are incredibly loyal and proud of the training they get from that place. Several words of comfort, which weren't even a bit comforting, for me at least. It's just an application form, i could still choose not to go on with it if I decide not to.

On the way home, we passed by a flooded area. The water level seemed to be rising, so I decided to make a turn at a side street, which was also flooded, but the water level wasn't that high. Soon we were on dry streets again, when my friend said that water seemed to have seeped inside the car. I turned on the light and we saw that the flooring was soaked. Bummer. A few minutes after, a policeman stopped us saying that the car made weird noises as it was running. I checked underneath and there was this sheet of plastic that was loose. It was probably scraping against the road as we were moving. When I got home, I got some rags and tried dry the floor. I even used that hair dryer i bought a few weeks back--- see, it wasn't such a waste of money after all. LOL. But the flooring was so soaked, I decided to just let it dry on its own, with a little help from the impending sunlight. I just have bring the car to the repair shop in the morning, to check that loose plastic sheet underneath.

After a few hours, another rude awakening. Something about me being so stupid, so careless, so spoiled.... something about never driving a car through flood water which was common sense, something about how I should learn to love my car, something about me not giving value to things, yadda yadda yadda. Christ, it wasn't as if I deliberately drove through flood water. It wasn't as if I wanted to drive through flood water just for the heck of it. And I wonder why he's so concerned about the damn car as if he was actually the one who purchased it... why he acts as if he could take the car away in an instant as if the money used to buy it came from his own pockets. Instead of answering back, I just chose to ignore the voices, pretended to sleep, thinking happy, tranquil thoughts.

One good thing that would happen if I really decide to go back to where I used to work? I'll be able to get away from all the voices, from all the anger, from all the pressure--- from all of this. It's funny, a year ago I thought I missed all this, I actually longed for all this. Drowning in occupational misery is so much better than feeling miserable in the place where you're supposed to get away from it all. It's such a sad life when seeking refuge means choosing the lesser of two evils. It's so sad that I can't even seek refuge in the only place that I could call home.

Fall Previews

Woo-hoo! The new season of my favorite TV Show--- Prison Break-- is about to start! But WTF?! Sarah is alive?! Didn't Lincoln see her head inside that box?! Or was he stupid enough to mistake someone else's head for Sarah's? And didn't LJ specifically say that he saw Sarah beheaded right in front of him? Does that mean that he's as stupid as his father? I wonder how they could pull off Sarah's return. This isn't sci-fi, they should make her return plausible enough.



On the other hand, another season of Heroes--- which used to be my favorite TV show, will also begin airing in about a month. Can the series redeem itself after the horrible second season, which was so bad it practically made me forget that Heroes used to be a great show? Based from the trailer below--- which seems to be bordering on the campy side... I'd say not very likely.

Soul Searching

Being pissed, almost reaching the breaking point--- and then remission.

Being pissed, almost reaching the breaking point--- and then remission.

Being pissed, almost reaching the breaking point--- and then remission.

Like a broken record that plays the same tune again and again, that seems to be the recurring cycle in my life. When I woke up I thought this was going to be another day when nothing significant would happen. No utter joy, but no misery either--- you may say an extended phase of remission. Then one of my grandmother's medical problems rears its ugly head again, and then the father gives me that look of disgust, explicitly accusing me of not caring at all--- even more so when I left the house when everything seemed okay, just to have some time off, just to get away from it all. I didn't go drinking, I went to the gym to do something healthy and productive, and release all the tension I was feeling at the same time... a fact that he found so hard to believe probably because he saw that bottle of Johnnie Walker and that pack of Marlboro Reds on my bed. Hey, when placed under enormous pressure, I need to smoke, I need to drink. So sue me.

As I rode my car, I could see that look of disgust on his face. How could something so simple make me so pissed? At one point I wanted to crash my car on the nearest post, or make a sudden right or left as I was crossing the flyover... good thing running at 160 km/hr with rock music blasting from the stereo at full volume was enough to soothe my nerves. How could something so simple give me so much pressure? A little psycho analysis may be needed. A little soul searching. For one thing--- the possible root of it all... I don't want to be a doctor. I'm working as a doctor, yeah--- but I'm only doing this because I already am one. My educational background doesn't qualify me for alternative occupations, unless I do more studying... and it seems pretty stupid to waste all those years in med school by not working as a physician. Every day I feel forced to be doing something I don't really want to do, even though no one's forcing me to keep on doing my job. I hated everything they taught in med school, save for a few that I found remotely interesting. It was like turning me into something that I did not want to be. So i picked surgery for residency... because I really loathe internal medicine. Pediatrics is internal medicine for kids... I hate doing internal examinations in obstetrics-- the fact that women are at their worst during pregnancy further aggravates my ill feelings towards that field. Radiology is boring, so is pathology. At least all that blood in the surgical field keeps me on my toes, and i couldn't deny the emotional high I get when I do operations... I picked surgery by the process of elimination. But it's still a part of the field that I do not want to be in--- How far could that interest go? As I discovered, it couldn't go far enough.

Now every time I go HOME--- the place where i'm supposed to be able to get away from it all, to get away from anything medical... there's always that chance that I'm going to manage a medical case. Diabetes, Pneumonia, hypertension, a variety of cardiac and renal problems... all diseases that are within the bounds of internal medicine, the sub specialty that I HATE the most... and my grandmother has all those! It's not that I don't care, it's just that I feel like I'm being forced to be doing something I hate doing--- again and again and again! Add the fact that I'm not really good in that field! I didn't really pay attention in school because I hated the subject, and now everytime I go home I'm bombarded with questions in internal medicine, even pressured to do some action! And it's pretty stupid that my father is pressuring me to go back to the place where I used to work, and expect me to be available immediately every time my grandmother begins to experience more health problems--- WTF?! He knows that's impossible with the work schedule. In fact, family problems, even ones concerning health, are not valid excuses to miss work, unless that immediate family member is on the verge of dying, if not dead already! Whenever she has health problems, my father wants me to just stay with her because I'm the only doctor in the family. It doesn't matter if I have plans. It doesn't matter if I have work. Even when she's already stable, I still have to stay with her because of the possibility that those health problems could still recur! If I don't, then I'm ungrateful, I don't care at all. I'm all things rotten and evil in this world. It doesn't matter if I'm not skilled enough to handle her case. Since I'm a doctor, to them I should be skilled enough!

Are my reasons valid? Or do I already need to schedule an appointment with the friendly neighborhood psychiatrist because I've become highly irrational and unreasonable? I may not need a psychiatrist yet, but I sure could use a drink...

right about now.

Needful Thing

It's been almost a year since I left the place where I used to work. Looking at my pictures from last year, I would say that I look like a very different person now. And it's not just because I've gained some weight. Ever since some friends decided to give me a "makeover", just for the heck of it... I've become more conscious of the way I looked. Whereas before I didn't really care about what I wore, whether this or that piece of wardrobe looked good with that... whereas before I never felt the need to tinker with my conservative hairstyle and general appearance...

It all started with form fitting shirts.

then jeans that were no longer oversized.

I practically changed my whole wardrobe by first getting rid of all those stripes and XL sized clothes.

Then I bought new shoes.

I started browsing fashion websites that were catered to men.

I grew my hair longer.

And when it was long enough, I started getting my haircuts at a salon.

And now, this---

...


...


...


...


...

and no, that's not some futuristic laser gun, nor is it one of the latest models of air guns that would give anyone the advantage when playing war games.

It was really embarrassing when I tried to purchase that thing. The salesperson kept asking if it was for my girlfriend, my mother, or my wife. Just to shut him up I just said it's for my sister. He was explaining how this and that was different from the other, but his attempts at explaining the special features sounded Greek to me... so I just picked the least girly looking model that I could afford. For some reason, I felt that i just HAD TO buy a hairdryer. When I went to a spa earlier this week, there was one in the dressing room so I tried it just for the heck of it... and my hair DID look better when I used the hair dryer. I really liked its effect. REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKED IT. It was as if I was in some sort of trance, as if I had a brief episode of psychosis, that I thought that it was such a necessity, that I had to rush out and buy one the very next day. Crap! What the f*ck has gotten into me! Christ, I'm becoming----

MY BROTHER!

(yeah, the word metrosexual would probably be also fitting, but I refuse to refer to myself as that)

At least I haven't reached THAT level of vanity (or should I say insanity)... yet. I don't have a gazillion facial products on my dresser... nor do I feel the need to choose the right bath products that would be most appropriate for my skin type... and I doubt if i would ever feel the need to go to a salon every month just to THREAD my eyebrows (no wonder his eyebrows look so... artificial. LOL). I would never, ever feel the need to do that. The moment I feel the urge to do those things--- ESPECIALLY the last one... I might as well schedule an appointment with the friendly neighborhood psychiatrist.

Whys and Wherefores

I've just finished reading the last volume of Y: The Last Man. The series ended months ago, and I was really tempted to buy the last issue when it came out because I just HAD to see how it ends. I managed to control myself, thinking that since I started reading the series on paperback, the whole 10 volumes would simply look better in my bookshelf. How my bookshelf looks really matters. I'm weird like that.

The ending was perfect, there was no other way to end it. The feeling was bittersweet as I closed the tenth volume. Sure, the ending wasn't what you can call happy... at least not for everyone--- could a happy ending be possible given such a premise? But the bittersweet feeling transcends whatever it was I saw on paper. It was like saying goodbye to old friends. Even though I only picked up the first volume last November, it's as if I've known these characters, not simply fictionally, but also personally, for years. That's how good this series is, and it's something I'd definitely recommend to everyone.

Before the epilogue, Yorick Brown was my age. Then on the final issue, it was 60 years later. As I returned the volume to my bookshelf, I started thinking... What would my life be sixty years from now? Where would I be? What would I have accomplished? What would I look back on? Started school at the age of three, excelled during the first half of my academic years, living the life of a nerd, then growing tired of it all on the later half, but not to the extent of failing. Made one wrong decision as I chose which path to take in college, and with a series of unfortunate events, here i am now. I tried to stick with it two years ago, just go with the flow, I said. But like all paths that we are forced to take, even when the road lies on a field, to us it's always uphill. I've grown weary and I stopped walking. I took other directions with no compass or map, And I'm going nowhere. My peers are leaving this country in the truckloads because "a career in medicine doesn't have a bright future in this city"--- those who say otherwise are ignorant. If only it was easy for me to leave this country, but both sefish and unselfish reasons continue to hold me back. Most of my family and friends are here, I'm not sure if could thrive for long in a place where there's nobody familiar. It wouldn't be much of an issue if not for my stupid principles, of wanting to serve my countrymen, of wanting to reach out to those who could really use my help... my conscience would keep tugging on me if I turned my back on them. As I got home this evening, my father reminded me of the deadline for application for residency training. He couldn't seem to understand why I'm on a standstill. It's not just because of the shame of going back to the place that you've left, akin to eating the food you've just vomited--- although shame IS a big factor, I admit that. I wonder what's the use of residency training here when you'll be back to where you started afterward? Most of my co-workers at the hospital have already finished residency training, and yet we have the same designation, as if they've never undergone any training at all... because no patients were coming in when they tried starting a private practice, moonlighting again was the only option to earn money. How fucked up is that?! Fast forward 6 years. Let's say I did go back, and I stuck with my decision. What now? More training, fellowship this time. And after? Try to start my private practice, and with some luck it would take off. With some luck I'd be stable enough to start a family--- at the young age of almost 40. After all that training, just 20 short years of private practice, and with my family's medical history, I'm bound to inherit a few illnesses, which would definitely hasten the wear and tear. I'd be a senior citizen by the time my kids reach their 20's. I would've tried to be a good father, because I've made a vow to never be like mine. With dumb luck, there's a chance that they'd still care for me genuinely by then, and not treated like some excess baggage that they are forced to carry. A few more years of gradually increasing dependence, inching slowly towards uselessness and senility. And then... I'd look back.

That's the general plan. That's the blueprint. Too plain and too simple, lacking details and decorations... no bells and whistles, no experiences that I would love to look back on again and again, no memories to cherish for life, nothing to be proud of. But life is one big puzzle, things rarely transpire as the way we plan or imagine them to be...The universe has a way of making even the best plans go awry.

Sixty years from now, I wish I would have a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment as I look around at the place I'm in, as I look at the people I know. I wish i could look back on something that would make me feel glad, alive, proud... something that could make me feel young again... something that would make me thankful and happy to be alive--- that's something I would wish for, because as of now, there is nothing. I couldn't dream of anything more, because that's the closest one can have to a happy ending in real life... a sense of accomplishment and genuine contentment, with not much thought as to the whys and wherefores in this life.

The Third Mummy Movie

Even though both The Mummy and The Mummy Returns didn't get many favorable reviews from critics, I enjoyed watching both movies. They're popcorn flicks after all; people shouldn't expect something cerebral or deep. What matters is that they are fun to watch. I expected to have the same experience with the third movie as I sat on my seat inside the movie theater--- even if I knew beforehand that it was practically murdered by critics. After the first few minutes though, I began to realize that I might be wrong.

All jokes fell flat. Scenes that weren't meant to be funny were the ones that elicited laughter from the audience. Plot loopholes abound, many scenes defied logic and common sense. All the nifty special effects couldn't mask the tedium shown onscreen. By the time the Yetis (?!) showed up, I've already given up. I hoped that the final battle sequence could save the movie, but everything looked so fake, it was like watching a videogame demo. The only bright spot was the fight scene between Jet Li and Michelle Yeoh--- too bad it was way too short. And although casting changes are always distracting even if a better actor or actress was employed, it's never as distracting as the one in this film. Clearly, replacing Rachel Weisz with Maria Bello was a wrong decision--- but not as wrong as the decision to resurrect this franchise.

And what's with the ending?! They're actually thinking of doing a fourth movie?! Unless they could create a movie that's even half as enjoyable to watch as the first two, they should just keep this franchise buried for all eternity.

I should have just watched The Dark Knight again.