A Welcome Reprieve

Finally, Dreamworks Animation is on the right track.

I like watching most of the movies that they've produced. They're good for laughs, and they are worth several viewings, but the animated movies that they make usually depend on a lot of slapstick humor, littered with a bazillion pop culture references... and offer nothing more than that. Besides The Prince of Egypt, I cannot recall any animated movie that they have produced that truly resonates. Their movies are obviously well made, but they are the type of movies that you would forget after a few months. Most movies made by Pixar, on the other hand, are considered classics. Those movies can truly affect a viewer, they can elicit the right emotions. Their animated efforts are the type of movies that you won't mind watching again and again and again. They have mastered the art of making animated movies through the years, and they have the key ingredient that all the movies produced by other studios lack. Pixar movies have heart.

How To Train Your Dragon leaves all the slapstick humor behind. This time, jokes aren't on the forefront. For a change, their primary goal is to tell a story. Sure, there are jokes inserted here and there, but eliciting laughter from the audience doesn't seem to be the primary concern now. And the funny scenes blend well with the plot--- those scenes don't feel forced anymore. As always, the animation is top notch, and those flying sequences can be really breathtaking when seen in 3D. But the emphasis on the story this time around is what makes it really stand out. It's so different from their usual movies that it's such a welcome reprieve. The movie is not quite a classic yet--- a more original and less derivative storyline could make that difference, but at least the studio is now headed towards the right direction. The upcoming Shrek movie shows that old habits die hard, but I'm hoping that their future movies would be more like this one. Finally, there's a studio that could possibly stand next to the mighty Pixar.

Midpoint

Back when I was a kid, I always prayed before going to sleep. And before I ended each prayer, I had “wishes” that I would always enumerate. A lot of kids would wish for super powers, and I was one of those. And the last thing that I would always ask for is to live a longer life--- to live until the age of 30 to be exact. I was paranoid when I was young, I kept on thinking that each day could be my last. I don’t know the reason why I thought of the age of thirty. I guess back then, a 30 year old guy seemed to old already. I guess I thought back then that by the time I reached 30, I would have accomplished a lot of things. Back then, I thought I would have my own house, I would be happily married, and I would already have several kids. Back then, I thought that by the time I reached 30, my life would already mean something.

And now that I’m thirty, I can say that nothing can be further from the truth.

I feel as if my life hasn’t even begun yet. There are still a lot of things that I want to do, and here I am, still struggling to get out of the starting point. I want nothing more than to move forward, but things keep holding me back. I want nothing more than to gain independence and live my life on my own and see where it takes me, but I can’t seem to move forward because I still depend on my family for almost everything. There are still things left at home that I can’t just leave behind. I want my self to amount to something, I want to leave my mark. I’ve probably already lived more than half of my life. Thirty years can go by so fast. I may have less than thirty years left to live... I wonder if I can still do so much.

Not having a job makes me feel worthless. And with all of the things happening these days, God knows I can use some sort of a day job to keep me distracted. Yet I know that having a job would throw the entire family in disarray. I’m the only one who can watch over my grandfather in the hospital at night. So I guess this has to be my everyday routine until the next month or so. With the rate that his illness has been progressing, I seriously doubt if he would live until the next month anyway.

When the clock struck twelve midnight on the 20th of March, I was with him at the hospital. He was sound asleep, nothing seems to keep him awake for long these days. Amidst all the stillness, I just sat there beside his bed, staring at him. He looked so different from the grandfather I knew. He looked so different from the person I said goodbye to last November, he looked so different from the person who welcomed me back when I got home. He looked so tired and beaten, as if all the life has already been taken out of him. I touched his arms, and all I felt were skin and bones. He couldn’t even eat even if he wanted to. At those times when he would awaken for a few minutes, he would ask for something to eat. He couldn’t even swallow liquids anymore. Each attempt to feed him is an exercise in futility. He would also ask if he could stand up, which actually means only leaning on us because he can’t stand up on his own anymore. I never really felt that close to him in the past, but a few minutes after twelve that night, after staring at him for a few minutes, I felt tears running down my cheeks. I couldn’t figure out why, but as I sat there alone with him, I couldn’t help but cry.

Each day my grandma and my dad would remind me to ask my grandpa where he put the money that he withdrew from his bank account a few months back. For some reason, they think that if my grandpa would tell it to someone, that someone would be me. They want me to ask him if he bought something, if he gave it away, or if he hid it somewhere--- apparently, that’s a riddle that has to be answered in order for them to have some peace of mind. That’s quite an impossible task because he’s just sleeping most of the time, and whenever he speaks, I couldn’t even understand what he’s saying anymore. But even if I could understand what he’s saying, I couldn’t really bring myself to ask him. It’s just money. There are more pressing concerns these days besides money, and to ask him such things during those few minutes when he’s awake seems a little too insincere. The very thought of that made me cry even more. It would be better to just make the remaining few days of his life as comfortable as possible. There’s no use in dwelling on such things. I wonder why they couldn’t just let it go.

He has already lived for 80 years. I wonder if he already feels fulfilled. I wonder if he thinks that he has lived long enough. I for one do not wish to live that long. Looking ahead while I’m at that certain point in time, I wouldn’t want to live past the age of 70… or whatever age when I would have to depend on others for everything. Never mind if the people who are with me that time are more than willing to take care of me, never mind if they are willing to make a lot of sacrifices just because they love me… I don’t think my sense of pride would allow me to revert back to such a dependent state. I wouldn’t want to cause any burden to anyone. And losing that sense of independence that I would have worked so hard to achieve would cause an even bigger burden on myself. Although we’re doing all these things for my grandfather now out of love, I know how much trouble this whole ordeal has been causing us, and I would never want to cause this much disarray to my future family. I’d rather die abruptly than to watch myself slowly wither away. I’d rather die quickly than to watch such burden slowly break down my family. Better to end my life abruptly than to prolong the agony for all of us. There’s this feeling of ambivalence that can’t seem to go away. You’d want nothing more than your love one to life longer. If it’s possible, you’d even want them to live forever. Yet on the other hand, You’re wishing that such an ordeal would end soon, because the physical and emotional strain that it has been causing can seem a little too much, especially when it drags on and on, and there’s no end in sight.

I’m probably more than halfway through my life. Would have some sense of accomplishment 30 years from now? I don’t really know. 30 years go by so fast, and at the rate I’m going, 30 years might not be enough.

And the sad thing is, when that time comes, I may no longer have the strength to do the things that would give me some sense of fulfillment. And I would hate it if when that time comes, I would lie in some hospital bed, barely able to move, thinking about the sad, pathetic life I have lived--- full of regrets, wondering if I could have lived my life differently, wondering if I could have done more. I hope that such is not the case with my grandfather. I hope that as he looks back on his life, it would leave a smile on his face. When the time finally comes, I hope that he would die a happy man.

The Sick Cycle

The carnival has started. In fact, it has already reached fever pitch.

I’m not really a fan of elections in this country. It all seems so pointless. It’s nothing but an exercise in futility. Because no matter who wins, nothing changes. People keep making the same mistakes, they keep on making the same stupid decisions. People don't use their heads when they cast their votes, they are easily swayed by emotions. They are easily swayed by the popular sentiment. Their emotions cloud their capabilities for logical thinking, that they often think they are making the right choices--- to the extent that they would fight for these choices with such conviction. And then after a few years, people keep on blaming each other, even though they are part of the blame themselves. It’s funny when you think about it. In fact, I would be laughing out loud if the consequences weren’t so depressing.

Fine. We can blame the masses. Most of them are uneducated and since they make up the majority, they can dictate the outcome of elections. To solve this problem, we should educate the masses, that’s what they say. But with the mess that this country’s educational system is in, all I can say is good luck with that. As long as they are uneducated, we can’t really blame them for making stupid decisions. What pisses me of more are so the so called educated people. They keep on blaming the masses when they themselves keep on making the same stupid decisions. They keep on voting for the wrong people. What’s the use of all that education when they can’t even use a bit of common sense.

Take one leading candidate for example. He has gained a lot of support from the educated and the elite. For the life of me, I can never understand how anyone who’s even using half a brain could support such a candidate. He has a long political history, I’ll give him that--- but he has done close to nothing despite that long political history, and that’s just so pathetic. Arguably, he may not be corrupt, he may be honest--- but is that the sole criteria for choosing someone to lead our country? He lacks the necessary skills to properly lead a nation of millions. Heck, he can’t even stand up for himself. Up until now, every word that comes out of his mouth obviously came from someone else’s. And the reasons that I hear from my peers just leave me dumbfounded. These are doctors, lawyers, businessmen--- they are all educated. Yet the reasons they give for supporting such candidates just leave me scratching my head.

I asked my friends out of curiosity why they are supporting a certain candidate. The most frequent reason--- he has integrity. He’s honest. He’s not corrupt. I doubt that anyone can say for certain that he’s not capable of corruption, but for the sake of argument, lets say he isn’t. Is integrity the sole factor for choosing the right candidate? Shouldn’t he have leadership skills? Shouldn’t he possess intellect as well? Watching the presidential debates would be enough to see how incapable he is, yet most people choose to turn a blind eye. Can’t we choose someone who has both the necessary skills as well as integrity? If you’re going to say that there’s no such candidate, then I urge you to please look again. If you still can’t see that there are such candidates, then I’m sorry to say that’s there’s no hope for your stupidity. What’s the use of all that education when you’re not even using the things you have learned.

Another stupid argument I hear from the “educated”? They have grown tired of intelligent leaders. We’ve already had intelligent and capable leaders in the past, and look at where they have brought us. Of course there are other factors to be considered. Many factors have brought us to where we are now, we can’t just blame it on our capable leaders. I can say that given our situation, they’ve probably handled it the best way they can. Can these people imagine our condition if some of our past leaders weren’t as capable? Well, I guess they can’t imagine such a scenario, they lack the necessary brain power to visualize hypothetical scenarios. After all, they’re saying that integrity alone can make us soar higher.

Some even say that they won’t vote for an intelligent and capable candidate because our present leader is intelligent and capable yet that leader is very corrupt. Way to go! I find it remarkable that adults can think as such. I thought only children generalize. All intelligent people are corrupt. Then I guess all people with integrity are stupid. With such narrow minded reasoning, it’s no wonder these people are supporting whoever it is they are supporting.

The other frequent reason that I hear? Because his parents are considered heroes. They were great leaders. They were people of integrity. Even a kid who is only in third grade knows that such traits aren’t inheritable. Children can be very different from their parents. And again, anyone with half a brain can recognize that he is far from his parents. I just can’t help but wonder why people fail to recognize the stupidity of such line of thinking.

Another reason? He’s the lesser of two evils. Whoever said that there are only two choices? The problem is, even the educated people are swayed by surveys. Sure these surveys have a scientific basis, but we can never be really sure of their accuracy. And let’s admit that sometimes they can be used as a tool for mind conditioning. Still, most people just look at the leading candidates, and then choose between them. As I have mentioned above, the uneducated can greatly influence votes, so it’s no wonder the leading candidates are always those who lack the necessary skills. They just make up for it with charisma, eloquent words, with flashy ads, with celebrity endorsements--- the stuff that the uneducated go for. They keep on saying stuff that the masses want to hear, who cares if these are empty promises, who cares if what they are saying are downright lies. That’s what it takes to win, and the masses are buying it. It’s always like this. And then years after, the elite would bitch and complain, forgetting the fact that years ago they voted for the very same candidates that they are loathing now. Because he or she was the lesser evil. Why are the educated being influenced by the uneducated? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? We don’t have to choose between two evils since there are better candidates who deserve our support. If only the educated would vote for the deserving candidates even though all surveys show that they are unlikely to win--- who knows? Maybe sufficient votes would be reached, giving those deserving candidates a shot. But alas, most people don’t want to take such risks. They don’t want to waste their votes on a losing candidate. With the way the uneducated people keep influencing the votes of the educated, then it’s no wonder that this country is as fucked up as it is. It’s a vicious cycle, and the end is nowhere in sight. The masses keep on making stupid choices. And the so called intelligent people keep on making decisions that are just as stupid. What’s worse, their pride and arrogance prevent them from seeing how stupid their choices are. They are educated, so they are making the right choices. Some of them know how faulty their arguments are, they realize how stupid their decisions are, yet they still make such decisions for whatever selfish reasons that they have. That’s even worse. As long as the educated keep their brains in its present state of dormancy, then there’s just no hope for this god forsaken country.

Torn

I hate to admit it, and I feel guilty that I’m even feeling this way… but this routine is slowly getting tiresome.

After being admitted at the hospital for a few days due to extreme weakness, my grandpa is finally back home. Not that anything has changed as far as his strength is concerned. He’s still extremely weak, I wonder if he was really fit to be discharged from the hospital. I even wonder if he should have been admitted in the first place. I mean, I doubt if he could ever get his strength back. But he’s already back home, and the past two days seemed to have made everyone in the house tired and weary.

I'm starting to find my everyday routine tiresome. I always have to check on both of my grandparents every few minutes when I’m at home--- and that’s most of the time. I only work twice a week… I doubt if I can actually call what I am doing as work. When put in another perspective, the time I spend at work is actually my free time. I go to work just to take a break from it all. The things I do at home is causing me too much stress. I do more work at home, and I seldom rest. I have to check on their medications, give intravenous meds, assist them as they are trying to walk, change diapers and even feed them at times. I’ve become a personal caregiver with a degree in medicine. I don’t mind doing all those things since I owe my grandparents a lot and God knows that I love them. It’s just that there comes a point every now and then when all these things pile up and I reach the brink of my tolerance.

But compared to what our two household helpers have been doing, I guess I have it easy. All of a sudden, their work load has been multiplied a tenfold, and the things they do are definitely not included in their job description. The time and effort that they give are definitely not proportionate to the salaries they have been getting, and I predict that at least one of them will leave on the next few days. They couldn’t even sleep for crying out loud. How could they when the buzzer would ring every few minutes or so, which means that either my grandpa or grandpa needs help with something. And they choose no specific hours. Even during the wee hours of the morning, I hear the buzzer ring a lot of times and it awakens me from sleep every so often. The exasperated sighs I hear from our helpers every time the buzzer rings are sure signs that they too are getting tired of this routine. A few times, they even pretend not to hear that dreaded buzzer. I can’t really blame them. I mean, even I wouldn’t last this long doing those things for people I’m not even related to, especially if I do not receive just compensation for all the time and effort that I give.

My grandparents don’t even want me to go out of the house. They want me to be always there just in case they needed me for something... stuff that no one else could do. As much as I want to get out just to get some air, the look in their eyes as they plead me not to leave makes it hard for me to say no. There are times that I get to sneak out late at night, but evidently they would discover that I left. When I’m out I get this indescribable feeling of elation that only freedom can give. But when I get home, the manner in which they ask me why I went out really saddens me. It tears my conscience apart as if I have done something that was gravely wrong. How I hate that feeling.

Earlier my grandpa asked me if i will be leaving the country soon. I told him it won’t be able to work abroad this year, I have to wait until the next year. After that, my grandma told me to just stay with them. She asked me if it would be possible for me to just stay in this country. Even though I wanted nothing more than to get out of this god forsaken place, I found it hard to tell her that. How I hate this feeling. I hate it when I’m torn between two things. I want nothing more than to get out of here, but at the same time, I’d hate to leave them here. I hate the fact that my family is holding me back, and it sucks even more because I love them. If I leave I won’t completely be happy because I’ll be thinking about them, but if I stay here I would never be happy. Whatever decision I make, I just can’t win. It sucks that I can’t have it both ways, but ultimately I have to choose. At this point in my life I am more inclined to do what I want. I am more inclined to base my decisions on what’s good for me, and I try so hard not to be swayed by love or pity. At times it would seem to be a losing battle, because family just holds so much weight, but still I have to try. It’s like choosing the lesser of two evils. In life, nothing is perfect, nothing feels completely right, nothing can make us completely satisfied. My conscience will continue to nag me, but oftentimes our conscience is being unfair so it would be best to simply ignore it. I won’t be turning my back on them completely, and it’s about time I made definite plans that would impact the rest of my life. It's about time that I make long term plans. One’s family shouldn’t hold one back. One’s family should support one’s dreams and help them reach their goals. I can’t devote my whole life to them, even though it’s only temporary. I have to leave a part for myself. I can’t put everything on hold waiting for the inevitable--- who knows how long it would take? I’ve put my life on hold for so many years now, maybe I deserve the chance to slowly move on. How can that be so wrong? Why does this conscience keep on bothering me, as if this is so wrong? I am determined to go on with this path I have chosen. I’ll keep walking on this rocky path no matter how hard it seems, and I would try to keep myself from stalling every time that I look back. I’ll keep moving along, hurdling over all obstacles, resisting the urge to head back, even if it would ultimately break me apart.

Remnants

I just had to make a quick stop. I just had to drop something off. I figured I wouldn’t even stay for 10 minutes, so it wouldn’t do any harm. After all, even with all the things that happened to me a few years ago--- they weren’t all bad. In fact, I did have some good times. Although a lot of the things that happened were things that I’d rather forget, some of the memories that I have of the place are memories that I will treasure forever. Even though the place represents all that is wrong with this country’s healthcare system, I do not hate the place. I do not love it either--- far from it. But I guess you could say that the hospital where I used to work has earned a special place in my heart... no matter how hard I try to deny it.

So I passed by before going home, because my friend just HAD to get her stuff that I had with me. There was this sense of urgency that I could not understand, but still I obliged. I called her up when I got there, a quarter past three in the morning, but she said it would take her a few more minutes before she can meet me outside. Great. Despite the sense of urgency that she had earlier, she couldn’t come out quickly. I did not want to pay the parking fee, so I just drove around. As I looked around the place, the things I saw broke my heart.

Nothing has changed. Everything remained the same. There was a time when nothing could affect me anymore. Seeing the same things everyday tends to numb one’s heart, and I reached the point when I did not care anymore. Patients were ignored. Some patients were already sleeping on the sidewalks. Some were sent away. Some were being shouted at. Some were treated like dirt. There’s just too many of them, waiting for their turn to be seen, waiting patiently because they have no other choice. They couldn’t afford to go anywhere else. They have no other place to go. I guess being away from this place for so long has weakened my convictions, and has softened my emotions once again. A few weeks ago, I thought that I have already reached a decision, and I thought that decision was already final. I thought that I finally knew what I wanted, and that nothing can stop me from doing what I want… but the sight of all those people who need help has made me question myself once again. Those people were the reason why I didn’t want to leave before. A few years ago, upon my graduation from med school, I wanted nothing more that being able to help those people who need my help. I wanted nothing more than to serve the less fortunate. That’s why I decided to work there in the first place. I didn’t care about money, I didn’t care about whatever training I would receive. I simply wanted to help. But the series of events that transpired after that has made me numb to all of their needs, and made me deaf to all of their cries. There comes a time when a sensible man has to choose, and when I came to my senses, I simply made a choice. Not being entirely selfless doesn’t make one selfish. I also have to think of myself. But it looks like a part of my past convictions have remained. A lot of my past self may have already dissipated, but it seems that a significant part of it has remained. It may be small, but it’s significant enough to be bothering my conscience this way.

Crap. If only I was the type of person who can readily turn a deaf ear, who can easily turn a blind eye, then it wouldn’t be so difficult for me. I keep on telling myself to stop being so emotional, but somehow, I always tend to forget. I should learn to stop doing things out of pity, and start doing the things that make me happy. Only then would I be free from all this misery.

In Stagnation

I just can’t help but feel so useless.

With the situation in our house these days, with both of my grandparents seem like time bombs ticking, I’m the only one staying at our house most of the time. I guess being the only one unemployed, the position was handed to me by default. Someone needs to stay at the house in case either one of them needed to be rushed to the hospital, and with their condition these days, I guess that could mean any minute now. Sure I can still go to the gym--- I’m only gone for two hours anyway… and during rush hour I have to pick up both of my sisters from work since our family driver resigned about a month ago, and no one else could pick them up… but nights out seem to be out of the question. Or any leisurely activity for that matter... because that would make me irresponsible and selfish. My social life has been greatly affected, but it’s not really a big deal--- at least not for now. My main reason for going out is to quench my thirst for alcohol anyway. And my grandpa has a lot of stock inside the house. He wouldn’t be drinking them anymore. No one else would but me.

What makes me feel so shitty is the fact that I do not have work. Just sitting inside the house the whole day waiting for the inevitable to happen is driving me crazy. Work gives me a sense of purpose, no matter how tiring it is. Yeah, it has been a long time since I was undergoing residency training, but even after that--- except for the two months or so when I was feeling like a lost puppy, I always had work. Even when I had to give up some of my work so that I could focus on my studies, I still went to work at least twice a week. Sure I haven’t really been doing any work for more than three months now, but when I was halfway around the world I never really noticed it. And now that I’m back here, reality has set in. I have graduated from med school 5 years ago, and still I’m going nowhere as far as my medical career is concerned. Sure, I have already focused on my goal, I already know what I want… but that’s still more than a year from now. I wish life had a fast forward button so i can skip through this lull in my life. I have to be preoccupied with something to get my mind off things. I need to do some work, I just need to do anything, and I doubt if my dad would allow me. He's gonna say I don't need the money. He's going to say I am more needed at home. He's going to say that i need to set my priorities straight. As always, he would use family as a tool for bargaining, just as he has always used family to keep me from doing what I want. As always, he would resort to emotional blackmail, making me feel guilty, making me feel like a person with no conscience at all. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to be away from my grandparents when the inevitable happens, and I would want to stay with them and make them happy for the remaining days of their lives. And I want to be here for them especially in their time of need… if only there was a way to do that without drowning myself in self pity. Being here for them makes me feel good because it feels so right… but how can it be so right when at the same time, I am drenched in misery.

The Sordid Face of Reality

Well, that really came out of left field.

All my life, i really thought that my grandfather would reach the age of 100. How can i think otherwise, when he was always more active than people his age. He played sports, he exercises regularly... heck, he even actively participated in the sex trade until the past year or so. And compared to my grandmother who has a lot of illnesses, he remained relatively healthy. Until late last year, when he started to complain that he was feeling weak. He doesn't like going to doctors. Whenever he gets sick, he just lets the disease run its course--- sometimes with the help of herbal stuff, and rarely does he take legit medications. His archaic beliefs have been a source of our numerous clashes while i was growing up, especially when he enforces those beliefs upon me. He says that vitamins are bad for one's health. He says that food in restaurants are dirty. We should never take a bath a night, we should never clean the house at night, we should never spend money on Mondays, we should always go to church before 12 noon---- doing otherwise would bring us ill fortune. Of course, being the hard headed grandson that I was, i frequently disobeyed. I knew those beliefs had no basis and they were senseless, and often i found the guts to tell him that--- and that wasn't easy, because in our house, he was the authority. I lived with my grandparents all my life. Besides my grandmother and my brother, he was the only other person that i see everyday. In the game of good cop- bad cop, he was the bad cop while my grandmother was the bad cop. When we were kids, we were so afraid of his thick belt and that thick wooden stick of his. One wrong move and he would lash us with either one, whichever he could grab first. I remember the day when I was already in my early teens and I was already strong enough to fight back. Instead of just crying while he hit us, I grabbed that wooden stick and broke it in two. He then told me to get out of his house and to never return. My grandmother was crying her heart out as my mom took me away. I spent a week at my parents house. I came back because of my grandmother. I swallowed my pride and did what it took for my grandfather to forgive me--- I knelt before him and said i was sorry. I was wrong and I would never do that again. He slapped me afterwards, and I tried so hard not to fight back.

The rest of my teenage years were tumultuous. I was never the type who would bow down in submission, especially if I do not see the point. I never agreed with his ancient beliefs--- like whenever a boy and a girl were left alone in a room, they would surely have sex. That's why we were never left alone in a room with our sisters. I told him how perverse his way of thinking was, and of course he wanted me out of his house again. When I threw a party at my house and my friends and i slept in a single room, he scolded me for organizing an orgy. But no matter how much i would try to reason out, it was no use. He was the authority. He was the law. He was right, and everyone else was wrong. That's just the way he is and we had to deal with it. Even my father was afraid of him. I even hated the fact that he was so religious, yet he does things that no religious man would ever do. Gambling, watching porno, cavorting with prostitutes, saying curses and shouting expletives after every sentence... Every time he scolds me he would quote the Bible, and I just couldn't help but answer back. I was the rebel, i was the only one who had the guts to answer back... I saw myself as the defender of my siblings and I had to fight the villain for all of us. But as i grew up, eventually i learned how to shut up. I learned the art of silence. I learned how to ignore everything that he said no matter how hurtful and no matter how senseless they are. By the time I reached my mid-twenties, he seem to have mellowed a bit. i guess he finally saw me as an adult, and dealing with me in an authoritarian manner like he used to would be a little inappropriate.

In recent years, we manage to have small talks, mainly about his health. He always remained healthy, so there was nothing much to talk about. So we talked more about the future, and how he was going to leave everything that he had to me and my brother. I don't know how he sees me now, but all the animosity that we had all those years seemed to have dissipated. I feel no hatred towards him, but I'm not sure if I feel some love. We get along now, but somehow, I can't help but feel a little detached. Maybe because he was the bad cop as I was growing up. That drove a wedge between us. He wasn't the person i ran to when I was growing up. He was the person that I avoided, he was the person that i was afraid of. The last time that we talked was the day before I left for the USA. He told me that it would be better for me to stay here and serve my own countrymen. Then I told him how much it sucks to be a doctor here... that I have no future here. The talk I had earlier with my grandmother was difficult, but my talk with him seemed to be just as difficult. Because as I was explaining everything to him, that was the first time that I saw him teary eyed. He was actually on the verge of tears, and he was trying so hard to keep those tears from falling. He said something like he doesn't want to die without his entire family by his side. Of course i brushed it off. I told him that he was the prime example of health. He still had many years ahead of him. To think otherwise would be preposterous.

When I got back home last week, he seemed like a different person. He was so weak, he couldn't even walk alone. He even found it hard to eat by himself. For the first time, he was weaker than my grandmother, it all seemed surreal. I couldn't really tell what was wrong with him. I recognized that his heartbeat was irregular since last year, i thought he could have a cardiac pathology. After a series of discussions, I finally convinced him to go see a specialist. We practically had to force him to go. He didn't like the trip to the hospital, and he didn't like the fact that he had to wait for 30 minutes before being seen, but we managed to keep him inside the doctor's waiting area despite his numerous pronouncements that he wanted to go home. He was seen by the doctor, initial meds were given, a follow up check up was scheduled, and x-rays and blood works were done... the results of which we found out today.

He has stage 4 cancer. He never consulted a doctor for the past decade or so... whether or not we could have detected the disease in its early stages, we'll never know. The source of the cancer wasn't clear, but it seems that it originated from one of his kidneys. There were numerous metastases to lungs, to the liver, to his entire abdominal cavity. There were even metastases to his muscles and bones. No wonder he was felt so weak. Even chemotherapy would be useless at this stage. No wonder the changes were so abrupt. It's just weird that he doesn't feel any pain. There are no other symptoms, just weakness. Once again, it just seems so surreal. At first I was shocked, and until now I am in a state of disbelief.

Still, I do not feel any sorrow, at least for now. I still feel detached. I don't know what exactly it is I'm feeling. Probably because we did not have a strong bond as I was growing up... probably because I still can't believe that he's really dying. His cancer is terminal, and he only has a few more months, or maybe just a few more weeks to live. And now he refuses to go to the doctor, he just wants to stay in his room, saying he has given up, he does not want to receive any more treatment, he does not want to take any more medications. I would like to think that he has lived long enough. He has done so many things in his life and i think he would leave this world with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment... but seeing him like this, it just doesn't seem right. It's like seeing Superman in the twilight of his life, broken, worn out, and beaten. The cosmos must be playing some sort of practical joke because the man I'm seeing now isn't the grandfather that i have known all my life. There's just no way that all this could be real.

It just can't be.

Pervasive Animosity

Whereas before i still had some doubts... whereas before there was this pervasive sense of uncertainty that kept on lingering... Now I am sure. I don't want to stay in this place. I absolutely hate everything about it.

From the very moment the plane landed, I immediately reverted back to my old self. My old self made up of negative emotions. I was anxious. Sad. Angry. Miserable. Full of angst. When I was away from this place i was full of energy. As soon as I got back all that energy dissipated. This place brings out the worst in me. If that's not a sign that i do not belong here, then I don't know what is.

I easily get pissed, even with the littlest things--- those things that are of little significance. I hate the stupid weather. I hate our unreliable Internet connection at home. I hate how certain stuff that I want aren't available here. I hate the smell of the water coming out of the faucet. I hate our eternally busted toilet and how no one can ever get it fixed. I hate how every hour seems like rush hour because of the traffic. I hate all those stupid traffic rules, they make no sense at all. I hate how people can't obey simple rules. I hate how a lot of people still cling to superstitious beliefs. I hate the stuff i eat at home. I hate the sloppy service in restaurants. I hate how every local show seems to be exploitative. I hate watching the news because all I see are people who have this penchant for hurting one another. I hate reading the newspaper because it only brings more bad news. I hate the crowd. I hate the fact that almost everywhere i go, it's too crowded. I hate how everyone seems to lack discipline. I hate how most people seem to lack manners. I hate how people bring each other down. i hate the dirty surroundings. I hate how cops use their authority to milk you for money. I hate the government and how crippled it seems. I hate how celebrities and politicians seem to have a penchant for grandstanding. I hate how the catholic church has such a great influence on everyone in this country. I hate the fact that the church can dictate upon people's lives, and I hate the fact that everyone just lets them. i hate how church leaders speak as if they are more powerful than the government. I hate all those politicians who keep on insulting our intelligence with their empty promises. I hate the masses for being gullible enough to believe those promises, and I hate the educated individuals even more for being as gullible as the masses. I hate how the whole country could serve as a model for inefficiency. I hate the fact that it's so hard to earn a living here. I hate the glaring divide between the rich and the poor, and I hate the lack of support from the government. I hate how everyone think it's okay because that's just how the way things are. I hate how everyone seems to have an ulterior motive. I hate going out because everywhere i look, there is no order, all i see is chaos. And i hate the fact that I keep on nitpicking just because I am so sick and tired of this place.

And let's not forget how much I hate my dad. I am so pissed right now, I think i could burst. It's really amazing how he never fails to piss me off. I hate the fact that we could never get along, but that's just the way it is. It's already too late to make amends when the animosity is this deep. He shouted at me, awaking me from sleep, saying i don't care for my family because i can't accompany my grandfather to the doctor's clinic. He said I should be ashamed of myself plus a whole lot of other stuff. I don't need to be ashamed because I am already ashamed. I'm almost 30 years old and my life still accounts for nothing--- I'm a ashamed of the fact that i could be like him... a guy who's almost fifty and he can barely support his family's needs. A guy who's almost 50 and yet he still relies on his parents for most of his financial needs. A guy who's life accounts for almost nothing, yet he's so full of himself that he can't seem to realize that. He thinks he's such a big deal when in truth he's made up of nothing but hot air.

I do not care about my family, that's what he said. Never mind the fact that I only had two hours of sleep, never mind the fact the I had a killer hangover. That's not an excuse. Sure that wasn't responsible of me, but I had to drink to numb all the pain that this place is giving me. Never mind the fact that there were already three of them with my grandfather. I still needed to go for whatever reason, I do not know. Apparently, being the designated family driver ever since I got home accounts for nothing. The number of times i accompanied both of my grandparent's during their weekly check-up accounts for nothing. Being the only person they could call immediately whenever they needed someone accounts for nothing. I'm the grandchild who spends most of his time with his grandparents, and unlike my siblings, I cancel my plans when they say so, and that accounts for nothing. He doesn't scold them for not giving a shit about our family, because apparently to him, I'm the only one who doesn't care. My grandparents are part of my dreams, and they are one of the reasons why I want to be successful in life so that i could pay them back somehow for everything that they have done, and that also accounts for nothing.

I've put my entire life on hold for them, and that still accounts for nothing.

I still do not care about my family. I still do not know how to set my priorities. I'm still nothing but a source of continuous disappointment.

But you don't have to worry, dear old dad. When I finally get a job elsewhere, I am never ever coming back. When I say goodbye, we might as well take a picture for posterity's sake, because that would definitely be the last. When i leave home on that fateful day, i swear you'll never ever see my face again for the rest of your god damned life.

When I finally leave home i can breathe a sigh of relief. I can finally move forward, and I will never ever look back.

The Social Experiment

It started out as a prank. We just wanted to prove a point--- that one of our friends just keep on adding friends in Facebook, even people he doesn't know personally, for whatever reason... i dunno... maybe to bloat his friends list, to get to know a lot of people, or maybe to create a false impression of popularity. Or maybe he's just too nice that he can't possibly reject a friend request from another person online. We never meant to do any harm. We just did it for fun.

So that the account wouldn't look suspicious, I had to add random people. I figured that at least 10 people would add strangers to their accounts. That would be enough for the account that we have created to look legitimate. The exact number? I figured that I had to add more than a hundred. The more people I send requests to, the more chances to gain "friends". I sent 120 invites to be exact. 60 men, and 60 women. After a few days, as more and more people accepted our requests, it turned out to be an amusing social experiment. Sure, we only had a small sample size, so the results may not be similar when done on a larger scale, but still--- our findings do provide a glimpse onto the human psyche. So what were the results?

Surprisingly, more than half accepted our friend request. What could that mean? It could mean that a lot of people like having lots of people in their friends lists. Maybe they just love meeting different people. Maybe they love the false sense of popularity that they get from a bloated friends list. or maybe there's just a lot of lonely people in the world.

More men accepted our friend requests. I guess women tend to be more suspicious when it comes to strangers adding them. That makes sense. After all, women are more prone to be the targets of sexual predators than men.

Personally, i was surprised when i added some people i knew personally, and they accepted our friend requests. Let's just say that i never would have though that these friends of mine would accept a friend request from a total stranger. LOL.

But what surprised me the most was the fact that none of these people were using the extensive privacy settings that were available on Facebook. It's one thing to accept a friend request, but to reveal a lot of your personal information to a complete stranger? It's good for them that i do not mean any harm. But what if my goal was to commit online fraud? or what if I was a sexual predator looking for possible victims? There sure are a lot of gullible people out there, and I just can't fathom how people can trust complete strangers with their personal information. Christ, i have access to all their pictures. I can see their email addresses, complete mailing addresses, and telephone numbers. Crimes committed online and sexual predators using social networking sites are all over the news, I was really surprised at how people can be so trusting.

On a lighter note... I guess if your goal is to make new friends, pick a cool looking profile picture. Even something as simple as a silhouette of a person doing an extreme sport like skydiving, snow boarding, or surfing can make you go far--- that can make your profile look cool and attractive, and more people are bound to accept. LOL.

Now what about our original goal? In that regard, our social experiment was a failure. Our friend just kept ignoring our friend request. Either he suspects something fishy, or he has already changed his old ways.

If that's the case, well then... that's good for him. :)

A Calm Surrender

I seem to have neglected this blog... and that's not necessarily a bad thing. This is primarily my "piss" blog--- my outlet when I feel the need to release my bottled up emotions. i post entries when i'm upset, when I'm sad, when I'm angry. Even my seemingly neutral entries like movie reviews aren't really neutral at all. Truth be told, I write stuff whenever i feel stressed, whenever I feel anxious... writing down my thoughts soothes my nerves somewhat. And because I have been unusually happy the past month or so, i seem to have neglected my blogger account. Considering the things I have just said, I guess that's a good thing. The fact that I'm posting an entry again? That's not a very good sign.

Two weeks ago, i found out that I passed the last exam required for US licensure. You might say i felt so elated that I didn't feel the need to write about it. But since I took the exam late in the year, I didn't get the result on time. That meant no interviews for me. i have to try my luck for next year. But that doesn't really matter in the long run. What's one more year compared to the rest of my life? i have already reached a decision. After spending almost three months in the US, I have found the place where I'd want to spend the rest of my life. I wouldn't want to go back home--- ever. Not even for business, not even for vacation. Sure there are family and friends that I would miss, but they can always go visit me. Besides family and friends, there's nothing else that can hold me back. Call me unpatriotic, call me scum, say that I have no sense of national pride and loyalty, but I have grown to hate everything about my land of birth. I hate it here. The very second the plane landed, the happiness that i was feeling for the past few weeks immediately vanished. I immediately felt sad. I have seen how it is on the other side, that i can only look at everything i see here with disdain. I know that's such a harsh thing to say, but i just can't help but compare. From things that are superficial as the weather and the dilapidated airport, to some things that are profound like how the catholic church has a tight grip on everyone, how messy politics are, and how people never learn from the past and how everyone keeps making stupid decisions even the so called intelligent individuals... i just hate everything here. i know these things are rampant elsewhere in the world, even from where i have just been--- but the way people deal with these problems make all the difference. And I just can't help but feel a sense of exasperation and defeat. To hell with patriotism, to hell with giving back to my own country in terms of service, to hell with everything I have stood for. One can only do so much, and there's no way one can make changes when the people are too stubborn to change. You can't help people who do not want to be helped, and it's even harder to try to help people who refuse to believe that they need help. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe all this talk is a little too premature. But for now, I can honestly say, that i have given up. There is nothing for me here.

So to hell with getting into a residency program that i want. To hell with getting a job in a good location. Even if I get into the lowest tiered residency program in Nowheresville, i would still be a lot happier. I just can't be happy here. On most days, I feel angry. There's always something that annoys me. On most days, I'm in a bad mood. I have too much angst and this country unleashes the worst in me. Happiness has been so elusive all my life, and i definitely won't find it here.

i can't wait for this year to be over. I wish there was a fast forward button that I can push...

Because I can hardly wait to get out of here. That's all that I am thinking of.

Same Beginnings

Day 51 in the USA.

Day 16 in New York.

And I am bored out of my wits.

These past few days, i often ask myself... what am I still doing here? I mean, it's not like I still have to be here. Sure, it was fun at first. I've been to places I've never been before. And i do love to travel, i love meeting new people, I love experiencing new things. But there comes a point when familiarity sets it, and that brings you back down to reality.

I knew it was a little too late when I took the exam last November. I wouldn't be able to get the results in time, and that alone lessened my chances of getting into a good program. Still, I decided to stay until I get the exam result, so that I can take the final exam before going home. That's like hitting two birds with one stone. i don't have to fly back here just to take another exam... that would be more cost effective. Then it turns out that I probably won't be able to take that exam after all, because the processing takes about two weeks, and I'm supposed to fly back home at around that time. Trying to reschedule my flight on a later date would prove to be expensive--- almost as expensive as another flight back here. So I'm still at odds whether or not to reschedule my flight back home. Of course, before deciding, I have to be sure that I already passed the exam that I took last November. For me, the result of that exam is still clouded in uncertainty. i don't really know if I passed.

If I won't be able to take that last exam, what the heck am I still doing here? I can wait for the result of the previous exam back home. And it's not like I'm still waiting for job interviews to pop up. It's already January... there would be no more. This whole trip has turned out to be an extended vacation for me. What makes me feel worse is the fact that my parents and grandparents are paying for all my expenses here, and it has been a long time since i've relied on them financially. And all along they think that I'm studying here, that I'm looking for work here--- but that's not exactly the case. I'm simply having a very expensive vacation, and that makes me feel guilty. I am wasting their money by being here. i have no more purpose here, and i have no valid reason for staying. This vacation is like a gift from them, a very expensive gift that I certainly do not deserve. I am bored out of my wits because i am no longer used to being unemployed for so long, for being so dependent on others for so long. I can't help but feel that somehow, i have become useless.

Why am I here? That's another question that has been popping up. Do I really want to be here? Yes, I love it here. i can imagine living here for the rest of my life. But is this the life that i really want for myself? Would I get to do the things that I really wanted to do? I never wanted to be a doctor, and with all the things that are happening to me right now, all the apprehensions that I felt before i enrolled in med school seems to be justified. The path to the finish line is difficult, and once you've reached it you'd be lucky enough to receive some sort of payback. Before deciding to take up residency here, I knew i won't be able to get into a program that I really wanted to be in. There are only two things that I like about this profession: first would be the ability to help others in ways that ordinary men can't. The feeling that i get whenever I am able to help someone in need is indescribable. The other thing that I like isn't as profound as that. Truth is, it's shallow. Some say it's juvenile. I like the adrenaline rush i get when I see blood. I like attending to emergency cases, to trauma. I like surgery. I like cutting people up. It's shallow and it is stupid, but the simple joy that i feel whenever i do certain procedures and operations is indescribable. That simple joy alone can make me forget all the stress that i am encountering. That simple joy is such a huge payback. And I can never experience that joy if i pursue residency training here.

What made me decide was financial gain. I can never make the same amount of money back home. Never in my wildest dreams. So i figured i can apply to any residency program. The road to surgical specialties is hard for foreign medical graduates like myself. Some say it's next to impossible. It's easy to get into primary care programs, and I told myself that I can do that. I didn't like internal medicine--- honestly, I hated it all throughout med school. But I thought about the money, and that alone makes it all worth it. Work is just work. A means to an end, which is money. I can do anything as long as the payback makes it all worth it.

That's what i thought, until I visited my friends at work. Watching them do procedures, watching them go about their daily routine, watching them discuss their patients problems, watching them squeeze their brains for all they are worth... I realized that I don't think I can do this... I'm not sure if I can do this. Certainly, it's not for me. I'm not cut up for internal medicine, that's a fact. it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. I've told myself before that money can make me do any job, but now i'm not sure if money would be enough. i hate it when my friends say I'm being choosy. As a foreign graduate, i should take any opportunity that comes along--- that's what they say, and it's easy for them to say that. It would be easy for them to try a program they didn't like at first. They all wanted to be doctors in the first place. Another program would be easier to swallow, even if it's something they never imagined themselves to be in. But I didn't want to be a doctor. Any program would be difficult for me because I never wanted to be a doctor in the first place. Forcing myself into a program that I do not like would be very difficult. Without the simple joys that certain residency programs can give me, I don't think I can finish any other training program, especially the ones that i hate. I'm not being choosy, I'm just using my head. If I don't think I can do the work, if i seriously doubt if i can go through with it, why would I even apply in the first place? If I had no options, if I had no other choices, then i would go through with it no matter how miserable every single day of my life would be, because I have to. I need to, in order to survive. But the thing is, I do have other options.

I hate the New Year. it can get to me in ways that no other holiday can. I can ignore all other holidays, but not the New Year. Everyone is in such a festive mood, and i find it hard to force a smile, to pretend that just like them, I am overwhelmed with joy and optimism. Because at the start of every year, I'm reminded of the past, of mistakes that I've made, and i am offered a glimpse of a future that doesn't look too bright.

At the start of each year, I am overwhelmed with what ifs and what could have beens. Even when I've told myself over and over that I have left the past behind and that i have moved on, at the start of every year, all these things continue to haunt me again. What if I didn't go to med school? Sure, i didn't really know what I wanted to be back then, but i was sure that I didn't want to be a doctor. What if I didn't resign back in 2007? Sure, I hated the place and the way they run things, but the difficult parts were almost over back then. If I just swallowed my pride and took everything in stride, I'd be almost done with residency by now. Sure, establishing a private practice would still be clouded in uncertainty, but this thing called residency would be over and done with... and that would mean that i have actually accomplished something, no matter how little or trivial the impact that would have in my life. What if i've learned to live with my father and his eccentricities? i would have accepted his friend's offer of a position in a local hospital, even if that would make me still look dependent on my father for everything, even my career. Again, I would have a stable, but low paying job. And I won't even be here. Because more than the financial gain, my dad drove me here. He drove me away. I guess one of the main reasons why I like it here is the fact that I'm away from him. There's an unbreakable bond between a father and his son, I know. But that bond would have to withstand the distance, because we simply can't live with each other. In close proximity, all the anger overshadows all the good that he's been trying to do.

I would love to be optimistic, and be sincere every time a stranger greets me a happy new year and I greet them back, but i just can't. Looking at my past and how uncertain my future is, I'm sure anyone can understand me when I say that I just can't.

At this point in my life, I am sorry to say that I just can't.

Silent Sigh

It's the day before Christmas, and i'm still not feeling the Christmas spirit. So what else is new?

I've lost the Christmas spirit years ago. Christmas is for kids, and that was the last time i felt the Christmas spirit--- back when I was still a kid. As i grew up, the holidays became boring, everything became routine. The season became a blur along with all the other days of the year, nothing differentiates it from the others. Typical. Conventional. Trite.

This year marks the first time I'm not spending Christmas eve at home. I don't know why my family's making such a big deal out of it. If I went on with residency training years ago, this would have happened earlier. It was inevitable, it just got delayed. It's something that they are aware of, knowing the line of work that I'm in. So why the sudden outpouring of emotions, like this was something unexpected? Some of them are even shedding a few tears, for crying out loud. I can never understand how some people get so attached to others, how their distance from their loved ones can easily break them down. But I guess that's just me. I was never the dependent nor the sentimental type. As for Christmas--- to me, it's just like most days of the year. Nothing makes it special. That's probably why i'll never understand how they're feeling right now. I don't understand why Christmas is meant for families. I don't understand why we should give presents, as if those presents can adequately translate to material possessions the love and care that we have for one another. I've stopped giving presents to everyone i know a couple of years ago. I just didn't get the whole point. I just buy gifts for those people that I'm sure to receive gifts from. I'm not being selfish, I just do that to avoid the shame of receiving a gift and then not having something to give back in return. If i want to buy a gift for someone, I'll buy it at the spur of the moment. Spontaneous and genuine. That way, it would be a direct manifestation of my feelings at that point in time. I don't want to use a holiday as an excuse to buy anyone presents, let alone a holiday that I can't really get into. It just feels so unnatural and unreal. A lot of people are using the Christmas season as an excuse to do good, to change their habits for the better, to wear a mask temporarily to hide who they really are. Do we really need a specific day each year just to become our ideal selves? Why can't we do that all year round? That's why to me, Christmas feels so commercialized and manufactured. It just seems so fake. If people really changed for the better and not go back to their old habits at the end of the season, then I would be thankful for Christmas, no matter how detached I am from it. But as long as people keep going back to their old habits, then i'll forever be a cynic.

But I guess as long as the season offers us a glimpse of what we could become, then I guess there's still hope, even for a cynical person like me. So I still say Merry Christmas to all... for whatever that's still worth.

Avatar Rocks!

Truth be told, I was half expecting to hate Avatar. I didn't really want to watch it, and I found all those trailers dull. I used to think highly of James Cameron as a Director. But then he directed Titanic, which is arguably the most overrated piece of mush ever created. I don't go for love stories, so stripped of all that mush, I saw that movie for what it really was--- an overly extended mess, which used several devices to manipulate the emotions of those easily swayed in order to hide its numerous flaws. Most fell for that film's tricks, but not me. I just couldn't wait for that gigantic ship to sink and kill all those overly dramatic people.

Now after all these years, James Cameron has finally released his follow up film. And yeah, since it seems to be the only interesting film in cinemas these days, all that hype got the best of me. I just erased all memories of Titanic from my memory and thought of Aliens... True Lies... Terminator. Plus, it's a sci-fi film, and it's also in 3D. If the storyline sucks, then at least the special effects would be mind blowing. And it WAS mind blowing. James Cameron and company have successfully created a new world, one that has so much details and nuances, that any viewer would be immersed into this world. i would admit that the storyline seems to be a mishmash of previous films, but they have injected several new materials to keep the story fresh. And about those battle scenes? James Cameron is definitely back at what he does best, so those sequences appeared natural, unlike those numerous sequences in his previous film where every single scene seemed forced. This is a film that should definitely be seen in an IMAX theater to fully appreciate it. To say that the film is a visual orgasm would be an understatement. Now I'm definitely looking forward to Battle Angel.

The Movie Critic is Back!

The new Twilight movie has earned a gazillion dollars already. I guess it was inevitable that I was bound to watch it, no matter how much I hated all the fanfare surrounding the shitty franchise. It certainly boggles the mind. Can't audiences nowadays invest in something with a little more... substance? Or at least in something that made a little bit more sense? Glimmering vampires. Half naked wolf boys. Teenage girls and seemingly mature women swooning over them. Yeesh. You can say that i just felt the need to write a scathing review. So here it goes.

The Twilight Saga: New Moon

I thought the first movie was a load of crap, so i'll try to be as objective as possible.

To be fair, it doesn't suck as much as the first film. For one thing, because of the bigger budget allotted for special effects, it no longer looks like a B movie. It's just a mystery why they couldn't add a few thousand dollars more to make those wolves less cartoony. As for the plot? It's still something only teenage girls would appreciate. A lot of scenes are obviously made to make the tween audience shriek and swoon. This is fan service at its finest. A lot of those scenes are obviously aimed at brainless teenage girls and closet queens. I mean, look at the wolf boy previously known as shark boy. Did he really need to take his shirt off just to bandage a small wound?! And that's just one of the numerous shirtless scenes, i actually lost count. Jesus, this movie has absolutely no qualms when it comes to exploiting a minor just to please its man hungry audience.

The best part? i guess it would have to be the scene wherein the Volturi were beating the shit out of that Edward guy. Only it would've been so much better if they managed to kill him off. Kill off that Bella chick too while they're in the process. Only then will we be spared from all this nauseatingly brainless mush.

...

So in order to get rid of all that barf inducing Twilight aftertaste left in my mouth, I had to watch another movie. Preferably something gory. Which brings us to...

Ninja Assassin

Yup, it's another brainless action movie. Don't expect anything as innovative as The Matrix from the Wachowski brothers this time around. There's a semblance of a thin plot interspersed between the action scenes, but that's about it. No symbolisms and metaphors, just tons of blood and gore. I've seen a lot of better action movies and nothing in this movie makes it stand out, but hey, I'm not complaining. The action scenes were good enough. All those Ninjas onscreen actually made the action sequences more interesting. Ninjas are fun to watch after all. And all the blood and guts splattered onscreen made those scenes extra appetizing. But most of all, it was good enough to get rid of the bitter taste of New Moon that was still left in my mouth.

That alone makes it an above average film in my book.

Somewhere in the Middle

Currently in Atlanta, Georgia. Just took the exam, and frankly, I'm not sure if i did well. Everything went smoothly, and i was never under a lot of pressure during those seven hours... it's just that I forgot to do a lot of little things. Things that i knew. Things that I remembered immediately after the patient encounter. I would say it was easy. If only I didn't forget to do those little things, I would be more confident. Almost everyone who took the exam with me barely even prepared for it. I guess that's one plus point for me. Gah. I guess i'll know by February. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

It's been a week now since I've left home. Everyday I was calling my grandmother, and every time she's crying as I'm talking to her. A few days before I left, everything was okay. I figured my plans were okay with her. Then when I was about to leave for the airport, when I gave her a kiss and one last hug, she literally broke down. She cried like a baby, I was afraid she was going to have a nervous breakdown and we had to bring her to the hospital again. But I had to leave. Everything was set. It was too late to back down.

She's the one reason pulling me back home. I'm really starting to like it here. I can imagine living here. From what I've seen, everything seems to be better... I know it's not fair to compare, but it really is. I'm not the sentimental type. I can live alone for years. But when I think of my grandmother, I'm having second thoughts.

Based on my own experience with dealing with patients with the same conditions as hers, i would say she has a maximum of two years to live--- and that's a pretty generous estimate. I wish she would live forever, i wish she would still be there when I'm pretty much done with medical training... but to say that she'll still be around after five years is a pretty generous statement. Maybe i should face the fact that it's impossible for me to pay her back, at least materially speaking. But emotionally, maybe i still can. I can't really bear the fact that I'm having a great time halfway around the world, while she's lonely at home. If just being there with her makes her happy, if just being there with her is enough to pay back for everything she has done for me, at least in her point of view... then maybe I should postpone my plans for residency. What's one or two more years in the long run right? And if she passes away while I'm this far from home, i don't think i could bear it. Yet I'm so tired of being in a standstill. Truth is, I'm still torn between my career and my grandmother. I can't go one with my plans without thinking of her. But if her condition worsens, or if she explicitly says that she wants me to be with her throughout all the remaining day of her life... then I would most probably oblige. i f only she'd live to see the day when all this medical training is over, if only she would live to see the day that her dreams would materialize--- to see her grandson become a successful physician... then it wouldn't be this hard. But fate rarely gives us that chance, it rarely paves the way to ideal scenarios. It's a sad fact of life, fate doesn't take kindly to men's wishful thinking. We rarely get what we really want in this life.

Disjointed Accounts

Am I the only one weirded out by all those joint accounts cropping up at various social networking sites? You know, those accounts shared by two people, mostly couples. For one thing, those accounts look and sound stupid. John Mary Smith Watson. WTF, right?! Yeah, those couples do it to express their love for each other, an expression of the what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine adage... but can't they express their affection in other ways? Sharing a single account is just so impractical. For one thing, two people can't share the exact same group of friends. They might share a lot of friends, especially if they're already married, but they can't share all their friends. It's simply impossible. Like those buddies of mine from way back that i haven't been in contact with for years. I've stayed connected with them through email and social networking sites, but i do not know their spouses... and I don't feel comfortable sharing my personal information to people I don't know, even if they're the better halves of my closest friends. Also, it creates confusion when you post something on their wall or comment on something they've posted, only to have a reply made by the other person. You never know for sure who the hell you're talking to! A few weeks ago, I told one of my closest friends what I thought of the account he shared with his wife. He told me I just couldn't relate because I've never been in love with someone as much as he loves his wife. Okay. That was a bit uncalled for, but what the heck. That was that. Until i sent him a private message which was actually pretty harmless, but could be misconstrued by an extremely insecure and jealous person. it was right after we went to a party and we saw his ex girlfriend from 17 years back, who was there with her husband. They talked for a few minutes, together with the girl's husband, while I mingled with the other guests. I left early, and I forgot to say goodbye to them. When i got home, as an afterthought, I sent him a private message. i asked him if he got the girl's number, and if they've already planned a date. LOL. The thought that his wife might read the message first did occur to me, but i assumed that his wife would understand that i was just kidding.

What happened next? My friend didn't get mad at me, even though his wife didn't talk to him for days and demanded that he move out of the house. Well, he got pretty pissed at first, but he knew the message was pretty harmless and it was obviously meant as a joke, so his anger didn't last long. he just told me that he finally understood why joint accounts were stupid. So did he finally create a separate account? Not exactly. He deleted the joint account, and just told his wife to create a new account for herself if she still wants to have a social networking account.

At least that's one less joint account on my list of friends. Only 5 more to go...