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[poiseandapples]

Tito: Manood ka ng news para alam mo nangyayari

Me: *Turns to "Watch Live: Johnny Depp returns to testify in defamation trial against Amber Heard"*

[poiseandapples]

Random thoughts for 1/7/2021

I'm thinking about just getting cheaper black jogger pants with fleece lining for residency. They're thicker and warmer and much much cheaper. And they can double as slacks if they're a good fit and you can hide the garterized parts. I've done it before -- show up for work in joggers. They work.

This is the perfect time to get a new hobby, like sewing or building puzzles, but instead I'm rereading Harry Potter, reliving my childhood and relishing how I can read it now in probably 3x less time than I did when I was a kid. And marathoning This Is Us. The only medical thing I'm doing is reading Washington Manual in hope and faith that I will be an IM resident in 6 months.

Today was my niece's third birthday and we just got home. It was so fricking cold out (8 F). I don't want to shower. I want a triple blanket.

[poiseandapples]

I am grateful, don't get me wrong, but sometimes, it can feel unsettling, like all of this is too good to be true, especially thinking about where I was two years ago, or three years ago. I have forgotten the details of how hard it is, but when I am reminded of them, I still can't help but break down. As Gotye sang, "You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness." Sometimes, I feel like enjoying right now, to the point of indulging, is doing badly by the past. Irrational, I know. My mom would've been so happy for me. I've been told I deserve what I have now. Frankly, I used to think that way, in terms of entitlement. "I'm a good kid. I haven't done anyone wrong, at least, not too bad." (Though some recollections of my wrongdoings make me cringe). "I don't deserve this." I can remember distinct instances in the past, ten years ago, when I wanted nothing more than what I have now, and it's funny how priorities and desires of your heart change. After going through all that, all of this feels like a luxury I should not have. I can't help but let the guilt ring through the gratefulness. Is it really possible to forget and truly move on? Is it possible to own up to my immature coping mechanisms when people end up pointing it out, and to not instinctively try to defend it with my past?

[poiseandapples]

If Facebook asks for my cell phone number for "security" I swear, I will take it as a sign to delete my account. No hesitation.

Then I'll just make a new account. But it will definitely not have my archive from 2008.

[poiseandapples]

"Honey, when I'm above the trees I see this for what it is."

[poiseandapples]

If I were a blob then I'd just wear a spandex across my hips and the blob will transfer to my chest area and then I wouldn't be flat-chested anymore and then I dunno...

[poiseandapples]

If the first thing you tell me when you see me is that I gained weight, it is safe to assume that I will try my best not to keep talking to you, OK?

[poiseandapples]

Grandma loves last-minute-ing

me and I am bothered by it to an extent.

My tita was honking the horn outside the house. She was picking me up for my 2-week stay at her place. I kissed my grandma good-bye and was slinging my heavy bags over my shoulders, when she decided it was the perfect time to ask me to do something which would require some time to do. But my tita was waiting outside the house, and I hate it when people wait for me, almost as much as I dislike waiting for other people, especially when a time has been set, and when I don't have good music or a good book to keep me entertained. I dislike that grandma doesn't seem to value people's time -- she would really stretch their patience. She would make them wait. She almost thinks it's her right, to keep taking her time. Maybe it is, because she is elderly, but if she can help it, if it keeps happening, I disagree. I hate Filipino time. I hate it.

I remember when I'd drive for my mom, and she would regularly forget something at home, or she would suddenly make me take a detour. The first time is fine, okay, the second makes me irritable, and the third...I can't hide the fact that I'm rolling my eyes and grunting. And when she sees my expression, she would yell at me, telling me I should be more patient.

And when her mom/ my grandma did this to her, she actually went on a screaming fit and left her mom at home. She drove away. She literally stepped on the gas pedal and our heads were whipped back at the acceleration. That moment I was in the car with her, I didn't know whether to tell her to go back or to laugh.

Whenever my grandma would have more time, for example, if I don't have to leave the house, she'd drop cryptic comments, and I guess I'm supposed to figure out that she's asking for something. Then if I don't give it to her because she didn't directly ask me, she'll go passive-aggressive on me. I don't get it. You tell me to be more assertive, to stop being so meek. So why this pakipot attitude? Am I supposed to spend all day trying to read between the lines of everything you say?

I'm sorry. I know no one's perfect. I don't even know if I'm easy to live with. But I don't think you should be surprised if I prefer to stay cooped up in the room upstairs to avoid the land mines.

Can I just say, I don't miss eating rotten food, and I'm actually happy that my GI tract isn't protesting. I'm happy I'm not being force-fed to eat a half-rotten papaya, and if I don't eat it, I'm maarte and wasteful.

[poiseandapples]

It Ends With Us

by Colleen Hoover made me bawl my eyes out at 12 midnight.

This story did not unfold and end the way I expected it to, but it still managed to skewer my heart. It's not even an entirely sad book. I don't want to rant about how I appreciated it because it's a short read and I don't want to ruin the whole few-hours of reading experience for anyone.

5 stars. 10/10.

[poiseandapples]

So our cat napped on this makeshift towel bed I made for him. He woke up and I assumed he was ready to go out, but there he is right now in front of the door, sleeping on the hard, wood floor, and I’m like...mood.

[poiseandapples]

I just finished Throne of Glass

And I am reeling from a bad book series hangover.

I wondered, as a kid, how mom could stay up all night to watch a whole Korean drama, and she was in her 40s then. I think I can understand now. Fangirling is for all ages. I just didn’t think I’d get sucked into the fantasy book world. It served as a good distraction. Maybe bad, because now, I am crashing back down into reality and reality is boring. I have to start studying again.

"What if we go on, only to more pain and despair? What if we go on, only to find a horrible end waiting for us?"

"Then it is not the end."

I wish I could also create, though, instead of consuming all the time.

[poiseandapples]

I know I shouldn’t generalize...ever, but Tumblr has given me the impression that it has a strong fandom presence, so I’m ranting here, but I can’t seem to do any essential thing on a Monday because tomorrow is February 16. Even Instagram is teeming with fandom stuff/ fanart. Even if I want to tell them to STAY AWAY FROM ME, I am actually consuming what has consumed me since late December (hello to the Ouroboros mirror).

In other words, I can’t wait.

[poiseandapples]

I wonder if I’ll ever afford the luxury of a nice reading room, with bricks, a wall full of book shelves, a pretty, dark-colored chaise lounge beside a floor-to-ceiling window with natural light, with a side-table with a white-light lampshade beside it.

[poiseandapples]

Seriously? I’m laughing right now but this is an example of why I don’t trust people who talk too much.

[poiseandapples]

Blogging and journaling

I want to lock my eight-year-old blog on Wordpress but I’m only 70% convinced I should do it, because someone is still reading my old posts from 2013, and if I could help them in any way through those, then I find that to be a good thing.

The problem is there’s so much angsty, borderline controversial stuff there. I could really get bashed for saying some things. Opinions are my own -- were my own -- and I did not intend to offend anyone. I actually just wanted somewhere to rant, and the things I said were triggered by experiences, most of which I actually managed to forget about now! That is, until I reread them.

I’m thinking of password-protecting it rather than deleting, because I can’t let go of the memories, even the bad ones, just like how I can’t dispose of my old journals, which also have so much angst. I’m kind of ashamed of them.

For an introvert, I’m surprised I have so much to say. No wonder I can tire myself out. I can’t believe I already used up one-third of my physical journal. I’m trying to not jot down every thought that occurs to me.

I forced myself to put a title on this post, because I realized I have so much untitled posts, and it’s irritating me right now. Even this one has such a lame title.

I’m thinking of setting up another Wordpress blog, but I’m afraid I’m just gonna dump toxic stuff in there. Ideally, my blog would have my name on it, and it would contain memorable, everyday encounters, or reflections about mundane things, but no. That was my initial idea for this blog...and look at how this one turned out.

I guess I should be on the positive side of the spectrum about this. That person who is reading my old, toxic blog posts lives thousands of miles away. From where he lives, they use miles, instead of kilometers. That is why I posted this one here. It would be weird to write about him there. But it’s great that he can still relate to my 2013 posts. I do like reading very personal blogs, too.

I’m not in such a good mood at the moment, which I’m trying to keep in check. I should be glowing inside and out to some degree because I’m about to ovulate, according to my Flo app. I’m being kept inside the house for so long, I’m starting to feel like the Morlocks from The Time Machine.

It doesn’t help that grandma keeps disagreeing with me on things. She tells me to not read too much because it’ll damage my eyes, or don’t eat taho every day, because too much of one thing is bad. I only have one serving of taho every day, and if I’m not mistaken, taho is just the more interesting sister of tofu. It’s not like I’m eating cheeseburger or fries every day. But you know what I think is bad? Being forced to eat spoiled food. And using projection as defense mechanism -- telling other people they are giving spoiled food, when they’re not.

Ugh, this is exactly what I’m trying to stop myself from doing, ranting like this. Some days, I can tolerate things; other days, I jump to conclusions. I conclude that I want to get out. I don’t know if I’m being caged because I’m letting them cage me. I don’t know if I should do something about it, because if I do, it’ll be disobedience.

[poiseandapples]

There are two kinds of people -- those who scream “TAHO!” from the inside of their house for the whole street to hear, and those who run as fast as they can to catch the Taho man.

[poiseandapples]

Hey, this is usually funny, but that line hurt.