OTS Stickies 06

Toilet Thought's One thought Sh*t stickies #6

MRT Sengkang Station, Singapore
(Oha! International na stickies!)

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”
― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Suggested good read:  My top 9 travel tips by Paulo Coelho

"9. A journey is an adventure"

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Note: realized this is too similar to www.thingsweforget.blogspot.com, in case I'm violating any copyright something something, pls feel free to email me at toxic.mind@yahoo.com. In any case, do visit their web page, they;ve got really nice stickies that any of you might be able to relate to. I just wanted to do the same thing here with friends in Manila and other parts of the world - restrooms, malls, bus stations, random places. 

Talking it out

(image from here)

There's a certain balance achieved with a particular distribution of silence (listening), talking (discussing) and movement (touching). Like a certain distribution of numerics to each compound or molecule to balance out a chemical equation.



Like when a friend silently and patiently listens to your woes, then gives an encouragement, or a scolding, or even a neutral comment, then gives out a smile, a pat on the back, or a hug.

It is when you are able to vomit out your woes through a steady stream of words, that the flood of sadness ebbs down and suddenly you just feel lighter. It is when your sadness is shared with someoene and somehow transformed to something more bearable.

After all, a shared sorrow becomes half a sorrow; a shared happiness becomes doubled happiness.


To kups, thank you for listening.

Thank you (huli man daw at mabait, nakakathank you padin)

I welcomed the air coming out of the tube that was placed just right at the entrance of my nostrils. Just general anesthesia, I was told. I inhaled it like my sanity depended on it.

I hate pain. Despite claiming that I had high tolerance for pain after enduring fraternity rites, I’d still crumble in panic when pain is caused by slicing or anything that involves “going inside.”

A shot of another anesthesia (Demerol I think) through the butterfly cath port was supposed to make me asleep. They were ready to pierce through the spinal with a very large needle for another anesthesia when I said in panic, “I’m still awake!” Through the second shot of Demerol, I was still annoyingly humming. The third shot knocked me dead.

Five hours after, I woke up still feeling kinda woozy and unable to move the lower part of my body.

The procedure was really an easy one, my illness an embarrassing one. As such that I was not used to feeling so helpless and weak, I decided not to announce my current state – just enough to let the important people know that I cannot be at their disposal during that time. I’m supposed to be invincible, unbreakable, but I guess my mortal body just had enough of my pretense.

I’ve always loved being in the lime light. I’ve once complained that I didn’t get the right attention I wanted during my last birthday. But being sick is a different matter. I didn’t want visitors. None from my (extended) family knew that I was in the hospital. My dad alone was privy to my confinement. I insisted on him not telling anyone, but later on I was told that he texted one of my two uncle priests for prayers. My dad chose the one who was in conflict with all of the siblings. It was funny how my dad rationalized to tell the one who was not in speaking terms with everyone just to keep to my instructions. Dads. Secrets are safe with them.

And as such that I’m a crazy kid, I have even crazier friends. It was one of those times I wished they would not feel sweet and investigate where I am. I hadn’t had a decent bath, nor a clean shave, I was simply at my ugliest.

But the fates are quite humorous.

We are each the love of someone else’s life. 

Max Tivoli, Andrew Sean Greer.

To be blind of the care that people subtly display has been a trait I’ve mustered just to satisfy my eternal need (and flair lol) for the dramatic.

And as such that I once blogged that I felt not loved during my last birthday, it is but fair that I express my gratitude for drowning in it while I was sick.

The night of my still being paralyzed from the anesthesia, my bros erik and kuya dave came with a funny looking balloon. Two burly guys with a funny balloon – that cracked me up like crazy.

Next day, bset visited from his Boracay trip and we were snickering while carlo was there, sharing a secret. I didn’t want to tell him that I was hospitalized, ruining his beach trip, but he suspiciously asked before coming back home, as if one talkative little bird told him I was in a hospital.

Dam visited in the wee hours of the morn, luckily before my lactulose episodes. Church mates and officemates came during the night (we had to discuss back-ups for work left). D came and went like a hurricane leaving fruits (which at the time were the only ones I was willing and allowed to eat). Dak dropped by embarrassing me more by explaining my illness to Y (haha love yah dak!). Y, on the other hand, endured being the bantay of the most difficult patient there is.

And my last surprise came the next day when I got released from the hospital. Erik kept on stalling me from leaving the hospital early, saying he still has something for me.

Upon meeting Erik, he handed me a package boxed with a courier logo: an overseas package from kups. When I opened it, I saw a tin can filled with packs of my favorite freshly baked dark chocolate with pecan cookie from Famous Amos (my ultimate comfort food). And you don’t get that kind of package from elsewhere, just in Singapore or possibly Malaysia. It felt like Christmas and Kups was my Santa.

I asked Erik how much the customs charged to clear the package, but he just won’t tell. He simply implied that it’s possibly one of the most expensive cookies he has ever seen. Haha.

So there. This post is just to thank everyone who shared their time and effort when I needed it most.

We are each indeed the love of someone else, if not of so many. One just needs to look and see. We really do not need to seek happiness from elsewhere (or seek love from a hopeless place). We simply just need to look inside our homes and within our friends to know that we are indeed loved.

Know this, and maybe you’ll find the happiness that you seek. And maybe even contentment.

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P.S. My birthday’s coming near, I don’t need gifts, but I do need you to collect some school supplies for donation. More details to come in the next few posts. Stay tuned! I may need your help once more in this new project. Zaijian! Till next ish! :)

Ber Months Update

So I've been really busy lately. These ber months have been flooding my schedule (mostly about work) so much that my planner looks like a mess.


From my last post on my plans for the ber months, I think I've been pretty successful so far.

September was indeed a month of rekindling friendships and making new ones. With how strong these friendships are, maybe only the new year will know.

October has been a month of booze. I've been drunk twice or thrice to the point of vomiting my guts out. Spell BLOOD. Now that was fun.

November entered with me jammin with my bros and visiting relatives during the holidays.

But it seems like this month won't only be about family. It promises travel with good friends.

So here goes my fun schedule this November. This thursday I'll be going to Hongkong for a meeting. I've extended my stay till the weekend and sent shout outs to have friends join me to make travellin more fun.

The first few days of the month had me all too emo and my mood swings were just too crazy, luckily, kups had been brave enough to try to pacify me despite the distance, thanks to whatsapp lol. So now I'm just excited that he had the guts to come and fly to HK from wherever his OFW ass is.

It'll be my first out of country trip with a friend (who will bring his dSLR - ehem Macau camwhore time!).

Then there's Baguio at the end of the month, but that's for another story. I'll let my other friends blog about that. :P

So cheers to these ber month memories.

Cheers to ending this year working hard, and partying harder.

Just a few more days till Christmas!

Wootwoot!

Of huggers and whatnots

I grew up in a family of huggers. You could say that we’re kinda the touchy kind.



The kind you see with one arm outstretched to the other’s shoulder while walking, the ones you see hugging each other tightly when we meet up and when we say goodbye, the ones you see incessantly poking each other’s ribs whenever wherever (which evolved to pinching each other’s nipples for guys - I know, wierd).

In high school, I was taught that a person needs 30 hugs a day. There was a time before graduation, each would have to hug the person arriving in for the first period in the morning. Thus before the start of the first class, we each would have 30 hugs already, from 29 of our classmates and one from our adviser.

Of course hugging is still somewhat reserved to those I’m comfortable hugging. I don’t want to end up with a black eye or a slap on my face, you see. But for those I feel strongly, I do make it a point to have given them a hug on occasions – friends, family, just a few officemates – people who matter. It’s my first act of showing affection.


I guess I have never really met anyone who’s not used to hugging. I’ve always thought all people would know how to hug, no matter which gender, one way or another.


Not until recently.

Let’s call him kups. Kups became my tropa, my kada, my bro and homey quite unexpectedly. He was the astig street smart kinda guy, I was the perky bratty kid. We were kinda each other’s opposites but I guess we hit it off quite easily.

He’d jump off at the first sign of hugging, disclosing that he doesn’t hug much really, let alone guys. I’d have to literally ask for permission since that was my only way of thanking him for letting me extend my welcome in his pad. I’ve assumed he doesn’t want to lessen his machismo so I let him have his personal space. I vowed to train him to be a hugger, but I wager it’d be one tough task. Haha!

But as days went by, I realise he has his own way of showing friendship and affection. He’d give out a piece of chocolate randomly to friends (something that he might have picked up from the office or something), he’d be very attentive in what one is saying and would always extend out help when needed (even if he’s dead tired even), he’d simply do things without big gestures, without fuss nor condition, but still, it would mean so much.

Thus, I’m letting him be with his machismo. My hugs are nothing compared to his macho sweetness, non-obvious and unassuming. I realise each person would have their own ways of saying they care, which made me appreciate a lot of people more.


You can never really measure one’s thoughtfulness with your own standard. You’d only get disappointed if you do lest you realise and welcome that each gesture is special in their way.


Your dad might not be a hugger, but he may be a patter (a pat on the back lol). Your mom might not be a hugger, but she may be a pincher (a pinch or two on your ear maybe lol). Your friends might not be a hugger, but they may be a slapper (slaps you practically everywhere, your bum, or maybe wacks your head).

Thus, huggers or whatnots, appreciate and you’d find happiness.

Little gestures might not be too big, but they could mean so much.

  

  pictures from here and here.