News of increasing risks of breathing problems and respiratory diseases in the Philippines caused by the haze from forest fires in Indonesia are finally getting into public consciousness. It is frightening it needs to be discussed more often. This pressing concern alone makes me think that it is now best that Filipinos need to regulate (or just stop merchandising and buying) firecrackers this Christmas season and the coming New Year’s Eve. There are just too much toxic elements in the air that people breathe these days. Besides, it’s 2015. We need to stop believing firecrackers drive the bad spirits away from our homes. What we need is to simply elect the right people for our government or ignore the late-night texts and calls from our jerk-ish exes. (Hello, do not ever dare follow Adele’s latest song!) This way, evil will definitely have a hard time getting into our lives.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2015
Monday, March 04, 2013
v for vulgarity
Here’s something true: I cringe and feel sick when a curse word comes cruising into my ears.
There is a multitude of them, originating from different languages, each possibly more hilarious or vulgar than the last one you’ve heard. Like drugs they vary in degrees of potency. You’d probably get one on your way to work. Hence, there’s no need mentioning any mammalian excrement here, the F word here or someone’s mother and what she does here.
I have my fair share of them thrown at me and I can say that I am no saint in this department, as if suggesting I haven’t flung an expletive at somebody or the neighbor’s noisy dog in this lifetime. Of course, I do. I, too, fall into the ease of this play.
But not as frequently.
As frequently compared to whom? Now let’s keep that blank to avoid a strain on relationships familial, intimate and platonic.
This is my sense of self, the familiarity of my reservations. And just when I thought I was alone, an unlikely friend of mine last Saturday shared the same displeasure to cussing or cursing.
Also, the same aftereffects upon receiving or hearing one, especially when it is uncalled for: aggravation, a numbing pain in the head, and then suddenly, a strange sense of disappointment and hopelessness. Almost like a hangover.
Profanities, it seems to the two of us, are major downers.
This is not to spring myself up on the goodness scale. No one’s holy. Sometimes, dropping the bombs in cases of extreme anger are justifiable (or debatable, it depends), but during everyday conversation for the sake of being funny? For driving the point home? For enraging someone? Here are my thoughts on them.
For humor? Casual crudity could be amusing but an excess of it leaves a bad taste in the mouth. For emphasis? Curses only highlight a starving imagination or the absence of it. For retaliation? Courage comes in many forms, but firing away obscenities is not one of them, since cursing simply stresses the incapacity to talk back with sense.
In the end, what you think is funny, cool, or brave is actually the other way around: rude, cheap, and coward.
There are more horrifying things the world could open up to us, so there is no use contributing to the garbage we already have in our hands. The idea is this: the less said the better.
But that’s just me. If all forms of reasoning fail (such as this article), then I would have to keep to myself or run away from the hailstorm of vulgarity. Jumping into the bandwagon is not an option as of the moment.
So now, you can start putting in your two cents worth here. In other words, your piece of shit.
There is a multitude of them, originating from different languages, each possibly more hilarious or vulgar than the last one you’ve heard. Like drugs they vary in degrees of potency. You’d probably get one on your way to work. Hence, there’s no need mentioning any mammalian excrement here, the F word here or someone’s mother and what she does here.
I have my fair share of them thrown at me and I can say that I am no saint in this department, as if suggesting I haven’t flung an expletive at somebody or the neighbor’s noisy dog in this lifetime. Of course, I do. I, too, fall into the ease of this play.
But not as frequently.
As frequently compared to whom? Now let’s keep that blank to avoid a strain on relationships familial, intimate and platonic.
This is my sense of self, the familiarity of my reservations. And just when I thought I was alone, an unlikely friend of mine last Saturday shared the same displeasure to cussing or cursing.
Also, the same aftereffects upon receiving or hearing one, especially when it is uncalled for: aggravation, a numbing pain in the head, and then suddenly, a strange sense of disappointment and hopelessness. Almost like a hangover.
Profanities, it seems to the two of us, are major downers.
This is not to spring myself up on the goodness scale. No one’s holy. Sometimes, dropping the bombs in cases of extreme anger are justifiable (or debatable, it depends), but during everyday conversation for the sake of being funny? For driving the point home? For enraging someone? Here are my thoughts on them.
For humor? Casual crudity could be amusing but an excess of it leaves a bad taste in the mouth. For emphasis? Curses only highlight a starving imagination or the absence of it. For retaliation? Courage comes in many forms, but firing away obscenities is not one of them, since cursing simply stresses the incapacity to talk back with sense.
In the end, what you think is funny, cool, or brave is actually the other way around: rude, cheap, and coward.
There are more horrifying things the world could open up to us, so there is no use contributing to the garbage we already have in our hands. The idea is this: the less said the better.
But that’s just me. If all forms of reasoning fail (such as this article), then I would have to keep to myself or run away from the hailstorm of vulgarity. Jumping into the bandwagon is not an option as of the moment.
So now, you can start putting in your two cents worth here. In other words, your piece of shit.
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
ain't strong enough
At 1:40 this morning, I think I felt some kind of heart attack. I woke up suddenly with my left chest throbbing, the little fist of a muscle within tight as if gripped by a mighty, calloused hand. A slight movement would bring an excruciating wave of pain all over me, so I remained still in bed like a paraplegic. It lasted for a few minutes, three or four or longer, as I breathed in and out deeply. The sharp ache, the pain eventually passed away. Then I wished all pain would pass away that easily, that quickly.
I think it is time to visit the doctor again who, last year, said to me, “Your heart is strong.” I knew I was right. This heart never had been, never was.
I think it is time to visit the doctor again who, last year, said to me, “Your heart is strong.” I knew I was right. This heart never had been, never was.
Friday, September 30, 2011
about the heart
Last Sunday, September 25, was World Heart Day. It was celebrated worldwide. I knew it from a news report on television, snatching my attention like a flimsy feather to a gust of wind since I visited doctors to—you’re right—have my dear heart (among other organs) checked just a few months ago. And to make the long story short, nothing really serious.
But that pattern of visiting the doctor (doctors, in the plural, to be specific), recalling the pains, doing some tests, waiting for results, and visiting the doctor again scared the bejeezus out of me. It knocked a few thoughts in my head and resulted into this:
My poem “Response to a Doctor’s Findings” is in this week’s Philippines Graphic (3 October 2011). Shot of the magazine’s cover you see right up there. I just find it a little bit funny, this piece coming out the morning after World Heart Day (I got my copies last Monday). It looks like a wily stab at humor. Maybe the publishers know. Maybe it is pure coincidence.
But what I am really sure of is that this seems to be a lovely year for me. I won’t stop the stars from aligning, suggesting beautiful things. This is good for me, good for my heart.
But that pattern of visiting the doctor (doctors, in the plural, to be specific), recalling the pains, doing some tests, waiting for results, and visiting the doctor again scared the bejeezus out of me. It knocked a few thoughts in my head and resulted into this:
My poem “Response to a Doctor’s Findings” is in this week’s Philippines Graphic (3 October 2011). Shot of the magazine’s cover you see right up there. I just find it a little bit funny, this piece coming out the morning after World Heart Day (I got my copies last Monday). It looks like a wily stab at humor. Maybe the publishers know. Maybe it is pure coincidence.
But what I am really sure of is that this seems to be a lovely year for me. I won’t stop the stars from aligning, suggesting beautiful things. This is good for me, good for my heart.
Monday, July 18, 2011
response to a doctor's findings
The doctor pulls bones,
muscles, tissues, all white
in that ghost of a film
from the brown enve-
lope. I hear it shuffle
with the rest of the do-
cuments inside, as if breath-
ing huskily, owning up the pain.
Some sounds are not meant
to be heard yet I close in.
A series of fluctuating graphs
is studied next to a list
of linked letters and numb-
ers that make no sense.
I consider having my eyes
checked the following week.
A joke, how this one diagram
curves into a smile and mocks
at my failure to figure
the codes siphoned
from my own body.
Incomplete right bundle branch.
Emphysema. Acid reflux.
The charts are laughing.
But there is none of these.
Only a nod and a smile,
real, finally, from the doctor
who hands a prescription.
Before leaving, we
exchange possibili-
ties, assurances and re-
assurances.
“Your heart is strong,”
the doctor says.
In my head,
No, doc, it’s not.
I just think
there are mis-
takes that will al-
muscles, tissues, all white
in that ghost of a film
from the brown enve-
lope. I hear it shuffle
with the rest of the do-
cuments inside, as if breath-
ing huskily, owning up the pain.
Some sounds are not meant
to be heard yet I close in.
A series of fluctuating graphs
is studied next to a list
of linked letters and numb-
ers that make no sense.
I consider having my eyes
checked the following week.
A joke, how this one diagram
curves into a smile and mocks
at my failure to figure
the codes siphoned
from my own body.
Incomplete right bundle branch.
Emphysema. Acid reflux.
The charts are laughing.
But there is none of these.
Only a nod and a smile,
real, finally, from the doctor
who hands a prescription.
Before leaving, we
exchange possibili-
ties, assurances and re-
assurances.
“Your heart is strong,”
the doctor says.
In my head,
No, doc, it’s not.
I just think
there are mis-
takes that will al-
ways be right.
Friday, June 17, 2011
stronger
A few weeks ago, I visited my doctor. I handed her the results of my tests, and she studied them very closely. A few nods later, she finally said, “Your heart is strong.” In my head, “No, doc, it’s not.”
Chos.
Chos.
Monday, September 13, 2010
dreaded dengue
I just recently knew that a niece of mine in my home province had dengue fever. Thankfully, she is all well right now. Though the ordeal has passed, I cannot ignore that this illness has reached its high point.
In my little research to learn more about the disease, I find in an article in The Philippine Star (5 September 2010) that “From January 1 to Aug. 21, the DOH recorded 62,503 cases, 88.8 percent higher than the 33,102 cases recorded in the same period last year. Death toll has reached 465 this year and 350 last year.”
That’s one alarming increase. Aedes aegypti, the kind of mosquito that carries the virus and transmits it to humans, is now widespread that all we can do right now is to prevent ourselves from any harm. The news report is enough precaution.
I don’t know when and where my niece gets the bite (mosquitoes breeding in flowers vases? rubber tires in the playground? roof gutters?) but I am certain that it is from a mosquito that has taken a bite from an ill person, someone who has dengue fever. It is an endless cycle.
For a little girl who has yet to see a lot of things, the experience is definitely not memorable. In fact, it is especially not for an acquaintance close to me: three members of her family are now admitted because of Dengue, in a row! That is why for everyone’s sake, here is a link on basic dengue information and ways to prevent it from propagating.
In my little research to learn more about the disease, I find in an article in The Philippine Star (5 September 2010) that “From January 1 to Aug. 21, the DOH recorded 62,503 cases, 88.8 percent higher than the 33,102 cases recorded in the same period last year. Death toll has reached 465 this year and 350 last year.”
That’s one alarming increase. Aedes aegypti, the kind of mosquito that carries the virus and transmits it to humans, is now widespread that all we can do right now is to prevent ourselves from any harm. The news report is enough precaution.
I don’t know when and where my niece gets the bite (mosquitoes breeding in flowers vases? rubber tires in the playground? roof gutters?) but I am certain that it is from a mosquito that has taken a bite from an ill person, someone who has dengue fever. It is an endless cycle.
For a little girl who has yet to see a lot of things, the experience is definitely not memorable. In fact, it is especially not for an acquaintance close to me: three members of her family are now admitted because of Dengue, in a row! That is why for everyone’s sake, here is a link on basic dengue information and ways to prevent it from propagating.
Friday, January 01, 2010
some sense
I’ve gathered from a news report that incidents of victims who are shot from the poetic-sounding but nonetheless dangerous ligaw na bala have risen, from 17 cases across the country (2008-2009) to 26 (2009-2010).
The missing number between the two data is still big.
There must be logic behind these happenings. My guess is simple. Various organizations have strengthened their campaigns against setting off firecrackers when anticipating the coming new year, or at least burn money with the lesser evil like a fountain, so people opt to go for the most sensible form of celebration: drinking. Yes, the activity that involves lots and lots of alcohol that ranges from 6.5 to 7.2 per bottle, or depending on what kind.
After this semi-mandatory family-slash-friends affair, the pivotal reason to the rising number of deaths and wounded from the lost bullet (because it’s called ligaw na bala, diba?) comes next. People, in the end, get drunk. Obviously, those with guns, licensed or not, especially those who go beyond their sanity’s control, reach for their guns and pull the trigger. Bang!
In simpler words: No putok. Gets drink. Gets drunk. Big putok.
I say the precautionary measures must be lifted a notch higher.
The missing number between the two data is still big.
There must be logic behind these happenings. My guess is simple. Various organizations have strengthened their campaigns against setting off firecrackers when anticipating the coming new year, or at least burn money with the lesser evil like a fountain, so people opt to go for the most sensible form of celebration: drinking. Yes, the activity that involves lots and lots of alcohol that ranges from 6.5 to 7.2 per bottle, or depending on what kind.
After this semi-mandatory family-slash-friends affair, the pivotal reason to the rising number of deaths and wounded from the lost bullet (because it’s called ligaw na bala, diba?) comes next. People, in the end, get drunk. Obviously, those with guns, licensed or not, especially those who go beyond their sanity’s control, reach for their guns and pull the trigger. Bang!
In simpler words: No putok. Gets drink. Gets drunk. Big putok.
I say the precautionary measures must be lifted a notch higher.
Monday, November 02, 2009
hefty bunch
Though some things are better left unnoticed, there are those that you cannot disregard no matter how you shut all your senses down. For example, how would you ever resurrect the death of Friendster to all your elitist comrades? Seriously, here are the mind-fillers that I am talking about. A word of caution though, this does not involve pointers on the coming elections and global economic issues.
1. Itch
I’ve already mentioned this itch a couple of times ago through status updates (as if the frequency helps get rid of it), and it is still there, lingering in my throat. I have even mentioned of getting a cat to have its padded paws rub my neck, but then I realize it only works for removing the pain caused by little bones stuck somewhere in the throat—which is, of course, based on silly old wives’ tales. I get myself a can of soda, a bar of chocolate and two cupcakes. Now I wonder where I keep on having this annoying sore throat. Hey, where’s the vanilla almond ice cream?
2. Weekend
What can be more befuddling than spending a long weekend doing nothing at all? Well, another weekend doing nothing at all. I know this would happen today, that’s why last Friday I visited the dibidihan and bought seasons one and two of Big Love, a series about polygamy, and then discovered I made the wrong decision after watching the first three episodes. It’s not that it is awful, the series, but I need something light and funny, not something stressful with bickering in-laws and scheming religious sect. Alright, I will just listen to Mika then.
3. Stagnant
My promise is broken. I tell myself to come up with a short fiction or a piece of verse, at least in their roughest draft you could imagine, every month but that October is a total dud. This is troubling. I don’t want the well to go dry, especially in these times that I’ve chosen a career path that veers me away from inspiration, keeps me rehashing all the good sentiments I could remember from Hallmark cards. That’s why I want to do the bullet that follows this; wishing it might help me get back, head on to those unfinished drafts.
4. Reads
I want to read. There’s a big pile by my bedside, novels upon anthologies upon magazines upon collections. And most of them, I haven’t read. Technically, I have read all of them, the first five to ten pages. Because of my sudden inability to finish anything that’s bound, in gloss or matte finish, I have given myself a rule to finish at least one material before buying another one at the bookstore. But then, the minute I arrive home after work, all my energy are gone I can’t even pick a flimsy Time. Now, I feel myself shiver, probably a withdrawal symptom, the minute I see an interesting cover by the store windows.
5. Camera
My work will soon require frequent documentation just for the heck of it, and so far, I am not happy with what the upper echelons have been providing me. So, I think of getting one, the sort that captures the image of lions devouring a gazelle from meters and meters away if there’s a safari around here. On my long trek to get to the jeepney terminal before going home, I cannot help but salivate whenever I pass by the gadget stores in one mall. If I could just get into those shops after midnight…
6. Gifts
And just look at that, October slips by like tumbleweed. A few more weeks and it will be December, the month of giving and more giving, or if you’d prefer the term, sharing. My concern here is the equation listed below:
Legend:
a – Me
b – Income
c – Family members
Problem:
a(1) + b is not equal to c(7)
Get the picture? Never mind.
7. Material
In case you haven’t noticed, I will tell you now that the last three things mentioned are, like what I have just said, Things. Isn’t that disturbing, wallowing in all earthly delights? Envying filthy goods? Falling to the consumerist pit where the devil might be lurking, patiently waiting to join him in the underworld? I don’t know. What I am sure is I want to live a pleasant life even if I can’t bring a netbook after I am cremated or buried six feet under.
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