I’d probably blog here more often if it meant no logging onto friendster anymore. After all, its kinda pfft with all the junk mail and links to viruses and stuff.
And yet…
Here I am again.
A lot has happened since my last entry: I got married earlier this month, moved to Makati.
I think I’ll spend part of this morning re-reading my old posts…
After more than a month of week-end and duty tinkering, I was finally able to get my carbine to function.
Last month, my gearbox was noted to have a crack, affecting both sides. Since I was moving up to a reinforced gearbox, I decided to upgrade the other components as well. As is always the case, upgrading presents certain problems with getting the new components to mesh with each other. The brief list of the components I got:
The biggest draw for me was the CTR stock. After weeks of poitively lusting over it, I finally got one to replace the old crane stock. What prevented me from getting one before was the fact that I would need a smaller battery. Then I’d probably have to get a smaller MOSFET. So after weeks of hemming and hawing, I saw a cheap one in Quiapo and got it. To burn bridges, I then immediately sold off my old crane stock and battery. I was committed. One new lipoly and small MOSFET in the stock tube, and I was back in business – for a while. Apparently, the lack of a heat sink lead to the soldered points coming loose. The Terminus was terminated. Back to plan A: Relays.
I’ve always preferred relays to MOSFETs. The thought of a purely solid state device controlling potentially eye-damaging projectiles gave me the jitters, especially since previous experiences with my first MOSFET where my rifle continued to fire on full auto even without pressing the trigger. Like I said – potentially eye-damaging projectiles. Relays, on the other hand, were something easier for me to handle. Problem was the size. A good 30A relay would never fit with the battery inside the stock tube without major modifications, that is. So back to the grind – literally. After a lot of cutting, shaving, and grinding, I was able to fit the battery AND relay into the stock tube. Luuuurve it.
My old pinion gear was getting ratty, so I opted for a new one from SRC. Unfortunately, during testing, I misaligned my motor so both my new pinion and bevel gear were a bit chewed up. Then my EG1000 motor gave out. Still haven’t figured out why, but that’s another 1.8K down the drain. Borrowed/bought Mark’s old JG motor with new pinion gear, and finally got the thing to crank.
MORAL: Sometimes it pays to just get a damn gunsmith to do all the work. But its nice to know that there’s still some DIY left in me.
Sometimes 
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Speaking of DIY, I decided to switch to propane from green gas. On the ACM boards, it was mentioned that a local shop sold adaptors for around 2K. Went to the shop, and got the price down to 1.8K. Was told that the adaptor was for CO2 tanks and not propane, but I still went ahead and bought it. Talk about severe buyers remorse. Went back the next day to see if I could get it changed – even willing to pay a re-stocking fee, but all they could do was give me store credit. Which was fine, and allowed me to get a balance charger, a dean’s plug, steel bushings, and hi-flow wires. In retrospect, I should’ve just gone with an extra magazine. Then again, I do have a box magazine (which I still need to motorize). Anyway, after getting rid of the unusable adaptor, I was back to square one. Solution? DIY. After cutting up an old green gas can, scrounging around for a quick disconnect coupler, and looking for epoxy, I had all the parts I needed. I filed down the coupler to make it fit into the Schrader valve of the propane tank, then epoxied it to the green gas nozzle. Voila. Total cost: Zero.
Next project will be to rework an LPG regulator in order to refill my coleman tank. That would really drop gas expenditures to practically a pittance, with most of it going to silicone oil.
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DIY. You gotta love it.
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It takes about 30 minutes to reduce a kitten to a pile of ashes that can fit inside a thimble. I learned this last Sunday when by chance I had the components to test it:
1. 1 dead kitten
2. 1 Blow torch
3. 1 Free Sunday afternoon
The sad thing is that this was my favorite kitten from Calico. Never did anything to it. Cam home and found it splayed out inside one of the garage cabinets. Not wanting to dispose of the body in a plastic bag (like I did to the black-and-white kitten last week), I opted to burn the sucker.
After the initial stench of burning hair, it started smelling like a backyard barbecue, complete with sizzling and occasional body fluid squirting from hollow organs. Small parts, like the extremities and tail were easy to cremate. The trunk and head took some time. Bone would glow white hot at the onslaught of the torch. The brain and liver were the hardest to get rid off. I guess if I didn’t mush up the brain, it would’ve taken twice as long. Made me think of what it takes to cremate people. At the end of the process, I’m sure someone has to go and pulverize the cremains.
At the end of it all, what was left was some residual carbonized substance that would fit inside a thimble.
All I used was just half a can of butane.
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Few weeks ago, I decided to reduce the amount of trash in my room. Most of my holy week holiday was spent sorting through bags of bric-a-brac. My initial objective was to reduce by at least 50 percent the amount of junk squeezed into every nook and cranny of my room. Included in the pogrom were all my old springer rifles, and the old steyr. Considering the 7-8 bags of trash I managed to sort, I think it was mission accomplished
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One good purpose of cleaning up: it makes room for new junk
Foraging through my favorite junk shop, I found a KMB 18 mask - a full face commercial diving mask complete with headphones and microphone. The junk shop owner mistakenly thought that it was something used for fumigating mango trees. He was selling it two years ago as a set (with sprayer) for around 2K. Way too much for a piece of junk. Next time I saw it, it was dirty and had a rat’s nest in it. Asking price was 500, got it down to 400. If not for anything else, its a great conversation piece.
I’ve decided to give up facebook notes. The interface has become somewhat tedious.
So I’ve moved some of the notes back here where they belong, lest they feel left out. Posts Whirlwind, Spring Clean, and Crap are x-posts.
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One kitten down. Probably due to internal injuries. 3 more to go. Looking out for hte white one.
I never thought I’d cheer for Calico. Surprisingly, she has brought down her brood from the ceiling. It includes one black and white female kitten, and one mostly black cat.
I’m hoping this litter makes it through.
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Staying home to day to work on my backlog of things. Room still messy. Gun still won’t fire, although after replacing a bushing, and re-shimming, it started to crank, but now the battery’s weak.
Still have to figure out a more fool-proof method of putting the relay into the tube. I mean, it fits, but to have to constantly move it about can’t really be good for the wiring.
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Next on the hitlist: Trash. MD plates. Maybe a head-mount for my loupe.
I’m tired.
Two days of on-and-off working on this stupid stubby, and all I’ve got to show for it is a messy room. Have a whole pile of micro relays, but until I can get my motor to engage my bevel gear properly, it’ll be all for naught. Actually thinking of taking apart the gearbox just to put one shim to raise the height of the bevel. I’ve got all the parts I need, and then some. All I need now are ideas.
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Haven’t decided about diving tomorrow yet. Part of me wants me to finish all the niggly little tasks I put out for myself this week-end, and part of me wants to just jump into cool water.
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Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll clean up. Get that cleaning part out of the way. Then I’ll wait for Feliz’s plans for tomorrow. Then I’ll make up my mind if I still want to dive or not.
Okay? Ok. Deal.
She’s gone. The village whore.
Eleven years after being rescued from around the public market in Las Pinas, Momma Cat, the progenitor of all the front-yardigans is now officially MIA. Reports from the previous week indicated that she wasn’t eating right, despite of an infusion of new Whiskas, she’s gone the way of long-tail, short-tail, big black, little black, and a whole gamut of other cats that didn’t live long enough to be given creative names.
She was the cat who would come running from wherever in the village upon hearing the familiar sound of the rumbling of my car, the sound of the front or side door being opened, the rattle of cat-food in its container, or the inane high pitched call of “feeeeeeding time!”
She is survived by Calico (the bitch that refuses to die) as well as long-tail’s two kids, ugly-cat and yellow-cat.
Alas her demise heralds the end of the front-yardigans. Even though the title of village whore is now passed on to calico, she has never been much of a mother. Of all her kittens, not one has survived. She’s recently given birth to a set of kittens in the ceiling, although as of this writing, their pathetic little cries have faded away.
Alas, Ugly and Yellow will never have litters because they have testicles.
Just came from Hidalgo today. Twice.
First time this morning, I was able to buy two UV filters for my lenses, a 72mm, and a 67mm filter. Also got a 580EX Speedlite. And a flash diffuser. And all I was really looking for was a 50mm 1.8 prime mk I. None of that available. Didn’t think of trying the filters on my lenses while I was in Quiapo.
Got to the hospital. Tried em out. Apparently, I needed a 62mm and 77mm filter. Crap. Mao bought the speedlite from me. Mmmm, flash envy.
Went to S&R to buy some Goodyear tires. Glenn asked if they were any good, I said that they were the special ones. The regular tires were just called “year.” No dice. Apparently not as gullible as some people I know. Unfortunately they didn’t have any more Ducaros, so I opted for the next cheaper thing on the list: Yokohamas. Unfortunately, they only had one tire. One! Who only buys just one tire? Got Dunlops instead. Switched tires, then found out that one of the tires I intended to keep had a screw in it. Screwed.
Went back to Hidalgo before heading south. Got my filters replaced and bought some more knick-knacks. Drove home feeling pretty good about myself, in spite of everything, then I remembered that my car had not yet been registered.
Duh.
There’s something cathartic about cleaning your personal space.
After more than a year of superficial cleaning, I’ve finally taken advantage of a switch in duty schedules to really really clean my room. Threw out most of the contents of my ref. Actually the only thing in it right now is water and coke. Got rid of several mouldering chunks of SPAM (pity), ground beef, a cake box (that has been sitting empty in my ref since november), milk (from november as well), a dozen eggs (not sure from when). Emptied most of the things from my cabinets. No more scuba gear, airsoft gear, etc. Just my camera. some papers. clothes, essential OR supplies.
Finally cleaning my carpet.
Changing sheets.
Curtains getting washed
Screens cleaned.
Windows washed.
Fresh.
Fresh.
Fresh.
The detritus of 1st year residency gone.
Amazing.
Within ten minutes of coming home, I was able to totally mess up my room. Took out my box with my winter coats and found the other scrub suit I thought I lost. Also found 2 pairs of shoes, as well as other assorted goods.
Took my dive gear out. Been a while since I last breathed compressed air, so I decided to take a few swigs from the tank.
MAybe I should take a few more swigs, considering I just unleased a new wave of dust after trying on my old pea coat and overcoat. At the same time.
- talk about warm
Getting sleepy…
I hate this new friendster blog. I miss the old damn format. The old colors. The old interface. I hate that I don’t have my photo albums on the side. I wish facebook would come up with a viable option so this anachronistic piece of shit can just disappear.
Sigh.
But what can I do. 3 months since the change and I haven’t written anything useful. For the longest time, I kept waiting. Using the new format as an excuse for not writing. Screw it. While searching through the blog archives for some old photos, I realized that previously, I was blogging for the wrong reasons. I was blogging for other people, when all this time, I should have been blogging for myself. Looking through the archives was a jog down memory lane - as I remembered those heady days gone by
- when I was a bum, playing airsoft on the week-ends. Looking at the old photos, it occurred to me that through little upgrades, I have actually replaced my entire rifle and secondary weapon. The only thing left from my old rifle is the metal plate used as a false bolt. The CO2 pistol I got in the states is just gathering dust. So is the rest of my gear, unfortunately.
- when I was more of the cheap bastard diver than I am now. I’ve given up a lot of my DIY projects, and lost part of my soul when I started buying pre-made stuff.
- when the front-yardigans were more complete. Momma cat, Long tail, Short-tail, Big black, and Calico. Now its just Momma Cat, Calico (who absolutely refuses to die), and long tail’s two (now grown) kids. Sorry for running over you long-tail. You will be missed (unfortunately, my rear tire did NOT miss you…)
- when Sancho was still alive and stinking up the place, shedding fur, and being a big bug all over the place.
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Looking forward to 2009. No longer the serf. Still a minion, though.
Actually, feel slightly guilty about my last duty. Kinda abandoned Mimoi on his own while I slept after 12. Patients kept on trickling in. Well, maybe next duty will be better.
Got an early day tomorrow. After more than 3 years, and just a tad more experience, I’m returning to Verde.
Will bring camera.
Will leave lemons behind.
Will post pictures tomorrow.
Sancho died on Sept 1.
He was many things:
He was the head through the gate.
The dog on a hose-nest.
A rug.
A bug.
A lump.
A battleship.
An 8 year-old puppy.
A fly-eater.
A commando-crawling pooch.
A cat-tolerating dog (cat-friend is there too)
A big paw.
A big head.
A ticklish furry foot.
A belly-scratch.
A piggy-pig.
He was all these and more.
Good-bye Sancho. You will be missed.
I’ll admit it.
I absolutely dislike using my phone’s camera.
In spite of advances in resolution, I think that if you want to properly document an event, you need the right tool for the job. However, not having a point-and-shoot camera of my own, sometimes a phone cam is all you’ve got to work with.
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I never really figured out how large stoplights were until I was able to stand beside one. Next time ou’re at an intersection, try figuring out its scale. Then look at the thin steel cable holding it up. Makes you kinda think twice before passing underneath one.
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You’d think that a hospital’s admitting section would eventually become familiar with the various admitting diagnoses that they get presented with. At the very least, they could call up the admitting MD just to make sure. I encountered a patient with a ruptured right eyeball, but this is the diagnosis he got stuck with:
While leafing through another patient’s chart, I encountered this diagnosis:
Now, if you saw that, I bet you’d really want to check out the patient.
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Near our house, there’s this resort with a pool. Last summer they put up a banner that could be a perfect addition to the "inappropriate quotation-mark-use" file:
I wonder if their restaurant also encourages "eating."
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Dang, I just love these long week-ends.
Well, if I haven’t mentioned it here before, then I’ll say it now:
My brother is a good diver.
We did some pool work last monday. In spite of the fact that I’ve probably got thrice the number of open water dives he has, his buoyancy and trim are just amazing. And at one point, we decided to go race underwater - he, with my old Mares Plana fins and my Aquamundo stab jacket, versus me, in jets and a wing. Maybe it was the fins I also tried using my old BCD. I remembered how bulky and loose it was - compared to a wing. Still, when Anton tried my harness, he didn’t see the appeal either. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. Either that, or my crotch strap was too tight for him…
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I’ve decided to make the jump and switch to propane for my GBB. Going to try to cut up an old can to make a viable adapter for the camping gas cans, and just drop silicone oil into it to lubricate the internal parts. The current CA green gas I’m using smells remarkably like regular propane.
Short-tail, one of the enduring step-one kittens has finally gone to
kitty heaven (or hell, depending on how you viewed him). A rather
large cat with a longish face that gave him an air of stupidity,
short-tail died yesterday as a result of an accident crossing the street
-proof that his wits were a perfect match for his looks.
Actually, I haven’t fully identified the body. However, based on its
size, gender, lack of a tail, facial markings, general area found, plus
the fact that he hasn’t been coming around to feed, leads me to believe
that it is in fact short-tail.
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I guess we have to start renaming the cats. Long-tail, in the absence of another similar colored cat with a short tail can just be called "Tail."
Big-black’s little counterpart died almost a year ago. That means he
can revert to just being called "Black" (I forget what I used to call
him before little-black was born). Momma-cat can maintain her title as
the village-whore (Yep, she’s pregnant again).
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I am seriously thinking of giving up my Airsource II. Doing OOA and air-share drills in the pool high-light some of its short-comings. For starters, I’d have to hold it away from my body before donating my long-hose. Controlling buoyancy while breathing from it - though possible - requires an extra degree of task-loading which can be difficult under stress conditions. Furthermore, during an actual open-water incident at Dari Laut, where I had to disconnect my ASII due to a somewhat large leak, I realized that in doing so, I had removed my back-up reg. So that means I’ll have to now reconfigure my other BCD and reg to take the Airsource, while I return the spectrum reg back to the 1st stage. Its either that, or I start combing through eBay again
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They’re showing ET on the Cartoon Network right now. I just realized something:
ET was stupid.
Sure he had a glowing finger and could work a Speak-n-Spell, make an intergalactic telephone, make bicycles fly, and bring dead plants to life. But for a member of a species that mastered space flight, he’s damn slow. No wonder he got left behind.
Consider this my formal complaint:
I absolutely hate the way SM uses those water-free urinals.
Its not that I’m against saving water and all. I’m just wondering what standard they use when determining how high to put those things. Here’s the problem: I’m not too tall, and those things are placed just a wee bit too high. They almost cup my balls - one of the last things you want to happen with a public restroom urinal. I think I can handle splashes and stuff, but ball-cupping is beyond anything I can reasonably handle.
So there. SM, hear my rant, and fire that tall bastard you’ve got installing your urinals.
Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but I couldn’t let 8.08.08 just start without acknowledging it. So there. Hmph.
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I’m gonna be crossing my fingers for the next few days and hope my enucleation doesn’t dehisce.
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Ok. Files copied. Time to go back to work.
An interesting - if not frustrating - thing about dive shops is that they’re usually not open during the times I’m available - weekends. That’s why it came as a surprise to me when I found out that the Scubaworld near my house was open on Saturdays til 2PM. Bought a hood and other knick-knacks (goodness only knows when I can use those!). Started looking for a long hose, but no dice. Anyway, I thought that they would’ve been open today, so I was somewhat getting agitated when I found myself still in the OR at 2 this afternoon. At the end of the operation, I almost literally bolted out of there and drove like a maniac just to get to Makati. Long story short, it was all for naught because the shops I wanted to check out were both closed (Aquamundo for their new line of back-plates, and Nautilus for a five or seven-foot hose).
Crap and double crap. And a phooey to boot.
Makes me realize all the other things I wish were open on week-ends. For example, the post-office. Been getting a registered mail notice the past few weeks. I figured since I didn’t order anything abroad, it can only be a sub-poena. Screw that, I’ve got better things to do than go to court for.
It was one of the most disturbing pieces of news in a week that promises to be filled with disturbing news.
A few days ago, we asked Rosanna the house-help to start bringing some of the multitude of cats (the front-yardigans) here at home back to her area. Fast-forward to today, and sure enough, one of them was missing. She had taken the tabby cat - a youngish one, not quite a year old yet. Tabby and I had a history - including an incident with traumatic hyphema (a long story…) Anyway, I decided to remind Osang of which cats to leave behind (long-tail and momma cat). I commented on the fact that it was tabby she had taken, and that the next ones in line were calico, short tail, and big-black (you can guess what they look like from their very imaginative names). As I was walking away, she left me with this bit of news:
"Kinain yung pusa na binigay ko"
Alin, yung maliit?
"Oo, ginawang kaldereta."
I wish I could say that background music and a video montage of all those shared bumhood moments spent in the yard started playing, but the reality of it all is that my mind was just blank. As I moved away, I realized that the same fate lay in store for the other three cats slated for eviction.
And what exactly was my relationship with the front-yardigans? Well, they served as markers for me during my two-year bumhood period. Momma cat was the original stray, and all the rest are either her kids, or grand-kids. As time went by, momma cat would produce a new litter of kittens - surprisingly corresponding to the times I had medical exams (the boards, and my USMLE steps). Over time, I think she’s punched out just about twenty kittens (the village whore…). Most of them have died - especially the latest batches, but her enduring litter was the one currently occupying the front yard - Long tail, short tail, and calico. These were my MLE step one kittens. Big black is my step tw0 kitten. Its been a love-hate relationship with these guys. I’m an avowed dog person, yet I still buy Whiskas from the wet-market every now and then for them. I’ve seen these cats through birth, their crazy antics in the yard, through noisy nights when they start running around on top of the roof during rutting season. Yeah, I hate those damn cats.
If its any consolation, the person who ate tabby said he was good. I guess that’s what a cat raised on whiskas should taste like.
Stupid needful little things.
Effective April 14, 2008, 2300H, my M4 is officially back in action.
After 9 months of silence, the staccato is finally back. The last time I was able to use it was during a training exercise in AAZ with the other Gandhis. Those mud filled days from another time back in my days of bumhood. And so, last night, after working on my lamp (another long overdue project) as well as starting to do the second batch of MD plates, (and carefully procrastinating on a hemangioma presentation I need to prepare for thjis friday…), I decided to re-shim, clean and re-grease my gearbox, as well as re-route the wiring once again.
Actually, I was able to fire it again last April 1- the 1st "anniversary" of playing with the Gandhi’s. Unfortunately it kinda locked up, and being the lazy bum that I am, it took me two weeks before I decided to make time to repair it (aside from the previous 9 months, of course). Those were 2 weeks of a compressed spring. I’m sure it’ll severely affect my carbines FPS level, but who cares… I don’t think I’ll be field testing it any time soon. I do intend to bring it during duty tomorrow to see if it still feeds right. A few hundred rounds from the roof-top of the hospital never hurt anybody I guess…
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All right. computer break over. Now I really need to work on that presentation…
I wonder why dogs dont smell like poop after they take a dump. I mean, they don’t wipe their asses or wash up afterwards. Why don’t they stink? If a person didn’t do either, then by jove, you’d know that person had taken a dump. Is it anatomy? do butt cheeks play an integral part in this equation? I was pondering upon this question a few weeks back because of a little lesson in perspective: One dark evening, I had just come from the bathroom (i washed, of course) then went out in the yard to play with the cats. Subsequently, I got into my car to go visit Feliz. While driving, I noticed that the car had a distinct aroma. Man, I really hoped and prayed that I had accidentally stepped in cat shit, because the alternative would’ve been worse. Can you imagine my relief when I DID see cat shit on my shoes after getting down from the car. See? There’s my lesson in perspective: How often are you gonna hear someone say that they were happy to step in cat shit…
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I can’t believe I just sat through another viewing of Kevin Costner’s The Guardian … for the singular reason of looking at their fins. Through the magic of slow-motion and zoom, I can say with 95% certainty that they were using jet-fins. After going through two other sets of fins, I’ve finally settled on jets. Granted, I still have to see the big difference between them and my old Planas - those fins were great for frog-kicking and for overall control underwater. My open water testing for my Jets have yet to come up with definitive results - after all, when I went soloing two weeks ago in Anilao, there was hardly any current. Maybe someday, at a different site, a different day.
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Speaking of those fin tests: officially did three solo dives two weeks ago. Max depth was 22.5 meters, longest dive duration of around 40 minutes. Granted, I was able to manage a previous "solo" dive last Dec 30 at Mayumi, but just meeting my minimal requirement for a loggable dive - 20 minutes at a minimum of 20 feet in open water - and during that time there were a lot of snorkelers within easy visual range, so it really wasn’t as solo as it seemed. But these last three dives were different: during the first dive, I was the only one in the water. And it was great.
I’ve attempted solo diving before in Calatagan, but staying within my comfort zone, I was unable to pass 3.5 meters, and less than ten minutes. The poor visibility, unfamiliar dive site, plus surf conditions led me to thumb that dive. This time, since I was diving a very familiar place with very good conditions, I felt that I was ready. Of course I was also trying to save spending an additional amount for a DM per dive, so I was out of the pier quickly and into the water before anyone could complain. I found myself in the classroom area of Dive and Trek and decide to just re-do old dive plans - swim to the bat cave and back, then a little tour of the sanctuary. After getting over my initial apprehension, I started to appreciate everything around me. I didn’t have to look out for anyone else, I didn’t have anyone else silting out a site or slamming into coral. It was just me and the fish. It was great.
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Oh yeah. Happy Easter.
I love days like this.
Sunny days spent out in the garden. Doing little household chores. Finding fun in the little everyday things that remind me that there is SO much more than just the hospital. Days like this reinforces in me the belief that it is important to engage in the activities that you love the most - to prioritize what matters most in life.
It was an unusually quiet Christmas.
No great displays of fireworks, not a lot of lights, nor fanfare. Didn’t even encounter a whole lot of carollers this year. Heck, It didn’t (and still doesn’t) feel like December at all!
Sigh.
I’m pretty certain that this lack of atmosphere isn’t due to my own perception (or lack thereof). After all, "no fireworks" is still no fireworks. Besides, for the past few years - even though I personally wouldn’t feel all christmas-y - I’d still notice some general cheer in the air. This year was definitely more subdued.
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WANTED: One day trip. Just one day trip before the official start of my gainful employment in government service.
Interestingly, I’m banking on something Glenn said. He was talking to
the RTO - who himself is a certified diver - and the RTO said that he’d
like to make dive trips a regular thing. Well, if the guy can take the
residents out on things like ultra-light glider flights, then I don’t
think diving is too far a stretch. Still, I wont hold my breath until
It actually happens. Just like my salary 
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I watched Stardust the other day. I bet it would’ve been great on the big screen. Never read the book, but loved the film. Still, when I looked up the synopsis on-line, I was surprised by several changes the screenplay had over the book - the more salient points being that Tristran dies in the end, and Captain Shakespeare wasn’t as fun as De Niro was.
But perhaps the dumbest thing that’s bugging me now is the fact that the story supposedly takes place around 1856, but De Niro’s character was listening to Offenbach’s Galop Infernal, which was first played in 1858.
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I finally got it! Got my own 50mm prime lens :D At f1.8, its a pretty fast lens with clear images, and shooting wide open, it has great bokeh. Yep yep, its time for portrait shots
I have to congratulate myself on this purchase for another reason: I was able to overcome my junkyard instincts. I was trolling through hidalgo street looking for a deal when I actually came across the Mk1 version of my lens. Now the reason I got excited about this was the Mk1 has a metal mount, unlike the palstic bayonet mount in my new lens. It also has a focusing index on the barrel - another feature lost on the current version. It had two major drawbacks though:
1. Its autofocus wasn’t working.
2. It had some cracks in the inner lenses (how those occured only goodness knows).
Now, surprisingly, this wasn’t enough to initially disuade me. The Mk1 is such a collector’s item (and can cost up to $150-200) that people on eBay would purchase a busted one and replace the internals with those of a Mk2. Having previous experience working on my own lenses, I thought this would be a viable option… And at half the price of a new Mk2, would’ve been a sweet deal! What i intended to do was to use the focusing motor/assembly from my old 35-80mm EF lens. Unfortunately, taking some test shots with the lens (even with the AF indicator beep) revealed that the scratches in the lens were too much to overcome, and there were a lot of internal reflections causing a lot of haze in the photos. Which left me with the option of replacing the internals. Then of course I realized that I didn’t have a Mk2 to cannibalize. So after much hee-hawing in the area (and due to the rainy weather,walking around with soggy feet), I just decided to stick with my brand spanking new Mk2 lens. Damn the lack of a metal mount or a focusing index. At least the AF works, and it’s crystal clear, mint, and under warranty
Now, all I need is a new camera bag. My old one is looking ratty, and since now I have to lug around two lenses*, I’ll need something a little better looking.
*(after all, what’s the point of an SLR if you’ve only got one lens… 
)
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Currently on my lust list: a surgical loupe.
There’s no getting around this one - no possible quick fixes, or easy DIY options. Thought of getting a cheapo $150 dollar loupe from eBay, but seeing no way of individually adjusting diopters, I guess only real surgical loupes will do. At 24K pesos for a Nietz, its kinda a big chunk of change. Makes me wanna kick myself in the ass for not getting a Keeler loupe back in 2005 for 10K from an ophthalmologist who was leaving the country.
Hmmm… anyone out there with a 4x loupe that you wanna get rid of, give me a call
Things that happened yesterday:
Yesterday I watched the equivalent of ophtha porn. Y’know, where you have to fast-forward to the good parts? Anyway, during glaucoma rounds, we watched a video of a sort of modified trabeculectomy with insertion of a shunt for glaucoma patients. Skipped through the prepping and stuff (foreplay?), and went straight for the hard-core insert-a-shunt-through-the-flap part.
Mmmmm.
Ophtha porn.
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Oh yeah, and I think there was a sorta-not-quite-almost coup. I think. Not sure. At any rate, it didn’t seem to do anything - stock market even rose around 40 points. All they ended up doing was destroy the recently renovated lobby. Tsk tsk. I hope they didn’t fire into the ceiling - it was kinda nice.
Funny thing is, more people are raising an issue at the curfew as opposed to that thingamajiggie.
It’s good to be home.
It’s good to have a home. Considering the many out there without any.
Went to Golden Acres yesterday for a medical mission, and while going through the cottages, a thought struck me. All the worldly possessions of this woman could fit in that plastic box. Two plastic tumblers, some toiletries, an empty Gatorade bottle, and an empty water bottle.
Her twilight years with no friends, no relatives.
There are a lot more out on the streets with even less.
So for all out there who bitch and moan about how things in their life suck (myself included), this is a little food for thought.
I’m running late for work (and not getting earlier by posting this…). Been busy getting my stuff from my old apartment ready for active service once again in a new place.
Yep, I’m moving back to QC.
The old appliances are a little worn. Okay, a LOT worn. But they
provide a sort of continuum between the past and this chapter in my
life. Ironically, the place I found is right across from my old internship hospital in V. Luna. Ironic, because I thought that I would end up there. A different time, a different course. But once again, I’ll be able to dine in Orbase, or run down the road for the BEST chicharon bulaklak EVER. At 50 bucks for a couple grams of unadulterated cholesterol and gout inducing stuff, it cant be beat.
Its all good.
Today was one of those days that really drive home the fact that I really REALLY need to look for a place closer to the hospital. Watching the fuel gauge slip lower, while sitting stuck in traffic, plus the toll fees from travelling from Las Pinas to QC are just…just a bit much. Granted, I used to make the same trip back in college everyday - big difference is that I used to take the bus and had the luxury of sleep. In terms of gasoline and toll, I can get a relatively decent studio near East Ave. All I need to do is find the right one at the right budget. Hrmmm, is there anything I can get for less than 2K? That’s all I’ll be able to afford once we start receiving salaries
Well, my two year long weekend has come to a close. The past few days have seen me trooping back and forth from home to QC and back for my pre-residency in ophthalmology. Its been a long and slightly convoluted road getting here, but eventually I made it into my HOC. Now all I need to do is find a place closer to work so I can avoid the gawdawful traffic along EDSA and SLEX. Not to mention the cost of toll and gas…
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Ha!
I dropped my ophthalmoscope yesterday when I was getting out of the car, and when I tried to use it today, I noticed that the mirror inside had become displaced, and I could no longer view what was being illuminated. Being a firm believer in the notion of "you can’t kill what’s already dead," I decided to try and fix it…
Once again: Ha!
It might’ve taken a little grinding and polishing - and not-just-a-little trial and error, but eventually I got it. Just like residency.
This post has alternately been called "giving myself a hand", "hand-job", and "fun with dead cats."
In the spirit of Halloween, Feliz and I decided to replace the pumpkin/bags on her front lawn with cheap decor. By cheap, I mean cash out had to be minimal. So rummaging through the odds and ends in our respective garage cabinets, we found materials we could use for creating a macabre graveyard scene. Hardiflex for the stone tombstones. Wood for a cross, some old paint, cadena-de-amor for effects, and some bones of 2 long dead cats. I’m sure I could’ve made a hand with chicken bones, but I didn’t have any, so I settled for the cats. The carpals are made of vertebrae, the metacarpals are all humeri (humeruses?), and the phalanges are all tibias - cut into three parts, with some radii tips for the fingertips.
I kinda like it.
My big worry is now some kid is gonna see it in Feliz’s front lawn and make off with it.
Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s some bad juju right there.
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Can light Mk 3
Alright, this is it. I think I’ve finally managed to come up with a workable cannister
light. I know this has been a project since last May - and I did come up with a Mk 1 and 2. The first 2 versions, while initially successful, both eventually succumbed to switch failure. The trouble with using toggle switches without o-rings or any boot is that they WILL allow water in at 90 FSW. Thus, while the light head and batteries remained okay, the corroded switches left my lights useless. Anyway, I should’ve taken the fact that oil would seep out of the top of the cannister when I’d fill them before as a sign of potential failure.
Fast forward to this week. After the failure of the light last week in Dive and Trek, I decided to rework everything. Starting with the light head, I switched from a MR16 bulb to a MR11. The casing for the lighthead came from my secondary light (which also flooded last week, and has now been reincarnated). Both endcaps have been replaced with thicker material, And now, with an o-ring sealed switch, I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, this’ll be it.
Oh, but I’m still using the same Coca-Cola bottle cap
Damn, I’m good.
My camera lens got busted again recently, and after the repair guy said it would cost the same to repair as before (around 2K) I decided to do it myself. Heck, if his warranty was only good for 2 weeks, then i had the option of either busting it every two weeks, or learning to do it myself. After a little micro-soldering I got it working fine - even better than what the repair guy did before
To celebrate saving this dough, I ended up splurging on a new mask. My old dive mask was a large TUSA Visualator OEM, and as such, was incapable of having corrective lenses put in. Thus, for all of my dives (except for the time i borrowed Paulo’s mask) I’ve been unable to see very far. The large school of jacks? sorry didn’t see that. Mantis shrimp? Nope, didn’t see that either… (thank goodness I was using Paulo’s mask when I saw my first shark). Anyway, after a spur of the moment visit to my LDS, I found a tube of Aquaseal and a very good deal on a mask with corrective lenses.
Now if only I can find the time to use ‘em.
I’m at home right now, not attending the conference that I’m supposed to be at today.
And it feels goooooood….
I was supposed to leave an hour ago, to make it in time for the afternoon session, but while I was puttering about in the garage, M.F. - the local ice cream vendor, pedals up toward me. Apparently, he’d been looking for me for a few days already because he had a medical consult. He was complaining of decreased hearing from his left ear. A quick examination revealed a case of otitis media. I was able to give him a prescription and was able to give him some advice. The look on his face when I told him the consult was free was the reason why I became a doctor. Its the chance to help people. While there have been many times in the past that I’ve felt disheartened, I’ve realigned my objectives. I’m now quite content with trying to change society one patient at a time. Maybe, in the course of my lifetime, it might not matter in the general scheme of the world, but at least I know that my efforts will have mattered to the people that I treat.
So now, even though i’m playing hooky from the lectures, I’m feeling good sitting here and enjoying my free pinipig crunch.
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More reasons to feel good: I have now been given the designation of "Teetow-ed" by Maya. That’s a step up from being just pointed at. For a time, even Sancho had top billing as "Santso papi."
It be ‘talk like a pirate day" once again. In light of this here fact. I tell ya me hearties, run along now and try to discover what your true pirate name be… set a heading for http://www.piratequiz.com.
My pirate name is:
Black Harry Rackham
Like anyone confronted with the harshness of robbery on the high seas, you can be pessimistic at times. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!
"I will spare you a gushy description of the dive itself, except to say
that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that
you’ve been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the
surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the
outside of the tent." - Dave Barry
Degnebit.
Staring at eBay again. Have 26 hours to decide on whether or not its worth it to buy a kit lens for my camera. Do I get a new 18-55mm f3.5-5.6 in lieu of my now non-functioning 18-125mm?
Its either that, or I learn to live with the aperture of my lens stuck on wide open. Or maybe I’ve got to improve my soldering skills.
Regardless, I’ll check around here if there’s anyone that can repair my lens…
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*UPDATE*
I called a shop here that repairs sigma lenses. tsk. They didn’t have a ribbon cable available, because it was sold together with the stepper motor. total cost: 4300 pesos. tsk tsk. I’m not willing to spend that much on a lens that I really keep for 2 reasons: Its relatively wide range (18-125 isn’t bad for a walkabout lens), and the fact that it has a metal mount and since it uses an internal focusing system, I’m able to attatch a petal hood to it. Okay, so that makes three reasons. Bottom line is that it simply just looks more impressive than the kit lens. But there are a few things that I’ve noted about it. 1) Even though its meant for DSLRs with smaller sensors, vignetting can still be noted at its widest angle. 2) There’s a certain degree of backfocus, which causes my primary subjects to be a bit soft. 3) The bokeh ain’t that great (but who notices that?) 4) The lens alone weighs about as much as my camera body.
But still, considering I snagged this puppy for 36 dollars. 36 bucks for a 200 dollar lens. Do i make the investment and bring this puppy up to scratch again? Or do I just plunk 2950 for a brand new mint condition Canon lens?
I think i’ll try my soldering skills…
Where does the smell of a new car go? I mean, If you had a new car hermetically sealed in an oversized tupperware for 5 years and opened it, would it still have that new car scent? That would imply that there would be a finite number of “sniffs” that you could get out of a new car. That means that for every unit of inhaled “new car scent,” out comes regular air. Of course, this question is a corollary to something I’ve always wondered about: If you were stuck in an enclosed space (say a car or an elevator) and you farted, could you filter out the smell by breathing it all in and exhaling it out? Would your lungs act as chemical scrubbers? Would your exhalations still smell like fart? Could the Mythbusters test this one?
And no matter what you say - and as much as I lke the product - “Newport New Car” doesn’t really smell like a new car.
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Speaking of car fresheners, I’d like to admit that I’m a pushover when it comes to itinerant vendors. I was sitting in my car once when this guy comes up and starts marketing California Scents car fresheners. He was (for the low, low price of 100 bucks…) willing to sell me not one, not two, but three! count em, Three! car fresheners (in casings that looked like old cell phones). I asked if he had Newport New Car, but alas, all he had was Coronado Cherry. To compensate, he said that in addition to the 3 fresheners, he’d also give me 3 free refills. I said sorry, no dice. I still wanted Newport. I wasn’t to overly fond of Coronado Cherry (smells like cough syrup…). But still he persisted. For the same price, he was willing to give me 4 sets of fresheners, and 4 refills.
I am now enduring what I envision will be several months of a car that smells like cherry.
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Anyone else out there with labrador retrievers? Just a question: Do your dogs smell bad? Bad, of course, being a relative term. Hanging around Sancho has probably dulled my perceptions of doggy stink, and since he has perennial sinus problems, he also grunts like a piggy-piggy.
Maybe I can just rub Sancho with Coronado cherry?
I started the trip this morning to the farm with a stupid tune in my head which to me sounds like some tune from an old family computer game. I asked Feliz what it could’ve been, but she said she never had a family computer as a kid. What she did have was TV. So then we started playing "name that tune" in the car. and I started humming the theme from "Three’s Company," and she asked me If I knew where else John Ritter was in. Apparently he was Gorbash in The "Flight of Dragons." I would’ve never guessed that because I only saw the show once years ago. She was surprised that I had only watched the film once ,whereas she had bought the video on VHS as soon as it came out on sale in ACA video. Alas, some poor schmo before her had taped a 30 second segment of "Eat Bulaga" over the critical part of the film, and so I’m still dithering on whether or not I want to borrow the tape (assuming it hasn’t been consumed by molds yet…).
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Did the paragraph above make any sense whatsoever?
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While on the subject of cartoons, I’ve got a smurf question. Is Gargamel the name of the sorcerer or his cat?
I hated the smurfs. They were too cute. I wish I could choke them all until they were, uh, blue in the face. And what’s the deal with Smurfette? Tongues are wagging…
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Forget the question above. I asked all knowing Google and Wikipedia. Gargamel was the sorcerer. Azrael was the cat. Other disturbing things I discovered: Smurfette used to be a guy smurf. No kidding! Gargamel apparently transformed a male smurf into a female one in order to lure the others out. Read about it on Wikipedia. Its a hoot!
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Final question (for which no answer on Wikipedia could be found) to those living in Manila. What are "Pulis Oysters". I see them all around sweeping up and planting stuff. Why "Oyster?" I thought that the answer could be found by simply asking them, alas when Feliz’s dad did that, even THEY didn’t know what it was.
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Current short term project (aside from a table and pig pens and stuff…): Improvise an underwater "housing" for a digital camera using a Baxter 1-L D5NSS bag.
I’ve
always thought of myself as an avid diver - ready and willing to go at anytime,
anyplace. But I’ve come to the realization that I’m rather picky. A
few months ago, I was planning to get my dry-suit certification and to go
diving in Lake Michigan while in Chicago.
Alas, dive season didn’t start until April, and I was already slated to
return to Manila in March. In
retrospect, this wasn’t such a bad thing because while attempting to solo-dive
off Calatagan last June, there were times that visibility was reduced to just a
few feet, that I realized that I was a spoiled clear-tropical-water
diver. So Patricia, if you’re reading this, kudos to you. I don’t
think I’d be as big a fan of diving if I had to do what you did with 7mm
wet-suits or dry-suits.
But I miss the water. The last time I went diving was last May with
Norman, Andre, Leah, Renoir and April. The dives were notable for 2
reasons: The conditions around the Cathedral and the castle were
remarkable. Visibility was very good (as can be seen from the photo on
the right taken by Leah - I’m on the lower right and i don’t know what I was thinking), and for a site that Norman
described as the "megamall" of dive sites, there was nobody else
around but us.
The
second reason was that this was my first dive with my ‘new" homemade
bladder. While this wasn’t my first dive with a homemade
BCD, this was my first with a bladder that I bought from SM Toy Kingdom (okay, it’s
a toy boat - not a bladder, but so what?) It performed "mostly"
well - except for a tank cam band that was positioned slightly high - a fact
brought home by an incident where my tank slipped out towards the end of the
dive and had to be re-tightened by Leah (thanks again!). I’ve since
repositioned the tank band and replaced any old valves that needed
attention. Based on my short undocumented dive last month, it seems to be
functioning okay now.
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Since
May, I’ve also skipped a few invitations to go diving from Norman and Ernest because
of pigs.
That’s right. Pigs.
Feliz
and I have decided that since we’re taking residency here, we needed to look
for alternative sources of income, and so we’ve decide to raise little piggies
into big piggies. As of now, we’ve got ten (not-so-little) piggies, and
maybe in a month or two, we can get a new batch. It’s a whole different
ballgame and it’s a whole lot of different reading to do. We went back to
UERM last week to get our papers together for residency, and while there, we
decided to photocopy the books and pamphlets we were reading for raising
hogs. I can only imagine what the med-students around there thought -
while they were holding transcripts of anatomy and physiology, here I was
holding a pamphlet entitled "Mga gabay sa pagpaparami at pagpapalaki ng
mga biik." It also felt weird looking at their nameplates. Medicine
2011. Man, you guys have got a looong way to go.
Special
mention to Neil Villamucho - whom we saw when we were in UERM. Pre,
good luck na lang sa step 2 CS mo next month!
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Well,
since money is tight, and I’ve still got vaca
nt week-ends, I’ve been
playing
airsoft with the boys every Sunday. Over
the past few weeks, I can honestly say that the group has made great strides in
terms of performance, and have even come up with a team name; The Fighting Gandhis. The guidelines we came up with for coming up
with a name was for something irreverent and not too serious (it’s just a game
after all…). Anyway, the name was meant
to mean that we were peace-loving but would fight. I dunno, but my money was still on “Tactical
Spam” as a team name, in honor of Mark’s ever-present spam sandwiches.
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Went
drinking last Friday night with Paulo, Apple, Noel, and Licai. The beer tasted soooo good. It had been a while since I last went
drinking, and it was nice to feel the buzz again. Another nice thing was that Paulo proposed to
go diving sometime soon, along with Apple, and my other erstwhile dive buddy
from Puerto Galera, Joey. It’ll be fun
diving with them again – even if its benign diving. Basta, just to get my gear wet again, and
more importantly – just to get their
gear wet again too.
I
just have to make sure I’ve got enough for the piggies…
Why are there some segments of the traveling public that think that just because you’re both Filipino in a foreign land means that you’ve got to be instant best friends?
On a recent trip home from Malaysia, Marge was sitting in front of two Filipinas who had obviously just met that day at the airport. The conversation she overheard went as follows:
Woman 1: "Pauwi ka na rin?"
Woman 2:"Oo"
Woman 1:"Ilang taon ka na?"
Woman 2:"49."
Woman 1:"Nag-me-mens ka pa ba?"
Woman 2:"Aba, oo, siyempre naman…"
Then the conversation starts to revolve around different brands of sanitary napkins available in Kuala Lumpur.
Whatever happened to talking about the weather?
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Also noted are the signs and advertisements which use inappropriate quotation marks. For example, on a tricycle used to ferry bottled water was the company name followed by the quotation "We Delivered!" I mean, why the quotes? And who are they quoting? Another example as seen outside a bar in Pasay City was a sign reading:
WANTED:
Attractive Waitresses
Good salaries and high "allowances"
I wonder what those "allowances" are. At least the quotation marks weren’t around the "waitresses" instead. Though on the other hand, maybe that would’ve been more appropriate.
But perhaps one of my more favorite examples of the use of quotation marks can be seen during election times, when it seems that every candidate HAS to absolutely have a nick name. These can range from well known monikers such as "Erap", "Tikboy", "Pacman" and the like. We had a candidate around here na halatang pinilit niya talaga na magkaroon ng isang nickname. I’m not to sure about his first name or the position he ran for, but I think it went something like this:
Vote for Alex "Mr. T" Ty for councilor.
Ayos!.
Okay, its been a while since I was last here, so I’ve got a backlog of things to post about. Its not anything important - just random bits of useless information. Take for example the fact that I have zero capabilities in recognizing celebrities. If it weren’t for the people around me, I’d be oblivious to whomever was around me. Take for example a time a couple of years back in Palm Springs. As I was walking with Anton through the hotel, he suddenly turned to me and said:
"Hey that was Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid"
"Really? Where?"
"Duh. They were standing in front of you…"
But perhaps the strangest example of non-recognition occured many years ago, when Nora Aunor once called the house looking for my mom, and I answered the phone. The exchange went something like this:
Nora: "Hello, puwede ba kay Attorney Palma"
Me: "Sino po sila?"
Nora: "Si Ate Guy"
Me: "Sandali lang po ha…
MA! Telephone! Some guy…"
Can you really blame me?
Attn: People. Particulary those who post pics.
Re: Pics
Please. For the love of all that’s good and decent. Rotate your pics properly before posting. This usually means that feet go toward the bottom of the screen, and heads toward the top part. Simple. For PC users, it can be as simple as right-clicking on the picture and rotating it. I’ll have to get back to you Mac users, but I’m sure iLife’s got something to do that (and I’m sure it does it better too)
Thanks. Just a friendly reminder…
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DIY update: Have done absolutely nothing for my light, although I have built a snazzy finger spool. M4 keeps acting up, but will stick with it (Sorry Mark, No JG yet).
Sanjaya got voted off on AI. Considering his performance the previous night, I’m not surprised.
I am surprised that I even watched AI last night. This batch doesn’t seem to have the oomph of the previous batch. There’s no Chris or Kat to root for (Taylor who?).
And why do they let the person voted off sing the same song that got them voted off in the first place? What gives? Why can’t they perform the best song they had in their repertoire?
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DIY update: have not yet started on my light. Bought the basics though. Gonna base it on existing designs using MR16 light heads. 50 watts was bright, but way too hot for the plastic around it, so I’ve gone to a less-bright 20 watt lamp. Gonna work on my finger spool first.
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I’m going to study tonight. Something along the lines of organ transplantation, and other factors regarding rejection and immunosuppression. Ought to be fun.
Lemons float.
This innocuous statement was the answer to a seemingly innocuous question in my head
from a few months back. While going through several posts on Scubaboard, I came across one that said that lemons make great underwater toys because they remain neutrally buoyant and would simply float in front of you if you let go of it underwater. Several dive trips after that, I finally remembered to bring a lemon. Anyway, this wasn’t to be as harmless as I thought. Through a confluence of several factors, the universe conspired to make me regret bringing that lemon (well, not really….). These factors were:
1. I shifted from a regular stab jacket BCD to a wing. As such, I had no pockets with me.
2. Seeing as my Pelican Sabrelight (my one good underwater light) had weak batteries, I also remembered to buy new batteries for it. Thus, after replacing the batteries, I evidently did not secure it properly to the harness of my wing.
3. Having no pockets meant that I would have to hold onto the lemon for the dive.
4. When we arrived at the dive site (Beatrice), there was a slight current, so Ernest decided that we should backroll off the boat by threes while holding a line.
5. Thus, while holding onto the line and lemon with my left hand, while keeping my right hand over my mask and regulator to keep it in place, we all rolled into the water.
Anyway, after descending to the reef, I started playing with my lemon, tossing it down like a yo-yo (it would float up slowly back to me). It was only later on that I discovered that my flashlight had detatched itself and was now hidden treasure waiting for someone to pick it up.
So there. If any of you find yourself in Beatrice, and if you happen to find a pocket sabrelight with a clearly marked dive sticker with my name, well, you know where to find me. Send me a message.
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Other lessons I learned that day included the use of the up-until-then mysterious "wheel" - which is a step above the regular recreational dive planner, This elegant device allows one to plan multi-level dives (without the use of a computer). I hadn’t encountered it previously because my 5 dives for AOW cert were Deep, PPB, Nav, Night, and the not-too-great Fish ID (just get a book…) Anyway, through Chris Chan’s marvelous instruction, the how-to’s of the wheel were finally revealed.
The other question in my head that was answered to a certain degree was a rather weird one: If a person farts underwater while wearing a wetsuit, would his buoyancy change? Now, I’ve always contended that it probably wouldn’t, because the air was just shifting from one compartment to another. However, over lunch (well, after lunch) Daniel explained that in theory, it probably would change buoyancy (although relatively imperceptibly), because after all, the gas is compressed inside the body, but expands afterwards - sorta like from a SCUBA tank. That made better sense to me, so now I’m changing my stand. If anyone begs to differ, call the Mythbusters to run an experiment or something.
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Anyway, back to my Sabrelight. Its not a total loss. Its loss gives me an excuse to start work on my next DIY project - a light cannon. On the trip back from Anilao, Chris and I were discussing the possible things that could be done. This discussion continued in Ernest’s car, so now I’ve got several ideas (great suggestions and input guys!) brewing. I’m giving myself one week to make it, and a budget of 500 bucks (after all, what’s the point of DIY if you can’t make it cheap?)
But still, at least now I know that lemons float.
Consciousness can be descibed as being in tune with your surroundings. While looking at some stuff here at the ruins in BF with Mark, this guy with a camera walks past accompanied by a girl that could probably be best described as a "commercial model." Anyway, after watching them walk by, I turned toward Mark and said:
"Pare, nakita mo yan? Ang ganda ng camera niya ah. Canon EOS 1D" (with a stock
50mm f/1.4 prime lens)
I didn’t get quite a good look at the girl. but really, it was a nice camera.
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Things that were on my to-do list today:
1. Install auxilliary cooling fan into Anton’s car. - done
2. Re-build switch for Civic’s car alarm - done
3. Buy batteries for underwater flashlight - done
4. buy lemons (for underwater toys) - done
5. Clean room and check gear - will do that after this…
Hmmm… when I list it this way, I’m apparently not as busy as I thought!
Let me admit something. My car uses R-12. Y’know, the ozone-busting refrigerant. That’ll have to change soon, because all registered vehicles have to use HFC134a starting this year. That, and there seems to be a dearth of R-12 around. So there. Its the middle of summer, and the only time that my car’s airconditioning system has any "bite" is when:
1. I’m driving fast enough to cool the condenser
2. I’m driving underneath the Skyway (preferably fast enough to cool the condenser)
3. I’m driving at night (And I can now drive a little slower…)
Otherwise, its like being in my own personal sauna. At least it makes the surrounding outside air that much cooler when I step out of the car.
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I’ve been keeping myself occupied with the fine art of doing… nothing. Having completed such odd tasks such as making my own wing (hey, it worked!) as well as modifying my M4 (see one of last year’s posts for a picture of what it used to look like…) Oh heck, here it is:
.
Evidently, the old photo is on the left. Big difference.
Then again, there would be a degree of bias to these photos. After all, the one on the left is a collage of 3 different photos taken with a 0.3MP camera, while the one on the right was taken with 8MP. but still, for anyone out there wanting to do their own modifications, I’ve got only one bit of advice: Bosny Flat Black Epoxy Laquer.
Oh yeah, as to that other project - my wing, I was able to test it out in Anilao at the end of last month. Oh sure there were a few small bubbles (most of which have been resolved… most) coming out from here and there, but in the unlikely event of getting swept out to sea, then I’d just have to stay up to blow more air into it every 12 hours or so. Of course, in a situation like that, that would be one of the least of my worries. Anyway, thanks to the wonder of products like Aquaseal (TM), and Vulcaseal (as well as superglue), I’ve decided not to bring a spare regulator and BCD for this Sunday’s day trip.
It does, however, take some getting used to - especially on the surface. That’ll come in time.
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So for this weekend, I was almost given a choice: To go to another airsoft game, in the heat, to get shot at etc, or to head for the beach…
I’ll leave you to guess which choice I took.
"Have you ever met anyone who built their own wing?"
"No."
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This is how I opened up a conversation with one of the guys over at ScubaWorld today where I went to test my "wing" in their pool. A wing is basically a back-mounted bag of air that helps with your buoyancy when diving. Anyway, I’ve been making one for the past few days because basically I wasn’t too happy with my regular stab jacket.
As luck would have it, they had just chlorinated the pool, so all I could do was toss the whole unit (tank, wing, reg, and weights) into the pool to see if it would float. Suprisingly, it did
Anyway, it would’ve been fun to try out the trim of the thing in the pool, but the earliest I could do that would have been monday. While packing up my stuff, I received a text message from Ernest who invited me to go diving this weekend in Anilao. Seeing as I had a prior engagement with the boys over here (getting hit by plastic BBs again), I asked if I could do a day trip. Lucky for me, Dan was just doing a day trip. So now I get to test my new rig in open water! Now I’ve got to get to work on it and patch up a few of the sources of bubbles I saw in the pool…
And don’t worry - that orange thing at the base is my safety balloon for redundant buoyancy. Just in case.
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Its been a while since I’d gone airsoft-ing. I’m sure there’s proper lingo for that (like wargaming?) but like I said, its been a while. It’ll be nice to get back into gear and scuff up a few elbows here and there. It’ll also be nice to just hang out with the guys dissecting each encounter ad nauseam, laying blame on who did or didn’t do whatever
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So there. This weekend will be one of those rare times I get to do all three of my hobbies. Dive on Saturday, Airsoft on Sunday. And both times will be photographed.
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Man, I’m so psyched, I don’t know whether or not to chant "DIve! Dive! Dive!" or "Game on!"
Well.
I know I’ve been very delinquent with this blog. Time seems to fly when you’re having fun I guess. All to quickly, my month here in Chicago is up. Scramble has come and gone, and (no surprises here…) I guess all I can hope for is for better luck next year. But really, in spite of everything, I am so glad I came over.
Likewise, I’m glad to be heading back home tomorrow.
Home.
This is gonna be a short post. I promise a longer one tomorrow.
All I have to say right now is that weather wise, we’ve finally turned a corner. Temps will be up to 9 degrees centigrade tomorrow, and most of the snow on the ground is GONE!
Spring is in the air!
Good bye boots. Good bye, overcoat! Good bye pea coat!
I have never been accused of being a religious person, but Ash Wednesday is an interesting day for me because it allows me to walk down a church aisle without breaking some kind of rule.
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As usual the service in Old St. Mary’s church was superb. I think the difference in the quality of the sermons here versus the majority of what I have heard at home come from the overall tone: ie sermons here are more supportive and constructive, as opposed to those that sound somewhat akin to an elder lecturing a child.
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Congratulations to the Medical Board passers of 2007!
Well, I’m back here in Chicago. Unfortunately, it’ll just be for a month. Suffice to say I was initially disappointed with the one month I was given, but in retrospect it gives me just enough time to do the scramble. Just. Actually, its sort of a wake-up call for me to really focus on this to make the most of this trip. There are two great motivators for me to do something: Either a pat on the back or a kick in the ass. This is more of the latter, but after being so lucky in the past few months, I guess I can’t complain.
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My DSLR arrived about the same time I did! At the very least, this trip will be better documented than my last one, now that I’ve got my own camera to play with here.
See? I really can’t complain
Big shout-out to the staff at Medicard Imus. Always fun to swing by. Salamat sa pagkain. Basta, this May, remind me to bring the chocolates.
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I just came from Cavite to get 2 checks from Medicard. The sum was just about enough to pay for the gas it took to get there, plus maybe treat someone out to coffee or something. Muntik nga mabawi yung 2nd check, because on the way home, I got caught by the traffic cops for violating the color coding scheme:
"Ser, may coding lang tayo ngayon"
"Good afternoon po, galing lang po ako sa clinic." (which was true!)
"Pahingi na lang ng PRC license kasi maraming gumagamit ng MD sticker na hindi
doktor…"
"Eto po…"
"Okey na ser."
Sulit na talaga yung 5 taon ng paghihirap ng magulang ko.
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Well, Anton’s left for Malaysia, and I’m on my last week here before leaving for the States again. It seems that my to-do-list hasn’t quite become shorter, but at least one of them was crossed out: cleaning the guns.
Well, at least one of them.
I was able to clean Anton’s .45 - soaking it and carefully doing what he calls a "What-the-fuck" oiling of it. Why WTF? Put it in your hand - that’s the first thing you’re going to say. Either that, or "Eeewww…", But WTF had more of a ring to it than "Eeeeewww oiling."
Next: M1917 and a shotgun.
Ah. The smell of gunpowder.
There are few things as cathartic as a day at the range. Amidst the litter of firearms on the bench, there’s always a caliber to suit your every mood. From the "I wanna just plink" of the .22, to the "I wanna dislocate my shoulder" of the shotgun, there’s something for everyone.
However, sometimes it can be a bit frustrating. i was having a bit of a problem with
the sight of the .22 rifle (that’s right, blame it on the rifle…). I couldn’t quite get the elevation right, and I was either hitting above or below my target. However, there is always a proper tool for the job. So I switched over to the shotgun.
Siguro naman I didn’t miss the target here.
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It behooves one to know the four basic rules of gun safety. Yesterday, while cleaning out my desk, I found one of those flare guns that Anton and i used to create "the world’s cheapest fireworks display." I picked it up, neglected rule number one and started pulling the trigger.
Rule # 1. All guns are always loaded.
The flare shot out and started bouncing around in my room. Good thing nothing got burned.
At least as far as i can tell.
Ah, the smell of gunpowder.
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I won the auction! Got myself a digital SLR similar to the one I used during my brother’s wedding. Now I don’t need to take crappy pictures with a point-and-shoot. I can now take crappy pictures with an SLR!
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I hate those audible smileys. Those pesky things that shout "OMG, NO WAY!!!", and catch you off-guard? Screw em. And pop-ups. The ones that say "adult sites have been detected on your computer" and that they’d delete them for free. First of all, I don’t have the disk space for all the smut they claim I have. And second, if I did, why the heck would I want them to erase it? Stupid pop-ups.
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Current Sudoku record: 5:06
There’s this statement which goes "you never dive the same place twice." I’ve found this to be somewhat true.
I was initially concerned that chronic shore entries from the resort would get boring, but thankfully, there was so much to see that I actually want to go back and map it out myself so that I can go on my own…
Sinulit ko rin, kahit papaano, yung last dive week-end ko til May. At least naka-anim ako na dive. Sa Mayo na lang uli…
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I sorta miss diving with friends. Not having a regular group of my own, I end up taking part in the insta-buddy program. Which is all jim-fine-and-dandy underwater, but being the total anti-social schmuck that I am, I sometimes have difficulty relating to others during the surface interval. Which is probably why i keep trying to get people I know to either get back into diving, or to take it up. I have been unsuccessful in my efforts as of late, so til then…well… bahala na lang.
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Thanks to Olo, I’ve found a new sense of fulfillment in diving. I’ve taken his advice and every time I go diving, I now pick up almost every bit of trash that I can reach.
Metro-aide of the sea.
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On the boat ride back from the resort, I found myself lying on my back on top of the engine shroud of the pump boat. The night sky would reveal itself in all its brilliance every time the boat’s flag fluttered and obscured the solitary light on the mast. The scent of the sea, as well as the rhythmic sound of the boat’s engine and the crash of the waves on its bow was a delight to the senses.
Although there were five of us on the boat, the contrast between the starlit sky and the dark sea made me feel both isolated, yet strangely integral to the fabric of nature around me. I felt blessed.
It was a good weekend for me.
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When I took my car out this morning, I noticed that there were some scratches on the side of the hood that I hadn’t noticed when I picked up the car in Batangas the night before. They were light scratches and buffed right out with car wax. When I was asked where the scratches came from, the only thought that popped into my head was:
"I parked beside a chicken."
You never realize how absolutely absurd a sentence sounds until it actually comes out of your mouth…
Woohoo!
Checked my OASIS record.
I passed CS! I’m now ECFMG certified!
Well, actually, I just checked to see if I could re-apply for CS (seeing as the official paper hasn’t come in through the mail yet)
And you know what? It said I couldn’t apply because the records indicated that I had already passed…
Woohoo!
(rain on my parade…)
Now comes the fun part of the scramble. I think I’d like to go someplace warm
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Candy! May utang ako sa iyo! 4 na pancake house meals! Wanna make it another double or nothing for scramble?
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I think I’ll go diving this week-end again. If all goes well, then I’ll be heading back for the states soon, and considering my aversion to cold, I think i’ll put off dry-suit certification for a while.
Damn spoiled tropical-water diver.
The return of the eBay wars.
In 14 minutes, I’ll find out whether or not I’ll be the owner of a DSLR.
14 minutes. That’s like 2 games of Sudoku (well, my record for one game stands at 6:50!). Like half of a half-hour sit-com (duh).
I’ll let you know in 14 minutes.
Wait, I mean 10 minutes…
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Crap. It shot up.
I bet the snipers are up and running, just waiting for the last minute of bidding. I know my sniper is up…
8 minutes and the price is still holding at 375! I pity the guy whose ass is about to get sniped
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5:44. Sniper is on lockdown. Nothing to do now, but wait…
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Its over. Got outbid. Price started shooting up in the last 2 minutes all the way up to 435. And this is for a stupid thing without a lens! Well, there’s always tomorrow.
Considering all the things they have to do, I think divers are an easy bunch to please.
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Bolo and I went on a day trip to Anilao last Tuesday. We started out at 5:30 and arrived in Anilao at around 8:30 in the morning.
As most trips go, it started out with lots of excitement and anticipation. The sun kept playing hide-and-seek with us, but by the end of our boat ride to the dive sites, the weather was decidedly overcast. By extension, the water was also decidedly cold. Compound that with the fact that we were fueled only by coffee, siopao, and a donut (I had the siopao, Olo had the donut), that by the time we finished the 2nd dive and started heading back to the resort, we were utterly cold and hungry. So much so that we decided to call off any further dives for that day.
And yet, in spite of cold, hunger, the early wake-up call, the long drive and traffic, we both agreed that the trip was worth it. The reason?
We both saw our first shark!
A 3-4 foot long black-tip, We were within 10 feet of it before it decided to do a graceful arc around us and disappear off into the depths. Sure, it wasn’t as large or as impressive as sharks you’d see in aquariums (like those in Shedd), but there’s something else about being in the water with them.
Anyway, it isn’t just the underwater flora and fauna that makes
trips like this interesting. Sometimes, just hanging around with the resort’s resident dog-fish and playing fetch with him was enough to make your day.
Yeah. It was all good. Wish I could have stayed longer. However, after every trip, there’s always the cleaning and maintenance that you have to do.
And this was just 2 sets! I wonder what the laundry area will look like when Feliz learns to dive…
Well, no one said it would always be fun.
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American Idol is back! Finally, a chance to be rid of Taylor Hicks. Good thing I subscribed to Cingular!
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I’m very pleased. Although not quite Pagudpud to Sorsogon, I was still able to squeeze 12.76 km/L out of my old car over the past few days! Tagaytay, and back, then Anilao and back.
I’ve been remiss with my posting duties the past few days, but if ever there was a time to say something, now would be a good time.
A very good time indeed!
So here goes…
Congratulations to my brother Anton, and to my new sister Marge!
Wow.
4 dives today, including one to 146 feet and a night dive.
Followed by a 150 peso massage.
You gotta love Cebu.
*EDIT: Go! 100th!*
I spent the first hour of Christmas day at a funeral parlor. My cousin Sidney was killed in a car accident early in the morning on the 24th. He was killed while driving home to be with his family. So while other people were busy greeting each other "Merry Christmas!" I found myself at a loss for things to say to my bereaved tita, and said something stupid to the effect of "How are you?"
It was somewhat surreal to think that someone who was so alive the previous day was now lying in a casket. What was more surreal were the fireworks going off from within the cemetery grounds. When midnight rolled around and as the fireworks started going off, people started streaming out of their respective alcoves to watch the fireworks from the outside. As pretty as the fireworks were, when it ended, I overheard someone saying out loud:
"Yun lang yon?"
I guess people at funeral parlors are a tough audience.
Rest in peace, Sid.
(otherwise known as a somewhat slightly exasperated rant…)
That’s it… That’s just it.
Some time before this year is up, I’m going to head for salt water, even if just by myself.
Give me salt water over chlorine. Please. My gear’s beginning to fade from chronic pool use that it isn’t funny anymore.
Anyone out there? Any takers?
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Wow. it’s already the 21st and I don’t feel that general "love is in the air" feeling. Nada.
Zip.
…well, maybe during Simbang Gabi, otherwise it feels just like some unusually mild December.
Its no secret that I’ve been somewhat despairing for this country. i used to get this impression that we as a people are totally unable to get out collective acts together and move this country along. However, I was given a quick lesson on the statement "The grass is greener on the other side." Last month, while I was still in the States, I got into a conversation with one of the med students who was doing a rotation in the ICU where i was attending rounds. It was about the time when OJ Simpson was about to publish a book about how he would have done the murders of his ex-wife and her boyfrieds "if he had done it." Anyway, I made a general statement to the student to the effect that no one would buy a novel like that, to which she replied: "This is America. Its the land of trash. Many people are going to buy that book."
While I don’t subscribe to that opinion, I guess that reaction just highlights the facts that if you live in a place long enough, all you see is the negative - all the things that are so wrong with a place, and not what’s great about it.
There are many reasons why this country still is great. Its all out there at the moment, but I just know it deep down inside. Its got this frontier-siness to it - that although systems may not always be in place, mechanisms do exist that allow you to create your own path…
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Got the estimate for the car yesterday. My calculations were wrong. Unfortunately, it was a "bad" wrong. All the valves need to be replaced, as they were damaged when the timing belt broke. Well, since I was getting that done, I decided to just hemorrhage money once and have almost every other little busted thing fixed. About time too, considering it was starting to feel like riding in some dilapidated taxi cab.
Well.
This is a familiar place.
Anyway, in the week I’ve been back, I’ve managed to:
1. Eat Baliwag Liempo
2. Eat Pizza burger in Pampanga (among the other things we ate in pampanga)
3. Eat Isaw
4. Help develop the cheapest fireworks display - ever!
5. Go swimming. Twice (both under the guise of checking my gear out in the pool at Scubaworld) in preparation for upcoming dive trips.
6. Get my car into the repair shop… again. Which now kinda negates #5. Schucks.
It’s number 6 that makes me say that this feels all familiar. One year and 10 days ago, I was in a similar situation (just scroll down the page to that particular date for the story…) Anyway, whereas the previous breakdown was within the village, this one was along the skyway. The similar thing is that the 1st one required a top overhaul, and this 2nd one looks set to follow that pattern. Sana naman hinde. Sana, sana, sana. The car was towed to the shop already, and I’ll be getting the full assessment by tomorrow. Sana, sana sana.
I wonder what next December will be like?
For most of the past month, I’ve been attending rounds in a hospital in the northern part of the city. Part of that daily commute entails riding on the Blue-line train which goes from the city to O’Hare airport. As evidenced by the large suitcases they lugged, you could tell that some passengers were headed to O’Hare and to unknown ports of call. In a few hours, I shall once again be taking the train, but this time with my own suitcase in tow. Will I sleep on the train this time? Probably not. I’ll just watch the city slip past - the winter wonderland that it has become over the past few days (at -10 centigrade, it ought to be) - and get ready to head home to 28 degree weather.
Ah… Hello centigrade scale and the metric system
After around 12 weeks here, it was only this week that I was finally able to try a Chicago style hotdog, and Chicago-style deep-dish pizza.
The Giordano’s pizza was so thick that I was only able to eat one slice! The "encased meat" (hotdog) sandwich was from Hot Doug’s all the way up north. Hot Doug’s is also known for its duck-fat fried french fries - but alas, those are only available on Friday’s and Saturdays.
As good as the pizza and ‘dogs were, my palate still craves for such cardiac delights such as liempo and chicharon bulaklak. Another thing I’m looking forward to is Shakey’s Pizza. I know it sounds weird, but there are only around 300 Shakey’s branches worldwide, and only 50 of those are in the US - mostly in California. The majority are - you guessed it - back home in the Philippines. So, if I can hold my cravings for another 48 hours, I’ll be able to have my fixin’ of thin-crust pizza
Part of the process for applying for residency involves receiving rejection letters (if your scores are like mine, that is). It becomes routine, actually, getting these notices in the mail. However, it wasn’t enough for a certain institution to reject me once. They sent me a second e-mail basically saying the same thing.
What was that? Did they think I didn’t get the message after the first letter? Did some back-room conversation go something like: "Hey Bob, send this kid another rejection letter. He might still have some hope left in him…"
I found that hilarious, at least.
Its a good thing that e-mail also brings acceptance and validation in many other forms. Goodness knows how many times I’ve been pre-approved for this or that credit card, or won a car, or a house, or a free subscription to whatever, or fast-cash, or…….
I’ve been thinking of changing a few things in my profile - specifically the part about "favorite TV shows."
If I recall correctly, some of the shows listed there include CSI, Mythbusters, and American Chopper. I used to watch those things regularly back in Manila, and when I moved here, I started worrying whether or not I would get the scheduling right. To my pleasant surprise (at least back then), I found out that those shows had frequent re-runs and marathons. On most any given night, one can see a channel with at least one form or another of CSI. During my first few weeks here, when I was doing nothing, part of my morning ritual would include watching an hour of Biker Build-Off followed by 2 hours of American Chopper. On Friday nights, the Discovery Channel would run a Mythbuster marathon. If that wasn’t enough, you could just catch back-episodes through Comcast’s On-Demand!
It was fun at first, but then after a few of those, I found myself switching off after just a couple of hours, then later on just totally skipping the marathons. I found myself more and more behind the computer and just staring at it - once again entranced by the curse of eBay. After a couple of purchases, I reached a point where swinging by the post office after work became pretty routine. At the very least, now that I’m heading home next week, eBay surfing has once again become a purely academic pursuit. I intend to keep it that way for a little while longer.
I guess its back to TV for a while. No need to change my profile then, I guess.
With the passing of each additional day without updating this blog, it begins to feel more and more like going to class in college - or rather, not going to class. Back then, I used to occasionally skip a class or two (or more…) Some time around the mid-terms, I’d start thinking "Hmmm, I need to go to class…" However, because of my absences, I wouldn’t know what point exactly the class was in, so I would feel hesitant to come to class "unprepared." So that class would get skipped until I could "catch up" - which of course was hard to do, since I wasn’t in class and had no idea where I needed to go or what I needed to do.
In a similar manner, this blog has devolved into something like that. Its not for lack of topics - goodness knows there’s a lot of that around. Its just that, well, there’s so much stuff going on, but I can’t write about it yet because I haven’t written about the stuff that occurred before that - and so on and so forth.
For example, there’s the story about how I feel about automatic flush toilets. I mean, its a great idea and all, but they have to be careful about sensor placement, because if you so as much lean in the wrong direction, your ass could be subject to an impromptu splashing from an automatically flushing toilet.
There’s also the observation that I actually have more anxiety crossing roads here than in Manila. As it happens, my complacency has increased because I now rely on the other party (be it other pedestrians, cars or buses) to obey the law. Sometimes, I catch myself just automatically crossing the street when the walk sign goes on regardless of the oncoming buses and cars - because I have faith that the cars would follow the rules too and stop at the red light.
Other potential topics which come to mind involve the quirks of acclimatization, the ease of commuting, the awful (AWFUL) spelling of a number of people, Midwest politeness and quirks (such as using "how are you?" as a greeting instead of just a plain old "hello!"), the isolation of the individual in spite of all the gadgets around designed to help them connect, the (mis)adventures of miss Maya, and the perils of eBay.
There are so many other potential topics which shall alas remain just vague concepts in my head. Just as I did back in college, there came a time when an inner voice would just say "Aaah, screw it…" and I would just end up in class (and still realize that I actually didn’t miss much at all - except in chemistry of course. And physics. And calculus. But the others were generally okay).
So here I am again.
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Feliz and I have brought up our maletas from long term storage in the basement. Nine more days to go.
Salt water…
In the tradition of marking non-events, here it is:
*MARK*
Move along now, nothing to see here… move along.
I finally got my dog tags today!
I’ve always wanted dog tags. While they were readily available in Manila, they usu
ally came unmarked. Engraving in Manila meant someone scratching out whatever info you wanted put on the tags. I didn’t want that. I wanted mine STAMPED like official issue tags, and so now – after all these years – I finally have what I wanted. Now that I’ve got them, I’ve yet to decide their final disposition, but at least I know I’ll be using them for diving.
These tags are one of the many little items I’ve ordered on eBay in the past few weeks. For the past two weeks, I’ve been trooping to the post office to purchase money orders for my various little purchases. Sometimes, I half expect the clerks there to call me by name – just like in “Cheers.” Funny thing is, the items I purchased before these tags still have to arrive. I fully expect Christmas will come early for me next week. And if not, there’s always the one after that…
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One more day before my exams. Just another day at the office.
Not for anything else, but since Halloween is fast approaching, I thought I’d share these words of wisdom I read in a few sites. You can read about them HERE.
Today is Friday the 13th. Other than that, the only other special thing today is the fact that it is the 1st anniversary of getting certified! :D Its been an interesting year.
I’m off to Sinai Hospital today for my orientation. I’m taking part in a study involving heliox and asthma. When I heard about it, I thought to myself it couldn’t be more appropriate - considering I’ve got asthma, and am familiar with heliox. Anyway, the weather today is unseasonably cold - by about 27 degrees fahrenheit. Throw in the windchill factor, and the temperature is about -4 centigrade. Time to break out the pea coat and boots. Its snowing. I guess I could call it a dry run for next month…
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Bought a watch in Target yesterday. It fits all required criteria: It’s water resistant to at least 100m, has a rotating bezel, and was CHEAP! :D Then I read the insert and found out it was made in the Philippines. Not knocking anything, but I started to wonder how much I could’ve gotten it there. Har.
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Been e-baying again (hoooo-boy, here we go again…). I need (want - need, what’s the difference…) a compass. Now since scuba gear in the Philippines is priced in dollars, it’s more or less the same price here and there (except for watches, perhaps). Anyway, a compass costs around 30 dollars for the cheapest module. I figured, since there are a lot of deals on eBay, I might as well get a whole 2nd regulator set for the same price :D Ahem. Let the bidding commence…
I got a letter and a check from my aunt in San Diego today. She informed me that she was taking Spanish lessons at the time. So I tried using the Altavista program to translate my "thank-you" message into Spanish. Not quite being reassured of the results, I decided to translate it back into English to see if the translation was up to scratch. This is what I ended up with:
"The receipt of recognition of the card and the bottoms that the rest
de:D assured them will be put to the use good (museos:D) The more long
I remain here, more than I make what the Spanish lessons of a good
investment I am! He thought that being near the Canadian border he
would mean more French… but then that one would be again New
Orleans, and later I equal, I am safe that the Spanish loudspeakers
exceed in number francophones."
I’d put the original, but I figured it would be more interesting if you tried to figure out what I originally wanted to say. Now I know how the Chinese translate their instruction manuals…
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What a great place! Where else can you walk into a store and buy this: 
I always wanted my own dummy grenade. The easiest way to get one is to start with a live grenade, empty out the plastic explosive, then detonate the detonator. There you have it: A demilled frag grenade. That’s how mine was made. Ah, Army-Navy stores. You gotta love ‘em! All the launch tubes, and mortar rounds. And don’t get me started on the helmets and masks! :D Maybe I’ll take another trip there soon and see if I can convert anything for scuba use…
Submitted for your review:
The clock theory in determining the degree of societal advancement.
Premise: In a lot of industrialized countries, clocks are more often than not synchronized to a central standard. In other places, clocks and watches are set to different times - school time, city hall time, even different hospital wards set their clocks to different times. The implications have something to do with degree of conformity leading to order (and accurate time keeping) as opposed to non-conformity - the belief in the anomie present in certain societies leading to an individualistic approach to interaction with other members of society, ie arriving late due to the belief that the others might arrive late as well, due in part to screwed up timekeeping practices.
I’m sure a lot of other conclusions can be derived from this premise, but it’ll start getting confusing.
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Checked out the price of either a step-up transformer or a new shaver on-line from Ace hardware and Radioshack. *cough* Looks like I’m stuck with 2 hour haircuts…
What’s with this place?
I checked the local news channel for the weather today. Temperature was somewhere in the mid-50s. FYI, thus far, these numbers mean nothing to me. NOTHING. Sure I can subtract 32 from the Fahrenheit scale, but when it comes to dividing by 5/9ths then bye-bye! The only 2 metric-imperial conversions I can do right now are feet-meters, and PSI-BAR. This comes from diving in either Cebu (which uses meters and BAR), or in Anilao (feet and PSI). Other than that, things like distance in miles and temperature in Fahrenheit are just funny numbers to me.
Another addition to the annals of the Fantastic Oversight Bureau would be when I tried to use my shaver here. See, I’ve been shaving my own head for the last 12 years or so. So it was a no-brainer that to save on a few dollars, I would just bring my own shaver for my weekly hair-cut. Kind of forgot that this place runs on 110v. Hello! Tried taking my shaver apart to see if I could "adapt" it, but no dice. Was able to get it running though - albeit a little slower - so what would normally have taken just ten minutes turned into an hour-and-a-half long ordeal of hair getting caught up in the blades.
See? This is why the Mars Climate Orbiter burned up toward Mars!
Oh goodness!
Its 4:20 AM here, I’m still awake, and I have this overwhelming craving for Baliwag liempo.
I’m gonna try to get back to sleep. If I don’t, I’ll end up all loopy again later, like I was yesterday…
I’ve always found crossing timelines amusing - imagine taking off from Manila at around 7 AM on Wednesday, and arriving in Chicago at around 2PM on the same day. Heck, the flight from Detriot took off at 1335, and "arrived" in Chicago at 1345. Not bad for an hour long flight!
Sure, fascinating enough on paper, but not something you want to be doing everyday…
Let the review begin.
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Oh, I’ve started adding photos to my albums on the right (I’d like to thank my neighbor for the WiFi!). Unfortunately, I can’t add too many right now. What with me being the scrooge and not upgrading my account for more photos…
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It was a good day
Since I was in the Makati area, Anton and I stopped by the Armscor range to fire off a few. I can honestly say my groups are improving. Now my shoulder is kinda sore. If firing a shotgun is like getting kicked in the shoulder by a mule, try firing 9 shells one after another! Hey, at least I hit the targets all the time!
Duh.
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The range in Makati is also used by various security agencies to train their personnel. Today happened to be one of those training days…
Welcome to the most secure site in Metro Manila.
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In another show of jackass behavior, we also got a stun gun. I was slightly 
disappointed when Anton tried it on himself, with no subsequent drooling or paralysis - not even after the 3rd or 4th try! I even managed to try it out myself. While it makes an intimidating electrical cracking noise, at most, all it does is make you jump back in surprise. Bear in mind, though, we used to stick 9 volt batteries on our tongues as kids just for the buzz (didn’t everybody?). Suffice to say it wouldn’t stop a determined attacker. Unless your attacker was geriatric and had a pace-maker…
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I had to test my computer in the pool yesterday. Now, chlorine 
just sucks for gear, so I take my post-dive cleaning seriously. While cleaning my primary second stage, I took it completely apart, and in the process, I accidentally ripped the stem of the exhaust valve. No biggie, I thought, I’d just get another one in Makati.
I got to the shop today and inquired if they had the correct piece. They did naman.
The original is on the left, and the spare is on the right.
I decided to get 3 pieces - one as a replacement and 2 spares. Then I asked how much they cost:
“Sir, 350 pesos po”
“350 para sa tatlo?!?”
“’Di po, 350 kada isa…”
That’s just stoooooopid! What person in their right mind would spend 350 bucks for a stupid piece of silicone?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I got 2.
There are certain instances in your life where a little voice inside your head tells you to wait. When it comes to spending money, this little voice (the voice of reason) inside my head usually gets drowned out by “rationalizations” (the voice of rationale). I recently bought a used steel tank from a junk shop for just PHP 1.5K. Rationale? Steel tanks cost around $250 to $300 in the States. So at the time, I thought it was a steal!
Last week, I went to Aquamundo in Makati to get the tank hydro tested. 2 days ago, they called and said it failed. After hearing this, the rationalization in my head was going “Well, you’re actually glad it failed because you never really could trust anything that came from a junk shop, could you?”, so I decided to get a new tank instead.
Today, when I got to the shop, the tank I decided to get was no longer being sold. Additionally, the valve of my steel tank wouldn’t fit their new aluminum tanks. The cost of a new one was PHP 7K. I was all set to get it, but decided to defer until I checked out the other shops – specifically Nautilus. I went there and found out that their tanks cost 8.5K! At this point, I decided to return to Aquamundo to get the cheaper tanks. That’s when I heard it… my voice of reason:
"Hey Ed, why are you so hell-bent on getting a tank?"
"Uh, shops don’t rent out tanks, and I want to have something to use at the beach?"
"How often do you think you can use THAT there?"
"Uh…."
"See? And how can you justify spending that much when you don’t even have a proper depth gauge or dive computer?"
"Yeah, I guess you’re right…"
"You bet I’m –"
"Hmmm, I should get a computer instead!"
"No, wait, that’s not what I meant…"
"Hey thanks!"
"Noooooooo!!!" (fade away…)
So I got a computer instead.
Here it is
Thank goodness for the voice of reason!
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FYI: No, I do not meet the DSM-IV criteria for schizophrenia.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, pretty much so."
"Okie…if you say so…"
One of the projects my brother and I cooked up within the past few weeks was making a suppressor for an old .22 cal rifle. To test the theory, we decided to get an old water bottle, taped it to the end of the gun and stuffed it with cotton. To our surprise, the thing worked great! Even clapping your hands was louder than the report. It worked so well, the bottle is still stuck to the end of the rifle. Now the yard is full of holes…
Speaking of guns, if I was a budget diver, my brother would be the budget shooter. While both sports don’t come cheap, we look for ways to save here and there. But a few days ago, Anton encountered someone who takes the cake: An old geeky guy at the range would sift through the pile of old cardboard targets for things to shoot. Now this in itself isn’t so bad, but when you consider that he would use his old masking tape (from other used targets) to patch up the holes on the other targets, well that’s just taking it to the next level. That’s like super yagit, man! Compare and contrast that with the fact that at 8 bucks a pop, he was going through ammo like they were candy.
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I remember back when I was a freshman physics major in UP. It was the CS freshman get-together where we were all supposed to introduce ourselves – stating our course and reason for joining. I don’t quite remember my own reasons, but I do remember one response of a former classmate:
“I went into physics so that I can invent a giant filter to solve Metro Manila’s pollution problem…”
*Brilliant!*
I think he should’ve shifted to literature and used his fantastic imagination to create the novel of the decade.
I wonder where he is today.
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I’ve been using the suffix “-ish” a lot. Y’know like small-ish. Nice-ish. Ish. “It was ish…”
"How was the movie?"
“Uh, nice…ish”
"How’s the weather outside?"
"Warm-ish."
This part of the post was… ish.
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Other bits of news:
- The CS kitten’s been dead a while (2 weeks ago). Was able to do a post-mortem ballistics analysis of a .22 on it, so it served a higher purpose. Whaddya know! POEx is a lot larger than POEn.
- The steel tank failed hydro. I must admit, I’m more than slightly relieved. That means I got to get a new tank. Safer all around I guess. As I said before, even I had limits to how cheap I get.
- I finally got the negative scanner to work, so some of the pictures in my album on the right will be updated by next week, after I get to the States.
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One more week.
ITs been a while since my last post. Been spending most of my time either tied up reading articles from the board, or getting my stuff together in preparation for leaving for the states next week.
Anyway, what got me to post?
This ad I heard over the radio:
The BIR and the Department of Education have banded together to invite high-school students who can draw or come up with a story to create a comic strip entitled "The Adventures of Super Pinoy." A superhero who protects Filipinos around the world from harm - and encourages them to pay their taxes on time!
Ahem.
That series goes right beside my X-men series collection.
What were they thinking?!?
The darn thing actually worked!
I was able to finally take my home-made gauge into the pool and it registered changes in depth nicely! No leaks noted. But then that was just 14 feet, I wonder how it’ll do at a hundred… And the reg worked flawlessly too 
Although it felt a bit weird, being all by myself in the pool. Well, there’s always a first.
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The ugly calico thing isn’t as noisy as before, and doesn’t hiss at me anymore. It is, however, losing weight. I need to find a better way to feed it.
As per tradition, I’m considering it my CS cat.
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Well, just one more official duty to go in Imus, then I can focus on getting my stuff together in preparation for leaving in under a month. Its been interesting, working there. I enjoyed the fact that I didn’t really need to battle through traffic to get to and from work, even though my schedule was seven to seven. The Daang-Hari route to Cavite is just such an incredible time-saver. However, this is also the same reason why I’m happy its almost done. I’ve always disliked passing through the Molino part by myself at night - especially through the rough, muddy portion near the bridge. Well, that’s that I guess.
There are few things in my life that tick me off more than driving around Metro Manila. This is due to several factors - one of which is that I am an anal-retentive prick (see? even just thinking about traffic pisses me off!). Anyway, here’s a listing of some things of note:
- The most important part of the pinoy motorcyclist’s body is the elbow. That’s the conclusion I got from watching people riding around with their helmets strapped to their arms.
- Signal lights? What are those?
- Lane markings? wha…?
- The purpose of pedestrian overpasses is to provide a shade for people crossing beneath it on the street.
- people will usually cross in front of your car when you are moving forward rather than behind it.
- the jeepney is truly the king of the road… right after the buses and trucks that ply the streets after 9 PM.
- Filipino animals are the laziest bunch ever, refusing to get off the road until the last minute. This notion has been reinforced several times by the fact that I have almost hit cows on more than one occasion.
I’ll stop here muna for my own peace of mind.
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I got my regulator back from being professionally serviced, thank you very much. My faith in my LDS has been restored. Read about that tragic saga here.
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After receiving a PM from an old friend of mine, I realized that there were a lot of things that have happened in my life that I would rather forget (which I will NOT be listing here, as it defeats the purpose of trying to forget…)
Where was I again…? Oh yeah… on the other hand, there are thing that I do NOT want to forget, but unfortunately have. Such as all the normal lab values for children, as well as the IMCI protocols. Why am I thinking about this? Because I remembered that the pediatricians have this conference thing tomorrow, and so now I have to catch the other patients tomorrow. I hope the gynecologists show up tomorrow.
Sigh.
Another kitten. This one was rescued after 3 days of constant mewing within the crawlspace of our roof. I had to go up there - in between the ceiling and the roof, crawling between the joists, while avoiding the wires hanging around the place - just to rescue the UGLIEST, splotchiest calico thing in existence!
Now its still constantly mewing, but its now in a hamster house with its own feeder. Ick.
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I hate to admit this, but I’m actually enjoying work. I get to do more or less what I do most days (reading SCUBA articles from the web; playing computer games), being disturbed only by the occasional URTI and AGE. And once in a while, a pimple or two.
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I’ve decided to never, ever donate blood again in PGH. Eight hours spent mostly waiting. For future reference, I’ll just give a gift cheque instead. Does the PNRC have that?
After 4 years of driving around with a peculiar noise coming from my engine (it has on more than one occasion been accused of being a diesel engine - an old diesel engine), the noise got so unbearable that I finally decided to bite the bullet and get it fixed. The reason for my waiting so long is that all this time I thought it was the air-con compressor that needed to be fixed. And while the noise level before was such that it was slightly difficult to carry on a conversation in using a normal vocal level, last night it sounded like the engine was going to come apart.
So I brought it to my mechanic. I was all set to borrow money just to get it fixed, trying to calculate in my head how many duties it would take to repay it.
Can you imagine my relief when he told me it wasn’t my compressor, but just my tensioner bearing? Total cost: 650 pesos.
4 years of driving around with noise… Sheeesh!
There’s not much to say about my duties in Imus. Here’s a sample of what my total case load was:
2 annual physical exams
3 URTI - bacterial
1 ATP
1 UTI (norfloxacin resistant Klebsiella to boot!)
1 pimple.
Need I say more?
Well, it had to happen eventually.
I’ve decided to start another blog somewhere, because I’ve been receiving feedback from the 3 (or was it 4) people who read this one. I’ve decided to put the really, really technical rants and other bits of dive crap in there and just focus on the totally mundane, everyday occurrences of my life.
When I look back, the original reason for starting this Friendster blog was this: to be an online dive log and journal. Six feet under… and then some. However, due to time constraints (and the quiet realization that posting those things would be boring…) most of my entries have been about anything but diving. There might be some seepage occasionally, but I promise it wont be too much. It’ll be more of the same type like what you’ve seen before. For example:
I got my "mababaw" diving fix today while testing my reg. I borrowed a tank and threw the setup into a drum filled with rainwater outside. Then I put my mask on and immersed the upper half of my torso into the drum… lots of little wrigglers, but I was happy as a clam …
Believe me, there’ve been times when I would’ve wanted to go into every detail to the point of boredom. And now I’ve got a venue for it! :)
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Ah, I’m becoming more of a regular in Imus (sorry Candy… gotta find a way to pay the bills). Its an interesting change of pace, if only it weren’t so far… a 44km round trip. it better be worth the gasoline! I’ll try to post a picture of the drive next time. That way you can see that one of the greatest hazards of driving back at night is the risk of hitting cows!
Does anyone out there still remember the Cranberries’ song "Zombie"? Well, I woke up this morning and heard my neighbor singing at the top of her lungs:
…What’s in your hair?
in your hair?
Darling! Darling! Darling!
*snicker*
Then again, I think we’ve all been guilty of that. At least I just resort to humming instead…
On the same note: They should just remove all Cranberries songs from videoke lists. I’ve only ever heard one person sing the high notes in "Twenty-one" properly and that was way back in college. Anything else just sounds like a banshee wailing in the night.
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I’ve been thinking about what I want to specialize in, and after several days working in an HMO setting, I’m beginning to kind of realize that I miss the action of an ER setting. I’m getting tired of the pakyaw special, where heck - since you went to the clinic, you might as well have your entire family checked out! Or the ones who insist that there’s something wrong with them and ask you to perform certain lab exams, and then complain about it afterwards. I kinda miss the times back during my rotations in East Avenue where I would’ve rather stayed in the ER than do ward rounds. To be up on my feet the whole day attending to things left and right. Yeah, I was an ER and code junkie back then. Back when I didn’t have to worry too much about gas expenses and car repairs. But now I do. Now i’m doing this. The hours are kinder, and its easy-ish money. Ah well, I’ll just do ER again when the compensation’s better I guess.
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There’s a certain sense of voyeuristic pleasure in seeing yourself in someone else’s site. I was browsing through the photos of one of the group I was with last week, when I saw me! Can you find me? (hint: look for the yellow-finned tuna)
(just borrowing the photo, Jay. Thanks!)
I woke up this morning with another hare-brained idea. I spent part of yesterday going around the mall looking at watches with integrated depth gauges. See, the depth gauge of the reg I bought… (oh goodness, no! not another dive related blog entry!) Hmmph! Anyway, as I was saying, since my depth gauge was busted, I decided to get a watch/computer, but the price was prohibitive. See, I’m a budget diver - like "check-my-wallet-to-see-if-i-can-do-one-more-dive " kind of budget diver. So, back to the hare-brained idea: I decided to repair my own gauge - seeing as I couldn’t make a dead gauge any deader now, could I?
You may have noticed by now that I have a propensity for improvisation. I have a catalog of hits and misses, and so far my current batting average is around 0.33 , so I guess I can take a few more swings. Lets look at the score board…
First, there’s my regulator. By rights, I should have a professional take a look at my regulator. Tried to get it cleaned at the local dive shop here and they said they didn’t service my regulator because, well, since its actually a vintage model (the kind way of saying it was no longer manufactured), they didn’t have parts to fix it. Well, it didn’t need to be fixed ’cause I tested it and it worked! It just needed to be cleaned! So anyway, I’ve taken it apart on my own, cleaned it (I doubt a technician would’ve been as meticulous as I was) and by golly she’s now a keeper!
Then there was the flashlight. Remember? The one I resurrected from the dead? I brought it down with me 5 times last week end, but as far as I can tell, it was probably dying again by the middle of the 2nd dive. (see previous post Learning Curve) Let’s never speak of this again.
Now there’s the depth gauge. I decided to use the internals of a water pressure gauge. I went to the hardware store to get one (150 bucks! hehehe!) Since the gauge was in PSI, I could just divide the value by 14.5 to get the pressure in BAR, and subsequently convert that into meters. Or I could just stick the face of the old depth gauge into it. I spent the better part of the day working on it. I Still need to get some parts of it welded. But think about it: cost of new gauge - 3500. Cost of the gauge I’m making - 250 :) Heck, even if it fails, at least it was fun trying to make it work.
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I also swung by the junk shop to see if I could find an air pressure gauge. Its interesting, the things you find in a junk shop. I actually found a batch of old scuba tanks. Not that I’d seriously consider getting them. The thought of 3000 PSI pressing against old steel (not even aluminum!) was a bit much. When a flashlight fails, then avoid diving in the dark. When a reg fails, then it’ll free flow, giving you enough air to either surface, or get to your buddy to share air. When a pressurized tank explodes behind you, well, you’re pretty much screwed. Well, I think I’ve got limits to my cost-cutting.
Then again, I could always just have the tanks hydro-tested to test their integrity… hmmm…
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I’ve been YM-ing feliz more or less every 11 AM/PM. Even over the net, I sometimes end up really madaldal. The following excerpt is taken from the actual conversation about Sesame Street that transpired while making this blog entry:
felizorig: when i was a kid, i just assumed that bert and ernie were brothers.
Ed: what? where are the genetics there? one is a yellow pineapple, and the other is a dark-skinned football head!
Ed: Bert has OCD.
Ed: Ernie has la-belle-indifference
Ed: the twiddlebugs have the "family car"
felizorig: twiddle bugs!
Ed: and the aliens have a "telephone" uh-huh, uh-huh, TELE-PHONE. BRRR - RING!
I was obviously not a fan of Batibot.
Remarkable.
I’m actually typing this at work. Its sooooo slow here that the cows across the road are just lying down doing nothing. Gawrsh, I’m counting COWS! It’s a far cry from what I was doing last week-end…
Saturday was good. Sunday was even better. Saturday was “being-the-victim” day for the rescue divers. Sunday was better because it was all fun dives. It started with Ernest knocking on my door at 7 in the morning asking “hey, you wanna dive?” So, bleary eyed, I got up and started putting on my cold damp wet suit. The (very) condensed version of the rest of my Sunday proceeds as follows: dive, breakfast, dive, lunch, dive, home.
At the end of the week-end, after 5 fun-filled dives, it was all “back to reality” mode.
Then again, what is reality?
I’m currently in Imus, doing some work for Medicard over here. It was relatively quick-paced this morning, however, after lunch, it seemed that the world forgot that this clinic existed. Everyone else is just watching TV (channel 2), and I’m here waiting for 7 o clock to roll around so I can go home.
Only when you compare the former with what I’m doing right now can you see the absurdity of it all.
Granted, everyone here’s very nice. And no, I am definitely not complaining about the pace of work. I kinda like it like this. Heck, I’m coming back tomorrow for more!
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You may also note that there’s a new picture in the “under where” folder. My Franken-reg failed me – wouldn’t stop free flowing. So I had to borrow another reg for last week-end’s dive. Anyway, I’ve replaced the old one, and got an even older one… hehehe! Hey, as long as it works, and has an octo, I can’t complain. Besides, it cleans up nice too!
Well, that’s that. I finally went and did it. I trooped off today and placed 2 bids on eBay, and I won! Now, aside from the 2 good items I got, I’ve got a 100% positive feedback as a buyer now. :) Validation is always a good thing.
Anyway, I am now the proud owner of a “Franken-reg.” Which means a SCUBA 
regulator composed of parts from different manufacturers. Now while lurking through the SCUBA bulletin boards I found lots of arguments for and against Franken-regs – or 2nd hand regs for that matter (an issue about life support). Now, I don’t want to tempt fate, but I’ve got a good vibe coming from this thing. I also won’t bore you with the technical details of the reg (Feliz gets enough of that from me already), but suffice to say it looks pretty okay.
Then again, I’ll get to find out this week-end. Assuming the weather holds, I’ll be trooping off to Anilao, where I have so kindly volunteered to be a search “victim” for future rescue-divers. Thus, to increase my margin of safety (and that of my buddy’s) I’ll have to look for an octopus to stick on my reg tomorrow. And a depth gauge. And maybe hit the pool to test my stuff.
Oh yeah, I did say I got 2 things, right? Well, in the event of, uh, whatever – I also got a safety balloon – a bright orange balloon I can use to signal the cavalry to come to the rescue!
I hope I don’t get to use THAT one…
*Sigh* I’m officially not a renter anymore!
See you next week!
Here’s a news bulletin: I actually spent the whole day studying!
I was supposed to spend this week-end in Anilao, but those plans have been shelved for the week after next. In the meantime, I’ve immersed myself in the world of on-line auctioning, on-line forums, and Wikipedia. I was bitten by the eBay bug a few days back, but now I’m happy to let several “deals-of-a-lifetime” slip past. I decided to do some research on scuba equipment (hence the whole day of “studying”), and bottom line is I’ve decided to get something I can actually test first, or even just examine before buying. However, this decision did not stop me from trawling eBay for other things.
Its interesting to see what items people put up for sale. While looking up SCUBA rebreathers, several rubber gas masks came up for sale – to be used for kinky fetishisms. Made me realize that I was lucky I already had one. Now all I need is the fetishism that goes with it. The masks they had on eBay had the intake valve reversed so that one ends up rebreathing their own exhaled air. Oh well, you know what they say about hypoxia and orgasms…
Also on the web were plans on a DIY dive light. The plans came from 
Switzerland, but when I looked at the price of the materials… well, CHF 100 (around 4100 pesos) was a bit too much for a homemade light. Granted, the plans did give me some ideas, so maybe I can retool another cheapie flashlight (as the original one from a previous post has proven unsalvageable) – learning from my previous mistakes – and come up with a serviceable yet reasonably priced light! At the very least, I should come up with either a success story or another academic exercise.
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I finally figured out why some people flush the urinal in (men’s) public toilets before they start to urinate.
The event occurred while watching Pirates of the Caribbean. During a lull in the screening, I decided to relieve myself (for a two hour movie, it felt surprisingly looong). Anyway, it so happened that this other guy went in with me at around the same time. As I said, it was during a lull in the film, so it was disturbingly quiet in the restroom. There we were, two guys (following the every-other-urinal rule of course) trying to take a leak and then…..
NOTHING!
Gawrsh, the performance anxiety! For what seemed like an eternity, there we were, both unable to pee! Not a tinkling sound to be heard! Oh, the dilemma! What to do? Zip up and pretend to be done? Whistle a happy tune? Lucky for me the other guy broke first and flushed his urinal, and with the sound of flushing came the impetus for peeing, thus allowing both of us to maintain our dignity.
Next time, public restrooms should have piped-in music going: wiwiwiwiwiwi
edit: I just realized this section has no significance to most women, seeing as they do not utilize the men’s room in general. Unless of course a similar event occurs in women’s lavatories… does it?
edit 2: the light I assumed to be unsalvageable? I was able to take it apart, clean the internals (replacing some of the metal components), filled the whole thing with silicone sealant, and now it looks like it’ll have another chance to redeem itself as a dive light :) Talk about really cheeeeeeeap!
Two days and seventeen more hours to go before the bidding’s up. I’ve been tracking this regulator on eBay for the past 5 days debating on whether or not it would be worth the 1,400 peso price. Considering a brand new one can cost almost 25K, it seems almost tempting, like it would be criminal to just let it slip by – even if just for spare parts!
Then again, there are some things you just don’t want to think of when you’re more than a hundred feet under water…
Haven’t I learned anything from previous forays?
But still… 1.4K vs 25K.
Damn you eBay!
The weather today cooperated nicely. When I woke up this morning, there wasn’t a cloud in sight! It was a great day to go diving, and it afforded me the chance to finally test all the stuff I bought last May. We went to a site off Mactan called Talima, with a small wreck and a wall. We set our maximum depth to only 25 meters. Anyway, most of my gear survived commendably, except for the flashlight. See, I bought this cheapie flashlight and tested it in a pail. Well, it worked great in the pail, but at 85 feet down, all the bulbs did was give a faint glow. When I cleaned the light afterwards, I found out that the batteries had somehow exploded and crap was just coming out of it. So here are the things I learned:
#1. There’s a reason why underwater flashlights are expensive. Quality does not come cheap.
#2. If the batteries you buy for your light are more expensive than the flashlight, it’s a good indicator of the quality of your light.
#3. A better indicator would have been all the misspelled words and horrid grammar on the packaging of the flashlight.
#4. A pail is not a substitute for any dive deeper than 2 feet.
You live, you learn.
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After the dive, I met up with my relatives over at Plantation Bay. Over lunch, the dive center calls up, and they say that I had forgotten something at the shop. They wouldn’t identify the item I left behind, so I started going through a mental checklist of all my gear. I remembered throwing all the important stuff into my crate, so I couldn’t quite figure out what I had left behind – but I had my growing suspicions. Not having a dry bag, I usually keep clothes and stuff inside black trash bags. Cursory inspection of my crate revealed the absence of said bag. Upon arriving back at the shop, the secretary sees me and
says:
“Sir, may naiwan po kayo…”
Sure enough, she gave me this black rolled up plastic bag. The bag which contained my toiletries and my, uh, used laundry…
“Sir, baka gusto niyo i-check…”
“‘Di na. Okay na ‘to.”
Of all the things to leave behind…hay naku.
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Speaking of underwear (oh wait…no one was talking about that. Oh well.), the other night, Joseph came over here to the house, and through some convoluted pathway, the conversation turned toward words and their Filipino translation. We went through the basics:
Square - Paresukat
Rectangle – Parehaba
Triangle – Tatsulok
To the bizarre:
Chair - Salumpuwit
And through natural progression, to the stupid, crass jokes.
Panty - Salungguhit
Brief – Salongganisa
Cracks me up every time I remember that.
I guess all people deny that they snore unless confronted by hard incontrovertible evidence – like a recording, or in my case, waking up to the sound of a starting lawn mower coming from somewhere behind my soft palate. I’ve been told that it starts out softly then builds to a great crescendo:
snore…
Snore…
SNOREEEEngngnkkk!!!
“What the… who… what… eh…?”
There are about 3 seconds of total bewilderment right after waking up to your own snoring. You look around searching for the culprit, then it slowly sinks in… oh. my. goodness.
It’s a good thing I can still avoid snoring by making sure I sleep on my side. Or so I’d like to believe…
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After almost two weeks of constant cloudiness and rain (along with improperly dried laundry and a slowly putrefying carpet), the sun finally chose to show itself today! Went swimming today in Tabogon with my brothers, and hopefully, if the weather keeps up, I might be able to go diving off Mactan tomorrow. It’s the only way I can justify lugging all my gear here to Cebu.
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On the ride back from Tabogon (which is about 78km north of Cebu City), we would pass by bunches of kids walking home along the road from school. I was reminded of all the years of studying I went through, and it also got me to thinking how I would view this point in my life a couple of years from now. I can’t help but compare and contrast my own life with that of my folks. By the time they were my age, my folks had me already (considering I’m the youngest of three boys). And me? If you’ve been reading this blog, the predominant theme of the last 3 months has been “bumming around.” Bum. While there were days during clerkship and internship wherein my most ardent desire was to just kick back, relax, and maybe sleep in till I woke up on my own volition and not to the sound of an alarm clock, or to a paging system. Well, I’ve got what I wanted in spades! I guess you could call this a transition chapter in my life. A chapter which began after the boards in August 2005 and will continue all the way to the 2007 match. I guess I better just enjoy this moment while I can. Goodness knows when the next planned opportunity will come around.
A few days ago, I found myself in Makati with some time to kill, so I decided to revisit my old school there. It had been 12 years since my last visit to the campus, so I was in for a few surprises. It was a Friday, and was almost dismissal time. The first thing I noticed was the absence of those large school busses – which were now replaced by rows of smaller vans parked out in the lot and along the road. Upon entry through the main gate, I was greeted with the sight of paintings of old school administrators lined up along the walls, and a miniature fountain in the middle of the lobby. Granted, There were still things that remained the same – the way the noise level would slowly creep upwards 30 minutes prior to the final bell – from a deserted quiet ground floor, to the noisy PE classes dismissed early, on toward total pandemonium after the sounding of the last bell.
But change far outweighed the familiar.
Off to one side of the lobby, aside from the hanging paintings and old photos, there was a small museum and a really large salt-water aquarium (who needs to dive?)
The old park (with aviary) where we used to play during recess and lunch was now replaced by a treeless covered courtyard.
The classrooms no longer had the ubiquitous jalousies as windows, but now had plate glass and air-conditioning. The chairs were no longer the familiar wooden desks (which were magnets for illicit carving by bored students), but those gray and black not-quite monobloc chairs. I think the AV system per class came standard.
The library (the repository of dusty, unread books) was now called the “Multiple Intelligences Center” (whatever the heck that meant) and had computers left and right – in addition to the dusty, unread books.
The CAD rooms were now being used by the industrial drafting classes to come up with computer mock-ups of interior designs. I guess they really moved on from the days of trying to animate a single stick-figure using BASIC as a computing language. I wonder if they still knew DOS commands.
The old drive-way at the back of the school was now used as a repository of hickory wood (because goodness knows the restaurant run by the administration needed those logs for their pizza).
Even the students had changed. Back when I was in grade school, all we did was play tag, hide-and-seek, played with super-trump cards (where are those now?), and would occasionally go to the technical wing or behind the gymnasium to look for ghosts (your typical white lady, or the painting of the school’s founding father who’s eyes always followed you or who’s hand position would mysteriously change). Nowadays, the students were walking around with cell phones and ipods dangling from their ears! The varsity basketball team members were easily over six feet (what on earth are they feeding them!). Even the outfits changed. As I recall, after the intermediate grades, and into high-school, students were allowed to wear any type of shoes they wanted (basta with white socks). Well, the majority of the students I saw were in shiny black leather shoes with black socks. In my time, aside from cross-trainers, brown leather loafers were standard. Don’t laugh – it went well naman with the “fashionable” brown braided-leather belt (bear in mind that I went to school in a time when the song “tatlong bente-singko…” actually meant something).
With all these things, I could no longer relate to the school. I only recognized two of my former teachers- but I doubt they recognized me. I kept walking around, looking for something familiar to give me a sense of homecoming. Perhaps I should have just stayed in one spot, because familiarity eventually found me. While walking around and pondering all the changes of my old alma-mater, I found myself back on the second-floor of the technical wing. At that moment, two grade-schoolers furtively walked passed me, staring into the now deserted halls and pointed into the distance, with one of them saying to the other:
"Ayun o! May multo!"
I guess some things never change.
Its 5:12 AM and I’m literally typing this thing with just one bleary eye opened. I swear, sleep is still sticking to me that I’m thiiiis close to typing up some gobbledeegook… sdkajnmvnyargh. Anyway, I just had to say that it’s amazing how the mind works. They say that dreaming is the mind’s way of integrating bits of the previous day’s information. I just woke up from one. It wasn’t a bad dream per se. From what I could remember, I was in a tuxedo and was attending some function in this big auditorium. It sorta felt like some kind of graduation or oath-taking ceremony. Which is weird in itself because I never attended my oath-taking. Nor my graduation from internship. Or med-school. Or even college, for that matter. Anyway, moving on - all my med friends were there, except for Feliz. I kept looking for her among the sea of faces, and when I asked around, people said she was “nasa kabilang building” So I left (at least my brain couldn’t invent what the ceremony was like). I later ascertained that “…kabila” was in the old Duty-Free building (actually now Casino Filipino). And then the dream proceeds to some weird thing about me trying to save the world by joining some second-rate strike force called Masked-Rider-Promise. I took it to mean that it was somewhat akin to Masked-Rider (a series I never watched), but not quite as good – sorta like “we can be just as good…Promise!”
Then I woke up.
I know – I can’t make sense of it either. I mean, I’ve tried correlating it with the previous day. I woke up at around 9AM, started watching TV. In the afternoon, I got my brother’s car fixed (again), and kept practicing taking down and putting back together his sidearm. I spent 6 hours last night playing Dawn of War, than capped it off (three hours ago) by watching a Discovery program about the top ten bombers of all time, followed by another special about Hitler surviving and moving to the Andes. Then I fell asleep. Oh yeah, and Feliz is currently in Los Angeles taking her Step 2CS, which should be done just about right now.
Go figure.
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Haloo! I hope it went okay :) Have a safe trip to Chicago
There are some thoughts that go through my head whenever I see or hear the “First Day High” commercial of Rexona. The most salient of these was:
Where did I fit in?
I wasn’t a rebel. Not brainy. Not sosi. Erm… Nice guy? Nope, not that either. Hmmm, what was the label commonly attached to me? I think it was “weird.” Yeah, that was it. Through high-school and college, and well into med-school, I preferred to fly under the radar. The only times I’d surface was to either be weird, or be a jerk (the politer term for what others would say). Oh well, here’s to the category busters! Though, for the life of me, I can’t imagine what the “weirdo” high would be…
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Speaking of advertisements, the Pacquiao-Larios fight was an advertiser’s wet dream. And that it went the full twelve rounds, was a bonus for the sponsors I guess. Right now, post-match, they’re analyzing everything to death.
What the heck, here’s my two-cents worth… (May sukli ka pa!)
Pacquiao – he deserved to win. Although I think he could’ve finished it a lot earlier.
Larios – there’s a class act for ya. Gotta hand it to him, he held out ‘til the end, and was magnanimous even in defeat.
I never really considered taking the MLE until the latter part of my internship in the AFPMC. In fact, I always went through med school thinking I was going to join the medical corps after internship and be assigned to some far-flung area in the south. Even during the early months of working in a military hospital, I believed that the people I was working with would be my future colleagues. On Mondays, the flag-raising ceremony was replete with military pomp and circumstance, including a military marching band and a parade-in-review. Same thing on Friday afternoons, during flag-retreat. Yes, during those times, the romance of serving my country called out to me. And I was willing to give up love and life just to be a part of it.
Then the little things started getting to me.
Like soldiers with gangrene not being able to take their daily dose of antibiotics due to unavailability.
Like the soldier stuck in Ward 23 not being allowed to be with his wife and new-born child on Christmas because protocol didn’t allow it.
Like the dependents who were admitted for minor reasons, then got hospital-acquired pneumonia then died.
Like the residents who, in spite of working for several months, still received no pay.
I know these problems weren’t unique to that institution. Every government hospital has its share of stories. But this was THE premier military hospital – the one were all the other field hospitals sent their difficult-to-manage patients. And this is what they were getting. Just think of what they were getting out in the field.
Don’t get me wrong here. I was able to work with good doctors, nurses, and other hospital personnel. Many of them also expressed a certain degree of exasperation with the status quo. Quite a few of them started bright-eyed, idealistic, and were chafing at the bit to change the system. And in equal measure, the system bit them back. One by one, they started conforming – not reforming. And bit by bit, my idealism too was drained.
One ordinary day in February, one of the ubiquitous memos that you see in hospitals caught my eye. It was nothing fancy, just an internal memo reminding several officers to update their data for disbursement of funds. The list was chock-full of colonels, majors, and captains. And then, while reading it, for the first time in my life, I could no longer imagine my name prefixed with a rank. The mil-spec, prefabricated, regimented existence I was hankering for no longer seemed a viable option.
And suddenly my life found new purpose. The lofty, intangible ideas that I had centered my life around were replaced by something concrete. Smaller in scope, yet vital to the structure of society. I chose love. I chose family. Thus, I’m now leaving in two months for my third MLE exam.
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There is a bit of cadet knowledge that starts with: “If you work for a man, speak well of him…” Then it continues on to “…if you must find fault, then quit, then damn to your heart’s content.” Well, it’s been more than a year since leaving, and this is all I have to say about it: From what I gathered from my patients there, they don’t do it for love of god and country. They put their lives on the line for their brothers-in-arms. For their families. And for what? Minimum wage? These men and women have given the best years of their lives, and I think it only fitting that they receive the treatment that they deserve. Many who are currently serving in the field are trying to institute change from the grassroots level. There are still people who follow the ideals of that other bit of cadet knowledge (“I am only one”), an excerpt of which goes “… I cannot do everything, but I can do something.” I salute them for their idealism and tenacity, and I acknowledge that it is through their sacrifice that we are able to have the freedom to make the choices that we make.
Ah, me. I’m such a sap.
It’s a good thing I’ve got work tomorrow afternoon.
Countdown begins.
I first tried Google Earth last Christmas. Unfortunately, the resolution for Metro Manila just plain sucked. But now, they’ve apparently improved the resolution so now you can actually even see my brother’s car parked in front of our house! I’ve also learned that the actual air distance between my house and Feliz’s is only 1.92km!
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On the trip back from Maya’s despedida, I decided to listen to radio, thinking that maybe the quality of the programs would have improved by now. I leave judgment up to you:
DJ talking about another DJ’s propensity for inventing words: “…the word is `ambience’, there’s no such thing as `ambivalence!’”
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Gasoline prices suck.
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I’m deathly afraid of roaches. Worms, mice, lizards, snakes, and frogs – no problem (heck, I’ve even eaten live earthworms before…). But roaches? It’s weird, because I used to play with spiders as a kid. Nowadays, the phobia has spread beyond roaches to any flying insect larger than a blowfly. And spiders too. But usually the flying ones. And roaches have the distinction of having been given the capability of flight, but not enough brain power to actually know how to do so properly – unless of course their mission in life is to fly towards the person most likely to be affected. I’m so grossed out by the little buggers, that I can’t even step on one. It’s the sickening crunch they make, see? That’s why I use BB guns. It’s gratifying to be able to take one of them out from far away. Never mind splattering bits and pieces all over the place. I’d take a confirmed kill over the uncertainty of letting one out of your sight.
I can sometimes smell them before I see them. I can’t believe I stopped watching TV in the other room because I saw a roach on the ceiling. None of my BB guns are charged at the moment, so I have nothing to take it down with. Which means that I’ll be missing out on CSI: NY.
I went to the Mercury Drug here in my village this morning to get epinephrine for Feliz’s aunt who was having an allergic reaction. After explaining the urgency of the situation to the saleslady (because I was number 48, and they were still serving 38) she still took an unbelievably glacial three or so minutes to figure out that they didn’t have it in stock. It took her that long because she didn’t know what it was, and had to ask around – never a good sign. So I proceeded to the Mercury Drug in South Supermarket, here at Westgate. Same story. At least the guy behind the counter had the decency to know that they didn’t have it. Which brings me to this question: Doesn’t Mercury Drug - the country’s largest drugstore chain – carry this all-important life-saving drug?
I came up with a sobering realization: When I was rotating through government run emergency rooms, we would frequently run out of supplies, and needed the relatives to buy their own drugs and supplies from the multitudes of drugstores surrounding hospitals. Sometimes they would take a long time before they returned, and I guess when you can’t even buy epi from Mercury Drug, then it’s no wonder why it takes them a lot longer. (Try asking your local drug store for tetanus toxoid and/or immunoglobulin)
So now comes the second part of this story. I ended up in Med Express, right across from the Westgate Mercury, and asked for the same thing:
"Miss, may epinephrine ba kayo?"
"Sir, may prescription po ba kayo?"
As you can imagine, this is a situation that I’ve been waiting for the loooongest time. I’d like to add that my sandals, shorts, and t-shirt did not add to my credibility one bit. Needless to say, after procuring a blank sheet of paper, I was able to whip one up. The clerk also asked me for some information for my discount card, so I give her both my PRC and driver’s license. Anyways, after typing it all up, she gives me my meds and my med-express card, saying:
"Doc, ito na po ang card ni’yo."
Ah yes… I’ll take my validation any way I can get it.
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After all that brouhaha, we found ourselves back in ATC, this time to look for a Filipino grammar book for Feliz’s American brother-in-law. While leafing through the various balarila, and getting re-acquainted with things like klaster, pang-halip, pang-abay, panlapi, etc., I started wondering how the heck I ever scraped by in grade school. I mean, when was the last time you saw the word salungguhitan in your everyday life? I thought to myself "maybe I should be getting this book for myself." Then I saw the price. 300 bucks for a grade 2 textbook? Forget it. For future reference, can anyone say Home Schooling?
Anyway, if I was to learn a language, it might as well be Mandarin.
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Speaking of grade school, out of curiosity, I did the creepy thing and searched for profiles of my old grade-school classmates. See, I spent my last three years of grade school in a Jesuit-run Chinese school in Iloilo. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have dropped those Chinese classes. Anyway, after I graduated, I moved back here to Manila. Therefore I hadn’t seen these people in like, oh, 17 years? And you know what? They still looked the same! (oh, well, most of them anyway). Amazing. Plus ça change…
I’m a caffeine addict. My preferred method of delivery is Coca-Cola. Regular. I absolutely love it. My former co-interns and co-clerks can attest to that. There were duty days when all I needed to get through the day was a 1.5L bottle of coke and some siopao (asado).
I guzzle the stuff. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. In times of desperation, I’d even drink it warm. There are times when my water intake over the course of the week would amount to - oh, say – one glass? Occasionally, I’d feel the need to drink something other than Coke.
Thank goodness for Pepsi.
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Currently watching CSI: Supreme Sunday on AXN. Don’t people know how to do CPR anymore? Someone collapses during the show, and the next scene involves the crime lab. Of all the shows I’ve seen, I think I’ve only seen the para-medics involved only once.
I just finished watching Amityville Horror again with Feliz. Although it has its moments, it doesn’t quite make the cut of my top 3 scary scenes:
1. As scary movies go, I think the Japanese have the format down pat. I’m talking about Ringu here. The scene is where Sadako’s mom (refresh my memory please) is brushing her hair and she turns to the camera. Then she slides away, and then later on, you see her peering at you. I can’t watch it by myself! (And I was tempted to make copies of the film, just to ward off any possible curses…)
2. Interestingly, there’s this one scene in Mel Gibson’s Signs. I don’t know how it made the cut, but when the alien passes in front of the camera, it creeped me out big time! So maybe I’ll just cop out on number two and just say “Blair Witch Project.” The first one, that is. The whole film’s just creepy. For one Halloween, Feliz cut up an old shirt, filled it with rocks and candy, surrounded the whole thing with twigs, and left these piles in front of her friends’ houses. It freaked more than one person out.
3. And the number one scariest scene for me is the one in “Three Men and a Baby.” I know it isn’t even a scary movie, but see, that’s the whole thing! You know which scene I’m talking about. It’s the scene where the camera is panning, and in the background, the figure of a boy can be seen behind the curtains? Yep, that’s the one. It’s only on for less than a second, but jeeez-louise! Last time I saw it, I knew it was coming up, all the lights were on, I wasn’t the only person in the room, but still, after seeing it, it still sent shivers down my spine!
Which brings me to my next topic, sentiments I think we all share when we watch thrillers. I don’t care where you’re from, but I think you’ll agree with me on these points. If ever I heard some weird thing happening in the next room, or in another part of the building, I would:
1. Dress appropriately. I would take the time to put something on. I don’t think pajamas offer any form of protection whatsoever.
2. Bring a light source. I’m talking about at least a real flashlight. Finding the light switch to a room is even better. A lighter does not count.
3. Bring a weapon. A gun would be nice. Then maybe a bat. For some weird reason I kinda don’t want to bring anything bladed. Which means knives, axes, and chainsaws are out of the question.
4. Bring a friend. If not for anything else, at least a monster might go for him/her instead.
I mean, come prepared! Can you imagine the casualty rate in Aliens if the space marines were in their jammies, came in one by one, with nothing more than a lighter?
Time flies.
One year ago, I started reviewing for the boards. June was for the basic sciences. July was set aside for the clinical subjects. August was for panicking. During those days, life seemed to move pretty slowly. One page at a time. One chapter. One book. Each day blending seamlessly into the next one. The only way for me to notice the passage of time was to go to the Kapiligan Boys’ place over at Zaragosa. They had a pad of post-it’s up on the wall, counting down the days before the boards.
Wen’t grocery shopping the other day. Funny how habit makes you buy the same things over and over. My shopping list back in med school was always the same - Bacon, eggs, coke, choc-nut, bananas (my only health concession), coffee, longganisa-burgers, and the perennial Lucky-Me Instant Pancit Canton. The last item was a staple all the way back from college whenever I’d be too lazy to step out of the dorm. Nowadays, I’ve got no excuse for buying it. I’ve got all the time to do my cooking. With nothing concrete to do one year after the boards, I find myself waiting. Just waiting.
Waiting for my CIN to arrive so I can schedule my exam.
Waiting for the next reliever job just around the bend.
Waiting for September, before I leave for the States.
Waiting for December to come back.
Waiting for the time when we don’t need to be apart for long.
I feel disconcerted, and Tyler is to blame. He’s Jonathan’s dog, and he isn’t some little lap dog. We’re talking about a German Shepherd the size of a wolf! My brother and I were at Jon’s place to use power tools to do a little smithing work. Initially, while standing in front of the bench grinder, I felt a nudge behind me. It was Tyler sticking his nose up my butt. I shooed him away, and thought nothing further of it – that is until I bent over the grinder to do some work…
TYLER! NO!
Too late! I felt paws on my waist, and Tyler started to do a little grinding of his own on my leg. With three sets of legs to choose from, he chose mine. Now, I love dogs, and I’ve always been nice to Tyler, but why’d he have to go and do this? It bothered me. What did it mean?
Moral of the story: I should remain a law abiding citizen to avoid being thrown into jail
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I’m doing reliever work once again this Saturday. Initially I was thinking “Hey, it’s a long week-end! Sayang lang naman.” Then I realized that most of my days these days are just long week-ends.
Perspective noted.
Ah, the joys of being somewhere and nowhere at the same time…
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I’ve been a hostage to regular radio while driving for the past few weeks. My MP3 player conked out and I had to choose between silent drives or the unbearable inanity of radio. One example of absurdity occurred the other night. A debate was raging between the DJ’s as to which superhero was better – Superman or Spiderman:
I like Spiderman because he’s more realistic…
Excuse me? Of all the reasons you can give, please don’t give that. I like spidey too but please, I don’t think I need to explain why “realistic” is a poor reason to give when talking about superheroes.
You can imagine my excitement when I found the installer CD that came with my player. Oh, happy! Happy! Joy! Joy! After formatting the disk, I was able to revive it, and now I’m no longer a slave to all the yakkity-yak on radio.
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Been watching way too much TV lately. Sometimes, while surfing, I get a glimpse of the Knowledge Channel. I don’t think they’ve got the format down pat yet. In spite of watching a poorly animated discussion of the ideal gas law, I still failed to follow how Charles’ law and Boyle’s law became condensed into PV=nRT. Sorry, mission failed, guys. The presentation was just three notches higher than reporting with manila paper covering the blackboard. And these are the tamer episodes. I can’t wait for them to explain String theory using finger puppets. Way too much TV.
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Speaking of manila paper, I got bitten by the balloon-animal bug. During my lunch break while working in an HMO, I went to National Bookstore to buy some more balloons, and the place was just jam-packed with people in a mad rush for school supplies. It amused me how the concepts of summer vacation and the back-to-school rush felt so remote - how the sight of notebooks and the pervading smell of plastic no longer elicited a sense of dread mixed in with excitement. My only concern was the impending increase in traffic. Good thing I don’t need to listen to radio anymore
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To recap: Radio, TV, Balloon animals. Sigh.
Sigh.
It wasn’t a surprise, yet I somehow still feel disappointed. It was a not-so-titanic battle between the person who was never in the bottom, versus the person who in spite of several shaky performances, managed to kick even chris out of the competition. The Kat-pack and Mcpheever versus the Soul-Patrol. I shouldn’t feel so bad though, Kat’s probably signed with some other record label, and will definitely still look better endorsing products than Taylor.
One thought for Taylor: Where’s Reuben today?
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Disappointment aside, I’m happier today than I have been in the past few weeks. I’ve come up with a thought that, although suntok sa buwan, has rekindled my somewhat flagging desire to be a doctor. I still have to do some research on it (sorry, I don’t really want to mention it out loud because I might jinx it), and see whether or not a market for it exists. But bottom line is I’m happy, Taylor nothwithstanding.
24 hours ago, I was on my way to Baguio, and now I’m back with several items I managed to snag in ukay-ukay. Two words for these stores: Floor plan. You can literally get lost in these places. You go up one rinky-dink set of stairs, tread on bouncy floors, pass through unexpected doors (one door led to a hot tin rooftop!) passing the same stores several times before you (or the saleslady) realizes your error. Good luck trying to ever find the fire exit if ever.
Its slightly disturbing to see underwear among the secondhand goods. I guess, if you really think about it, it shouldn’t be as bad as using restaurant flatware. Think of all the people who’ve used it before you!
Just a thought
Sancho is Feliz’s dog. To me, he is like the cuuuutest lab I’ve ever seen. Endowed with a big head, big paws, and short stubby legs, a lot of people think that he’s still a puppy! He’s actually six already (that makes him, uh, 42?) and unfortunately, because of these short stubby legs, he’s unable to mount the (usually) taller bitches. Not even an army of shooters could help him. He’s tried several times without success. sniff.
Is it any wonder he looks the way he does in this picture?
Please, lets make this world a better place. Lets make Sancho happy. Help find him a short bitch (preferably with a big head too…). Black or yellow, it doesn’t matter (one of his parents was black). Let’s give him something to smile about!
Went to the range with my brother again. Watched some Israeli special agents practicing their tradecraft. After several trips to the range, I now have the luxury of enjoying the esoteric aspects of the sport - from the way the ejected shells gracefully arc through the air, to the way GSR lightly powders your arms after firing off a clip. I have that luxury because I have come to the realization that my groupings will always suck. So, to get the most bang for my buck (or my brother’s buck) I think my best bet is just to make the target rat-rat. Nothing does that better than a shotgun! Besides, you get smaller ricochets
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Well, its down to the final two on American Idol. Judging from the reactions of people (okay, the three people I talked to afterward) Elliot fans will probably go for Mcphee. Although I think that during the competition proper she has the tendency to sound a little strained, she still sounds great when she sings non-competitively. Besides, as a friend of mine said "would you buy an album if it had Taylor or Elliot on the cover?" Seriously?
I’ve always disliked twilight. I get all antsy, dithering between boredom and getting a feeling between like something is supposed to happen – that I should be doing something more important than staring at a computer screen. The ennui was magnified further by the current weather. There’s nothing like the smell of wet soil and fading sunlight to elicit a sensation of unrest.
The one good thing wrought about the weather has been the increase in the number of “gamo-gamo.” It allows me to use that wonderful fantastic toy: the portable bug zapper. Y’know the thing that looks like a tennis racket? I first encountered this thing last Christmas when my dad showed it to me. I was so fascinated that I lugged the thing all the way back from Europe, believing there was no such thing back home. Surprise! What the heck was I thinking! This after all is the country with 168. The stupid zapper could be had for only 80 bucks. It amazes me how many cheap (in every sense of the word) things can be had there. All the things you don’t really need for less than half the cost under one roof! Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the place, but after my latest foray there, I actually got dizzy from all the glittering lights, the variety of goods, and all the “pili lang diyan, kuya” coming from all sides. All that stuff, and I’ll I got was a hand-held UV light, a gag pen, a USB charger set for my PDA (which actually works!) and a watch I bought simply for the strap (I’m still waiting for the watch to conk out before I harvest the straps). If it wasn’t for the charger, it would’ve hardly seemed worth all that gas and the parking fee.
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Where does shawarma sauce go? I swear, I keep slathering copious amounts of the stuff on my pita bread, turning it an (icky) shade of white, but in just a few minutes, its all gone,necessitating another dollop of the stuff.
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What is it with today’s commercials? I’m especially amused by sanitary napkin commercials. These days its so graphic, I’m half expecting them to use chunky red goop for their demos. They also highlight “issues” that would otherwise go unnoticed. Napkins with smell-guard? I can’t recall the last time I passed by a woman and noticed a smell. I guess it’ll all come into play when we all regress and start sniffing each others butts like dogs. Then again, anyone who’s had to monitor post-partum patients in a rooming-in unit would probably appreciate it.
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Blame the twilight. I’m all antsy after all.
I took a bullet near my crotch yesterday!
Actually, I got hit by a ricochet at the firing range. Some guy decided to shoot the target in the adjacent bay and his bullet hit the side-wall. Through some miracle of physics, the bullet bounced all over the place and hit me dab smack on my inner thigh. A little bit higher, and my left nut would’ve been mighty sore. Not everyone can claim to have been hit by a .45 caliber FMJ slug, and have it just bounce off.
My brother has become quite the gun nut. After accompanying him to the range several times, I still cannot reconcile the thought of spending 8 to 18 pesos per round (it’s the shotgun shells that cost 18 bucks). After shooting up a target, it’s usually another box of 50 rounds please – thank you very much. Sorry bro, if it’s all the same, I’d rather hit the water. Granted, the shotgun was a blast!
And so this is how I’ve been spending my post-exam days: Doing nothing overtly productive. To occupy my time, I decided to finally get my own dive gear. There comes a time when you finally decide that the wet suit you pee in may as well be your own. Thus, after the thrill of hunting down reasonably priced gear (read: cheap) and finally purchasing the basics (mask, snorkel, fins, wetsuit, and BCD), I’ve come to a sobering realization – now I can’t dive because my budget won’t allow it (read: I’m broke)
With this impetus, I’ve decided to enter the ranks of the (somewhat) gainfully employed. No more 24 hour duties for this brat, nay! It’s HMO or bust! And so after asking around, I’ve decided to apply to a particular HMO near my house. To apply, I had to make my curriculum vitae. Which lead me to another sobering realization: My life story can fit on a pin-head. It’s like after all these years of study, this is what you amount to: Squat.
Sigh. Can I put the nut-defying, bullet-to-the-crotch experience on my resume?
Finally.
After a looooong while,I’ve finally been able to do things I’ve put off till now, like:
read a non-medical book.
Watch a movie without thinking "I should be reading…"
Haven’t watched TV yet though.
Now I’ve got to look for a job.
I hope its done.
It was a simple yet dignified funeral for a dignified man. I leave out the “simple” part because there’s a whole lot of things I never quite understood about my Tito Noel. Yes, he lived his life simply, following an invariable routine from day to day, but the motivation for doing so eludes me. Taking into consideration the other aspects of his life – how he spent his youth, his old dreams and aspirations – I wonder what it was within his soul that spurred him on to the path he chose. I hope he found what he was looking for.
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5 days back in Iloilo, yet once again, I have missed an opportunity to more thoroughly examine my own soul through the lens of another person’s existence.
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Grandfather… I met you for the first time today. Your blood courses in my veins. You live on.
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The countdown continues.
30 hours to go.
Bring it on.
My Tito Noel died this afternoon.
In one of my last conversations with my uncle last February, he confided that he always wanted to go sky diving. We told him that as soon as he felt better after chemotherapy, that we would do that. Without any trace of regret, he replied:
"…some dreams were meant to just stay dreams."
My most recent and poignant memory of him relates to how caring he was. In spite of the fact that I probably saw him only three or four more times in the sixteen years since I moved back to Manila from Iloilo, he was someone who upon learning of my passing the boards, took out a congratulatory ad in a regional newspaper. I never knew of this until he gave me a copy of the paper when we visited him two months ago.
He lived his life frugally, piously, and without any hint of ostentation. He worked not for himself, but for the church and the community. As a testament to him, in spite of the simplicity of his life, he affected a lot of others, and will be missed by many. I will miss him.
The full story of his life has yet to be revealed, but I guess the measure of how well one lives their life can be seen not in the number of accomplishments they have to their name, but in how they face the end. I know in my heart that he was prepared.
He was a good man. May he rest in peace.
I’m burning out.
2 more weeks before I finally take Step 1 and I’ve reached a point beyond care. Done reviewing Kaplan. The scary thing about it is that it contains much less information relative to what I tried to cram into my head for the boards. Now I’m doing first-aid, and there’s even less. However, in spite of the dearth of information, I’m not really retaining anything new. I guess I’ve reached that saturation point where new knowledge just slips away. So I’m stuck making the same mistakes. Nuninuninu…
To let off some steam, I’ve relied on a steady stream of TV, DVDs, gunsmithing, and playing with the kittens.
TV:
Started watching Gray’s Anatomy. I actually like it better than House and Scrubs. Don’t get me wrong, I like the latter two, but I don’t think I could ever have House’s diagnostic prowess (along with his at-times shotgun approach to patient care), and Scrubs doesn’t quite capture the drudgery of hospital work. Drudgery I can totally relate to. Besides, watching while reviewing is a bad idea. The confusion from the review carries over to the shows. CSI started talking about Praeder-Willi syndrome, and all I had was this vague feeling that I read it somewhere in chromosomal aberrations, but I couldn’t make the connection. That’s my situation right now. Lots of disjointed eponyms mixed up in my head.
DVDs:
Got a copy of Brokeback Mountain. Uh, not for me of course… Not gonna make any further comments on this, except that I also had to ask if they had a copy of Rambo: First Blood. They didn’t.
Gunsmithing
Spent the last two days trying to convert my teka-teka Glock into an electric blowback. Its not coming along so well. As far as I can tell, all it’ll be able to do is piss out BBs.
Kittens
The kittens’ eye infections are resolving. Surprisingly, in spite of my history with them, they actually approach me when they see me. Well, if they’re gonna be nice, then so can I. Quid pro quo.
Again, why couldn’t it have been puppies.
I’m rambling. And it is a hot day. I’m delaying. I gotta get back to my First-Aid. Two weeks from now, I can start living again.
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Flashback to one year ago: Was on the tail end of internship. Assigned to 5-Delta, the female med ward in AFPMC. Wow. A lot has happened since then. Many changes… though apparently, not the drudgery.
This is it. Crunch time. Again.
26 more days before another major exam, and I still have 2 more subjects to review. As usual, I’ve now co-opted my weekends. I used to have an inviolable no-studying-on-Sunday policy, but now, given how much I’ve dilly-dallied on this step, I’ve got no recourse but to just forego all (or most) extra-curricular activities.
I guess I’ll just see you all next month.
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Spent some time looking at a street map. Interesting names, I might add, usually with a theme. One village had street names like Colossians, Thessalonians, Corinthians, Romans, then WTF…? Pangilinan? St. Paul apparently wrote a lot more letters than previously believed.
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Why do older people shout into mobile phones?
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Has anyone else noticed the pinoy pedestrian "shuffle-run?" Its done by people crossing the road in front of traffic. They sway their arms and shuffle their feet like they’re running, but actually, they’re crossing the road at about the same speed as a five year old… What’s up with that?
“A country isn’t wood, stone, and concrete… A country is its people.”
I met Dave Somner on my last evening in Boracay. Interesting fellow – Ex-Royal Navy, with various ports of call like the Middle East, Thailand, Taiwan, and Hong Kong among other places. Went diving in places like the Red Sea and the Maldives. And then he chose to live here for twenty years…
A testament to the beauty of the Philippines?
I’m sorry, but its not. After twenty years here, Dave is trying desperately to find a way to get back to Great Britain. The English bakery he helped build is kicking him out, his wife ran off with another man, and other job prospects seem to just fade away. Some American was hiring him to baby-sit his sailboat through the Panama canal, across the Pacific, and on towards Boracay. Unfortunately, one of the biggest hurricanes to hit the southeastern coast of the US (I wonder which…) came last year, and Dave hasn’t heard from the American since.
When I met him, it was at this café where all he had was some spare change in his wallet, and a picture of a sailboat he made with his own hands (the boat – not the picture, silly). He was looking for the owner of the place because he wanted to sell it just so that he could have some money to get home.
Ah, Davey, Davey, Davey…
If you ever run into him if you visit Boracay, tell him I said hello. And maybe treat him to a beer. I’m sure he could regale you for hours with his (mis)adventures here in Southeast Asia.
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Its been a week since I arrived from a 4 day break from studying, and since then, not much has changed. I still have three more topics to tackle - biochem, pathology, and pharma – none of which I particularly like. As of this writing, in spite of several garbage bags of “memorabilia”, as well as actively giving things away, my room still looks like a war zone.
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The cat gave birth to four more kittens this week. These will be my MLE Step 1 kittens. I don’t know where my yellow Med-boards kitten went, and my black-and-white Step 2 kitten is being ignored enough that I think it’s ready to leave the yard for good. Considering that every time I reviewed for a major exam, there’ve been kittens, I hope these four kittens bring me luck.
Oh, in case you were wondering why they don’t have names, it’s because all these cats are strays. They just camp here because we keep leaving water and Whiskas out for them.
Why couldn’t it have been puppies instead?
Location: Boracay Island
Time: 1558H
Weather: Sunny
4 days and 3 nights here in Boracay, and I deem it fit to go to an internet place. As commercialization goes, its not as bad as I thought…
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The fun of the trip was dampened by the news of the demise of one of my favorite interns during my clerkship in UERM. Jerome, your pictures on your site are those of winter time. You are now your own snow angel. May you always have clear skies and sunnier shores wherever you are right now.
Its amazing how video technology has advanced over the span of half a lifetime. These days, the only issues one has (aside from the ethical compunctions of piracy) are whether or not you’re getting a DVD copy or just a “clear” copy. Back in the day, you wouldn’t hear people yelling on the side “VHS! VHS! VHS!” Nope, tapes were expensive back then, so bootleg copies were only to be had at the local video rental place.
Aside from the miracle of DVDs, many people take cable TV for granted these days. I on the other hand remember the heady days of antennas. I remember when I would go up onto the roof, map and compass in hand trying to orient the UHF antenna toward Clark AFB just to get better reception on FEN. Just to watch Saturday Night Live. Yup, still remember the coordinates from here… approximately 90 km away at 320 degrees NNW.
In spite of such scientific technique, nothing could beat the two-man approach:
(Slowly rotating the antenna on the roof)
“Hey bro, how’s the reception now!?!”
“It’s good…no wait, back! Back! BACK!!!”
If you have to ask what FEN was, then you were probably too young to even remember such archaic devices as the Commodore 64 or the Atari. But back when TV was limited to just 6 channels, having FEN was worth the risk of walking on a wet roof or under the scorching sun. Yep, it sure was.
Damn that stupid volcano.
My mom decided to renovate the house. The process calls for major spring cleaning, a process that once again reinforced a notion I have about myself:
I’m an incurable pack rat.
You never know when something might become useful again.
Nine years of being a weekend-son (i.e. coming home only once a week from the dorm/apartment) meant that in some way, the house, and more specifically the room I shared with my brother, has been viewed somewhat as a repository for things that I didn’t need, but couldn’t bring myself to throw away. When I was in med school and lived in an apartment by myself, I always said that if the stuff I hoarded away magically disappeared, I wouldn’t mind so much. Out of sight, out of mind. But now, confronted with the need to be the one to chuck it, my old reluctance to throw them away resurfaces. Another suppressed realization:
I am also a sentimental old bastard.
A little rational thought, coupled with the fact that movement through the now-displaced-trash was severely limited, has led me to wonder why I still have the following:
A. Various papers:
1. Receipts (gas, groceries, utilities, restaurants) all the way back to 1999.
2. Discharge summaries. For goodness sake, I have my license already. I doubt my alma mater could reach out and say Hey, you haven’t passed this DS, we can’t clear you…
3. Piles of hand-outs from both med school AND college, never read, waiting for the time I actually read them, which I have decided will be never.
4. I have more than the odd blue book to discard. Who cares about a witty essay I wrote in college? No really, who? Blue books to good homes. Any takers?
5. Odds and ends that remind me of days past, like old planners (why would I want to remember what day I took my 3rd exam in FS-16)
B. Electronics
1. Includes two car stereos, various amplifiers, a boom box, and a 21" television/VHS player. Several busted lamps. Transformers. A busted electric stove.
2. Computer parts: (why would I want to keep the motherboard of an 8088?) Actually there are several: 8088, 80286, 80386, 80486SX, DX, a Pentium - basically the history of computer development of the last 20 years. 2 paper white monitors, 3 busted color monitors, several casings, and daughter boards (modems, video cards, audio cards)… basta, you get the picture.
C. Car parts: Goodness knows I might need the busted spark plugs or the worn out bushings of a car I no longer had. Or cut up tubings, worn out wiper blades, 3 alloy mags (where the 4th went is anyone’s guess) - but then, most of these are in that other bastion of junk - the garage cabinet, so I’m digressing here…
D. Military paraphernalia (I keep anything camouflage): This includes various uniforms that I have worn. Lots of worn out jungle packs. Canteens, mess kits, camo paint, carabiners..
E. Clothes: I’ve got stuff from the late 80s and early 90s. Hell, even if they fit, why would I want that? I’m no fashion guru (understatement) but jeez, the 80s?
F. Med stuff: Busted sphygmos, half-used plaster of paris, vials and tons of expired meds (diazepam, anyone), individual pieces of OS still wrapped up in its autoclaved brown paper wrapping (hey it’s still sterile, I think), old surgical stuff.
G. Knick-knacks - somewhat akin to the free toys you get free with junk food. Speaking of junk, I’ve got a lot of that too. The cushion from my bed in my apartment, broken glasses, old batteries, old and new cat bones, mismatched rubber bands, paper clips. Rocks. Goodness gracious, rocks. What the heck…
H. Still a lot more junk, both in and outside the house… Somewhere in the garage, I have half a pickled brain swimming in formaldehyde. No, its not from my med school. I’ve had it from before that pa…
The clean up did have its happy moments . I found my Welch Allyn otoscope (oh, yahoo).
All this junk. A little resolution is all I need. Its time to clean up my act. Open my life to new things. Its time to go cave-man on those things and so now, my objectives include throwing/giving away more than 90% of it all.
I think I can do it
But I’ll still keep the military paraphernalia. And maybe several other knick knacks…
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PS: If you seem interested in any of the aforementioned pieces of junk, let me know.
"MASKS DOWN! MASKS DOWN!”
One could misconstrue this as someone over-reacting to someone dropping masks. Otherwise, it could be taken as a signal to, well, put your masks on… ______________________
I spent Sunday at the old Rizal Provincial Jail, getting shot at while trying to keep up with my team leader. It started inauspiciously enough though. If you’ve ever been chewed out (even slightly) by a brigadier general, you’ll know what I mean. After arriving at my friend Noel’s house to pick him up, his father asked me if I was “provisionary” after seeing me dressed up in BDU pants and combat boots. Then he goes on about how the wearing of camouflage by civilians was against the regulations. Now I’m actually a law abiding citizen, so after all that, when we were already in the Pasig area, I didn’t even want to get out of the car anymore:
"Dude, your dad just killed it for me”
"Its okay, mukha ka namang tricycle driver lang eh”
That kinda didn’t help a whole lot.
Upon entry into the jail however, it was a different story. All around were (mostly) grown men and women, dressed in various types of camouflage, toting replica firearms. I don’t like to admit this, but I actually felt somewhat at home. At the very least, at least I wasn’t sticking out.
It wasn’t as regimentalized as I expected. It was rolly-polly-anything-goes, just like some ragtag army. When you have some ten year old kids dressed in black, with padding and an overly large helmet nesting on their head (they looked like oversized bowling-ball pins), and you see them running, nay, bobbing along, well you realize that for some, it’s a family affair. There are people who like to take it to the next level though. As Noel pointed out, there was this one guy kitted out in the garb of the USMC Expeditionary Force, complete with headset, nomex gloves, and (would you believe it?) the little plastic thingies that they use to tie terrorists wrists together. Sorta made you wonder who the heck he was talking to with his headset. So weird. Inggit naman ako.
As first-times go, it was over way to quickly. I was never a camper. Even back in the good old CS days, my brother Anton and I were always first to fight. Assault, assault, assault. I guess (some) skill on the computer definitely does not translate to real world conditions. The spirit was willing, but apparently the flesh was not quite up to scratch. Over the course of several skirmishes, the one major thing I learned about myself is that I need to do a little bit more cardio. Nix that… I need to just plain exercise more. Hats off to the real men and women in uniform who do this day in and day out.
And what do I have to show for it? Aching legs, and welts on my arm that look like big, bad mosquito bites.
Two weeks from now. Once more into the fray.
People of the Philippines versus A. M.… charged with reckless imprudence resulting in damage to property…current address unknown.
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I’m occasionally asked why I didn’t take up law. Coming from a family of lawyers, you’d think it would’ve interested me. Unfortunately watching the daily grind of a trial court is about as much fun for me as watching someone floss - there are some interesting moments, but generally all you see are little tidbits. My trip to court today was no different from this perception. The expressionless faces of the characters before and behind the bench said it all. Day in and day out, the same rote stuff. It probably gets so routine the judge could’ve merely mouthed the words and the stenographer would’ve magically understood what he meant To my untrained ear, this is how today’s courtroom drama went:
…mumbleArrestmumblemumbleBailmumblemumbleWarrantmumble…
How’d I get here? Three years ago, my car got hit by a jeepney. Three years ago, when I was filling out the blotter, I put a check on a little box that asked me if I wanted to file a case. And now, as a result of that little check mark, I’ve been required by law to show up more or less every three months at the QC MTC, while somewhere out there, someone is living in hiding. Current address unknown.
I’ve been advised by others to drop the thing, mostly out of convenience, and not out of compassion for the guy. I probably would – provided I see the guy in court and he apologizes for his blatant stupidity.
As fate would have it, I wasn’t called up today by the People of the Philippines, so I guess I’m not needed anymore. If they ever need my testimony, well, they can just subpoena me again. Ad testificandum, duces te cum, idontcareanymoreum. Although I’m sure somewhere out there, he does. I hope for his sake they never catch him.
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Hi! So sorry you didn’t get to try the ride due to my muddleheadedness… Make it up to you in the future
In light of current events, running around the Ortigas area in full battle gear would not be the prudent option… Maybe next week. (Sad to say, this is the only section of this blog with something tangentially approaching social relevance) I used to be idealistic, used to have high hopes for this country, used to care…There was a time when I wanted to help be an instrument of change. I wanted to join a certain organization, but am now left to just bear the accoutrements without the attending crap. I am, sadly, still waiting for my idealism to return…
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“Glutton for punishment” (noun) – a lactose intolerant person who knowingly drinks chocolait in spite of the possible effects… Queasy, queasy…
Speaking of queasy, I went to Eurostar Carnival yesterday… My apologies to my seatmates on the “Joker” - Henri, Bastie, and Carlo. My fear of heights coupled with the G-forces of the ride brought out my potty-mouthedness (and much later, the tender juicy hotdog I had earlier that night…)
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A few months back I said I could finally bum around without guilt until the next review season came around. Alas, those days are once again upon me. Once again, “good days” are measured in the number of pages or chapters accomplished.
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The chicks are dead. Both of them. They were fine yesterday, but they were both splayed out in their nest this morning. No epi or subsequent autopsy for the little buggers, though. If I develop flu like symptoms, then we’ll know then, won’t we. They’ve been cremated.
May they rest in peace.
My house has turned into some sort of animal sanctuary. Tsk tsk. If they only knew…
Aside from the odd assortment of stray cats (with kittens in tow, mind you), the garden is now home to a pair of chicks. Apparently the birds didn’t really notice all the cats wandering about when they built their nest. I’m not sure what kind they are, as long as they ain’t migratory birds, then I’m fine (they’re about the size of large fist, gray body, white breasts, with a long beak and yellow ass - any ornithologists comments welcome).
I’ve been watching the chickies grow for the past few days. thought I left them as orphans, but now the chicks are turning into fledglings. And I’ve seen the parents… always chattering about whenever I get to close to the nest…
I hope they make it.
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Speaking of fledged… Congratulations to TNDC-ers Fuzzy and Lala. :)
I’m going to try upgrading some hobbies. After years of having various BB guns, I’ve decided to quit plain plinking, and actually put myself in harms way. So a few days ago, I got myself a new primary weapon, and naturally had to field test it. After donning my BDU and LBE, I put on my new face mask and asked my brother to shoot me:
“Okay, open fire!”
Whiz… WHAP!
Mental note to myself: get helmet.
Actually, its not as bad as you think (depending on where you’re hit of course). Getting hit in the forehead isn’t that painful, but I never knew my head could make that sound. As Anton’s friend Eppie put it “it hurts, but you’re not gonna die.” I can think of a dozen other things that fit that description, (such as a root canal, perhaps) but I’m not exactly raring to try them. Still, using the principle of summation, getting hit sequentially on full auto kind of takes your breath away. I could feel my mouth open, but not a single sound came out. Oh wait, that’s an exaggeration. The sound came a few seconds later after I found myself writhing on the ground… What a wimp.
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Aside from taking the hits, I had to practice other aspects of my tradecraft, so I’ve been out in the yard soaking up some sun. Cutting boxes in half uses up a lot of pellets. So today, I decided to get a whole kilo of BBs (0.2g – if you’re keeping track). Who knew that I’d be getting into a whole new sub-culture
“Pabili po ng isang kilo”
“Ser, mag-wa-war games po ba kayo”
“Oo, mga next week siguro”
“Ano po ang clan mo?”
Clan? What clan? Can’t I just buy BBs without the 20 questions? Would’ve wanted to bullshit my way through the conversation by answering something like “delta force” or something like that, but they might have actually asked for more details like which unit, and what position… “Newbie lang ako…sir.”
And the truth shall set you free…La-dee-da.
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My apologies to elements of the delta force…(I don’t want to be singled out… Still don’t have a helmet. Not planning on getting one. Besides, I have 4 kilos of flak vest just staying home because its to cumbersome and heavy to wear).
I just came back from Iloilo on family matters. More of that in the future. But first and foremost, this post is to thank all those of you out there who ever wished me luck on taking the USMLE Step 2.
Maraming Salamat Po.
I hate this. Its almost six in the morning and I’m still wide awake. Its been a week since I arrived and I’m still jet lagged. I’d have thought that after 2 years of hospital drudgery, I’d have some sort of mastery over my sleeping habits (ie falling asleep at a moments notice), but unforunately, such is not the case!
Sigh. Have a full day in fornt of me too. Guess nothing to do but ride it out.
The most interesting thing of note on the flight back was a six foot tall swede who kept kicking the back of my seat. Oh, he was drunk (actually snuck his own beers on board). Did I mention that he also spoke filipino with a gay tone to it? Freaky. Headed for Sabang Beach, he said. The filipinas beside him were initially amused, but later on started getting pissed at him. "Don tatz mi!" "DON TATZ MI!"
I don’t quite get how they can speak relatively flawless italian, yet totally screw up english…
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Hey, here was a change! Only one person clapped their hands when we landed in manila (and only one or two claps at that), AND no cellphone went off until the fasten seatbelt sign was switched off maybe I was just lucky
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Why do people insist on talking loudly when they’re right beside each other? Do they believe that everyone else in the cabin wants to hear their stories? And these are boilerplate conversations… "saan ka galing…saan ka pupunta…taga-saan ka?" Oh, and please, yes, just jam up the aisles while you make tsismis with someone you just met on the flight. Its fun. really.
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The national pinoy nickname is "Sssssst! Ssssst!" Goodness knows how many people respond to that. It sure beats trying to pronounce the names with the "H." Y’kow… Bhoy, Gherlet, Mhyke…
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Surprise, surprise… chocolates do disappear quickly
Man, that’s really thick fog out there.
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I can’t believe it. 9 kilos of Swiss chocolates. Well, fair trade, considering the X number of kilos of corned beef I brought over here. I swear, I wonder what it is about pinoys and corned beef. Sigh. Considering these chocos take first priority, it looks like I’ll have to ship home my clothes by freight (heck of a lot cheaper than excess bagagge). I miss travelling light. I remember ten days in Australia where all I brought was one knapsack. Customs officials kept looking behind me to see if boxes would magically appear. Of course, I didn’t know anyone there, and no one requested me bring anything home.
Hmmm, but then again, when I compare that to what my sister has had to lug to and from the philippines… 20 freeze dried Jollibee Champs (for my brother), tons luggage, I believe a whole lechon made it through somehow (don’t know the story for that one), and various other knick-knacks.
But still… 9 kilos of chocolates. That’s just a personal record. Gawd.
The last few days have seen a flurry of activity. Activities which help make me reflect on the person I’ve become, and who I could be. Activities spent in the company of family. Activities and events that make you question the status quo. Activities which define who we are.
As usual, the end of it brings a range of emotions. Too many and varied really to hash out over this medium. Maybe I’m just not in the mood, or maybe I just want to hang onto them - to keep it to myself a little while longer. Perhaps I’ll string it out one at a time in the future. Perhaps.
Overall, it was a good trip. An excellent respite from reality. But then, well… I like keeping it real. Bottom line is: I’m glad to be coming home.
I can’t believe the sun actually chose to rise today :) It actually even looks like a summer’s day :) Granted, the bits of snow on the ground reveal the cold truth, but I can just look toward the sky and bask in thoughts of warm summer days (nothwithstanding the fact I’m wearing a parka over my sweater and shirt). We make our own reality, right?
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I am so mababaw. I can’t believe how amused I was watching the YM icon "wake up" as I signed in. And then, there’s that killer smile…Awwww…
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I finally finished my TV marathon yesterday, which means I can either:
a. start reading USMLE Step 1 First Aid
b. start another marathon
c. I can’t think of anything else…
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I can’t wait to go diving again. Every part of it. From the disorientation wrought about by backrolling into the blue, to coming up sometimes covered with snot (or blood), but with one heck of a story to tell. Heck, I even miss cleaning the unit afterwards.
One more week.
Ah, Monday.
The start of the week marks the start of my days being mine once again. With everyone trooping off to work and school, I more or less get left to my own devices. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but then the truth of the matter is that I am too much of a couch potato these days. For someone with nothing much on their agenda, I find so many things to keep me from reading the First Aid book. Ah, yes. Reality represented by a book.
I remember during the frantic days just before the boards how easy it became to just skim through the books. I would borrow Janice’s First-Aid in the afternoon, and return it later that evening. Speed reading? Maybe. Then again, it may have been the realization of the futility of the exercise, but that’s currently mere speculation at this point.
I think this reluctance to read again is the result of inertia. Again, speculation. Well, this week, I fully intend to start reading it once again…
Or I could just go out and start a snowball fight. yeah. sounds better.
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I bitch and moan about snow in general. Its cold, slippery, and wet. But watching it as it gently drifts by your window blanketing the countryside in a mantle of pure white is always a sight to behold. So here I am right now, looking at the skylight as snow gently falls onto the warm glass - melting it. Here I am, watching snowflakes die.
How hard is it to describe pain? The following exchange represents the great strides I have taken in my medical education in proper communication with patients:
"My stomach hurts…"
"Yeah, what kind of pain?"
"What do you mean what kind of pain? My stomach hurts!"
"Uh, y’know… is it crampy? burning? sharp?"
"What’s crampy?"
All I could come up with were squishy actions with my hands…ala - Rae. Baddabing-baddaboom.
Relatives make the worst patients. All your years of hard work mean squat. Especially when it comes to matters of your own health. In this day and age of evidence-based medicine, I still have to come across a journal about "pasma" and the evils of washing your hands after ironing your clothes. Nevertheless, the influence of eastern medicine is strong in our culture. And hey, who can argue against the soothing qualities of a good massage? All we really need to do is just realign our chi.
It would’ve been interesting though. A reflexology class in med school.
Happiness is a pile of freshly laundered clothes - right of the dryer - on a cold winter’s day. The scent of fabric softener, and the feel of warmth against your skin is truly a delight to the senses.
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I’ve rediscoverd old friends in old songs on this trip, re-examining them under the microscope of new-found facts, courtesy of the web. When will I get started on my First Aid book? Or even all the DVDs here? At least I’ve broken the cycle of vicious TV, having missed several episodes of my oft watched shows. Ah well, you always find something to distract you, neh?
I know what I want to do today… I want to just vegge out here at home…
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Went to Murten yesterday with my dad. Its one of those places dab smack on the Röstigraben (linguistic divide), which means that although it is technically in the suisse romande side of the CH, most of the signs amd the
people there speak German. Anyway, the difference is also reflected in its architecture, seeing as its one of the best preserved medieval towns in Switzerland, still surrounded by its 15th century walls. The name of the town stems from the word moriduno, which means lakeside fortress.
And what amazing things can you do here?
Eat.
Come on, its the middle of winter, you’re not exactly about to try water sports. Besides, even the restaurant in the hotel beside the castle was closed for its annual whatever.
So its eat. eat. eat. I’ve put on six kilos in my time here. All centered around my gut. I swear, when I put my shoes on, I can feel my guts rising through my diaphragm.
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The trip back from Murten was a bonus. We eschewed the highway, and decided to travel along the national road. At times, the trees and grass were covered in frost, while at higher altitudes, the fields were just covered with snow, with the sun trying its best to shine throught the fog.
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In what can be called one of the perks of living in a landlocked country, my dad and I drove to Montreux to visit my brother in the bar where he works:
"Hey Abi (my brother’s colleague), have you seen my brother?"
"oh, he’s not here…"
"He’s off today?"
"Yes, and he went to Germany."
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Today is Monday, and thankfully its both a work and school day. Perhaps today, I can give my little pot belly a much needed rest.
Hey, today’s weather wasn’t so bad! A bit cloudy, but the temperature was fine (+2!)I was actually able to just wear a t-shirt under my regular jacket
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I guess there’s doing things, and then there’s doing things the right way. My day started off in the most mundane of ways, that is to say, taking the garbage out to the dump. This included taking the christmas tree out and chucking it all in the christmas-tree/dead-leaves pile. Funny to have to toss out a perfectly good tree during the Orthodox Christmas day. Anyways, the rest of the morning was spent catering to what my brother would call vanity - otherwise known as his job. He took us (the rest of the family) to his studio on the outskirts of Geneva for a little photoshoot. I must say that looking at the proofs, all I could really see was my belly. That little pot that has become my faithful companion on this trip. I guess its no surprise to say that the majority of my time here is spent eating. Thus, lunch today was just another reminder that my little friend is here to stay. And grow. We started lunch with and apperetif of champagne and escargots. For the main course, I had chateaubriand with fries, washed down with a nice Syrah. It was just soooo good, I didn’t need the sauce for most of it. Of course, the best part of the meal was that it was shared with my family.
After getting home from lunch, my dad and I had to step out once again for a brief run to town to buy meat and candies. Surprisingly, in spite of buying what seemed like a whole side of pork, the meat came out cheaper than the jelly bellies we went out to get.
From the butcher’s shop, dad let me drive his car. You gotta just love 6-speed multitronics. And German technology. That and empty country roads, where you can just watch the speedometer race off, while the car doesn’t even raise a whimper. Vorsprung durch Technik. Its. just. too. much. fun.
I wonder what I’m doing tomorrow?
"Did you bring swimming trunks?"
Excuse me? I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten. It wasn’t high on my priority list, seeing as its the middle of winter…
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I will admit, it was with some initial apprehension that I allowed myself to be "kidnapped" to the alpentherme. After all, an outdoor pool high up in the mountains during winter seemed a poor alternative to the nice cozy loft I currently inhabited. Indeed, on the way up to Leukerbad, the snow started getting thicker, while the thermometer reading started dropping steadily. While still in the valley, it went down to -11 degrees Centigrade. Once up there however, bathed in nice warm sunshine, the temperature was a nice, toasty -4.
Leukerbad (Loèche-les-Bains) is a resort town blessed with hot springs. It contains a spa facility that houses several pools, including an outdoor pool surrounded by mountains covered in snow. The pools themselves have various features, such as showers, water jets, and lots and lots of bubble makers (I’m sure there’s a technical term for this, but I’m too lazy to Google it right now.)
There’s something magical about freezing your ears off, while the rest of your body luxuriates in bubbled splendor. All I needed to do was just reach out of the pool to grab a handful of snow. At times, the mist rising from the pool was so thick, you couldn’t even see your own outstretched foot. Occasionally, it was fun to stand outside of the pool in sub-zero temperatures, knowing that relief was just a few feet away.
Its an experience I would defineitely recommend to anyone in the area, worth repeating again and again.
And hey, now I’ve got new trunks!
Its going out there. My belly, that is. That’s all I’ve been doing, eating, eating, and eating. Tying up my boots have become something of an adventure. So, to my pregnant friends out there, I empathize.
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The weather here is steadily improving. Since its climbed above freezing, the snowing has stopped, now replaced by rain. Slushies, anyone?
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Oh, yeah, the purpose of this trip? After 11 years apart, all my dad’s kids have finally been reunited. Considering all our individual future plans, its something that doesn’t and won’t be happening that often.
This series begins with a wonderful announcement made as we were landing in Schipol. In the typical airline singsong fashion, they announced "ladies and gentlemen, the weather in Amsterdam is good. Visibility is clear, and the temperature is freezing…"
Nice. Very nice. Turns out, this is the coldest winter in Europe in 50 years. Or so they say.
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They say life is for enjoying the magical moments. Trick is to recognize such moments. There it was, last night, around mid-night, driving to the lake through frigid country roads with the music on. The 5th piano concerto never sounded better.
A post otherwise known as the myth of free energy. Reminiscent of that episode of Mythbusters where they tested various gadgets that used ambient conditions for power. Like for example that propane wheel, where the sun would heat the tanks, and it would later condense, turning the wheel, and producing electricity. Puh-leeeez. Solar cells would be more effective. But I bet if someone tried to market something like that to me here, I’d be interested. I’m a sucker for things like that.
A few months back, I saw one of those flashlights that didn’t need batteries. Using Faraday’s principle, its sorta like an induction charger, which you charge by shaking the thing back and forth, moving a magnet through a coil, charging a capacitor.
So when I saw a similar flashlight in a bazaar, but 4 times cheaper, I just had to get it. Well, upon closer inspection when I got home, things weren’t what they were supposed to be! The coil wasn’t attached to anything, the “magnet” was just a metal weight, and the capacitors were just plain old batteries! And to think I was walking around with the damn thing on for more than two hours! Although, it hasn’t dimmed yet. Hmmm…maybe…
Moral of the story? Eat your vegetables. Oh, and Merry Christmas to everyone J
Ane here comes the trademark…Sigh. In Neil’s immortal words: Itchober!
As exams go, i’ve never had to guess more than in this exam. Same situation. Whatever you read, it doesn’t come out the way you expect. Not even the Q-book could’ve prepared me for that one.
It was just guess…
…after guess…
…after guess.
At least now I can drink alcohol, and bum around without guilt.
At least until the next time review season comes around.
Its late at night. Couple of pages (okay, okay - chapters) of first aid to go. waking up in four hours. Sigh. Didn’t I say I had enough of this last August? And yet, here I am once again. 36 more hours to go, and I’m sick and tired of reading the same things over and over and over again. Its not as if anything new’s really sticking. Maybe recalled, in an "ah, oo nga ano…" fashion, but lets just hope that I’ll be able to recall all that in two days.
hoping…
It’s sometimes fun to see yourself through the eyes of an outsider. Have you ever read the requirements for entry into the Philippines? First of all, practically anyone can come here. Second, they have to watch out for all the endemic diseases that occur here. And what diseases too! Hep B is endemic. Penicillin resistant Gonorrhea is here (how’d that get here I wonder), malaria, schotosomes, encephalitis, rabies, TB, cholera, malaria (the chloroquine resistant one, of course), and a whole slew of others. And did I mention the peace and order situation? Terrorism, kidnappings, rampant corruption, and what-have-you. Its amazing were still ticking along! No thanks to that crappy "I, Manila" tourism ad. It plain sucks, listen up, yo. I mean, where’s our sense of cultural identity (please ignore the fact this post is in english). Why can’t we have something that creates a sense of awe and wonder. The "more than the usual…" ads were half-way decent. Okay, they were decent. The first time I saw them was when I was in switzerland. There’s something about seeing an ad for your own country while visiting another place. But given the current crop of ads, I’d like to go visit Malaysia. It is, after all, truly asia.
And yet, 12 years ago, I chose to come home. Hmmm…
PS: How much epi can you give a kitten? Ask me for the answer sometime. Alas, she is now six feet under.
Hey, I’m happy again! Now up to my navel in debt, but happy nonetheless. The thing that was wrong with my car? It was totally beyond my capabilities to repair. In fact, it had to have a top overhaul. Which in the long run is probably best :) Now i’ve got a look at the inside of my engine, and I know some things are still okay, and now all the other itsy bits that started going wrong with it over the years have been corrected :) Sigh. Well, if there ever was an indication for major surgery, it’s when oil starts spurting into the cylinders and the outside of the engine block. That, and if the water pipes are all corroding.
Have you checked your ride lately?
My car’s come down with something. There I was happily motoring along when my car gave a little cough, then it just died. Attempts to resuscitate it failed. What aggravates it is the fact that I do not know what exactly went wrong. And until I’ve stretched my diagnostic capabilities to the limit, I’ll hold off referring to a mechanic. I kinda don’t want to refer for something that might be as simple as running out of gas.
In a lot of ways, automotive mechanics and medicine are similar. You’ve got anatomy, physiology, pathology, surgery, etc. There are various sub-specs (engine, under-chassis, AC/radiator, electrical, blahblahblah). You’re presented with a chief complaint, take a history, have a differential, do some diagnostics, diagnose and treat. It’s a satisfying thing, being able to understand the inner workings of something otherwise foreign to others, and magically pull out the solution out of thin air. Sure, there are differences. Like one’s a car and the other is a person. Oh yeah, you can’t really work on an engine when it’s running. And when things get too toxic, you can’t just take a breather and say “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
But I’m digressing, aren’t I. Maybe what I should focus on right now is that ticking clock and the couple of hundred more pages I’ve still got to do. Once again, fate has conspired to keep me from studying. Which is all jim-fine-and-dandy, considering today is Sunday, and I usually do NOT study on Sundays. But after a few days of bumming around, ignoring the Crush Step 2 book, I decided to declare Sunday a study day. And this had to happen. Ah, well, spent the afternoon reviewing the hallowed Book of the Car, and now I’ve got a game plan, so now I can probably do a few more crush chapters tonight.
Anyway, there’s still tomorrow…
Ah yes, two more weeks before the exam. And once again I find myself questioning how prepared I am. Like the boards a few months back. There was a time before I registered to take the boards (as always, on the last day) when I thought to myself how easy it would be to just say that a technicality prevented me from taking the boards. But then again, I told myself I couldn’t stomach another six months of studying (daw). And in spite of that, I’m here again. I’ve got a week for my second reading, and maybe another week for samplex. Question is, will that be sufficient? If there’s one thing the boards have taught me, its that in some cases, no matter how hard you study, how many novenas you do, and all the blood, sweat, and quite a few tears, fate conspires gainst you. There are a lot of cases out there that make you just blink and wonder "what the heck happened?" and "it could’ve been me."
Well, I guess I’ll just do the best I can again, and hope that lady luck is still on my side.
Which means I’ve got to be nicer to the kittens again. sigh.
I’ve always had a morbid fascination with death. Even my own. One of the things that brings your mortality into sharp relief is getting insurance, which I had to do recently to get my visa. Reading through the policy, you kind of get a rough estimate of how much you or your individual body parts are worth. " in the event of death or dismemberment, the beneficiary will be entitled to…"
Wait a cotton picking minute! That would be MY death or dismemberment!
But we’re not done yet! We haven’t gone through the list of exemptions! "In the event of the following conditions, the insurer will not be required to indemnify the insured…" Bottom line, I’d have to kick the bucket under carefully controlled laboratory conditions. Accidentally.
*sigh*. I now have a price on my head.
Can’t they come up with insurance for things like board exams?
I’m waiting.
Sitting at a desk on the 29th floor in a government office (using the unlimited internet access - this is where your tax pesos go!) overlooking Ayala triangle. waiting, wathcing traffic and the mad rush of people down below. At times it almost seems as if this wasn’t a third-world country. Then i remember where i was this morning, sitting in a cramped criminal court in QC, behind people dressed in yellow, having to stay in jail for months on end because they robbed 700 bucks worth of goods from SM. Months in jail. And that was just for the arraignment! where’s the system? I mean one that works efficiently?
Was watching the Star news the other day, and they talked about the Philippine response to Bird Flu. One interviewee, a duck farmer from bulacan was venting his spleen about how mad he and all the other duck farmers would be at the government if bird flu broke out here, because the government didn’t stop it from entering in the first place. Give me a break. This government can’t even get over itself, and you expect it to stop migratory birds? **(%&!@#!!!!
Sigh. still one more hour to go.
Did you ever wonder about those patients who show up with a mass the size of a watermelon located on their (insert favorite body part)? doesn’t matter where it is, point is if you had something the size of a watermelon growing out of you, wouldn’t you at least have gone when it was, lets say, the size of a chico or something? especially if it was bleeding and smelled like the bottom of a cesspool?
My favorite excuses are made by those who think that maybe, just maybe it’ll go away on its own.
sigh.
In some way, i guess were all a little guilty of doing so,turning a blind eye at potential problems. so, in order to prevent that from happening, i present to you this case (just as an example, of course):
29 M, presents with several non-tender, non-erythematous, non-pruritic, non-moveable, well circumscribed subcutaneeous lesions on the lateral aspect of the index finger, hand R. History includes recent exposure of said appendage to unknown sting (jellyfish?, coral?, who knows). Rest of Hx and PE are unremarkable.
See, i bet this patient will wait until blood starts pouring out of his finger before he seeks expert help. i mean, maybe, just maybe, it’ll go away on its own…
It was on the last day of a three-day dive trip that we did the Canyons. After all, no trip to PG would be complete without that one.
The Canyons at the north east tip of Puerto Galera are a series of excoriations along the edge of a ridge located around 100 feet down, at the confluence of two currents that combine in to one heck of a current. Being the only viable shelter around, a lot of fish of diffent species use the canyons as a refuge against the current. It is this concentration of marine life that makes the canyons, in some people’s opinions, the number one dive spot in Puerto Galera. For me, it was all about rocks. Beautiful, gorgeous rocks.
After taking a boat out to the site, we began our descent, which to my mind was a lesson in organized chaos. Even at this stage, the current was pulling us out to sea. It was amazing the group remained as cohesive as it did. When you see the dive master finning like crazy for the bottom, it’s a good idea to follow suit – mostly out of fear of being left all alone. After regrouping on the bottom, we made for the canyons.
The only way I can describe it was that it was like rock climbing. Horizontally.
I guess you could say that it was awe inspiring and frightening at the same time. The current was a two edged sword bringing the good things (the fishes I mostly didn’t see), as well as the bad things (the unshakeable feeling that it was God’s oh-so-subtle way of saying “YOU ARE NOT CREATURES OF THE SEA.”). It’s a humbling experience when you’re hanging on to a rock, holding on for dear life and a little fish swims practically stationary next to your head, and swear you can almost hear it squeal with delight.
And so there we were, staying as close to the bottom as possible, making our way through the first of a series of canyons. Mental pictures thus far: Small Fish (1); Big Fish (0); Rocks (many). Somewhere along this mad dash, the DM asks me if I’m okay, and the reply sequence goes as follows: 1. Catch breath 2. Make sure you have firm hand hold 3. Signal okay. Which I was, really, if you took away the slight concern that if I’d just let go of the rocks, I would die…”
Making my way for the second canyon, I noticed that everyone else was clustered on the far side of the canyon, so I slowly inched my way over there thinking the current was better there. I was wrong. The current was so strong, that every time I’d turn my head to see where the others were, my mask would fill up with water. Heck, it was so strong that my octopus, which I thought I had securely tucked into my BC (or was I that inept?) kept ripping out from the vest and whipping out behind me like a pennant in the wind. So there I was, caught in a monumental struggle between hanging onto the rocks (while avoiding the coral – mind you) and clearing my mask, as well as trying to remain oxygenated without becoming too buoyant. With all this in mind, a mermaid could’ve swum in front of me and I wouldn’t have given it a second glance. Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration. At some point, the dive master did point out to a school of somewhat larger looking fish (jacks?) off the edge of the ridge, but as stated, my mind was kind of somewhere else at the time.
At about this time, the dive master was signaling for us to return to the relative safety of an out-cropping of rock located in the general direction from where we had just come from, and only two things crossed my mind: “You want us to do WHAT? We just came from there!” as well as “bugger if I let go of this rock before you do!” But then, democracies do not exist on mountaintops and underwater. In both places, you listen to what the experts say, or you die. One by one, we all made it to the safety of the rock. Upon arrival there, I finally had the time to check my air, I was down to 900 PSI. Earlier on during the briefing, we had agreed on a low air setting of 1200, and here I was at 900! I had used up almost a third of my tank in the second canyon! Thus, foregoing the third canyon and the lost anchor, we began our ascent.
Down currents are an interesting thing. I am thankful that as of yet, I do not have the horror story of having to fight one in spite of a fully inflated BCD, but it was quite an experience to note that in spite of vigorous finning for the surface, you actually end up a few feet deeper. Anyhow, after being swept further out into sea, we were able to get out of the down current and did our safety stop with just about enough air left to get us back onto the boat.
I recently read from another site that not too long ago, an inexperienced diver lost a fin, his grip, and subsequently his life. I think these are stories you’d like to know before you do these things, y’know, dive your limits, and all that. But at that time, when I got back on the boat, I was all smiles. Oh sure, the others were all going on and on about seeing the schools of this big fish and that I was stuck with the mental image of the small fish. But I didn’t really care, I was just happy. You’ll never really know what your limits are unless you push the envelope. And you’ll never feel more alive than after exceeding those limits and being able to come back for more.
If someone asked me today if I would still go back down there - knowing what I know now – I would unhesitatingly reply with a definite YES. And maybe this time, I’d keep an eye out for the fishes.
i recently read an interesting e-mail from boggs the other day. Bottom line was "get a life." it put things in perspective, least of all assuaging the slight twinge from being slightly in debt. oh, but it was so worth it… :) it isn’t everyday you get to overcome your limitations and do something outside of your comfort zone. Horizontal rock climbing was never in the manual, but hey, i’m digressing aren’t i. It’s two thirty in the morning and i’ve only read twenty pages of surgery. sigh.
back to reality
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