Ang pag-ibig at ang pag-aaral.

Ang pag-ibig ay parang pag-aaral. Kapag nilaktawan mo ang elementary at dumiretso ka sa high school, mahihirapan kang sagutin ang mas mahihirap na katanungan sa Math at English dahil hindi mo naman alam ang basic. Parang sa love, ‘pag di ka dumaan sa ligaw stage, sa kalaunan ay mahihirapan kang i-maintain yung kilig factor dahil hindi mo naman natutunang manligaw at magpakilig.

Bakit ko ba ‘to sinasabi? Kahapon kasi, nagdemand si misis na pakiligin ko daw siya (with matching conditions pa). Natigilan ako, unang una dahil para sa’kin, synonymous siya sa ‘panliligaw’ at iyon ang hindi ko pa nagagawa sa buong buhay ko. Aminado ako, marunong akong manlandi, pero juskopo, manligaw hindi. Ang dami kong nilandi dati at (sa tingin ko) kumakagat naman sila. Kaya ‘yon, hindi pa ‘ko nanligaw kahit kelan dahil parang hindi naman na kailangan. (Echos!)

So ito ang pinoproblema ko ngayon. Game ako sa challenge, pero hindi ko pa alam kung pa’no. Tinanong ko siya kung may nagawa na ba ko ever na nakapagpakilig sa kanya, tas sabi niya kapag hinohold ko daw ‘yung hand niya bigla or kahit na bigyan ko lang siya ng chocolate (depende kung masarap daw, LOL). Pero ‘pag iniisip ko ‘yung mga sinabi niya, parang para sa’kin hindi naman nakakakilig ‘yung mga ‘yon. Saka parang ‘pag ginagawa ko kasi ‘yon hindi naman siya mukhang kinikilig. Unlike ‘pag siya ‘yung may ginagawa, sinasabi ko na kinikilig ako para alam niya. Kaya for me, ito siguro ‘yung downside ng same-sex relationships, kasi hindi pwedeng isa lang ang nanliligaw. Eh ito pa naman ‘yung weakness ko. Hindi naman sa nagrereklamo ako. :p

Hospital Gossips

Staying in the hospital for almost two weeks now has made my world smaller in that my social interaction has been limited to the doctor and nurses and the people who visit my Lolo Dad (i.e., my family) everyday. It’s not exactly a bad thing, though, because surprisingly, I’m liking the new environment and I’m starting to make friends (and crushes, more importantly 😉 ) with the nurses. And it’s funny that, despite it being unethical and none of my business, we often talk about the patients and the people in the other rooms.

Like, one of the patients in a room nearby is someone my dad knows. I saw dad talking to him the other day and he seemed to be friendly. He even introduced me to him. The man was admitted at almost the same time as my grandfather and has diabetes.  According to my aunt, he was recommended for a leg amputation procedure but was taking his time to decide whether he’d push through with the operation. Unlike many of the patients, he doesn’t have a guardian who looked after him so he’d always press the buzzer when he needed something, which he did more often than necessary. Many of the nurses dread going to his room because he treats them like domestic helpers, if not slaves–he’d curse them or hurl anything he touches whenever they didn’t smile at him or just when he feels like doing it. Almost always, he gets mad at the slightest things as if he’s making up reasons to vent his anger on the poor nurses. Maybe it was his way of coping with his situation or maybe he was just ill-mannered, who knows? Nonetheless, he doesn’t have the right to treat the nurses the way he does.

The other patient is a Muslim and is the opposite of the diabetes guy. For some reason, he had about 10 family members staying with him in his room day in, day out. During daytime, I’d see them pray at the end of the hallway one at a time. But I seldom see them loiter outside the room like what my family usually do when it’s too cold inside. At night, the nurses say they have difficulty giving the patient his meds and checking his vital stats either because the room is locked or is too crowded with people sleeping, it’s an obstacle walking across.

The patient confined in the room next to ours is only in his 60s and is in critical condition. My nurse crush said he’s breathing with the help of a respirator. The lights in his room are always off and a sign saying “Please limit visitors” hangs outside his door. Last night, his lifeline monitor kept producing a flatline sound and I wondered if he’d given up. This afternoon, I learned from one of the nurses that their machine was defective, thus the sound.

Anyway, the more significant part of our exchanges were, of course, about their personal lives. All of those I have spoken with have plans of working outside the country and are just gaining experience from their present work. Indeed, it’s sad how so many nurses (mostly the best in the country) are finding greener pastures in foreign lands when they could have contributed their skills to the betterment of their own country. But we can’t stop them from doing so unless we take care of them by regulating the number of undergrads who take up nursing and compensating registered nurses fairly.

The Voice PH Top 8: Paolo Onesa

I have a new guy crush!!! Paolo Onesa. He’s the other semi-finalist on Team Bamboo who, unfortunately, didn’t make it tonight. I don’t hate his other teammate for winning over him, though, because I think both of them were deserving. I just wanted to see and hear more of Paolo so I didn’t wish for him to go home yet. LOL

Anyway, both the guys have great voices in their respective genres, play the guitar, and were awkward without it because they didn’t know where to place their hands at first. But they’re learning to be more comfortable with their body and how to act on stage, holding just the mic. Also, they seem to be nice people with interesting stories.

What I like more about Paolo, however, is that (aside from he’s better looking and I find his shyness rather cute :>) his voice is really sweet and I can feel his sincerity almost like he’s serenading his audience (me) every time he sings. Plus the fact that he’s made it this far, considering that he was only a one-chair turner, whereas the other made all four coaches turn during the blinds. Sooooo, good job Paolo! 🙂

P.S.

This wasn’t his semi-finals performance, but I think this was the most downloaded song in iTunes by a Voice PH artist. Heeheeeee! 😀

Receiving compliments

I’m not used to people saying nice things about me in my face. Not that there’s nothing good to be said about me, but I just feel awkward when people do that. Like earlier, a relative came to visit my grandfather in the hospital. They were talking about something else when my grandmom suddenly told the visitor how lucky they were that I was there and that I’ve been patiently staying with my grandfather for three days with barely enough sleep. She mentioned some other things, but I shut my ears and quietly went out because I was too shy. I know, there’s nothing wrong with being complimented and it feels nice that my grandmom appreciates what I’m doing. But if she said it with no other people around, maybe it won’t be as awkward.

The most compassionate person I know.

I’ve been staying in the hospital for a couple of days already, looking after my granddad whose health has been slowly deteriorating due to Alzheimer’s disease and old age. He has 13 grandchildren, but I don’t mind being the only one left with him every night since the night after he was admitted.

People who know him have been saying nice things about him, things that he never told us, his grandchildren and children, about. From them, we learned that he was very compassionate and generous not only towards his family and friends, but also to others outside his inner circle who needed a hand. From giving pieces of advice on love, family, friendship and career to offering a ride to and from home to recommending someone for a job and lending money without expecting to be paid back, he did these and more for the people who turned to him for help. He tried to oblige in any way he could, not once turning his back on anyone. If he knew he couldn’t, he’ll personally bring that person to someone he knew could help better.

In spite his good deeds, he neither bragged nor mentioned anything about it to others. He helped unconditionally, even the poorest of the poor, without asking for anything in return. This is why he received so much love and gratitude from these people. My aunt recalled the times when they’d have so much food at home all from their neighbors who felt indebted in gratitude to his father. Likewise, during the yearly pabasa, our grandfather’s religious devotion to the Lord, people would contribute food or their service such that it becomes not just a family event, but one involving the community. Lolo Dad’s pabasa became meaningful because of the spirit of kindness in each one.

In today’s time, I haven’t heard anything like the stories about my Lolo Dad. He’s the closest ultimate example of compassion and selflessness for me. He wasn’t rich, but was very industrious. He wasn’t powerful, but his words influenced many. He wasn’t God, but he followed his examples. No wonder many look up to him until now and despite his current condition, many still love and fondly remember him.