Wednesday, September 28, 2005

the hate-hate affair with pictures

i think the universe is telling me that i should just stay away from situations that have anything to do with my picture. regardless of need or situation, i should just run as fast as i can in the opposite direction.

it's bad enough that i have to carry a horrific photo around for 3 years. so you have to understand that i have some amount of self-loathing going on in my brain at any given time of the day.

yesterday, i had to go to the professional regulation commission office to get my renewed physician's license. the man (boy, really) at the releasing window gave me an old index card to sign. on the card was a picture of me, back when i was a fresh (and i use the term loosely) medical school graduate.

he took one look at the picture, looked at me, looked at the picture again and said (in the vernacular), "you're really young in this pic."

me, quite speechless: "wasn't i?"

which brings me to my next question: just how old DO i look???

come to think of it, i should've seriously thought about this a few months back, when a promo girl in the grocery came up to me with brochures of a new diaper and said, "ma'am, try this on your CHILDREN."

plastic surgery is starting to sound good.

Monday, September 26, 2005

"nothing good's gonna last forever"

so here is my latest fear: i'm afraid that i am getting stupider by the second.

for starters, it seems that my brain and the rest of my body have not been on good terms lately, resulting in me thinking one thing and then expressing something completely different.

for instance, a friend asked me recently about the singer of "touch me in the morning" (as to WHY we were talking about this – well that's a longer, shallower story, which also happens to involve dione warwick) and i replied with a certainty that can put a college professor to shame, "donna summer." i could even hear her singing in my mind: "wasn't it me who said that nothing good's gonna last forever?" (don't ask me why i know this song almost by heart. i was a diva at 8.)

donna summer DID NOT sing that song. it was diana ross. shame on me. and the sad thing is that i KNEW it was diana ross. it was HER VOICE in my head. but my mouth (in this case, "fingers", because i was texting my reply) wanted to say something else.

ok, maybe that wasn't the best example of how my brain is slowly wasting away, but i can't think of a better one right now. see? see? brain atrophy!

is it a sign of aging? i'm only (and props to me for using the word "only") 32!!! so why is it that i can't remember prices of items i purchased just a few days back, or what "assonance" means (was this taught in high school?), or why i scheduled a night flight when i knew that my uncle can't drive in the dark!?

if that last paragraph made any sense to you, be afraid.

meanwhile, i'm going to lock myself up in my room until i start to make sense again. or until i feel hunger pangs. whichever comes first.

Friday, September 23, 2005

and it came to pass

you know how sometimes, when you're in a certain situation, you think about the worst possible thing that can happen to you and then it doesn't happen and you're grateful and you move on with your life and ...

(this has a point. wait for it.)

the past few weeks, i had to go to the dentist twice. the first time, while my dentist (who also happens to be one of my best friends, which makes all the difference in my story) was drilling into my tartar, i was thinking, "what if the drill slides off my tooth and drills into the underside of my tongue?"

you know how sometimes, even without hearing the end of a story, you know how the rest of it goes?

well, there. need i say more?

ok, i will.

it happened during the second visit. the drilling-into-the-underside-of-tongue scenario. the sharp pain was aggravated by the shocked gasps from my two onlookers who wasted no time running out of the room in horror. to make it even worse, my dentist had trouble removing the embedded drill from under my tongue because it was lodged quite well – which makes sense if you think about the physics of screws. in fairness, maybe it took just a few seconds to remove. YOU try boring a hole under your tongue and tell me if 2 seconds doesn't feel like 2 months.

morals of the story:
- do not laugh while a dentist has dangerous machinery in your mouth.
- do not allow other friends to make wisecracks beside you while a dentist has dangerous machinery in your mouth.
- it is very easy to forgive well-meaning dentist friends.
- time heals all wounds ... including those accidentally drilled under your tongue.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

sad? call me.

of course, the obvious question to ask at this point is:

"is she going to wait for 2014 before she blogs again?"

(meanwhile, the obvious question in terms of rock star:inxs is: "is marty casey unbelievable or what?")

there is a reason for not blogging. actually, there are a number of reasons.

1. i am queen busy. (get it? queen BEE-zy? hwe hwe hwe ... ok, calm down. no need to get violent.)
2. i am queen lazy.
3. (most important reason) i have been trying to find a cure for global sadness.

and now, i would like to announce that i've done it. i have the solution to every depressive episode in the world.

three words: driver's license picture.

in an attempt to justify the horror that is my picture, i would like to point out that NO ONE TOLD ME THERE WOULD BE TWO PICTURE-TAKING SESSIONS. so there i was, ready for the first (and i thought 'only') picture. i had blotted out all the extra oil from my face, made sure my hair was in place, thought happy thoughts and gave a subdued-but-pleasantly-content-with-life smile for the digital camera.

after my pic was taken, i wore a headband – it was just after lunch on a hot hot hot day – and waited for the license with all the other drivers, not caring about the amount of perspiration that had begun to leak out of my ultra-open pores.

and then they called my name. again. for a second picture.

all logic flew out the window and i removed my headband in a hurry, thinking that i looked better without hair accessories. if there's anything i regret most in my life, this decision would have to be it. it completely beats 'entering med school' and 'eating an entire (smallish) ball of gouda 5 minutes before sleeping' (a recent impulse – don't ask) hands down.

when i finally got the laminated card, i had to pinch my nose so i wouldn't explode in laughter. happiness is not appreciated in philippine government offices, if you haven't noticed. so i held my nose for about a block, walking towards my sister, who was waiting inside our parked car. complete strangers were running away from me, thinking i was holding my nose because i stank.

to put it kindly, i looked like a convicted felon in the &#!%^$#% picture. my hair was all over the place, i was sweaty, and i had a sullen look, the kind of look foreign celebrities have when they are taken in for driving under the influence. 'assault victim' also comes to mind. or maybe 'meth addict'. your choice. any would be apt.

i have a reputation for having the worst expression in pictures, but this is insane. more accurately, i LOOKED insane.

i'd like to blame the guy who was handling the camera. i'd like to, but did he really care that i needed to bear with the hellish picture for 3 years (when my card expires)? did he really care that i have redefined the word 'disheveled'? did he really care that i would be forced to become the perfect driver just so i would be spared of having to show my license to some poor policeman who would lose all composure upon viewing my picture!?!?

he didn't.

so there's nothing i can do but wait for 2008. and maybe scan and send the picture (labeled 'antidepressant') to all practicing psychiatrists. nobel prize, here i come.