This Time I Should Be Serious

I did another impulse buying last night… I bought my very own domain name. I’ve been debating that for a long time. After I paid for it, I soon realized that I have to really do good and be serious about writing. Just because I was shuffling between two blogs, I decided to just have one and have all of my stories in one place I clicked upgrade. So last night I stayed up late being guided by tech support on how to.get started.

I felt pretty determined talking to the techy guy, asking the right questions. I felt empowered thinking to myself I can do this until I woke up the following morning.

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I managed to merge all my blogs into one account. It would mean I will lose my followers and those I follow from the old site and I will have to start from zero before I went to bed.

So today, when I woke up, I decided to tackle the task head on — to figure out what I will do with my new project.

I remember asking the techy guy or gal who knows I am talking to a machine … on how I can make the site interactive, having all the things I want to share in one place. For someone not as techy, creating a website will take me forever, it would be a huge undertaking.

It didn’t help that the heat inside and outside the house was rising towards the night. Today it registered a whopping 33 degrees but felt like 45 degrees with 75% humidity, and even without moving I felt tired. The fan was spewing air non-stop, and if it can complain or storm out of my room, it would have done so.

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Merging blog posts is a daunting task. While exporting and importing was easy, merging them will require a lot of patience. I am talking three years worth of stories, photos, poems and anything else under the sun (no pun intended) to review, re-categorize and maybe re-blog.

Plus there are tons of photos I’ve accumulated over the years that I wanted to document and archive, and half of them will need to be digitized to preserve them in the cloud memory.

Before I can even think of my late mom’s coin and stamp collections that needed some attention.

**

I am just happy to be up and about. The roller-coaster of emotions doesn’t beckon and I am taking advantage of it. I guess, now that I have a project to do, I can forget about my recovery for a while.

Although I should keep my home therapy – keep improving my gait and maybe start climbing more stairs to get used to it. That way I can return my dad’s room soon and reclaim mine.

**

It’s night time again. I can’t say if I made progress, all thoughts are in the paper and the more I attempt to put them in place then it gets complicated again. It’s a sign I should stop and regroup in the morning.

Please be patient!

The Veep and Those at the Hem and Sleeves of the Philippine Society

The Tagalog translation of sleeve is “mangas,” and those are part of clothes that is optional to have especially in the kind of weather we have in my country.

I can relate that to a provocative highly frown upon (a)political word … “laylayan” which translates to hem. The end part of any clothing that attracts all the dirt and snags as it is used for those who doesn’t know.

My country, the Philippines,  had reached 100 million in 2012, and after 5 years we are a little over 106 million, a merely 6 percent increase. According to some publication, there are new babies born every 13 seconds while the reaper takes someone every 46 seconds, makes me wonder how much of them are TokHang related?  A very high population for a country as small and developing as us. Although in the last government we were on the way to maybe developing further as the “tiger in us had awakened” but we got sick again.

 

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The problem of drugs and Tokhang highlighted the societies divide in the Philippines … only the poor get penalized while the rich and influentials are given a free pass

 

Anyway, as my essay goes, those hanging by the sleeves or by the hem are what the current vice president proposed to help during the campaign period. She talks about the marginalized, the vulnerable, the disenfranchised, the poor and the helpless (writing those words made we want to contact the Avengers to ask for help).

It appealed to many that is why the Veep got elected. It appealed to many that is why we have demi-god for president.

The issue of poverty is not new to the Philippines, there is never enough to provide for all, there are those who will always be left behind in development and progress. In 2015 there is 21.6 percent of Filipino below the national poverty line https://www.adb.org/countries/philippines/poverty. Any talks of helping the poor get politicians elected because maybe poverty according to the politicians are easy to solve.

But look at us now. The poor are feeling more and more the oppression from this government and too bad for the Veep she’s the only one prominent enough to be doing what she had promised. Bringing along with her those that genuinely want to help but wants to make sure the help they provide reach those that really need them.

 

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The Veep as she goes to visit one village had been vilified for doing something for the rural folks in the Philippines. Now her very position is being challenged by someone who helped put this country in bad place in the 70’s

 

My country is a country of irony. We have ultra rich politicians promising the moon to the masses but once elected forgets to share the promised moon. Those that are genuinely doing something are vilified and even accused of cheating the election or just showing off.

While the Veep keeps meeting those in the hem, the rest of our overzealous politicians (during the campaign and after winning) are all talks and intimidations with nothing concrete to show for it.

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Hooka

What’s with the photo?

One morning we went out to have brunch in one of the restaurants by the pier in Beşiktas. Actually, it was more lunch than breakfast because it was nearing noon when we arrived. But since we’re in Istanbul and a weekend life doesn’t start until midday.

That morning was the day after one friend returned to Turkey after a grueling short mission in Bangladesh. She passed by to unwind and forget the horrors of the Rohingya exodus from Myanmar… she’s a psychologist just so you know.

Being a good friend and an enabler when she said “I like to smoke shisha” I immediately said yes, and we capped our brekky with fruity smoke – apple and blueberry an alternate to real Apple since I don’t usually eat them fresh.😄

The coughing was normal for me since I am not a smoker and when I am attempting to get the thick smokes out, I have to inhale deep and blow slowly. I didn’t manage to look like I knew what I was doing.

Shisha or hooka is a social activity in the Middle East. I only do it with people I know and like to hang out with and it’s not all the time – maybe I do it once or twice a month when I was still living in Turkey. Smoking it is an acquired taste and if you don’t usually smoke you might want to keep it to a minimum and choose the flavor that doesn’t give you headaches like apple, watermelon, and the popular blueberry. or best to not do it at all!

Have a nice day!

Battle Marks … Scars Define How We Lived Our Lives

“Give credit where credit is due”

The words my doctor, let’s call him Dr. G, told me praising my perfectly healed surgical wounds. According to him because he took my crazy stitches out early, the wound healed according to how he wants it. Since he didn’t do my surgery, it was done in another place by another doctor; he had no control how my wounds were closed. That was the best he could do so I don’t end up with ugly scars.

Just so you know …

The one I showed you in the Happy Scar post is found on the inner side of my ankle. I had pins and wires inside used to attach my bones, and I have a smiling scar to remind me of that. The other one is on the outer side of my leg; it’s as straight as it could be. My therapist even said it looks like a vein only it is outside. I had a metal plate inside to attach them securely and take up some of the load when I started putting weight on my leg. I plan to have it tattooed with leaves and sunflower to match my smiley one.

I arrived home one week after I had my surgery in Tunisia. The doctors there did a wonderful job of fixing my bones and closing my wound with very tight stitches according to Dr. G.

I had extra wounds too, but they didn’t need stitching and again not necessary according to Dr. G. Those extra wounds were from the drain tubes they attached and kept for several days after the surgery, that’s why I had the dimples in my smiley scar.

So after I was seen by Dr. G, in the emergency room two days after I arrived from my 24-hour journey, he declared he would take out my stitches in one week or two the most to promote faster healing and for me to end up with nice looking scars.

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Dr. G taking my stitches out

Two weeks later, I am out of it, and with little TLC, the wound finally closed, the last dead skin fell off, and I am left with shiny new scars — my new battle marks!

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I am not new to accidents while away for work. I guess it’s part of the deal when you accept to live alone and do everything yourself. But most of my accidents were injuries from the kitchen — nothing traumatic and obviously not life-threatening. Like when one time I was baking and the hot baking dish landed on my thigh, and I developed an unsightly and very painful second-degree burn. Or when I accidentally cut off the top part of my nail because I was pretending, I can do what professional chefs do when cutting onions. I thought I lost part of my finger when I saw the blood. Good thing the nail grew back.

Whatever happen scar doesn’t just appear. All wounds heal if we take care of it and it can leave a beautiful mark. But if we don’t, it will fester until it gets out of control, it will leave an ugly mark.

Whatever mark was left, it is there because something significant happened, a mark giving us a choice to not do it again or to continue to be strong. It is there as a reminder that we are vulnerable, that anything can happen and we will have something to show for it.

Like in life.

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Falling in the Cracks

I thought I could resist.

Falling through the cracks.

But the loneliness,

The boredom,

Is getting to me.

I may look fine on the outside,

But inside I struggle

To fend off this feeling

Because I know I am better than this,

But I still am falling

In the trap.

I will continue to fight it off

It is not what defines me.

Thinking that one day

I am back to my old self

Once I crawl back out of the cracks.

Daily Prompt: Thwart