The Cat with the Fiddle

here i am again, with this some kind of feeling. a compound of anxiety and hopelessness to create a new substance: existential boredom. not that i’m not contended with what i’ve been doing, nor am i complacent with what’s been happening. it’s just another day when i concede defeat in the face of another resounding turn of events.

you didn’t have to insist on the subject when i clearly regret having brought it up. and you should know by now that i always mean what i say. i neither embellish nor subtract details in sorry attempts to preserve my ego: you just have to believe me when i say no. and while your sarcasm shines forth, i wish you don’t lash out like that when i couldn’t figure out which statements are earnest and which ones i can poke fun at. i was surprised, honestly. especially during a moment of mental turbulence, i don’t think i have enough energy to sift through your witticisms. i will surely not use the word “scald” for a long time yet. so please, a little sensitivity.

i don’t blame you though. you’re not biologically bound to the same worries. you can be a prick about these things and you can summon any express excuse from a whole spectrum of excuses, conveniently laid out before you in display cases only the likes of you can reach. while the likes of me parry the blows as they crash.

i am being unfair. you’re not a prick. just a little insensitive when the going got tough. i would expect the behavior from the other douche, but hey, that’s how he was spun. i would still like to believe you were spun better than that.

anyhow, i am sorry for the inconvenience i may have caused (this statement again?!). this time, it will surely not happen again because the night is over. new day, new troubles. i’d rather not recycle the same problems.

ok, so that was infinitesimally smaller than should warrant the white flag. yes, i am being unfair for having flung the guilt at you. but what have i got to lose? we don’t have too much at stake to begin with. better turn back while the skillet’s still warming up. nobody wants to get burned.

just think this is self-preservation, if it would make us both feel better. that’s the essence of survival.

so, av, i give up. it’s been nice, but the emotional aftermath is just too tough to handle. but i mean it when i say it’s been nice. a little sad, but no regrets. see you around!

warning: please see previous entry

after operation, still in her anaesthetic sleep.

she was allowed to drink milk only when fully awake. she was so hungry.

she regained her usual mood the next day.

two days after the operation, she didn’t need the dextrose anymore, though the IV remained for antibiotics.

at least she could already change out of the OR gown.

and we didn’t stop her anymore from using the tube as a teether.

warning: this entry will feel like sitting next to a zealous old lady trying to invade your privacy by shoving 2R pictures of her grandchildren into your sleepy face. only, i’m not an old lady and this is not my grandchild. this is robyn.

today, robyn turns 8 months. just over two weeks ago, she underwent the second in a series of three operations. at least now the worst one is over.

arriving at the hospital, she seemed both scared and fascinated. she would cry sporadically, but cease abruptly when she zones in on something unfamiliar. like the metal bars on the sides of the bed.

feet not included.

she holds her own bottle now.

and would even try to grab the camera while she feeds herself.

and when she’s through…

…she flips the bottle over to use it as a teether. this is one of her favorite forms of amusement.

by morning of the second day, she was starting to get used to the hospital.

and had even started engaging in her other favorite form of amusement: sputtering spit at people. which looks like that.

by afternoon of the same day, she was so comfortable already, she was back to her old self.

by evening, her mirth quickly turned to horror when the doctor put her on IV. which was horror to watch for me too because her site was so difficult to locate, the doctor had to re-insert three times. plus, she is unusually strong for her age, so it took some serious effort to restrain her. we ended up “mummifying” her in a blanket just to keep her still.

she was afraid for a while, but again, got over it a bit when she saw something new. like her IV.

…that may also be just a bunch of hot air. perhaps because he would like some attention from other people on father’s day. for the first time in his life. celebrate it like the rest of them.

yep, that’s most likely it.

because i know for certain that he is selfish and his motives are shady.

almost three months after so the drama, we finally come to terms with each other. for once we strongly agreed on one thing: no one will do anything to pick a fight with the other.

so imagine the surprise when he offered me his seat to join him and his peeps. and when i refused, he addressed them all to introduce me as the mother of his daughter.

just in time for father’s day.

i read these few entries back and i am startled at how disconsolate i may have seemed solely based on what i have written. i am not fundamentally unhappy. let me make that clear. i just like putting down unhappy thoughts. so i could get them out of the way. 

because on days when i’m blithe and cheerful, i won’t even stop to think, much less stop to actually write.

what would really make my day today is a can of pik-nik. i’ll buy one on my way home and eat it watching those nonsense soaps. it’s pure bliss.

i want to lose my head over getting sick with grief. my throat was parched but blocked, my nostrils were heavily clogged, my ears were hard of hearing when i woke up from a sleep that barely touched surface. i wanted to sulk all day and be sad over my lack of companionship, but i can’t help feeling calm about things. i realized that i had no more house food left and i didn’t have enough cash to make the minimum delivery order footnoted in these fast food fliers. i was too lazy to even put on decent clothes so i can walk to the nearest atm. i called up the neighbor across the street to ask what breakfast they could assemble for me, i’ll just pay whatever. i felt sorry for myself looking at the greasy preparation, all of which i would have relished if i weren’t schizophrenic today, so i took what i couldn’t shovel into my mouth anymore and lay them right in front of the orange cat stretched beneath the pick-up.

i wanted to just stay home and be desperately lonely. it’s overcast, the rain will surely pour in a matter of minutes, this was the best day to be romantically sulky. but i had responsibilities to accomplish. medium-sized shoes to fill in the office. i can’t be neglectful of duty, that’s not my style. my style is to put it off for a while, but not to neglect it altogether. so i called in sick this morning, saying i’m reporting to work after lunch, i’m still nursing a monumental cough you’d think i would expectorate my larynx with this tenaciously gluey phlegm. which is true; although i refused to have the phlegm boost itself up my throat, so when i report to work later in the afternoon, they’d know i’m not kidding about the monumental cough.

so the morning was oil-ridden meat and scrambled eggs for breakfast, a trusty can of coca-cola, some schoolboy’s cartoon network shows and a steady, stalwart drizzle from a solemn gray sky.

it’s such a nice day to be sad.

you have to admit there are some days when you want to cancel your lease on opportunities. or at least postpone them. when you want to stay lodged beneath the comfort pile of simplicity and even settle for a few mediocre joys.

that’s how i find my sanity today. in knowing that chances at conventionally more successful endeavors have presented themselves before me yet i choose the square room of these small subdued tokens, symbols of a life made less complicated by honest pursuit and laid back confidence.

it’s the calm acceptance of the world as it steadily unfolds itself right before my very eyes.

i would still relish having to tread the sidewalks made slick by rain, light drizzle misting your view of the crooked path, going home to the prattle of commonplace female stories, and the atmosphere of instant noodles assaulting your senses, you can actually taste it.

for sheer length of some of my entries, i absolutely bore myself.

just about everybody in one of our stores hates the manager there. i am itching to do something about it. but i know my efforts would more likely be seen as meddling than innovative.

i like gays. they are some of the most imaginative, most hilarious human beings on the planet. but i’m also afraid to cross them. most of the time though, i’m drawn to them. and i guess sometimes they’re drawn to me, too. because i’m easy to impress when it comes to gay slang and humor.

i can’t get enough of flat tops and curly tops. they both taste exactly the same to me. am i being fooled into thinking that they are different? that’s some kind of marketing, perhaps. but i like them, in whatever name they come to me. so i buy both. of exactly the same taste.

today i decided to wear one of the outfits they compassionately furnished me with. it has a standing collar which seamlessly goes on to the rest of the top part then ends abrubtly in a gathered empire cut that forms an upside-down v-shape across the center. the neckline narrowly opens down to a point where i wouldn’t dare show, so i wear a bandeau underneath. i like best the ridiculous cuffs: the sleeves end at the elbows, but the cuffs flare with the longest edge down to my palms in an irregular length to form something that would remind you of a lily when i put my hands down to my sides, only elegantly, almost frailly, fastened at the elbows with same-fabric buttons.

i obviously do not know how to wear these strange upscale outfits because right before i stepped out of the house, i reached my right arm across the medium-sized industrial fan to turn it off and my luxuriously commodious cuff got caught in the blades. i didn’t realize what has happened until the fan sputtered like an old engine and stopped for a split second. only then did i jerk and quickly drew my arm away. the longest edge got smudged in month-old dust and the impeccable smoothness got botched, though not unmanageably. i saw part of the seam got torn, but that’s it, not at all noticeable, further proof of the quality of these unusual clothes. anyway, i laundered the foozled part in the sink (while wearing it; it’s a type of outfit that takes special skills to take off and put back on) and ironed flat the criss-crossing creases, carefully avoiding my own wrist in the arduous process.

i usually eat breakfast in my own office. today i forgot to bring my food from home. so i ended up settling for whatever grab-and-go breakfast i can get from the nearest store. that would be junk food, of course. which made me feel like hurling after a few minutes of finishing the bag.

then i take my nicotine fix. i am the only one with an access card into that place, which, as i took my cigarette break, i realized with a foolish fear that i forgot to sling around my neck. stupid. so i locked myself out, big deal. i walked around the compound looking for the building admin who has the “universal” access card but i was informed that she usually reports at 9:30 in the morning. that’s time i couldn’t wait for because i had to take off for one of the stores and all my materials and supplies were locked in. it was a big deal. then i found an upper window that was inadvertently left unlocked, pried it open, had one of the valets climb onto a cabinet, and with a very long broomstick, had him press the button to unlock. that was no simple feat. but it worked.

before i leave for store tasks, i always put up a sign on the door announcing my whereabouts, so people would know if the office is empty or where to find me. this morning, i first put up the wrong sign. so i put it down to get the appropriate one. i put in on wrong side up. so i corrected it. then i went off. i came back later to find that it was another wrong sign after all.

so i am expecting the heels of my shoes to break any minute now, or perhaps my pants to rip off their seams as i plug my equipment, or perhaps my hair to get caught in some sticky substance when i walk along the city street.

this is just one of those days.

p.s., i pressed “save” instead of “publish”. so after i logged out and checked the post that wasn’t there, i had to log back in to publish the post. yes, it is one of those days. and one of those lethargic neurological responses.