It's all about lunch

The easiest way to blend in an office environment is through food. As if by some ancient Filipino cultural magic, conversations over lunch are more socially binding than ones done, say, over cubicle walls.

For example, I can talk better to people when I have food with me. Food can cover all conversation stages. You won't even have to think :s

INTRO: Want some chips/biscuits/fries/et al?
BODY: That's my favorite too! But I prefer mayonnaise to my fish rather than vinegar,
OR
BODY: Food is so ruddy expensive nowadays, I know.
CONCLUSION: Here, some chocolates for dessert,
OR
CONCLUSION: You've got to try the shawarma at my place.

In this generation, food is quickly replacing the weather as the topic of choice for starting a conversation.

There is something comforting in lunch conversations, in sharing a meal and a talk. Maybe it's got something to do with the whole people-are-social-animals fact. Or because you won't feel too alone when you're eating with somebody. Or maybe it's because food is a great icebreaker; topic choice is limited only by your gut tolerance for dirt and gore. Or, food is a universal language.

Or maybe because a collective lunch with people is a piece of home in the workspace, and you don't feel so lost when you're starting out in a new job. Sharing a lunch is like getting married - what lunch time has joined together, let no man put asunder! No one's going to eat alone ever again!

I think all offices should practice eating lunch together. In my previous work, you got memo-ED when you fail to join eating time at the dining table. Within a week or two from starting out, I felt at home, comfortable enough to poke fun at the people with whom I share a bit of table space. They don't seem as intimidating as when they are behind their desk, wielding their awesome powers. You see, even great powerful bosses like food as much as you do.

All this talk has made me hungry. Ima go and raid the fridge.

NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM :O

Indecisions

Why does everything have to happen at the most inopportune time? Eh? So eerily ironic.

Here's a look at the Philippines' version of unemployment hell:

"Once there was a girl, whose only dream was to finish college. Barring hail, snow, backfield floods, lackluster wardrobe choices and the general dislike she had for her subjects, she sailed through and finished pretty well. It was only upon her graduation that she realized how ill-fitted she was for human society. She took a job, despite the obvious mismatch in qualifications. She floundered, she fumbled, she LEARNED.

The day came when her contract ended. Now, she thought, with a job experience in tow, finding another job will be easier. How the country proved her wrong. No job wanted her. She took anything that came her way. She sent gazillions of application letters to prospective employers but no one called. Not even one.

Then, like a ray of light from the heavens, she had a job. After all her hard work, a company finally calls! Good pay, good people - good internet connection! Here was her true calling.

Alas, and the irony strikes! Not days had passed when another employer calls, imploring her to come. And another one. And another. The dilemma! The final call rips her tiny heart. It is call from her beloved, the one true employer she had longed for all this time! Yet what could she do? She was trapped, ensnared by the powers of the Mozilla Firefox link on her desktop...."

So, goodbye Zamboanga City Medical Center! Your call came in just a little too late :s Imagine, I'm choosing to sit this interview out instead of tearing out my closet for a business attire. Gotta admire my willpower. Thank joo FIREFOX!!

Text Post v1

Because my bloody blog won't work right. Grrrr.

PS
Yay! Won't have to nuke my blog! It's the office connection that's the problem. My blog is still alive and apparently, updating ~~; 22May2009

New work, new rants

Read this. I have a job.

Or rather, I have a new job. Last week, I tendered in my resignation to my old job for another position that could offer me greener, monetary advantages. The parting was not without the drama, though. Contrary to the usual concept of resignation, I liked my previous occupation and the people whom I worked with. My bosses were kind, my colleagues were nice, and my mentors were brainy, smart and great personalities. I'd never admit it out loud, but I figure that I would have been pretty good working in that field of research, better than most even. I was blending in quite nicely with that rough, motley crowd of researchers when I was called away.

So, here I am, sitting inside a cubicle, typing my heart away on a rickety keyboard, on a PC hooked to my long-denied addiction - the Internet. Can't say that I am not pleased. Despite the evident discomfort in starting again in a new environment, I am re-learning the pleasure of privacy, music and net connection.

Anyhow, I am still waiting for directions and guidance from my boss, whom I have yet to meet. It's a scary bit of waiting; my boss is a SHE, a highly-accomplished, well-traveled SHE at that. I've never worked for a woman before, and I've heard that women bosses can be more terrifying than men bosses. I dunno. My past bosses were all men who treated me like a daughter instead of a payed worker. I'm nervous, but I'm not complaining though; I think this would be a great learning experience and I'm hoping to profit from it - in all aspects, of course, including reviving a little ol' blog that has gone under the weather for a year :D

I'll be bringing a lot things in this new job, including a reputation. For some reason, they were really impressed during my interview. I didn't tell them that the reason I was so bloody confident during the panel interview was because I already had a job :D Bad idea, now they think I'm this superscribe with a capital S. Gotta live up to it somehow :p

But still, I miss my old job. It's Athletics Day today, and here I am listening to crappy love songs in an open-toed sandal with clingly beads.

The world is not right. Somebody fix it please :B

Crossy, greeny-eyed meanie

It's Monday, and I'm not having a really great day :(

First, my cellphone had to go all haywire on me and deleted ALL my pictures, music and applications. Before it can do another virtual purge of what remains of itself, I'm having it fixed and for that, I have to dig, really deep, into my limited allowance. In fact, I am so broke, I had to sell my other phone to my cousin for a measly Php 800 just to get by for the week T__T;

Second, my cousin has a bloody PSP and she won't sell it to me on the grounds that: 1. It's an overrated gadget; 2. It's boring and 3. I am not capable of paying her back within a year. Blargh, it's not fair!!! I mean, my cousin is not even out of high school and she has more money than me! IT. IS. SERIOUSLY. NOT. FAIR.

I'd sneak this PSP home, but unfortunately, she's holding my phone hostage 0_o

Third, my OTHER cousin had to go egotistic on me and show me his new Ipod video. When I told him to beat it because I'm still swooning over his sister's PSP, he said:

"That's the purpose. To make you JEALOUS.....*crazy. witchery laughter*"

Meanie, ickle beasties. And to think I bought them gifts last Christmas :O Boo!!

Drats, it's not fun, this penniless status at the age of 22. As my cousins constatntly remind me, I am no good with money. And they might have a point. I wasn't able to save nothing last year, when I still had a paying job. What I earn through the few "rakets" that I have go to food and.....Well, I don't rightly know where it goes, but it just disappears :B And I hardly even splurge on food anymores.

Anyhow, I'm all woe and begone right now. For what its worth, I'll play the batteries out of this PSP until it's DAID!! ~~

To top it all, I've still got to go to duty tonight.

Not a good week... Dumdumdumdooooooooooooooooooom T________T

Sublimating and marinating

For every screw up I make in the hospital, I mentally bash my brains out with an imaginary magical hammer. It's an unhealthy, really, but this unusual habit seems to be the only way wherein I can expel all negative and horrifyingly embarrassing moments out of my system. On those particularly bad days, my imaginary catharsis turns my brain into mush. *sigh* The powers of sublimation.

Anyhow, my bad days can range from the fickle, shrug-shrug, bad day to the catastrophic, kill-me-now days. For example, one time, I gave the ROD (resident on duty) skin-tape instead of plaster. If you must know, skin-tape is really not sticky enough. I knew that; however, I figured, skin-tape is better than nothing. Actually, it was probably better if I gave nothing at all :D Now, I'm obsessed with plaster! I've got a great roll of plaster around one pen (green), skin tape on the other (black) and transparent tape on the red one :B

One time, my vital sign-taking skills was questioned. I take great pride in my vs skills; it's my most basic skill, requiring finesse and a sense of timing (like, "quick, the baby's sleeping!! RR and HR now!!!" quick). Anyways. I got some really low HRs and really high RRs, so off I go to the doctor on duty. The good doctor pronounced that my vitals were wrong, after taking a good, long 15-second look. Right, doc, sorry doc, I hastened to say. I took those vital signs for one full minute, but sure, you're the boss, I added to myself.

While Ivan thinks it's fairly disgusting, I think that true guts involves suctioning without gloves! A true man (or woman) needs no gloves for pulling out secretions out of bloody ET tubes! Since I never got the fundamentals of suctioning during my college days, I don't find it weird/disgusting/unhygienic to suction with bare hands. More than once, I've gotten a dollop of phlegm on my arms without flinching. I just hold the urge to barf in, run out and handwash like crazy! Suctioning is a procedure that demans more bravado than skill :D You plunge it in, open and close the machine, and voila! tubes are as good as new! Anyhow, my careless disregard for aseptic techniques designed to keep me safe and healthy has made me come to the conclusion that I might be secretly harboring a death wish. *cue Twilight Zone BG music*

Example #1: Suctioning without gloves

Example #2: Ignoring punctured wounds from injections

Example #3: Caring for a patient with PTB. Without a mask :p

It's not that I don't particularly value my health: using gloves, making a big deal out of a tiny puncture wound and using a mask gets in my way all the time. So, I make do without it :D Reckless, but hey, it goes a long way in saving children's lives :D

So far, the biggest and greatest lesson that I have learned in the hospital, particularly in the ward, is to BE KIND, to everyone. Kind goes hand in hand with being humble, and the 2, working together reaps marvelous dividends. When you're kind, people appreciate the things that you do to the point that they don't get mad when you accidently burst their child's soluset :D Another nice thing to learn: swallowing pride. I've swallowed mine whole from the moment I got to the ward, allowing one zealous senior volunteer to teach me the concept of quantity ("Etong quantity kung ilan ung ipapabili niya. I-times mo sa prize, yun na yun") without daring to say that 14 years of education has taught me such arcana already :p

Disconnected by 38 degrees

It's been a month in volunteer limbo and I'll be free in 2 months time, and hopefully, everything about it will be honorable :D Anyway, I've been toying with the idea of extending my stay for another 3 months, on the condition that my "scholarship" holds out, since, despite my initial horrors, everything has been pleasantly, uhm, pleasant, so far.

Contrary to its reputation, the staff over at ward 8 are actually really nice people to work with, real protective of the volunteers from overly hysterical watchers and terror doctors. A few of them, Madams Grace and Gigi, have taken to ogling my ass every time I take vital signs without using proper body mechanics :B

In my initial month, I have:
a. Avoided killing a patient, intentionally.
b. Learned how to scold a watcher older than me.
c. Grown immune to the sound of the cardiac monitor going haywire.
d. Suctioned the guts outs of a preemie while high on caffeine.

Rawr, I am out of practice, having been disconnected from the internet for the past 2 months >:s

Will edit later, for addendums, grammar and overall sense.

Quoted

I am eager to start my volunteer duty to prove that I am not the dunderhead that I thought I was.

How wrong I was. How very wrong.

I am a dunderhead.

EDIT:
Celebrated my 22nd today. Yipee.

EDIT EDIT:
Thanks to those who remembered :D

EDIT EDIT EDIT:
Brought palabok in the ward. Ivan *pheonix1986*, you missed one really delicious meal.

Anything but Eight

I now know that this is true: that the things you dread are the things that definitely come to pass and that the chances of it happening is directly proportional to your stress levels. My prayers of "Anything but eight, anything but eight," went unanswered, and like some great cosmic joke, I drew the paper with the words "Ward 8, 7-3", just like that. I just got assigned to Ward 8, the Pediatrics Ward, the One Ward in the hospital that I absolutely had my sights against.

Before applying to the hospital as a volunteer nurse, I sought the expert opinions of those who had the privilege of working at the same hospital. I found out that, on a general level, everyone thinks their ward is the BEST ward and all other departments simply fail. A few examples of the consultations that I had with those enlightened members of the no-pay volunteers:

ME: I'll be volunteering this month. Which ward is best?
Expert 1: Ward 2 is the best. The staff are nice, you get to watch TV, less work, and oh, we have parties every month or so.

(Hmmm, TV. Ward 2=Most Ideal. Besides, my dad worked in Ward 2, so I may get by with my family name alone. On the other hand, it's a chronic ward. Everyone's either in plaster or twitching.)

ME: I'll be volunteering this month. Which ward is best?
Expert 2: OR. We came, we open, we saw your guts!

(Operating Room staff are, like, the elite. Or at least, that's what they like to think. It's really nice, though, to be in the OR, except on elective days, where the OR complex is filled to overflowing. Also, paperwork. Lots of them.)

ME: I'll be volunteering this month. Which ward is best?
Expert 3: Any ward, is fine. Don't go for OR. When you apply for an entry-level position, you'll be a staff nurse. So it's better to learn all you need to know about basic floor duties.

(I'll admit, this is the most sound advice I got. Objective and practical. Two people gave me this advice, and I worship you both.)

ME: I'll be volunteering this month. Which ward is best?
Expert 4: The action is in the ER. You learn LOADS there, CPR, emergency care....In wards all you do is chart and sleep. Where's the learning?

(Where indeed? However, I never liked the ER. I'm too, er, fragile. Besides, ER people are the most likely people to die in case of a terrorist attack. Kidding.)

ME: I'll be volunteering this month. Which ward is best?
Expert 5: Eye Center. Nice easy hours , free internet.

(Internet, hmmmmm?)

ME: I'll be volunteering this month. Which ward is best?
Expert 6: Anywhere, as long as it's not ER.

(Uh-huh.)

So, that got me nowhere fast. Ergo, I'll take whatever comes my way. Except Ward 8.

But, as fate would have it, I did get in to Ward 8. I see a number of disadvantages:

1. I've never had a rotation there. Ever.
2. Kids are scared of nurse. One look at the white uniform and they'll cry/wail/throw a tantrum/pull your hair(!)...
3. Too. Many. Kids. In. The. World.
4. The Pedia Ward is really HOT.
5. Contagious. Lots of contagious things to catch.

As my role in life is to find silver linings in every dark cloud, I rationalized these advantages:

1. I have nephews and nieces and cousins who are potential Pedia patients. Maybe the good Lord directed me to Ward 8 so that I can enjoy treating my family.
2. In looking for a ward, I want variety. The Pedia ward is like the Medical ward in miniature: lots of conditions and procedures to do. I may just enjoy Ward 8 (I mean, I enjoyed pricking babies with vaccine when I was a student. Hihihihi).
3. It's relatively near the hospital canteen.
4. My classmates always said I was good with children. It's the maternal instinct buried in me. And for that matter, I think it'll be buried forever. A stint in Ward 8 is the closest I'll get to having children. I can always adopt.
5. I honestly can't think of anything more.

By this time, I've resigned myself to my lot. Pray, I hope to enjoy my 3-month stint in Ward 8. In the spirit of making lists, I shall end with these resolutions that I need to do before duty begins:

1. Return my body clock to its normal rhythm by sleeping and waking up early.
2. Abstain from all pleasurable things from now on, i.e., TV, computers, movies, rainy days, etc.
3. Solicit for brand new uniforms.
4. Read up on Pediatrics procedures and stuff.
5. Buy the following: 4 colored pen, thermometers, surgical masks, notebook and a new bag.
6. Get a retailer SIM to sell load during duty hours (for the extra money).
7. Learn Tausug as soon as possible.
8. Order a new nameplate that will appendage RN to my last name.
9. Say goodbye to August.

My feeble show of support...

...against the BJE MOA.
Hey, at least it's there :D

On having a chauvinist for a brother

It started with the show "American Gladiators", which, if you really think about it, hardly inspires chauvinistic and anti-feministic sentiments especially if you consider the buffed bodies of the gladiators, male or female. There I was, enjoying the local rerun of season 1's final episode when my brother screeched:

"The loser's being interviewed by a GIRL!!"

I am not a radical feminist, but I do have pride as a woman. The biggest pet peeve I have with my brother is the fact that he thinks he's so superior to women, when in fact Leila Ali can beat him black and blue with both hands behind her back. Comments like "Ah, poreso gale. Mujer el driver.", also pisses me off, but correcting him is like asking a fish to walk on land. He just feels so bloody superior. I have no idea who gave him that idea.

So when my brother said that, in his infuriatingly condescending and superior way, I told him he wasn't exactly being PC.

"Ooh, you're talking crap."

I told him I wasn't.

"What's PC?"

Politically correct, I said. You should use the word person, instead of saying man or woman. Like George Clooney, on Batman and Robin.

"So that's how you talk now? PC?"

Shut up, PC idiot.

"You talk shit."

You act like shit.

"You initiated shit."

You invented shit.

"You look like shit."

You are shit.

He snickered and guffawed.

I went inside my room, fuming.

1-0, in favor for dear chauvinistic bro.

Painting Zamboanga RED

A habit of perennial lateness made me miss the mass gathering of support in City Hall against the inclusion of Zamboanga City in the BJE (Bangsamoro Judicial Entity).

Inside information revealed, however, that a great number of people in red attended, and that it moved a certain classmate of mine to tears. In attendance that morning were representatives from Basilan and the Governor Hoffer of Zamboanga Sibugay.

I arrived in town, wearing red, of course. In the heart of the city, half of the population were in red. Whether or not the said populace willingly or unwillingly knew the significance of red today remains to be seen. Those who could not wear red wrapped red ribbons around their elbows.

By 11 AM, stores and establishments around the city temporarily halted business operations to show their support. No one forced them to close their establishments; that would have undermined the principles of democracy that we so value, the same principles the government claims to uphold yet so blatantly disregards with the advent of the MOA for the BJE.

The people of Zamboanga can disagree on a lot of things. Heck, they can be really apathetic people sometimes. Many still were ignorant of the issue, others chose to ignore. Still, others chose to watch Wowowee instead of the local news showing the protest of the city. I wonder why Mayor chose the color RED for today's protest (party color?).

I hope and pray for peace in Zamboanga. May PGMA realize that selling Zamboanga and the other territories to these militant and separatist groups will not achieve peace. Madam President was given the power over the country and its 1,707 islands for her to uplift and improve lives and NOT to use them as bargaining chips for to buff up her political image. There will be hell to pay. Why don't you try including the cities of Luzon in the BJE and see what happens.

Viva Zamboanga!

RN from the cubbyhole

It has finally happened. I can no longer claim employment superiority over the unemployed. I have reached the end of my contract and since I am not renewing anything, I must regress to a state that I should have completed upon adding RN to my last name: volunteer duty.

I fret on that phrase. I can't imagine giving out free service for 3 (or 6) whole months, not after watching The Dark Knight. Wasn't it the Joker who said that if you can do something, never do it for free? Too bad hospitals don't share that sentiment.

It's not only the "free of service" part that bothers me. It's the effort required to be a volunteer. Back in college, we only had to do two and half days of duty each week and I'd go home ready to die. And I gained weight (I mean, how can that happen anyway??). How would 3 (or 6) whole months affect me, then?? No more sleeping until noon and doing nothing but laze all day routines for me. Aside from that, it's been a year since my board exams. Gotta bring the old noggin' up to scratch, which is not really an easy thing to do.

Still, without the volunteer time in my resume, I can't get a paying job in any nursing school. I mean, teaching is something that I'd like to eventually do. Does not really leave me much of choice, does it?

So, I'm applying as a volunteer nurse at ZCMC this August, and if accepted, I'll start my trips to the hospital this September. To make sure I don't chicken out (again), I've completed all lab works and requirements using my meager savings. That way, I'll really, really, really, push through with this prospect, although I still have to decide if I'll sign up for 3 months or 6 months of duty. That can wait until Monday.

On that note, hospitals are supposed to be a place full of care and compassion, but as I discovered within 3 hours of completing laboratory tests, it's a place so devoid of emotion, it's depressing.

Lab tests went fine, although the stool exam was ickier than usual (I had to transfer the sample from my film container on to the glass vial, since accordingly, film cases went out of fashion months ago :s).

A new thing to do this time was the police clearance. This required a picture, taken at the station itself. The need to smile when in front of the camera is so ingrained in my system that I had to decide whether, wait for it, to smile or not to smile. Whatever my mom said to reassure me, this was going to be a mug shot! I tried to practice a half smile while waiting my turn, but it made me look constipated, so I chose not to smile. I posit thus: you do not smile when you're having your mug shot taken.

Anyway, despite the not-so-good photo of me (which I plan never to show anyone for as long as I live) I discovered that if I didn't smile, I ended up looking uncannily like my dad. If I smiled (which I usually do, thank God), I resemble my mom's side of the family (finally).

All that's left now is for my application letter and my photocopied documents, and I'm all set. On Monday, I'll be sealing this deal. I'll be missing paid work and employment, but I'm sure that after 3 (or 6) months of sacrifice, I'll be handling 3 blue ones every 15 and 30 once again. Bully for that day.

ParaKISS

Wallie featuring Miwako from Paradise Kiss :D

Unemployment=Productivity

I am out of work! And here are the results! Pick-charrs!




Yes, I noticed the repetitive images. Unfortunately, I don't have that big a gallery, so I've learned to recycle the whole lot, over and over again.

Done in Photoshop 7.0. Brushes credit to celestial-star.

Enjoy.

Or not.

Pixies for Friendster

My cousin is my biggest fan :D




























:B

In the spirit of Arbor

Yes, it is that time of the year again :D Just going to plug some events here.

June 25 - Arbor Day Launch
7:00 AM
Parade (WMSU to Petit Barracks)
8:00 AM
Program (We are goin' to hug them century-old trees. Yowza!)

June 28 - Coastal Clean-up
8:30 AM
Cawa Cawa

June 29 - To-ree Puh-lanting
8:00 AM
Murok, Pasonanca

Yessireee ;p

Finding Sidney

Found Sidney Sheldon's first book, the Naked Face, in the trash bin yesterday, in between two baby kittens.

It was covered with kitty amniotic fluid and by-products, but a little alcohol did the trick :D

Now, please God, if only I could find Jeffrey Archer's Kane and Abel...

It's personal

It's a fact. I've got zero self-confidence, and when I hit the negative, I can whine the pants off anyone.

And this comment does not help:

"Walang kinabukasan ang mga kabataan sa iyo."

'Tis a joke, they say, that I took personally.

Like hell. Yes, I take it personally. This is the pits. Oh, this is personal. This is war. It's not a joke. It's an insult. No future?! Wtf?!

Whatever. I don't care.

06.11.08

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

I just realized that I have a big problem with my wardrobe. Today, I was supposed to attend a seminar at a fancy hotel in the city. I didn't get much sleep the night before, but because it was my first seminar in a year, I woke up at the ungodly hour of 7:00 AM. And luckily, I did. I had nothing to wear.

Well, I had clothes and shirts and pants, of course. What I did not have was an appropriate thing to wear. I could not rely on past experiences with seminars to get a measure of what was deemed as appropriate apparel, as I went in jeans and shirts in every single thing that I attended since high school.

The simple task of dressing up became an inner dialogue with the self; decorum, fashion, self-expression, human rights and finally, the mastery of jeans over skirts, of shirts over blouse. By the time I was inside the jeepney, I had in my head a manifesto, that jeans and shirts are equals to blouses and fancy dresses, and that people who wear them must not be viewed as inferior to those who wear signature clothings.

I dreamed of the day, where I could waltz in on a job interview, dressed in my favorite FLCL shirt and sneakers and not in some high-heeled, open-toed sandal that was patterned after a medieval torture device.

I remain.

Whatever would have happened in that seminar, I will not know.

I got canceled, on the very last minute.

And I thank my common sense. I chose my shirt and sneakers over my mother's blouse and sandals.

The gods be praised.