getting hired

I got hired just this morning. I am now a web content writer-slash-english tutor soon to become web content writer, only. Cool, I know. At least this job would get me to focus on things other than my own misery. I will not hide the fact that right now, I am utterly miserable, and the worst part is that I DO NOT KNOW WHY.

The more I get to think about it, I am so much more like Eeyore than I initially assigned. Maybe that’s the reason why I like him so much. Right now, a cloud’s hanging over me, but frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way (for now). I know my days are only going to get better (there’s nowhere lower to go from here) and if I were happy, I wouldn’t know the difference, therefore, I won’t be able to celebrate as much as I foresee I will.

I have 20 minutes until my next class. My current Philo professor isn’t exactly smart, but I have no choice but to put up with it. For now, I have to hide Kara’s user account, so, ciao.

resignation

According to Marx, Man is work. I have had work for more than a year now. I could honestly attest that I am my work. I have come to define myself by this work, and the fulfillment I get from it. This work makes me happy. Yes, it makes me tired, but for the better part, it makes me happy.

Then comes the point wherein man has to choose. It would have been fine if choosing was the only agenda, but wouldn’t you quite agree that we are all judges in our own little star search? We rank the prospective stars according to skills, according to importance. The star that ends up on the bottom of the list does not remain there, or remain in the search for that matter: they get ELIMINATED. Now, scrap stars and put priorities in their place. It does not matter if the star (or priority, in this case) makes any significance. The fact that they ended up on the bottom of the list is enough to let go of them.

I had to make a star search choice just recently. The stars: Health, School, Family, Kalasag, Work, Friends, God, and Sanity. I had to let one go. I had no choice.

I value my relationships too much, and so I couldn’t quite let go of Family, Friends, and God (I have to especially work harder when it comes to my relationship with God). This is my last year in University, and I think I owe it to myself and my parents to at least graduate a Cum Laude, and so School remains in the game. That leaves Health, Kalasag, Work, and My Sanity.

I made a promise to stay, no matter what. They know it, and I know it as well as they do. I try to keep my promises as much as I can, and so Kalasag is saved from the bottom three. Funny, isn’t it, that my bottom three priorities are Health, Sanity, and Work? My mom would strangle me if she knew my health isn’t as important to me as it is to her. Roa Ming would just probably smirk at the thought that I’d rather drive myself insane as long as I get to live in the spirit of magis. But work? No one deems it important. Who gets to benefit from it other than me, right? Well, for the record, my work has taught a number of Koreans proper English. My salary has helped a classmate study for another semester. My salary has been able to pay for unforeseen expenses in Kalasag (despite my pleas, apparently unheard, of letting me know beforehand of any expenses). Lastly, it has helped me become fulfilled, something that my schooling and extracurricular activities can no longer supply as abundantly.

But I’m letting go of work. I just did. I passed my resignation for August 15, 2008 this morning. And the more that I think about it, the more I feel strangled. I need my health and my sanity, because they are all that I have left to battle the world. I made promises I could never break. I have goals I have to achieve. I have love in need of giving out. But I can’t have that one thing that makes me who I am along with all of that. I miss my work, my students, and my colleagues already. I miss them so much I think I would have jumped off the highest floor of the highest building in Davao City if I were just a millimeter less sane.

My last day would be on the first day of my 21st year on earth. I will no longer think of it as a punishment. It will be a new start. For the life of me, I’ll make sure it will.

Now that I have found myself some room to rest, I think I deserve more. Next week, my application for a 2-week leave-of-absence from Kalasag. This time, no one better stop me. I swear, I’ll kill.

warning: no one will understand this post

I hate the saying “Men and Women for others.” It is a paradigm which is constantly fed to students in this stupid university. We are constantly being bombarded with means to do something for others and yet nothing to do for ourselves. It is poisoning me with the thought that by being a person for others I could find myself. But this paradigm is sick. It is sick and it is making me sick of everything, including, no, especially of myself.

Responsibilities are different from helping. Responsibilities are things you have to do, and giving out help is not necessarily required of you. But when you get to think of it, you don’t always get to do your responsibilities, but helping is an act in itself. The saying makes you help, and although it is not required of you, you do it nonetheless, and most of the time, in greater frequencies than you are meant to do. But I digress. I meant to explain the difference just so I could establish what they really mean. Sometimes, we think we are helping people, when in reality, it is our responsibility to do something. Or vice versa. I think man does this in order to reconcile the will to do and the actual doing. People whose will is stronger than their actions tend to think of everything they do as helping: just so when they can’t do it, all they have to say was that it wasn’t required of them in the first place, and that they were kind enough to offer some “help.” People who make things possible but rarely wish them so (maybe because they have better things to do), usually “help.” They do not make promises. They do the best they can. And usually, they end up being “helpful.” But since they were only trying to help, not enough credit could be given to them, unless, of course, whatever they did they claimed as their responsibility. I feel for the latter group of people. They end up becoming bitter. They do and do. They “help.” But rarely, there’s no one to help them back.

I know whatever I’m posting is incoherent. I will not claim otherwise. However, I have to make things clear: I am writing all this because I feel bad. I am trying to be kind, but why, oh, why, is my good humor escaping me? I try, and usually, I end up doing, but if whatever you do is meager “dirty work,” of what importance are you, really? I am intelligent, and people do not realize this and/or the next thing I’m about to say. I have a reason for doing the things I do. My brain is filled with strategies. My brain is filled with math. I rarely do anything that matters greatly just for the heck of it. But nothing ever comes out of whatever I do after I’ve done it.

I know you think I want to quit, whoever you are. That all I do is complain and that I rarely do anything. You have no right to evaluate me for you know not what I do. But you keep my word on this: I AM GOING TO KEEP TRYING BECAUSE I ONCE SAID I LOVED WHAT I DO, and you know what? I STILL DO. I LOVE IT. What I hate is the part where you question the dedication with which I do my job. If I did not love my job, I wouldn’t complain. Why would I? I have stopped complaining about a lot of the crap that has been happening in my life, and I’m not about to start again anytime soon. I do not complain about things that are not important to me. Be proud if I complain about you for that means you matter. And, for the record, if you were in my place, you would complain about what I do, too. But I bet you didn’t know that. What do you knwo about what I do, really? Anyway, you’d continue not knowing because you have more important things to do anyway, compared to my job, right?

I said I’m still going to try. But to hell with trying if it puts me on the edge. This time, if I feel like leaving, I’ll leave without any warning. I swear.

the revenge of mother nature

Another earthquake in Japan killing, so far, 9, and injuring hundreds. Hasn’t it been just a few weeks ago (roughly two months, if my memory serves me right), since something tragic hit Myanmar and China? Today is a school day, but instead of wearing my pristine white uniform, I had to wear a jacket over my white blouse, and a pair of sweatpants, to my 5:30AM work. It almost took 30 minutes to get to work (compared to the ususal 10-15 minutes), and by the time that I did, my top was wet all the way to the elbows and my pants all the way to my knees, and I was shivering in the cold and  hoping that my supposedly waterproof bag did its job (which it thankfully did). Did I mention that I got this wet by having my mom deliver me only to the kanto of our subdivision (because she once dared to challenge the floods of Matina, Davao City, and lost badly, and wasn’t about to challenge her fate anytime soon, or for the rest of her life for that matter), waited for a ride under the feeble protection of my extremely large umbrella, got a ride (multicab. The taxis were all taken.), prayed with all my might that the car would be safe from the harms brought about by the easily-flooded area near Buffet Palace in Matina, then walked 50 meters under unforgiving rain and over more unforgiving puddles-turning-the-Nile?

I have long since stopped believing in concidences, and am not about to start anytime soon. We are the culprits, people! Imagine a 0.8-degree-Celsius increase in international temperature doing all these things! Want to see what happens after 5.2 degrees more? I don’t! And I might never live to see it, seeing as how this day might eliminate all of us, or, well, leave only the fittest, which doesn’t leave enough room for me in the picture. Damn, I hate it when I try my best to do something good, but everything else seems to be against me.

To all the human beings reading this: let us all congratulate ourselves and give each other a pat on the back for destroying our world bit by bit! Congratulations, people! CONGRATULATIONS!

I am not against Global Warming and Climate Change. All I am is for Environmental Preservation.

I AM FOR THE EARTH AND AGAINST NOTHING!!!!!

Oh boy.

house arrest

I have been on house arrest by the Health Department of Andie’s Ecosystem for two days now. Caught a bug last Tuesday or Wednesday. Had my throat itching like crazy last Thursday. Had a few people say I was either acting weird, was hot (would have preferred “looked hot,” though, haha) or warm to the touch, or didn’t look too well last Friday. By then, I was throwing a couple of throaty and phlegm-ish fireworks once in a while. Came home breathless, and had to wake a gazillion times during my sleep due to the same reason. Woke up at 6-going-7 on Saturday, again, breathless. Took me an hour to get properly propped up in bed, took another 2 hours before I could get myself out of bed. Texted Menchie I wouldn’t be able to come for our 9-12 class, which, luckily, our teacher didn’t show up for (why am I not surprised?). Took another 2 hours before I could muster the energy (and enough air) to go downstairs. Ate breakfast (took me an hour to swallow five spoonfuls of rice. Think “swallow food then catch breath for 10 minutes” over and over again.), then settled down on the couch. Spent the entire day on the couch by the way, trying to find the best position that was relaxing but didn’t render me breathless. Took some medicine (corticosteroids, if you must know), and found myself almost vomiting almost a dozen of times, while trying to produce some cough as if they were to be sold at a hundred bucks per mL (but what it was simply doing was give me 3 minutes of oh-so-heavenly-and-undisturbed breathing.). Thought I’d be feeling better by night, which might enable me to join the Editorial Seminar at school, but boy, was I wrong. Found the perfect position, by the way, on the floor, while having my head and back propped up on an arm of the couch. Didn’t eat lunch, seeing as how agonizing breakfast was. Was ravenous by 6 pm, and ate a cupful or rice with some tuna hotdog and some bread rolls. All in all, I had 60 mg of Prednisone (a corticosteroid, the usual culprit for most of my weight gain), 10 mg of Montelukast (an anti-asthma medication), and 30 mg of Ambroxol (mucolytic). Thought I’d have gained weight by night due to the Prednisone, but managed to lose instead. Cool.

(Took a break)

Just took a quick shower. Didn’t bathe yesterday (gross, I know) due to fear of drowning. I have had this experience before where I had an equally bad asthma attack and yet stubbornly took a bath. Guess who came out of the bathroom crawling like Sadako? Anyway, I didn’t bathe due to fear of drowning and because I had but few ammos left on my inhaler and was not about to waste them on a near-drowning incident.

I’m feeling much better today but I could not walk for longer than five minutes at a time. So I was left home to, well, rest. But they’re home now, and I guess this post is enough for today.

I’m having these insane stomach aches right now, and I’m wondering if either my kidneys are failing or I’m having ulcer, both due to my meds. Hmmm…

first week

First week was great. I managed to show up early for all of my classes on the first two days and went AWOL on three of my four classes on the third due to my passport application (Hoorah! Finished it in one day!). Everyone managed to notice that I gained weight, which was cool, meaning, people saw me. It was a negative remark, gaining weight and all considering my already fat ass, but then if people noticed you, there might still be a chance that they cared. Might come in handy someday.

I’m not in the mood to write in this blog anymore. I don’t know. Maybe keeping private diaries have more advantages than I gave them credit for. However, it’s good to have people know the exact things going on in my head just so when things start getting jiggy then messy with them, I get the chance to say “You can’t say you weren’t warned!” Man, am I dying to use that line! Anyway, I have this young blog lying around somewhere, but I haven’t the guts to have every one of my friends knowing everything, as in, EVERYTHING (YES! I PLACE EVERYTHING THERE!). Think of this new blog as a private diary however everyone has the chance to read it, and yet nobody, at least no one that I know of or someone I know but doesn’t know it’s me, ever does.

I’m listening to the hit Kalasag song last year: Boston by Augustana. Makes me feel like going away again. Oh the nostalgia.

Anyway, This is probably the most incoherent post I have ever made in a while. Better end it while I still have the chance.

wrong kind of right

You ought to have heard of the saying “right kind of wrong” at least once in your life (as for me, I heard it in a song). As far as my limited knowledge is concerned, it is something that is considered wrong albeit its being right as being wrong. Yes, I’m sure that made it more understandable for everyone. OK, I’m thinking about saying “You are fat,” with the rudest face you could possibly ever muster, straight to the face of someone who is 300 pounds overweight but just doesn’t want to admit it. Being rude is wrong, but being honest is right. In this case, being rude is absolutely wrong, however, the honesty despite the rudeness made it a right kind of wrong. For all loophole finders out there, I know there are millions of loopholes (yay for you) in this argument, but to hell with arguments (for now). As this is my blog, let me get to my point.

Wait! How about vengeance, huh? Vengeance is wrong, especially when you end up killing someone (which is cool, but only in the movies). Anyway, people who choose the path of vengeance usually have reasons (and sometimes, logical at that), that seem right at that time. Ta-da! Right kind of wrong!

Anyway, the right kind of wrong generally feeds many of the most basic human qualities. Greed (chocolate cake, need I say more?), romance (didn’t I just say I heard “right kind of wrong” from a song?), Pride, blah, blah, blah. The wrong kind of right, on the other hand, is plain funny, basing on my experience today.

Let me begin with a not-so-little background. I am spending my on-the-job training at a cosmetics company, and there are, currently, four others with me. Edward (makasawa, puryagaba, hahaha…), Mujik (barkada, buti na lang), and two Pisayans, Michelle and Veyellah. I am having a lot of fun with them (though I can’t say the same for a lot of other factors) especially with the youthful high school students. It is fun talking with them, seeing as how much they remind me of my bittersweet high school years. People in Pisay generally are the same throughout the years. Despite how intelligent they are, they tend to be a bit slow in certain stuff. In our times, we label those people with LOTS (Lower-Order Thinking Skills) or NOTS (No Order Thinking Skills). As for Mich and Vye’s batch, they describe the phenomenon as LG (Low Gets).

They have this classmate who has had more than her fair share of LG moments (quite like the way I had, and still am having, LOTS and NOTS moments). Let’s call the classmate “Sec.”

Sec: (approaches a classmate) Ui… Alam mo, yung carpenter namin, hindi kumakain ng meat!

Classmate: Wow! Vegetarian siya?

Sec: Huh? Hindi.

CM: Ano pala siya?

Sec: Carpenter.

Sabi ko nga. Wrong kind of right. I mean, she’s right, right? Their carpenter who does not eat meat is, after all, a carpenter. Who could argue with that?

Nyahahaha!!!

like a fifteen year-old

Barely an hour ago, my dad called. Whatever we talked about made me feel like a fifteen-year-old once again. But in a really bad way.

Before I officially start ranting, I better discuss the real deal with honesty: it sucks. People keep telling you to be honest, but they never really appreciate the truth. Maybe because the truth has this natural ability of being inconvenient at the worst possible time. So when people tell you that all they want in their relationships is honesty, they’re lying. And that’s the truth.

Anyway, I am really trying my best to be honest as much as I possibly can. And since I’m starting to think more maturely (yeah right), I decided to be completely honest with my parents. Almost three weeks into my new pierce, I told my mum I got one. I knew she’d be upset, but hey, I am officially an adult, and not to mean any disrespect, but my decisions have to account for something, right? Maybe I wasn’t being completely honest with her. I have reasons for having this pierce. And maybe the reason why I didn’t express them was the fact that they were a bit cheesy (self expression thing, blah, blah, blah…). If I am a natural cynic, then take note of this: whatever traits I have (well, make that MOST of the traits I have. I mean, my parents would not have thought about getting a tongue pierce in the first place. And that doesn’t come from insanity. It comes from a trait only I have, and for simplification purposes, let’s call that trait “Jane.”), I inherited from my parents with a third of its natural intensity. That means if I am insane, my parents are three times more insane than I am (and to put it simply, no cynic in their right minds would ever believe someone getting a pierce for the reasons that I got mine). Imagine an Andie with three times the personality. Scary, I know.

She was upset. Normal. She threatened to pry it out with the nail-prying part of a hammer (I think she views this pierce as simply a piece of rusty nail in the middle of my mouth, or maybe that’s just me). Bearable. But when she began equating the pierce with an Andie that would never graduate with honors, that was when I started to get pissed off. When did a pierce of any kind contribute to someone’s deterioration (mentally, emotionally, and psychologically)? I have been used to believe that when you constantly declare something, it will come true. I constantly openly declare that I will graduate with honors. I will be known as Andie, the underachieving overachiever Cum Laude. But my parents just want to do otherwise. I think I’m starting to love them a little less.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, my mom decided to tell my dad. I was planning to tell him that I got a pierce when he gets back on August, but my mom just had to spill the beans. So my dad gave me this utterly exasperating lecture about me not being from the slum areas, and that I am a college student, and that no college student not coming from the slum areas (equation: college student U* person not living in the slums) has a tongue pierce, blah, blah, blah. It kind of bring back memories. Like the time he lectured me about Ateneo (de Davao) being the best place for me to go to college, because they have great teachers, and the curriculum was great, and that I’d learn a lot of things there, and a bunch pf other stuff that never really came true. Oh, except for the “close to home” part. Good days. Wish I could relive them.

Then came a worse part (trust me, there’s a worst coming up). He got on the Andie-the-not-Cum-Laude part. God! I am starting to think they do not want me to be a Cum Laude! As if they were preparing for me to be a bum for the rest of my life! I know my parents have been pretty supportive, but couldn’t they just push it a bit further? Or maybe this is their way of showing their support… Hmmm… Never thought about that. They know I hate it when they declare negative things, but I guess it really is difficult to teach old dogs new tricks. Sorry for all the 48 year-olds out there, but as far as I know, the two 48 year-olds in my life are really difficult to teach some new principles. Yay! Another truth that hurts like hell!

Then the worst part (exciting, yay, drumroll please). He started asking about my OJT, which, during its first week, sucks like hell. Then he went on with my English tutoring job. He (again, as if the first time didn’t hurt enough) expressed the probability of me graduating without honors, and gave out the suggestion that I should just quit my job. OK, that I could understand. He’s a father, and he must be really concerned (though he’s showing it in a twisted kind of way). I was about to explain why I am considering keeping my job, when the worst thing he could possibly say was said by him (last eleven words said in a Mojo Jojo way).

Stop ka na lang muna sa job mo. Hayaan mo, bibigyan ka na lang namin ni Mama mo ng extra allowance.

Ouch! Aray! Aguy! You probably have no idea how this statement has hurt me. Let me make things clear: I AM NOT WORKING AS AN ENGLISH TUTOR FOR THE PAY!!! I AM WORKING BECAUSE I FIND THE RESULTS OF MY TEACHING MUCH MORE FULFILLING THAT ANYTHING I HAVE EVER DONE MY ENTIRE LIFE!!! This statement has made me appear like someone who is desperate for money. If I was, then I would not have woken up early just to get to work at 5:30 in the morning for the past 11 (almost 12) months. If I was, then I would not have bothered getting out of bed just to get a pay of about 2,500 bucks every month (ever since the start of second semester, I work under time because of my effing 7:40 AM classes, and now, because of my OJT). And If I was, I would have called in sick during those days I felt so tired and not felt like going to work. Not once during those 11-turning-12 months have I called in sick (though I have been late a couple of times), and that can’t possibly be because I am working only, and for no other reasons than, money.

I know my parents know I hate it when they declare negative things happening to me. I know my parents know just how fulfilled my job is making me feel. And I know my parents know I must have a good reason for having this pierce. I just do not know why they are so stubborn. If only there is a personality softener for sale on our local supermarkets.

I know my life has gotten a bit more complicated, just when I was beginning to think it couldn’t possibly get any more complicated. I am being forced to quit a job I like. I am being forced to remove something I like. All because I was being honest.

Honesty sucks. I always thought being more honest is a sign of maturity, but it gets you into more trouble than you could possibly imagine. I guess I was making the effort of being more honest with my parents because as an adult, I thought that whatever I decided to do, they would respect. But the way they dealt with me puts me on defense once again. Just like the rebellious fifteen year-old that I once was.

*union

DFAT at Marco Polo’s Polo Bistro

The only DFAT (Davao Food Appreciation Tour organized by Ate Ria) event I joined probably concluded as one of the best meals I have ever had my entire life. And I am über thankful I was able to eat there before I had my tongue pierced.

It was the second time I have ever had that kind of setting. I mean the five-course-meal thing. The first one was about five years ago (my 3rd year Prom), and back then, I was wearing this awfully gay prom dress (by the way, we had our Prom then at Marco Polo, too). It was my first meal at Polo Bistro, but seeing as my last two meals at Marco Polo was a witness to an Andie wearing her school uniform, I didn’t bother dressing up. Wrong move. The place was really cool and all, and sometimes you really have to dress the part to feel the part. Since I wore my usual jeans and shirt attire, I felt like a pauper amidst all the princes and princesses that joined the DFAT. I looked more yagit than Kuya Winston.And they call him Batang Yagit. Where’s the justice in that?!?

The first thing I noticed about the place was the amazing view. We were accommodated with this long-table setup, which offered two types of view: for people seated on one side of the table, the pool, and for the others, some sort of building with symmetrical lights. I was seeing the latter. The most amazing thing about our view was that since it was summer, lightnings were becoming more frequent, and you could actually see the lightning spread itself across the sky like tree roots. All in a split second. Wish I had a camera, strike one.

The chef guy was also pretty cool. He was kind of showing off his cooking prowess the way they do on the telly, and had I been a wee bit closer to the chef, I would have cheered him on. Anyway, I was located the farthest from the chef, so I didn’t bother. I would have bothered a little bit more than I did, though, had I known he would serve us some really amazing food. You should have seen the food! Wish I had a camera, strike two.

To start off, we had Seared Tuna with Cucumber and Crabstick Relish. I know now why they call appetizers appetizers. Because once you have some, you can’t help but want more. I kind of miss the pepper around the Tuna (I can’t eat anything spicy for the next two months because of this metal thing in the middle of my mouth), and I really do wish I could just go back there and eat some appetizers all night long. Haha. Adik.

The soup, French Onion Soup with 3 Cheeses: Mozzarella, Parmesan, and Ementhal, was heaven for cheese lovers. That includes me. But it was also quite filling, so I didn’t quite finish it off for fear that I would have little space left for the Main Course.

Prior to the Main Course, we had a Mixed Fruits and Greens Salad. It was really good, except that since the Main Course was also being served then, I quite overlooked it (I ate about a quarter of my salad). The Main Course, Prawn Thermidore, was worth the rashes on my back and the merciless asthma attack I got the next day. It was a feast for all of my senses. The creaminess of the sauce and the tenderness of the shrimps were really nerve wracking in a good way. I love, I love, I love!!!

As for dessert, we had Coconut and Mango Crème Brûlée. Heaven!!! I love mangoes and custard, so need I say more? Yes I do!!! I L O V E I T!!!

If you have plans of eating a really good meal, and have some moolah to spare, please go to Polo Bistro. It is one of the best restaurants in Davao, and as a Davaoeña, I could not ask for more. Oh wait, maybe I could. For some cash so that I could revisit Polo Bistro and indulge, one more time? Anybody willing to spare me some change?

Man, am I hungry…

chronicles of the pierced tongue: part 1

Around 12.5 hours ago, I did something I have been wanting to do for the past two years: get my tongue pierced. My first tongue pierce, and hopefully, my last (that is if insanity does not strike again).

My mom and I are currently not talking to each other, but I doubt if anyone of us is angry. It’s just that we had a fight last Sunday. Anyway, I doubt if I’ll be talking to her anytime soon. If she finds out prematurely (that means, ever) that I had my tongue pierced, I’m dead meat.

Anyway, I bought the stud (with a Yin-Yang design) yesterday at GMall (for 650 pesos). Piercing is free, except that I had to go to this secluded place in Illustre called Rhostie’s Tattoo (a tatoo and piercing parlor). The place was really small, and I mean, really small. Plus it was located somewhere I would never had known for the life of me had I not decided to get my tongue pierced. Anyway, I started relaxing when I knew that the place has been operating for around ten years. Just so everyone knows, the pierce was over in a flash. The preparation(sterilization and stuff) took much longer than the act of piercing itself.

For those who are planning to get their tongue pierced, here are a few facts/points/tips you should know:

• If you have really decided on getting your tongue pierced, DO NOT WATCH VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE. It will just scare you off your wits. And I’m telling you, a tongue pierce isn’t that bad.
• A tongue pierce hurts much less than an ear pierce. I swear. The only thing with a tongue pierce is that you need to get used to that thing in the middle of your mouth. I’m still trying to get used to it.
• Ice cream, yogurt, really cold water, and cooled soup is the best for a tongue pierce. Yes, you cannot eat solid food for a few days. I bought heaps of yogurt for my tongue pierce, and it sucks after a while. So you might want to have a bit of soup once in a while, though you will regret it badly if you dared to drink your soup while it’s hot.
• OraCare is much better than Listerine. Trust me.

Right now, my tongue has swollen up a bit. They say it is going to be swollen for a couple of days, which is cool since it’s Holy Week, and I won’t be going out of the house anytime soon. I just feel a little dizzy, seeing as I haven’t had solid (fries, burgers, and anything DRY) food for the past 24 hours.

Today, I have had 2 cups of yogurt, and some soup with a bit of croûtons (which I call heaven!!!). You bet I’m hungry.

Oh, and for the record, I’m taking some antibiotics (500 mg Amoxicillin) once a day, for five days. And some Vitamin C to speed up healing.

I’m really hungry. And dizzy. I better get some sleep.