#30DayWritingChallenge: Something that happened in a hospital.

Day Twenty-Six: Something that happened in a hospital.

I once accompanied a co-worker to the hospital when she fell ill at work.

She was deathly afraid of needles. That was not great if the doctor had to get her blood sample to find out what illness she has. I was coaxing her and soothing her as the nurses tried to get her hand set for the extraction. She was crying in whimpers the entire time out of terror.

I let her squeeze my arm during the extraction. She held on using her other hand so tightly, it felt like my arm was also drained of some blood while little nail marks showed up against my skin.

It probably took us at least fifteen minutes to convince her and make her relax for the blood extraction. The actual extraction barely took a minute.

#30DayWritingChallenge: Winning.

Day Twenty-Five: Winning.

I rarely win in raffles.

Some people are born lucky. They are more likely to win in games of chance. Their names are often drawn, even for consolation prizes. I had a co-worker who was so lucky, it actually backfired on her: her name was drawn twice in an office raffle. Unfortunately, raffle rules state that employees can only submit one entry per person, so she was disqualified for both prizes.

Whenever I attend company parties, there will be that point during the eventual raffle when I’ll hold my breath waiting for the announcement of the winner, only to exhale in disappointed because, as usual, my name was not called.

That’s more than ten years of working and annual company parties, plus the occasional parties thrown by the account’s client or some other employee-benefit contest.

It’s the same outside of work, even when I was younger. During school fairs, in church parties, even in the occasional traveling perya. I would spend all my money playing the color game and lose all of it without really winning anything.

There was one particular time when I actually won a raffle that I do remember.

#30DayWritingChallenge: Something that happened in a car.

Day Twenty-Two: Something that happened in a car.

The world started spinning the moment I stood from my seat.

“Can I stay over at your place?” I asked the guy I just met. He was friends with my friends and I thought he was trustworthy. Cute and trustworthy.

It didn’t help, the short walk to the roadway. Every step felt like a tumble and I begun feeling like my stomach was starting to protest.

It wasn’t the only one. I vaguely remembered one of our companions complaining. He wanted to be with the guy. How did I ever get so lucky?

The cab driver might have had misgivings if he should let us in. His instincts were right, of course, but he still agreed to bring us to Pasig.

I can’t remember what the ride was like, now. It was probably awkward and quiet. I wouldn’t trust myself talking while trying to hold my beer down. The world was hazy and my eyes couldn’t focus.

It happened when the cab was about a hundred meters from the guy’s place, like a bad sitcom sequence. That point where I could have waited just another minute and things would not have been as embarrassing. I threw up.

No one throws up with dignity. One can hope that he can at least open the cab window and let puke fall out to the street. I didn’t do that.

Damn manual car windows. I barfed while the window was still halfway open with some vomit falling on the cab floor. The driver should have listened to his instincts.

At least I didn’t puke on the guy. He wouldn’t have slept with me if I did.

#30DayWritingChallenge: The internet and me.

Day Eighteen: The internet and me.

An average day, occasionally written in the first person plural.

06:09 AM
Woke up. Checked the phone for new messages and notifications. Fell asleep again halfway through.

07:23 AM
Woke up properly. New messages in Facebook (ignore until midday). Fed the cats; they had been scratching our legs for the last two hours.

08:19 AM
Twitter sinkhole.

09:46 AM
New Viber message. Did not open it yet so it will not be seenzoned. Opened Godsville and sent our hero to the arena.

10:27 AM
Have we had breakfast yet?

11:51 AM
Fourth political tweet of the morning. Liked seven posts in the Facebook feed. Nothing interesting when timeline was refreshed.

12:11 PM
No, LiNa we are not interested.

01:47 PM
Finished downloading yet another movie I will not be watching any time soon. Pokemon Shuffle.

02:02 PM
The new Fairy Tail chapter is up!

03:45 PM
Skimmed through the articles in io9, Wired, and The Mary Sue. Picked several articles from the RSS feeds. Scheduled some tweets for later and tomorrow.

04:17 PM
Argued with someone in Twitter. Subretweeted.

05:43 PM
Fed the cats. Stop coming between my face and the phone’s screen, Godzilla.

06:28 PM
Fifteen new Instagram hearts! Oh. Four of them were for previous photos.

07:01 PM
Nothing interesting in Pinterest. Why didn’t we see this Facebook private message sooner?

08:39 PM
Nothing worthwhile in Grindr. Nothing worthwhile in PlanetRomeo. Nothing worthwhile in Hornet. A new woof in Scruff, but we don’t like his profile bio.

09:11 PM
Thought up of a pretentiously smug tweet. Takes a photo with a book cover in the background for added smartypants appeal.

10:24 PM
We have not yet written anything for that #30DayWritingChallenge. Quick blog entry.

11:44 PM
Spotted another hoax in Facebook. Man, these kids on the internet.

12:51 AM
So sleepy. Don’t forget to plug the phone to the charger. Maybe one last look at Twitter…

#30DayWritingChallenge: One thing I never learned.

Day Fifteen: One thing I never learned.

I never learned how to swim.

I got it from my mom. She hardly goes out of the house and she’s afraid of deep water, so none of her kids grew up knowing how to swim.

Our dad was away on military assignments for most of our early childhood. If he had it his way, we would’ve been swimming for most of our childhood years because he grew up near the sea.

I’m tall-ish for a Filipino. Five-foot-eight. So when it comes to company or barkada excursions to the pool or beach, I’m not afraid of getting into the water as long as it’s not more than five feet deep. A little deeper than that and I start to get nervous. Close to six feet and I will wade away to shallower waters. I can’t even float.

Jade in an inflatable pool.

It’s kind of pathetic, actually.

One time, an ex-boyfriend asked me, “what if I was drowning?”

“I’d be sad,” I promptly answered. I think he never forgave me for that.

Lately, I thought about learning how to swim. But there’s always some excuse or another stopping me. I even bought swim trunks and a goggles to motivate me. But, alas, it has yet to happen.

So here is the fastest way to kill me: throw me unto the ocean. I’ll panic and I’ll drown. And then I’ll turn into a mermaid.

Hah. I wish.