I'm Coming Out

For the first time in my life, I was actually offended for being touted as "gay."

And someone calling me "gay" is something I find to be demeaning, shameful, and blatantly crude.

I have never told my colleagues that I am queer. Apart from a very few trusted ones who knew about my sexuality, I actually find no valid reason to profess my queerness to everyone I am working with.

Plus the fact that the news might spread like uncontrollable wildfire scares the hell out of me (cf. Grey's Anatomy).

It's just that I think that my sexuality has absolutely nothing to do with me performing my duties as a nurse, and likewise, me being gay, has absolutely nothing to do with my work. I wouldn't change a thing -- my bedside manners, my competency and skills, my behaviour towards my patients and colleagues, etc. -- based on the premise that I am out, or otherwise.

Hi! My name is Ruff, and I'll be your sex slave, er, nurse for today.

When an irate moribund patient's relative referred to me as "that gay nurse," I was utterly infuriated that I could feel my cerebral blood vessels throb simultaneously with my heartbeat.

Me: "Excuse me ma'am what did you just say?"
Whore: "I was calling your attention because you left mama unattended while blah blah (continues with justifications which have actually nothing to do with my work)..."
Me: "I've heard that you called me "gay.""
Whore: "Oh (stumbles with pointless explanations very well dismissible in a court of law...)"
Me: "I thought you have a problem with me being "gay" as your mum's nurse." (Then went back to the station hoping that nobody ever heard everything that has transpired).

*

I have always told my closest friends that the reason why I haven't "out-ed" myself yet is that nobody dares to ask me personally. I find it pointless to just indiscriminately spill the beans or premeditatedly come to work in pink boots and butt-fitting pants just to show them my true self. Just like medical histories, you'll never get to actually know anything about a person unless you ASK.

But then again, I was contemplating as to whether I should say "YES, I AM GAY" if somebody would actually have the guts to ask me, or I would perpetually remain inside the closet and vehemently reply, "ME, GAY? NO WAY?" with much gusto and passion.

And yup, I was giggling (like you) as I was reading what I just last wrote.

But I'd give that old prude props for having the guts to call me "gay." Her gay-dar was impeccable she almost left me speechless for a minute.

If she could actually see right through me, could everybody else be far behind?

Or had they known about it all along?

Now that's a point I haven't even thought at all.

Should I get OUT or NOT? You decide. :-)

Heaven (Updated!)

My oh my. This post is cuteness overload.

Okay, this I have to admit. I have lost interest in watching American Idol since Jasmine Trias (Season 3) got eliminated years, years back. I thought Fantasia Barrino sounds like Le Donald (the Duck, not the Trump), Carrie Underwood's win was so predictable, and Hicks' winning was just, er, so not Idol-worthy.

So, last last week, while I was having my night duty in the Cardiovascular Unit ward, between the wee hours of 2 and 3 in the morning. I entered room 2003 (vacant as of the time being), and watched the latest Idol season, and boy, oh boy, I was in for a big surprise.

Like hello, who could not *not watch this very gorgeous, talented, young boy.







I could just eat this guy. (Too bad, he didn't make it to the top 24).

And oops, it doesn't stop there. Here, watch my *other guy:

I was like ovulating on the inside.

And whoa, a Pinay making it to the top 24.



You go, homegirl!

Now tell me, is this AI season so not worthy of watching?

(And nope, this is not a paid post. Hahaha.)

* * * U P D A T E * * *

Oh my! Watching David Archuleta perform is pure bliss. I literally have to sew my mangina up just to keep my room from flooding. Okay, this post is becoming more and more vulgar so this'll be the last update mmmkay?

David Archuleta ALL THE WAY!!! Go, go, go davey!

Go The Distance / The World's Greatest

Here I am. 1 in the morning. It’s my day off and I’m wasting precious sleeping time staring at that bright star (or is that Venus) glistening beside the crescent moon (Sailor Moon is that you) while reminiscing the past 21 years of my life.

When I was younger I always think that I’m destined for greatness. That someday I could find a cure for AIDS or devise the means to end poverty or bring that elusive world peace to reality or become an eponym for a medical procedure or a disease, like Ruff-du-Jour’s Syndrome or Ruff-the-Unbearable Maneuver.

But here I am. 1 in the morning, wasting my day off and wandering why I fail to be that person I so dream of.



I turned my iPod on, clicked Shuffle, and there plays Michael Bolton’s “Go The Distance.”

Okay I’m just bluffing. It actually played Mary J. Blige’s “Be Without You” but typing Bolton makes this post sound a bit facetious.

As a nurse, my days evolve around my professional life in the hospital and my almost non-existent personal life which I could sum up into two words: eating, sleeping.

Like an epiphany of some sorts, stuffs miraculously perfuse into my head and slowly converted into words to fill this blog that could be easily categorized as “Archived” or “Abandoned” due to my neglect and inattention.

And on that note, here are twenty realizations (originally two-thousand and eight) for the past twenty years of my life.

(1) I, actually, am a good person. Very good person.

(2) I am not a composite of Meredith Grey, or John Dorian, or Carrie Bradshaw, or Elle Woods, or any other fictional character into any fictitious show that deludes me into the belief that they’re “just playing my life.”

There’s no point in me imagining that my life will take a Grey’s Anatomy turn of events because I'm not Meredith Grey. I'm more like George O’Malley, if anything, but the truth is I am my own character writing my own story.

I have a life of my own. And I am real. I am better than Grey, Dorian, Bradshaw, Woods, McDreamy, and so much more. I am Ruff. And I'll be great.

(3) My ideal guy is just around the corner, and sooner or later, he’ll get to find me. It’s just that we’re both busy chasing our dreams that our lovelives is a little haywire. After some readjustments of goals, he’ll come to me, and we’ll live happily ever after.



(4) But I would then buy my own car before that happens. Public transport just wouldn’t do.

(5) I could not believe how many people died during my stay in the Intensive Care Unit. Five died under my care (but not due to my negligence thank you very much), and I could recall their names, their faces, and their life histories.

P.M., F.A., A.B.L., N.B. and E.C., requiescat in pace.

(6) I, however, saved a thousand more.

And I’m not being too pompous when I said that.

(7) Regarding the previous statement, seeing people walk out of the hospital alive is the reason why I keep holding on to my job. Sleepless nights and all, body pains, infections and all, being unappreciated and all, I do *freaking love what I do.

(8) I am loved by many people. And I love many people. This alone makes me special.

(9) I may have plenty, but I am not the sum total of all my failures.

(10) I already know who and what are important. I just have to keep reminding myself of them.

(11) By default, I am destined to kill somebody (job-related or otherwise).

(12) No amount of treadmill, protein shakes, bench presses and yoga sessions could compensate for the fact that I love to eat. I know, I know, that my obsession to Starbucks, Jollibee, Big Mac, Yellow Cab, TGIF, Cheesecakes etc., and Bubba Gump is deleterious to my health.

(14) It’s actually easy to be happy.

Most of my unhappiness stems from being too conscious about how I come off to other people. And all my happy moments are the times when I simply did not care.



(15) I am the best there is at what I do.

(16) There's no point in thinking that people, including myself, will get what we deserve. Mostly because we have no right to judge what, exactly, people deserve.

(17) Maganda pala ako. (Trans: I am actually beautiful.)

(18) And in line with that, I don't need someone else to validate my good looks. Normally when I wish for such validation they come in the form of condescending remarks coming from people trying to ask personal favours from me or ill-spelled private messages from people who've seen my friendster, facebook or g4m profile. That kind of validation I do not need. And besides, if I cannot find myself attractive how can I expect anyone of reasonable taste and intelligence to do so?

(19) I still believe that I’m destined to do great things.

(20) This is supposed to be my hundredth post but since I suck at: (1) math, (2) remembering dates, and (3) finding time to write, I missed the momentous event. Well, it’s still memorable naman. My 101st.

(21) Twenty-one is not a time for a quarter-life crisis, or for any kind of crisis. This is the time where I've got life by the balls. This is the most empowered I have ever been. At sixteen I may have thought I could conquer the world. At eighteen I may have thought I had the legal licence to do so. At twenty I felt that now I had the right to go nuts all over the world. But now is really the time where my life and my decisions and the resulting consequences are truly my own. I should always remember that, and live according to that truth.

*

In an emo fit I once yelled, “Twenty-one and what am I doing with my life?”

Well, I'll tell you.

I'm living it.

Images from here.

One Moment In Time

Finally the Christmas and New Year hype is over.

That, probably, is the understatement of the year as I celebrated both overly momentous occasions within the confines of the Intensive Care Unit.

In fact, I’m just starting with my Holiday shopping, starting with buying some presents for myself, a few more for my very few loved ones, and a bit some for my even fewer godchildren.

In fact I couldn’t even imagine how my almost nonexistent paycheck could extend, morph or warp into something that could afford me this, this, or this.









On the other hand, working in a hospital gives you that guilt-free pass for not showing up with your pesky albeit cute godchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins, etc. or whoever believes that the gift-giving Christmas tradition must be impeccably honored.

Anyways.

The year that was reminds me so much of several things:

1. That if Britney would die and reincarnate, the reincarnation would be me;
2. That I was making small steps in my way of making my dreams come true;
3. That spending time with a loved one is exhilarating, but surviving alone through those cold, lifeless nights is more fulfilling, and;
4. That despite how much fulfilled we think we are, there, inevitably, will be some regrets that will haunt us forever.

For instance:



I was that Whitney.

But eventually I am going to marry my own Bobby Brown, waste my money buying crack cocaine, and spend my days watching my own personal videos in youtube, or xtube, or wherever.

So for this year, I only have one personal wish.

That I will live my life without regrets. I will be ruthless and unforgiving. I will be bold, and brazen, and remorseless. I will never ask for anyone’s approval. I will live my life the way I feel. And for this year, I will be the best me.

And I’m starting it now.

Happy New Year everyone!

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Merry Christmas Everyone!

All I Want For Christmas Is You

I have always believed in this saying:


Verso: "If we all gave freely and sweetly of ourselves, we would all end up with MORE." (Source)

So, for this yuletide season, feel free to send greeting cards, personal note, parcel/package, gifts, or whatever, to this address.

Nurse Ruff C., R.N.
Intensive Care-Coronary Care Unit (ICU-CCU-Pay)
UST Hospital
Espana, Manila 1008

Weapons of mass destruction need not be sent.

And to all of my frequent readers, haters, blog-friends, fans (haha, as if), supporters, and critiques, here’s my advance Christmas Gift to all of you.



Thank you for supporting Unbearable Lightness. Have a very meaningful Christmas everyone!

On Saturday Afternoons In 1963

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Piece Of Me

Good day! The Nurse-Du-Jour is currently swamped from saving people's lives. Though it has been his personal imperative to maintain his privacy and what he usually does at work, the video that follows will show you a glimpse of his job description, including what he has to say every time he visits a patient, his usual manner and demeanor, and what he typically does at their bedside.



See, I told you. His patients are just very lucky to have him as their nurse.

Miss you much!

Some Good Things Never Last

I just finished watching the debut episode (A Change Is Gonna Come) of the 4th Season of Grey’s Anatomy… and it was sooooo good!

Saying that this episode is spectacular is an understatement. It was like I’m seeing too much of a good thing it’s almost illegal. I know that downloading shows over the Net is unlawful but for the love of everything-Meredith-Grey-related, I do not have the patience of Job. Impulse control is not even included in my vocabulary.

"Change; we don’t like it, we fear it, but we can't stop it from coming. We either adapt to change or we get left behind. And it hurts to grow, anybody who tells you it doesn’t is lying. But heres the truth: the more things change, the more they stay the same. And sometimes, oh, sometimes change is good. Oh, sometimes change is everything."

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I was at the Philippine Nursing Expo over the weekends (hence, the busy part) and seriously, aside from too much promotional crap, the expo was the epitome of organizing gone awry. From the scheduling of the programs, to the choice of the venue, the conference was indisputably a one-man-show. It was still good, though.

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Besides, a trip to the Megamall wouldn’t be complete without the compulsory visit to the “house that calories built.”

Krispy Kreme.

I couldn’t decide as to whether I should buy a dozen of Original Glazed Doughnuts or the Assorted Ones, so I bought a Double Dozen.

And lookie lookie! They even have the UAAP Men’s Basketball Final Four Doughnuts! Of course, I bought the UST Growling Tigers (the one with the yellow candy sprinkle).



I’m telling you guys, Krispy Kreme is evil, evil, evil! I have researched the caloric contents of their doughnut varieties and darn, on the average, each doughnut contains 300 calories in it (from 200 for the Original Glazed upto 350 for my personal favorite, Chocolate Iced Kreme Filled) which is almost equivalent to 1 and a half cup of rice or this. Moreover, through-the-roof amounts of trans-fats, cholesterol, sugars and saturated fats in a single dozen-box would be enough to fuel a furnace or operate a locomotive and I’m not even kidding.

My family is addicted to those deliciously sinful confectioners despite the fact that my mom is a diabetic and my dad has a heart disease. Using both of their genotypes to predict my phenotypic characteristics, I definitely am destined to suffer an early, untimely, catastrophic, tragic death. From obesity, bulimia or Prader-Willi syndrome, you take your pick.

If my neurons aren’t working well right now, it’s probably because I’m devouring on too much calories from the remaining pieces of doughnuts and my brain cells are essentially dehydrated from them too much glucose. And I’m telling you, I. JUST. CAN’T. STOP. EATING. THEM.

I’m getting an unlimited season’s pass to Bulimics Anonymous immediately after I publish this entry.

I know. This too shall pass.

What are your guilty pleasures?

This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race

This entry is a little overdue primarily because of one stupid reason: I FREAKING MISSED THE EMMY’S.

I freaking have to wait for a whole freaking week to watch the freaking replay last freaking Saturday in the freaking Kabarkada Channel. I’m keeping this freaking post freaking short and freaking sweet okay?

Enough of freaking intro stuffs, here are my freaking observations:



1) Ryan Seacrest, this year’s host, is a bit ho-hum, but I’ll give him A- for effort. Don’t expect something comedic to come out of an un-comedy host. It’s like expecting the author of this site to show his image in public. If you expect otherwise, keep shooting for the stars.

2) The Red Carpet? Lots and lots of gorgeous actresses (Helen Mirren, Debra Messing, Ali Larter, America Ferrera, Vanessa Williams, Tina Fey, etc. need I say more?)! It felt like I’m seeing too much of a good thing that it’s almost sickening (it’s like consuming 6 Krispy Kremes and a Venti Strawberry Frap in one sitting)! Heidi Klum? Breathtaking Donut. Kate Walsh? Stunning Cupcake. Katherine Heigl? Immaculate Milkshake!

3) Fast forward to the show proper. Remember my Emmy Forecast, well, I got 7 correct predictions out of the 11 categories I’ve critiqued. (That is fairly decent considering how tight this year’s competition is). That’s still 73%, though – a freaking F (okay, no more freaking this time).



4) The Sopranos winning Outstanding Drama Series is so predictable. James Gandolfini losing to James Spader as Outstanding Actor for Drama for Boston Legal is totally unexpected (even Spader himself was surprised, ie., "I feel like I just stole a pile of money from the Mob, and they're all sitting over there"--points to The Soprano mobsters). Kinda like The Soprano’s finale. Poof. Zee end.

5) Sally Field won Outstanding Actress for Drama for Brothers and Sisters, as predicted. I was a little apprehensive of her acceptance speech though. I was expecting a “You like me, you really like me” vibe but instead, she dedicated the award to all mothers… saying that if mothers rule the world, there will be no goddamn wars, or something to that effect. Hearing the word goddamn from an actress who doesn’t like war is a bit oxymoronic. You wouldn’t hear my mom say goddamn! How about yours?

6) Remember this line:

Who I want to win for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Dramatic Series:

Katherine Heigl, Grey's Anatomy, ABC (I’m hell sure of this! Katherine Heigl's portrayal of Dr. Izzie Steven, particularly by the debut and the end of the 3rd Season, etched this Emmy win. I'm staking my life and reputation for Heigl's win this year. *wink).

Well, I told you so. =)



7) More of Heigl, I just love your speech. In verbatim: “My own mother told me that I didn’t have a shot in hell of winning tonight.” Your goddamn mom is wrong! You should’ve said “I told you so” while doing the chicken dance onstage. In your face! In your face!

8) 30 Rock won the Outstanding Comedy Series category (as predicted). Another good reason to buy its DVD or download the series off the Net. America Ferrera is stunning in Monique Lhuillier, read, Pinoy. Ricky Gervais won on the distaff side. By the way, Ricky Gervais, who?

9) On the Supporting Actors side, Terry O’Quinn won for Lost, Jeremy Piven for Entourage and Jamie Pressly for My Name is Earl. Expect a Vanessa Williams, Masi Oka, and TR Knight comeback next year. And I hope Michael Hall (Dexter) will finally get at least a nod.



Lastly, 10) Christina Aguilera and Tony Bennett’s performance of “Steppin’ Out With My Baby” is so classy jazzy. Loved the salmon dress, except that the water-weight, read obese tummy, is showing. Oh, is that a (baboy) baby bump? I get it. It’s in the song.

Verdict: A for the multitudinous stars, etc., A- for the host, A+ for the presentors, B+ for editing, B- for the voiceover (read, Heigl, nor Heijl). Overall, I’ll give the 59th Primetime Emmy Award Show an average rating of A-.

Best Dressed Woman of the Night: Heidi Klum
Best Speech of the Night: James Spader
Most Deserved Win: America Ferrera
This Year’s Booboo: The seating arrangement.

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PS. Images from stuff.co.nz, imdb.com and tv.yahoo.com. Album reviews on next post.

Dirty Little Secret

I’ll let you in into my dirty little secret. It’s not that dirty, really, it’s more of narcissistic actually. Remember this post where I have discovered a face recognition and a celebrity matching site? Well I have tried (it again) using my recent photo, and as expected, I’m kind of pleased with the results.



What is really amazing? (1) Most of the celebrity results are Asians (when in fact I don’t look that chinito, aside from my ex-lover who persistently told me that I do). (2) I have several celebrity look-alikes who appeared both in my last year snapshots and in my recent image results (take in case Zhang Ziyi, Song Hye-Kyo, etc.). And (3) I still think they’re quite accurate. Talk about self-absorption. =)

What is your dirty little secret? And who are your celebrity look-alikes?

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You can try the celebrity look-alike engine here.

Tears In Heaven

Music and me—we’re inseperable. If not for a lightning striking me alive whilst wearing my iPod, an acoustic/vestibular Schwannoma (cancer arising from ear cells) will definitely kill me in the future.

I’ve had melodiacal-inspired posts before (my top ten songs, my Samson post, my Vanessa Williams obsession, etc). But this time, I have decided to list the ten songs that moved me to tears and made me cry. Not in a heartrending, poignant way, but songs that literally made me CRY, as in weep with anger, pain and hatred that made me wish I wasn’t born at all.

Feel free to curse, say shitty stuffs, and throw your computer screens or laptops while reading this post.



10. Barbie Girl (Aqua)

This is the most promiscuous, pedophilic, immoral song ever written! How dare you turn Barbie, my favourite pre-pubescent toy, into a twisted sexual object! Hello? “You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere… kiss me here, touch me there, smell-my-panty.” Pervert!!! Lene Marlin, you’re destined to burn in hell with this song. I assure you of that.

9. Lucky (Britney Spears)

Don’t get me wrong! I adore Britney Spears. I think that her songs You Got It All and From the Bottom of My Broken Heart are good albeit mediocre pieces. But this song, complete with its music video, is plain unacceptable. Why oh why Britney?! “Isn’t she lovely, this Hollywood girl?” Are you even pertaining to yourself with that line? Lovely? Hollywood? Girl?

8. Mirror Mirror (M2M)

Randomly pick 2 Norwegian women afflicted with precocious puberty, give the 1st lady a piano and the other one a guitar, inoculate Diphtheria bacilli in their pharynges, and give them a screen-name a flaming queer will definitely enjoy. That is the perfect recipe for success.

7. Boombastic (Shaggy)

I’ve danced this tune once when I was in elementary with matching shades, baggy pants and psychedelic-printed polo. The day after that my theatre teacher excluded me from the school play, my basketball teammates refused to talk to me, my childhood crush hated me, and I was scorned even by my best friend. Such harsh, harsh childhood. Damn you, Shaggy.

6. The Ketchup Song (Las Ketchup)

I was in Freshman College when this song surprisingly turned out to be a huge hit. During our college week, when my professors with Ph.D., MD, Ll.B., Ed.D, M.A. and M.Sci. degrees danced this as a part of college presentation, I have lost trust in each of them. No self-respecting person would dance this song… in public… ever.



5. Bye Bye Bye (N*Sync)

My comment? Well N*Sync, Bye Bye Bye! See you with Britney!

4. All Filipino Novelty Songs (M2M, ie., Many to Mention)

I think it all started with Bayani Agbayani’s Ocho Ocho, followed by Muskulados’ Jumbo Hotdog, then Viva Hot Babes’ Bulaklak, and Alienic’s Dayang Dayang. Enter Joey de Leon’s Itaktak Mo, reciprocated by the uber-controversial Willie Revillame’s Boom-Tarat and Iyugyug Mo among others. Enter Mystica, Mahal and Mura, Michael V., Vhong Navarro, Angelica Jones, and so much more. One person to blame though, Lito Camo. You’re going to pay for the countless lives you’ve destroyed with your songs Lito. Mark my words!

3. Mmm-Bop (Hanson)

Mmm-bop, badu-badop-badu-bop, badu-badop-badu-bap, bado ba dap ba doo. Yehe yehe. What the f*&% was that? Please explain.

2. Macarena (Los del Rio)

Don’t tell me you didn’t memorize the steps of this song?! When I was little and my brain’s the size of my testicle, I would dance this song to the point of exhaustion. That was the time when I believed that Spice Girls were homosexual men in drag clothing, LA Lopez is an alien incarnate, and shouting Power-Up will transform me into Pink Ranger. Now, I definitely know better.

And the number one… drumroll please…

1. Magic Carpet Ride (Aring-King-King-King) (Steppenwulf)

What on earth was the inspiration for this song? If I would be president, I will definitely impose Death Penalty to criminals by playing this Aring-King-King sh*t over and over again until their heads explode or they slam their heads so hard they crack open! This song is trash epitomized.

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Do I hear you cursing? Just kidding. Feel free to youtube the songs if you’re not familiar with them. Now I couldn’t get this annoying Aring-King-King-King song off of my head. Dang!

Ballad Of A Passer's Heart

The day was dark, the sun’s out of sight
And it’s rays obscure, covert
The clouds are thick, yet Ruff went out
To see his grades so fair.

“Dear Madam,” he pleaded as he claims
Before the glass windows his rates
“My passing is true; why have you kept
Me waiting all these weeks?”

The Madam looked at him unmoved,
It seemed, and hollered high:
“Persistent Youth, you have to prove
By this paper your grades are true.”

“There’s not a thing I would not do
For you I will but prove.”
“Then go,” said she “to that Window Three
And bring this sheet to thee.”

Without another word, Ruff flew
And went to Window Three
The lady gave the Man his grades
He almost shed a tear!

Then back to the Madam fair he ran,
Unmindful of the rain
His scores are fine but she yelled “Oh God!”
So loud, the crowd’s enthused.

Still in his hand, he held the sheet
Scored stratospheric lofty-high
“With grades like that why’s your name not seen,
On the paper’s Top Ten batch?”

And then he heard a voice, not from
his lips nor from Madam
“Get up,” it said, “you’re on the Eleventh Rank!”
It was the Board Chairman.

*..

Dang! Almost! I’m 0.2 points shy from reaching the tenth rank. Well, that’s life. I should be thankful I even passed the Boards. To that PRC Madam, thank you so much for extending all the help.

This is *sooo the worst poem in history. Normal happy posts will be back in a few days.

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“Ballad of a Passer’s Heart,” a parody of Jose La Villa Tierra’s “Ballad of a Mother’s Heart.” Original version here.

Remember Me This Way

I have been here in the Unbearable Lightness for 3 years already and ever since I began blogging, I still haven’t posted my real image. Aside from some readers who also read my other blog somewhere here in blogger, which is still active by the way, this post will be your most precious opportunity of ever seeing the real me.

Have your bibs, suction apparatuses and popcorns ready. And if you’re ready, slowly browse down.

Ready?

Ready!

.

.

.

Elloh ev-wee-one, I’m Nurse Wuff!
Happy to meet you! Can I give you a kiss?

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And please don't copy/repost/reproduce the images posted in The Unbearable Lightness without my permission, or whatever. So un-classy. =) See ya.