Have you met Manners?

 

Hey, someone is approaching towards me. Oh wait, she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are glued towards something on my table. Few feet away from me, she grabbed that precious lucky thing, stared on the papers she’s carrying and I bet she’s trying to figure out how to use the darn thing. For a split second, I wanted to open my mouth, asked her of what she’s doing but my words are swallowed together with the giggles I fought so hard to suppress. And with all her recollected knowledge and mustered strength, using  one hard blow, I heard the clanging bells to the tune of, SUCCESS! Congratulations paper puncher, you did well!

But wait, are you curious of where am I the entire show? I was there, standing in front of my messy table trying to make sense of the seemingly irreconcilable periodical deliveries, that’s  more or less two feet from her. I watched her from the time she was two feet away from my table, when she looked down and took my paper puncher and seriously looked at it trying her luck on how to correctly operate it. I was about to clap when finally she punched it successfully, took her papers and left, completely oblivious of my presence and that of the student assistant’s.

Did she just used my paper puncher situated on top of my table without a word or anything?

I stood there, dumbfounded.

I sat  back on my chair, took my hands to the keyboard and typed GMRCIn Google’s index, the GMRC that I was looking ranked 3rd in 0.36 seconds because Gas Machinery Research Council (GMRC) ranked 1st and 2nd. No wonder.

The lady, who for a moment met and used an in-explainable alien on my table must have forgotten her grade school’s good manners and right conduct.

Now, I keep wondering, “Did she ever met manners? or Will she ever meet one?”

 

 

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See You Next Month, Dyse.

It’s been eleven years now.

While others spent years waiting for something, I don’t. How I wish, one day you will be gone. The misery your visits caused me is already past my tolerable stage. I know you are nature’s gift but I envy others who receive and enjoy your visits without the slightest trace of discomfort.

Dysmenorrhea. Yes, it’s you I’m talking to.

Oh wait, I’ll call you “Dyse”, in honor of your loyalty and perfect attendance for the past eleven years.

According to Familydoctor.org, you are a term for menstrual cramps that some women experience before their periods. Luckily, I am one of the “some women”. There is nothing serious about the pain though, but man, if your daily routine is hampered by the pain, I think that is something really terrible. I mean, who’s going to ignore that cannot-be-scratched-and-touched-pain aggravated by your unstable temper due to hormonal whatever?

I’ve tried a lot of medications ranging from the over-the-counter-drugs to the ones prescribed by the doctors. All they offer is a temporary relief from a whole-three-day “misadventure”. It is  very frustrating when you sit on your chair trying to figure out what to do when you only feel that stinging feeling underneath, that’s beyond unreachable.  Good thing, that I have my ever-reliable hot compress bag to soothe the really wild cramps down there.

I’ve heard folks saying that the pain will go away when you get married but I am married, for crying out loud. Then, I heard from the folks still, that it will go away when you bear children or give birth which I don’t think will happen to me some time soon. Health experts also say that the kind of lifestyle that you have and stress contributes to the severity of these cramps. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll get away with a stress-free and a healthy lifestyle anytime soon.

Unless I’m going to reset my priorities, there is nothing I can do to get rid of you, Dyse.

So, I think this is a bitter-see-you-next-month parting statement.

Bestie

I turn to you when my heart is topsy-turvy

I turn to you when I think I’m such a foolie

Then you whisper “baby don’t be silly ”

But I told you “I am crazy”

So I cry,

Like a baby

Such a loony lady

Then you say something misty

So I stood up

In my mind I created

My best friend beloved

Proud then said

So, now cry.

It is okay to cry.

Don’t be shy.

I’m your best friend, cry.

 

On being trampled

You!

Yes, you!

Do you hear me?

Do you know how it feels to see your face trampled in front of you?

Yes trampled, but no one but your own bare hands.

You feel that?

That strange painful sound from the innermost of your being shouting for help.

You made yourself low!

Your value deteriorated in your own hands.

Do you enjoy watching and shaming yourself?

You better do.

You better have a full and good view of it because it’s not gonna last.

You!

Yes, you!

Stop harassing yourself, leave it to them.

 

Casted on a Dark Spell

It hurts.

Oh no. I think it’s more than that because it hurts so much.

Those thoughts poison you.

It changes you right at the very instant the thought is born.

From then, you are under its dark spell.

The spell that casts nothing but pain, doubts, insecurities and ugliness.

It blinds you to the real beauty.

The beauty of everything.

Because today you think that you suck, that everything’s a mess.

And that no matter what you do, it’ll never be good enough, not even close.