Saturday, January 26, 2008
Karma ComaTalented NBA All-Star and eccentric (yet popular) blogger Gilbert Arenas developed a new way to look at his life day-to-day with the coming of the new year. He formulated a simple reflection exercise that one could do to determine how happy one is with his/her life. He urged people to look at each day that passes every night and figure out whether or not they were happy that day. If they were, they get to put a bar under the Happy Days column. If they weren't, they have to put a bar under the Sad Days column. Additonally, they must provide the reason why that day wasn't a happy one. At the end of each month, people are asked to tally the Happy and Sad days throughout the month. If one gets a 25-5 or 20-10 even, he/she is living a good life. 15-15's pretty good too. But once one goes below the .500 mark, he/she has to re-evaluate his/her life. Something must be wrong.
January, 2008. It's been 25 days. I'm on 10-15.
It may sound overly far-fetched and vaguely stupid, but hey, I've been following it and what I've come to learn from it is that January has been one sucky month. From the failing Finance long test score, to the rise of SO MANY personal issues with so many people I love and care about (details not disclosed), to getting sick for almost a week, to undergoing the most painful experience I've ever been through in my life (tell you about that later), things just don't seem to want to let up in January. I need 6 straight happy days before hitting the Reassessment Zone and trust me, an emo child growing up, you DO NOT want me to head back to the Reassessment Zone. They'd give me a hero's welcome back there, knight me, crown me, and eventually, once I figure out that the people around those parts aren't exactly "a happy bunch," tie/lock me up and force me to stay forever.
For all those who believe in karma, I may finally be getting mine right now. An entire pail of karma, slowly filling up through the years, reaching the brim, spilling drop by drop until suddenly, that cruel bitch Fate topples it over and pours it all over me. Flooding me, depriving me of breath, and strangely enough, killing my tooth.
If you really know me, the biggest insecurity I would probably have about my body is my teeth. Ah yes, years spent trying to correct the dental problems that equivalent one of those orcs in Lord of The Rings. I used to have absolutely terrible teeth. Canines jutting out from the side, molars displaced, baby teeth refusing to go away, some teeth even missing, etc. If there were a "Before and After" shot for a product that promises perfect teeth, I would have been perfect being "Before." Except I'd never really made it to "After." Hehe. Anyhoo, I guess some improvement has happened, mind you, and while I may not have pearly whites worthy of the Close-ups and the Sam Milby's, I'm no
Efren Bata Reyes either. I'm confident enough to smile when cameras are flashing anyway.
Anyway, a couple of days ago, I had a root canal. My very first one. Yayy! Bring out the photo albums, this one's a keeper! To put it plainly, if pain were a city, root canals would be right along Main Street. Imagine having your tooth drilled down, then having your nerve ending butchered up, THEN getting a pus abscess inside (which looks like it can fill up an entire Yakult cup [and still make the Yakult look the same]) jimmied up and flushed out. Drill + nerve ending + infection draining = jay's face about to explode. I cried for two or three hours after the operation. I couldn't open my right eye because if I did, I'd feel this sharp tinge in my tooth. I couldn't stand it. It made me wonder if root canals could ever be used as effective torture devices in detainment camps. Haha. Because if there was any ANY ANY information I could provide just to make the pain stop, I would have caved in immediately. Haha.
Anyway, I'm still waiting on the results as to whether or not they will be able to drain all the pus or if the tooth will be stable enough after they drain everything. If they're not able to drain everything, or if the tooth is unstable, BAM! Extraction. Hayayay.
Now if I could only learn how to play billiards....
Note: a brilliant upside I've noticed is that through these tough times I have resisted the urge to light one. Yes. It's been five months since my last stick and I'm feeling great. That, coupled with my diet and fitness regimen, has allowed me to lose seven pounds in three weeks. I really miss Persian cuisine though. One night last week, I couldn't contain myself. I felt like a pregnant woman (okay, poor metaphor). Despite strong rains and the violent urging of my parents to stay home and eat their flimsy, store-bought salads, I trekked all the way to Metrowalk and treated myself to Chello Kobideh Kebab with butter rice. Hmm, what do you know? A mini-preview of how things are going to be? No matter how hard they prodded me to stay home and no matter how illogical it seemed to brave the rain by myself and moreover, break my diet, I had to leave. I just had to. Nothing could stop me. And hey, I went home feeling really happy and fulfilled. Fast forward one and a half years later? Hehe.
Anyway, I'm just dishing out random thoughts here. I'm a bit scatter-brained. I'm trying to get myself back on the blogging track. Haha.
the adventure ended at 1:14 PM
