My name is Tom. Tom PETTY.

There is value in opening up to the right people. Or at least people who will give you the same listening ear that you offer to them.

After a heartfelt conversation, I told someone to not apologize for pouring himself out to me, and that he can return the favor when I get the chance to do the same (meaning, pour my heart out, talk about my issues and let emotions rule).  To which he replied, "What? eh yang mga issue mo naman petty eh... like gusto mo pumuntang Boracay o whatever. Mag-asawa ka muna, mag-anak at makipaghiwalay ka sa asawa mo then we'll talk."

Ok. I acknowledge that I can be a brat. I can be petty. I don't know as much of the world as those who have piled on the years ahead of me. I make an issue out of needing to go to my happy place (Boracay, not Bora) or submerging my favorite Converse sneaks in a puddle of mud, having to deal with dirty restrooms and warm beer.  I don't know how it feels like to be separated from my spouse. Heck, I don't know how it feels like to have a spouse. I don't have children and I don't know how tough it is to be a single parent. 

BUT I have a mother with a terminal medical condition. At some point in the day the thought of losing ANOTHER loved one in a snap scares the shit out of me but I couldn't call home because I don't want to know.  I can't describe how it feels to see my mother cheat death over and over again. This is an old issue for our family and it's been going on for years. I'd understand if some people who've been hearing about it for quite a while eventually get tired of it.  For us, though, this causes a dire strain in the heart. It fucks up the mind. And going to the beach provides a respite from that. Watching a concert. Drinking beer. WORKING. All the petty stuff I do.

My point is what's petty to you may not be petty to me and that's fine. I understand that some people can relate to certain levels of petty while some carry greater... what do we call them? Burdens? As it is, I really don't open up to people much. When I think about it, most of the time, I actually listen more than talk.  There are a few friends I really open up to beyond the pettiness and perhaps the reason why I open up to them is because no matter how shallow or deep, significant or insignificant, these people have never looked at my issues as any less important or unworthy of drama.

This doesn't mean that just because someone sees me as petty I'll stop lending an ear to that person, too. I won't. If a friend is indeed a friend to me, I don't see their issues as petty because I recognize that everyone, regardless of age, has their own crosses to bear. And I know that even if I don't really know a thing or two about what they're going through sometimes, allowing them to pour their hearts out to a willing ear helps even a bit. I know that because my friends do that for me, too.

There. I just wanted to express what I really think dot com. And maybe this exact same post can be used as another example of why I'm petty.

I don't care. I'll be in Boracay by tomorrow!

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Hello, E.R.

Trips to the hospital Emergency Room are not unfamiliar to our family.  In the last seven years, we've had a lot of them in varying levels of urgency and each was always different from the one before it.  Suffice to say, we know how it feels to bring a loved one to the ER. Having never been confined in the hospital, I've always wondered how it felt like to be on the hospital bed, IV drips and all, but not that I wanted to experience it.

Around this time last year, I took a personal trip and experienced it for myself. It was harrowing, it  being a 'first' for me in many aspects: first allergic reaction; first time to drive myself to the ER; first time to feel extremely out of breath - the type where you grasp for air not knowing when you're going to pass out; first time to be injected for a hep-lock; and first time to lie in a hospital bed as a patient.

It was the uncertainty of it all that bothered me to a great extent. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if I was going to die. I didn't know if I could really trust them with my life. I wasn't sure that they were the best in their fields. Inspite of all my concerns, everything was resolved eventually. The doctors gave a good explanation (enough to satisfy my curious and discerning mind), including a proclamation that I shall avoid eating clams and similar shellfish for the meantime.  After that incident, there were three more instances where I had to be brought to the ER. Two of them because of allergies and one because of heartburn.  The heartburn was the scariest and most dramatic. I almost had an Armageddon moment when I thought I was having a heart attack, which turned out to be just an extreme case of acid reflux from all the vinegar I had that morning with my longganisa. I was imagining scenarios in my head while they took me around in a wheelchair, transferred to a hospital bed, injected with a hep-lock and attached wires to my chest for ECG. I noticed that the wrist tags were color-coded. The blue ones were for children (pedia), yellow ones were for adults, while red ones were for priority cases (read: SOMEWHAT critical) regardless of age. Camown.

That seemed a lot for a person like me who has never been confined or subjected to any life-saving treatment prior to this, but then again, it all seems minor when mom enters the picture because she always steals the show in terms of levels of urgency.  Most of the time, I wouldn't even inform her that I've taken a trip to the ER in order not to stress her. My father, on the otherhand, seemed to make fun of the situation everytime (I think only my mother can really make him enter a state of panic), snapping pictures of my swollen face and fingers and yapping about how I ate too much shellfish, more than what I deserved and this was why the universe was trying to get back at me.  Somewhow, that helped ease my worries a bit. Someone with a sense of humor holding my hand in an urgent situation is one thing I'm really thankful for. I had the happiest (and weirdest) emergency bed in the hospital.

Two months into the new year and I haven't had any allergic reaction even when I accidentally ate shellfish.  I hope I don't get to take any more trips and that the allergic reaction goes away. It sucks to not be able to eat all the shellfish that I want.

I swear.

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I consume alcohol.

It does NOT consume me.

Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway -- I survived the 7-day sobriety challenge and I've rewarded myself with... er, what else?

YEAH!

The Iceman Cometh. Again.

Yes. Again.

Kimi Raikkonen is back and I couldn't be happier. F1 needs a driver like him and he is more suited to F1 than any other racing discipline he's tried.  I didn't really lose interest in F1 when Raikkonen resigned from Ferrari and decided to do WRC, but I watched less of the races because it became too predictable. Red Bull was just so superior that there wasn't any doubt that they'd finish the season as champions.

Kimi, on the other hand, was okay with WRC. He brought life to the sport. His stature in the racing world is similar to David Beckham in soccer -- he has the ability to draw crowds and encourage them to patronize the Red Bull brand. I've been reading articles where journalists would say that Kimi's presence alone has helped the economy of the sport since he drives attendance and viewership. Too bad it was boring for him. Guess he missed the adrenaline of physically racing with opponents as opposed to setting best times.

I still have to get used to not seeing him in Ferrari Red or Red Bull Blue and the fact that he isn't in a tier-1 team, but I'm not expecting anything grand as of this point. I don't want to be speaking ahead. Just look at Schumacher. The guy just couldn't stop himself.

But at least I have another distraction. Kimi, I hope you win some races this year! I'm excited! :D

This shouldn't be so hard.

You're just so anal and paranoid. What happened to keeping cool? We want to motivate people and inspire them to work, not make them work because they're scared.

Just saying. No worries, I'll say this to your face, too.


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The Great 7-Day Sobriety Challenge

People really do underestimate me sometimes. I have officially begun a 7-day no alcohol challenge last Friday and I'm determined to see it through. This, after someone made a bet with me saying I couldn't stay away from alcohol for seven days straight. Of course, it was up to me to prove him wrong. My competitive side will always be evident in instances like this. I love being challenged and rising up to it, moreso when almost everyone says I couldn't do it.

Friday was movie night. I got three calls for booze last Saturday and turned them all down. Turned down a drinking invite yesterday and this afternoon, too. All these people from different sets of friends said the same thing: sober for 7 days? Not happening.

Funny, there are too many non-believers that I'm actually second-guessing myself.  I'm beginning to doubt that I could do it, too. Imagine that ice-cold bottle after a long day at work.... NO. I cannot imagine.  It's now less of winning a bet and more of proving to myself that I can set my mind into doing something and actually achieving it.  It is senseless and totally useless, but I'm prepared to see it through.

Day 4, here we go.

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