For the past three days I've felt like puking by the time I reach home.

:retch:

It's the same feeling you get when you spin around real fast while juggling pregnant rabbits at the same time then you suddenly stop and the world keeps spinning around cos the liquid in your ears keeps sloshing in tidal waves orienting and disorienting your balancing act--ever had that feeling?

:retch:

"Maybe you're pregnant," was my sister's enlightening hyposthesis.

Last Saturday I vomited a watery brown splat that resembled a bloody placenta.

"I can't be pregnant," I told my sister. It's not that I'm sexually deprived. It's just that my egg cells are picky; they wouldn't want to fertilize with spermatozoa that are physically and mentally inept. I've conditioned my eggs to become the next generation of Renaissance Babies who will revolutionize the history of the Philippines in the twenty-first century. They will be artists and poets and philosophers and scientists and saints and, err, pirates. They will be utterly disturbed and haunted by their visions that they will evade their mission with pills and drugs and liquor. They will be called "The Damned", "The Genius Drunk", "St. John The Crazie", "The Outsider", "The Enigmatic Hermit", "The Hobo That Speaks Parables In Binary Code". They will zap the nation from slumber and raise the Brown Frankenstein that is the Filipino. They will also assassinate all government officials and nuke all government establishments. They will be so successful that they will build their own funeral parlor that'll accommodate all the rotting corpses in the country. Nay, but my eggs haven't met their ideal wiggly spermies just yet.

"Besides," I said, "I'm having my period."

:retch:

The spasms rippling up and down my throat, they're caused by My Epic Three-day Mission in Trinoma Mall. That being, another volunteer service to The Mind Museum and National Geographic Channel. They have this baby blue whale exhibit at the fourth floor and I volunteered to man the information desk.

Three days in a shopping mall and bombarded with pointless sensory input, oh, what horror.

I've psyched myself that I was doing this as a homework for my country. Unconditional love thingamajiggy. Til death do us part.

:retch:

The exhibit itself was stunning: a replica of a nine-meter long, two-month-old blue whale. Around it were four flat-screen televisions relaying videos about the big blue. And then not far from the whale were three awkward scowling deskpersons in Mind Museum uniforms. I was one of those.

Uniforms. Yuuuuuuuuuuuuck. It's been a while since I wore a goddamn uniform. But of course, I love my country and its mountains (I'm doing this for my lovely lonely mountains :p) and I'll wear any stupid uniform to prove it.

....and another list! Because I am retchy and tired and too lazy to write in paragraphs.

The Causes of My Retchy Ordeal in Trinoma

1. The mall itself. Shopping malls are the stupidest invention of the twentieth century.
2. Too much sensory input. The blinding Christmas lights--there was just too much glitter and flash and dazzle and too much noise from all that collective chatter and booming pop music and multiple advertising audiomercials from different directions then there was the treble of the stupid music vibrating from the floor and desks giving a tactile touch to My Epic Three-day Volunteer Mission experience.
3. The humans that are not humans. Monkey hunks with bodies about to burst from their macho shirts. All those fake people catwalking stiff like they have dead, frozen, giant rats jammed up their asses. The transvestite gaytards, especially, they looked like feminized tribal chieftains or something. Angelica dela Cruz and Bobby Andrews passed by the big blue in different occasions and didn't give a rat's ass. Thousands of people passed by and only a few stayed to gawk and be awed by the biggest invention of nature of all time. People don't give a shit; they're all trapped in their tiny bubble of security and comfort and conformity and they want none of this baby blue science crap. There's just no point learning about it.
4. My two fellow volunteers. One was a delectable fashion-model-football-player airhead who talked about nothing but the fuckable hot mommas passing by. The other was a timid math-teacher wannabe who drove me into a discourse in alchemy and "homunculus" and "ouroboros". I've had the most boring conversations with the two of them. Both enjoyed talking about the trappings of their mediocre existence. I zoned out, slipped off my seat and dropped dead on the floor.
5. Oh the boredom. I cried myself to the Boredom Goddess to save me from suicidal boredom. I buried myself into Jon Krakauer's Into The Wild, Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, and Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace interrupted by the few inquisitive souls who asked mind-boggling questions like "Where's the real whale?" I'd give them my there-isn't-any-real-whale-can't-you-fucking-see-that's-all-there-is-to-it-use-your-common-fucking-sense look and say, "I don't know. Maybe it's in the ocean?"
6. There wasn't any vegetarian restaurant. All stalls in the food-court offered nothing but calorie-rich tasteless crap that tasted okay only when you swallow right away, which is what I did.

:retch:

I'd be spinning, spinning fast, in The Oblation pose, trying to rip open the fabric of space and time and create my own wormhole portal that'd teleport me to Sorsogon where my friends would be climbing Mt. Bulusan. I didn't join the climb just so I could volunteer for the whale exhibit.

I shouldn't have.

I hate my country! Garrrrr. Why the hell do I have to be born here?? Why can't I just be a hummingbird or a platypus or something? Why do I even have to be a living thing? Why can't I just be a cloud or a rainbow or a comet of booger smeared on the wall of a public restroom cubicle?

Any mountain is just so faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar away right when I need it, like, right now. Mountain climbing is my spiritual version of going to church. There's just peace and silence and beauty and simplicity and such buggerific abstract crap I couldn't understand as a kid. Up a mountain, life's wonderful to even just breathe.

After I graduate I know I will run away. Where to, I don't know yet. Or maybe I'll just stay here and breed my Renaissance Babies.

Babies. Yuck.

Fuuuuuuuuuck. The splitting headache!X0

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