The Princess Chronicles

a reprise of inspiration, oh what a power… entry for the 15th of july 2005

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        what moves you? i want to ask. where do you find your muse? or are you like me, constantly seeking, constantly struggling, always there in the midst of the stride, observing the conflict, soaking it up…

        i sometimes wonder if i was born this way, with questions inside my mind that needed to be answered. so, maybe i was born with nosiness and an unquenchable curiosity to discover more about the inner nature of things.

        i have discovered though, that the person who does not ask, never gets answers. that if i do not have the boldness to say, i don’t know and please teach me, no one will teach me. i shed the arrogance of adulthood and show myself as i am.

        see, i say, i am vulnerable. you can accept me or reject me. please tell me what i want to know because i do not know, i am an open book ready to be written upon, i am a sponge, ready to soak up all knowledge.

        i’ve stopped merely surviving. i’ve made the choice to live life, to discover the world every time, all over and anew. perhaps that’s why i love the fantastic, the mythic, the scientific, that which strives to break the borders of what is, because it is like seeing a break in the curtain of now…and discovering that we still hold within ourselves reflections of the divine.

     ..:: mood inspired by Chantal Kreviazuk’s these days ::..

        for several weeks i have constantly and consistently fed my evil indulgent little heart of one of its greatest pleaures — a weekly date with that small colored box.  and the greatest attraction was a doctor.  no, make that doctors.  call me weird, but i’m so fascinated by the pill-popping, wisecracking diagnostician named house.  odd name for someone whose bedside manner is blatantly absent.

        i’ve always been drawn to tv shows that make me think; though not always the discovery channel kind of thinking, more like murder she wrote and csi.  and a lot of weird puns sure brighten up my day.  remember the early years of picket fences and ally mcbeal, when david e. kelley is the main story writer?  that’s the kind of plot development and dialogue i go for.  and for now, house m.d. seems to give me that same buzz.  axn is showing its first season, now on the 10th episode. it’s mainly about dr. house, played by hugh laurie (who played stuart little’s father… uhm, i wouldn’t have pegged him to be the same guy).  house is this really great doctor and his main specialty is finding out what’s exactly wrong with the patient — which, if you watch the show, doctors seemed to have a hard time doing.  he has this team of assistants, a hospital dean he always gets into verbal tussles with, and this unlikely friendship with the oncology department head.  so what’s the catch?  house is very sarcastic.  he has this way of saying stuff that is not for the weak of heart.  and that is the main source of humor.  check this out:

i am a bored(?) certified diagnostician with a double specialty of infectious diseases and nephrology. i’m also the only doctor employed at this clinic who is here against his will… but not to worry, because for most of you this job could be done by a monkey with a bottle of motrin. speaking of which, if you’re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this. this is vicodin. it’s mine. you can’t have any. and no, i do not have a pain management problem, i have a pain problem. but who knows? maybe i’m wrong. maybe i’m too stoned to tell.  (ep. 1.02 occam’s razor)

        oh, i forgot.  he pops vicodin because of his leg.  i’ll leave you to find out what happened to it.  but what you’ll notice immediately is that he uses a cane.  so is he an unbearable sob because of it?  i don’t think so.  he’s an unbearable sob in spite of it. this is a guy we love to hate, but we can’t, kasi kawawa naman siya. how ironic!

        I can’t think of a better way to end this post than citing another witty house-ism:

Rachel Adler: I just want to die with a little dignity.
Dr. Gregory House: There’s no such thing! Our bodies break down, sometimes when we’re 90, sometimes before we’re even born, but it always happens and there’s never any dignity in it! I don’t care if you can walk, see, wipe your own ass… it’s always ugly, always! You can live with dignity; you can’t die with it!

..:: mood inspired by Dave Matthews Band’s some devil ::..

In Truths That She Learned
Or In Times That He Cried
In Bridges He Burned
Or The Way That She Died

…Measure, Measure Your Life In Love

      i’ve seen people measure themselves by the number of friends they have, how many expensive shoes they own, what their GPA’s are. i’ve known people who value themselves by the pound, by the inch, by the complexity of their words or by the magnitude of their paycheck. we keep trying to create value for ourselves every day. we put our lives on the auction block and keep hoping that someone bids higher and higher. the bill keeps adding up: good job, nice new car, no college debts, trust funds, never been touched, never been kissed, one, twice, three times a lady.

        sometimes, i wonder what it would be like to have people come with the same information you find in the side panels of cereal boxes. product trivia, nutrition information, ingredients, freshness guarantee, recipes to enhance the experience of consumption and expiry dates. in this consumer driven world, people are starting to look like commodities anyway. sometimes, the standards by which we measure ourselves could hardly be considered human.

        how much would it cost to keep it? which country did it come from? how old is it? has it been trained? does it come with a lifetime warranty? is it rare? is it real? i guess, the difference between me and a bag of potato chips is that it would hurt me terribly if i were left alone on a shelf. or if i were red-tagged. or if i were put on a blue-light special. it would just about push me to expiration if   i were placed on the sale rack or if i ever found myself in the return/exchange counter.

        i’d hate to think that we consume people now. i don’t want to have to worry about the re-sale value of my children. measure per pound of flesh. how much do we pay for the heart?

…:: mood inspired by: Rent’s Seasons of Love ::…