sitting amuck

“So, as project associate, what do you do here in UNDP?” the auditor asked.

I count staple wires. I ensure the safety of people’s butt cheeks by seeing to it that there’s no wire left lying on the seats. Or at the very least, gets eaten.

“Here’s my TOR. Ask me questions when you’ve gone through that,” I answered without taking my earphones off.

It’s only 830 in the freaking morning and I am already Moodzilla.

I check the calendar on my phone. To whoever will be with me in the next few days, please fasten your seatbelts and put back your seats in their full, upright and locked position. Turbulence ahead.

Or in this case, PMS ahead.

Say it with me, P…M….S… which stands for, not pre-marital sex– you dimwit– but Pre-Menstrual Syndrome.

Guys who are so not caught up with themselves 24/7 (God, bless their souls and increase their tribe) and actually take time to observe their girlfriends/ wives/ sister/ any female, refer to PMS as that mood disorder which occurs sometime prior to her monthly period.

Of course, some men, seem to know about PMS, but to them, it’s just one of the caprices that women overdo. Like buying another pair of Havaianas when she already has 12 or so pairs. They don’t have a clue of how disabling and devastating it can be.

Case in point, I was in for some retail fix to deal with my nasty PMS when my then boyfriend decided to tag along.

X: How’s your day dear?

Moodzilla: Okay. (Continues walking, outpaces boyfriend who at that time was walking toooooo slowly.)

X: Marathon girl, slow down. You sure you’re ok?

Moodzilla: (stops, puts her hands on her hips) I haven’t had enough sleep in the past 3 days, my skins’ breaking out, I weigh 20 lbs. heavier than Iggy and Mike Arroyo and all their lies put together, I can’t wear my favorite skirt because I have 8,000 bruises and I can’t shave my legs because the slightest touch of razor on my skin will cut it, I’m nauseous, I wanna scream, I wanna cry because I’ve been walking around this freaking mall for the past 47 minutes and I haven’t bought a thing!!!!

X: I understand how you feel.

Moodzilla: No you don’t!! You don’t have ovaries, breasts, insane progesterone and estrogen levels to begin with, how will you know?!!!!

X: Sunshine, come here. (gives me a hug). Why don’t we go back to the car first and make out? To make you feel better. (winks)

Moodzilla: (un-wrenching myself from his manyak embrace) You know what, you’re soooo selfish, right now I can kill you with my bare hands!!!!

I wasn’t kidding. I really meant to do an Oren-Ishii on him since PMS has been used as a mitigating factor in murder charges.

As RJ’s research would show, in 1980 20-year-old Christian English of the United Kingdom made her boyfriend intimate with a pole as she rammed him against it after a fight. English’s defense was that she had an aggravated form of PMS, which contributed to a drop in blood sugar and an overproduction of adrenalin before the incident. The court found her “not guilty” of murder and her charges were reduced to manslaughter as a result of diminished responsibility.

Also in the UK , 29-year-old Sandie Craddock got off a murder charge after stabbing a co-worker to death after she pleaded diminished responsibility because of PMS. The judge accepted the argument that PMS was a mitigating factor in the incident because it turned Craddock (quote, unquote) “into a raging animal each month.” A review of Craddock’s diaries revealed that each of her past 30 convictions and multiple suicide attempts occurred roughly the same time as her menstrual cycle. Craddock was found guilty of manslaughter, placed on probation and ordered to take progesterone treatment.

Of course I didn’t kill him. Where’s the fun in that?

I just came very close to doing it.

***

Anyway, for my many guy friends who go into nervous breakdown once a month, month after month when we, members of the fairer sex enter that difficult part of our reproductive cycle, I’ve done some scholarly research to enlighten you on this—what’s your appropriate term for it?—curse? God’s wrath to men? Basta, PMS (praise be to the gods of google!) Please read through:

Premenstrual Syndrome (PMS) Causes

Premenstrual syndrome occurs during the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle. This phase occurs immediately after an egg is released from the ovary and lasts from day 14 through day 28 of a normal menstrual cycle (day 1 is the day your period begins).

During the luteal phase, hormones from the ovary cause the lining of the uterus to grow thick and spongy. (That’s the reason why we get bulging pusons.) At the same time, an egg is released from the ovary. If the egg meets sperm, it may implant in the lining of the uterus and grow. (This is when the girl says, “Honey, it’s positive” and depending on their civil and financial status, the guy could either faint or jump with joy.) At this time, the level of a hormone called progesterone rises in the body, while the level of another hormone, estrogen, begins to drop. The shift from estrogen to progesterone may cause some of the symptoms of PMS.

• At first, some medical professionals believed that changing progesterone levels alone could account for a woman’s mood, behavior, and physical changes during the luteal phase (or second half) of the menstrual cycle. Progesterone interacts with certain parts of the brain that deal with relaxation. Newer studies suggest that other hormones and chemical changes may also be at work.

• For example, women develop deficiencies in a part of their nervous system called the endorphin system. Endorphins are "feel good" hormones. Normal levels contribute to cheerful, happy moods and also make people less sensitive to pain. (Drugs such as heroin and morphine act like super endorphins.) A small amount of these "feel good" endorphins usually circulate in the body, but these levels drop during the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle. In some women, falling endorphin levels may lead to nausea, jumpiness, and various types of pain.

• Many women with premenstrual syndrome retain water. This may occur because of cycling in hormones that affect the kidneys, the organs that control the balance of water and salt in the body. Fluid overload may cause some of the symptoms of PMS, especially swelling and weight gain, and may also aggravate some negative self perceptions and thus worsen emotional symptoms at this stage of the menstrual cycle.

• Diet may also be a factor in PMS. Progesterone, which affects insulin and levels of blood sugar, may affect alcohol tolerance and trigger the craving for sweets, especially simple sweets like candy and soda, that some women notice during the premenstrual phase. Such sweet foods break down very quickly in the body, so that blood sugar first goes up and then drops down low. Episodes of low blood sugar may contribute to both crying spells and the irritability that are part of PMS. Additionally, low levels of vitamin A, vitamin B6, and vitamin E may play a role in PMS.

• Hormonal cycling also affects the level of serotonin, a brain chemical that regulates many functions, including mood and sensitivity to pain. Compared to women who do not have PMS, some women who experience PMS have lower levels of serotonin in their brains prior to their periods. (Low serotonin levels are commonly associated with depression. Popular antidepressant medicines such as fluoxetine [Prozac] and paroxetine [Paxil] lift depression by raising levels of serotonin in parts of the brain.)

• Another theory explaining PMS involves inflammatory substances called prostaglandins. Prostaglandins are produced in the areas where PMS symptoms originate, namely, breast, brain, reproductive tract, kidney, and gastrointestinal tract. This suggests they may play a role in problems such as cramping, breast tenderness, gas, diarrhea, and constipation.

I feel bad at copying the preceding facts from a website word for word. I would’ve written a more entertaining explanation for PMS. But, I’m just not myself. (Schizophrenia? I don’t know, I would have to check.)

See, this PMS ain’t that simple. And unlike our stilettos which we often use as an excuse to stay seated while you get food/ coffee/ tickets for us, we do not use PMS as a license to be bitchy.

Err…well I speak for myself… I mean, why would I want to be in constant hostility with these creatures whose only fault is that they’re imbeciles?

The good news is, PMS does not last long. The turbulence eventually resolves itself.

Until then, please keep your seatbelts fastened— and take the necessary precaution.

Now, where’s that bar of Snickers?

“When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun, then you grow up to be cautious; you could break a bone, or a heart. You look before you leap and sometimes, you don’t leap at all because there’s no one to catch you. And in life, there is no safety net. When did it stop being fun and start being scary?” – Carrie Bradshaw

Okay, so I am still smarting over our defeat.

But I decided, enough of wearing sack cloth and ashes.

It is already summer. 

Bright colors. Vacations. The beach. Mini skirts. Havaianas. Lounging. Green mango shake. Dates.

‘Tis the season to be jolly.

M picked me up at 10:00 for coffee. It was supposed to be dinner. But I lost track of time. I was drowning in readings on public policy since I have to develop my syllabus for PA 241. Err… okay, no, I was glued to the Grey’s Anatomy marathon.

I can’t help it—McDreamy has beautiful eyes.

M, I realized as I was sipping my mint tea, also has beautiful eyes. He was discussing the global stock market, its recent crash, the contracting of the Chinese economy and the causes. I was trying my best to pay close attention when I heard someone say my name.

“Hey!” I said. A little overly excited. “How’s the campaign going? My gosh! Sobrang miss na kita.”

“Going great. Pag di kami dadayain, malamang nasa top six.” D, my friend from the Senate said.

We then started laughing and talking about COMELEC, GO, UNITY, and all the other things that we, spin doctors, power brokers and consummate-politician-wannabes are into.

Long story short, we were lost in our universe of controversy, manipulation and power play, all in the guise of public service, for what seemed like 15 minutes before I realized that I haven’t introduced M to D, and that we have actually excluded M.

Good job, G.H., good job, I told myself.    

“Your phone’s ringing,” I pointed to M’s Razr.

D kissed my left cheek and bid goodbye.

As he was walking towards the escalator, I noticed his shoes.

“D! Nice shoes man. What are they?”

D turned back. “Swoosh. Got them from the States. They don’t have these here yet.”

“You really are into shoes, no?” M was done talking on his phone.

“Um… yeah…” I answered.

“You love shoes, but you are always in Havaianas.” He said, smiling. Cute. Like really. 

“These are Roxy.” I grinned as my mind started running amuck at the possible scenarios for Philippine society in terms of economy, public finance and achievement of the MDGs after the May elections. 

I cannot help it. These things—politics, governance, planning, development—they’re in my DNA.

I mean, look, my post break-up dinners and coffee with friends allotted only 10 minutes to do post mortem of the failed relationship and another 10 to bash the freaking ex. The rest of the night is spent discussing the juiciest gossips within the nation’s halls of power, making fun of how this legislator lousily defended this pertinent bill, deciding which side of the political spectrum we will be on, and lately, arguing on why we should give this country a chance, instead of taking the next flight to greener pastures—a.ka. the US, Singapore, Australia or London.

Even on vacation in Bangkok during the holidays, the first thing I asked the receptionist at the tourist counter in Suvarnabhumi was, “So, how is your new prime minister?”

The receptionist handed me a map.

At least I have a somewhat clear idea of what I am interested in—or of what I see myself doing in the next two, five, ten years.

Unlike my present take on relationships.

True, a lot of my friends are getting married. Each time a friend decides to marry, I never fail to ask the bride/groom, “Are you sure he/she is the one you want to spend the rest of your life? And how did you know?”

They also never fail to deliver in a somewhat drunken stupor the exact same answer, “ He/she is the best thing to ever to me. My heart knew from the start. G.H., you will know when it happens to you.”

Three of these people, who gave me such answer, just this year, found themselves lining up at their lawyers’ offices and the courts to get an annulment.   

Of course I am a mainstay of this reality show. My parents separated when I was four. I’ve had boyfriends, and since I am currently single, that means I’ve broken up with all of them, which qualifies me to give a professorial lecture on breaking up.

Life does have a sense of humor.

One minute, both of you are so caught up in the rapture of love—you find it hard to breathe without each other. The next thing you know, the irreconcilable differences are out and you wish your ex-husband/ ex-wife/ ex-boyfriend/ ex-girlfriend the most violent death.

Paulo Coehlo said that “love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand-new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it because it is what nourishes our existence.”

I would understand those who wouldn’t even want to give love a try. As e.e. cummings wrote: Love has the power to open and close a person. It has the power to make or break a soul. 

After my third failed relationship, I am on the brink of hiding behind my books, and my masks, and my walls, because there, there isn’t any risk. There isn’t any vulnerability. There isn’t any possibility for frustration, or even for pain.

I was contemplating this option while taking a walk inside Ateneo the other night when a thought hit me. I don’t know where it came from. But it goes pretty much like this: “Wouldn’t it be nice to hold hands with someone while walking here on this bright summer night?”   

I didn’t have an answer.

I still don’t have one.

It is indeed something very confusing. 

M brought me home before midnight. We didn’t set another date. Could there be something wrong?

Um… he wasn’t able to make me laugh. Should I consider that a writing on the wall?

Oh well, I still have seasons two and three of Grey’s Anatomy to finish.   

The Warrior of
Light does not always have faith.

There are moments
when he believes in absolutely nothing. And he asks his heart: “is all this
effort really worth it?”

But his heart
remains silent. And the Warrior has to decide for himself.–

Paulo Coehlo, The Warrior of the Light, page 50

 

March 7, 2007

2:00 PM

 

Upset stomach.

That was what I
texted my boss when I decided to not go to work this morning.

Got stomach
cramps. My digestive acid’s spilling out of my nose, oozing from my pores.

Or at least it
felt that way.

 

***

 

I got home from
the HQ at around 3AM.

I woke up at 6AM
feeling cold.  

There’s a slight
drizzle outside. Sun’s not out.

Perhaps heaven
knows what we feel.

Stomach’s upset.
Everything’s upset.

I sit up and cry.

I cried till I
can’t breathe.

 

At

8AM

, tired from trying to make sense
of what happened the night before, I fell back to sleep.

My pillow,
drenched with tears. 

 

***

I woke up to M’s
call.

“Hey. Did I wake
you up? “

“Mmmm…”

“Have you eaten?”

“Had my ego for
breakfast. About to swallow my pride entirely for lunch. Sweetest taste ever.”

Sniff……

“Are you crying?”

Sniff….

“Dinner at Sugi?”

“Not hungry.”

“How about we go
to timezone?”

“Too noisy there.”

“Movie?”

“I’m too lazy to
go out.”

M sighs…

Hmm…did I just
hear a hint of impatience there?

Naa.. M’s too nice
to be get asshole on me…

I’m just having a
horrible day. That’s all

“Dude, super
thanks talaga, but I’m going back to sleep."

Please don’t think I’m giving you the cold shoulder.

"Bye."

***

I didn’t get to
sleep again.

There’s just too
many questions in my head.

Why why why? What
happened?

 
Truth was trying
to sink in.

But my pride won’t
let it.

****

We lost the
elections.

I should’ve bought
the Coehlo book last Tuesday, together with the March issue of Preview.

But I was too
cocky, I didn’t think I would need the book—which is described as “short notes
on accepting failure, embracing life and rising to your destiny.” 

***

End of blog.

Apparently, I am still at a loss for words.