Ruth is a full-time writer. Foodie. Happy camper. Wanders a lot. Used to have the worst taste in men. A reformed swipe-a-holic. Reviving her blog after its death.
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
I just spent two of the most horrible days in my life. I’ve been sick.
It annoys me to concede that I’m not a goddess immune to viruses. I guess it just serves me right. I’ve been ignoring the symptoms, refusing my mother’s advice to take some medicine, and acting like the rain is just some water falling on a whim but will never hurt me. Must remember: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
For that impudence, my tongue still tastes bitter; my back aches like I’m 70; I have to take 2 capsules (sometimes 3, because I often mistake Alaxan for Tempra, it was badtrip talaga cause my mom was counting the tablets, so I can’t fool her) and two tablespoon of cherry flavored cough syrup every four hours; and every time I cough, it feels like my intestines are coming out of my mouth… Sorry to disgust you… hehehe…
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Medicine, no matter how many sugar or flavor you put in it, still tastes like medicine. Eeeeeeeewwwwwww!!!!
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Again, another mind-boggling, nerve-hacking, tear-inducing question came up when I was chained to my bed this last two days.
How come my mom takes good care of me when I’m sick, but I don’t give her enough attention when she’s not feeling well?
Am I a bad daughter or is it a universal rule that it’s easier for parents, especially moms, to sacrifice everything for their kids than vice versa? *sigh
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The following are the heroism (or voodooism) my mom did for me (actually this is too embarrassing to share, but what the heck, this is my journal anyway)…
1. hinilot niya ako (Hilot as far as I know have no direct English translation, the nearest, but not the actual translation, is massage).
2. She sponged my head, arms, and legs with tantananan.... malunggay (Don’t even ask how I smell)
3. If she had her way, she would have spoonfed me with noodles, at 5 in the morning
4. She pounded my back like she was beating a drum. It was painful at first, but I soon got used to it. (She said that the pounding relieves the lungs).
5. She was very nice to me…while I was too busy being mean to her.
Thanks mama!
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I have to edit my blog. It turns out that I’m too offensive for blogsnob. They won’t run my ad. *Sigh
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To Erica, I’m sorry, I lost your icq number… can you send it again?
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To Zhara, whom I hoped but never really expected to read the garbage I post here, pare, palagay mo talagang mamatay na si Horje? Pano na si Chayito? Pano ka na? Buti nga kay Lena…
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Soap operas, makes our life look less complicated, more fun, and more fortunate. Although most of them end in happy endings, how many minutes are actually allotted for their happiness versus the hours of their suffering?
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