Cyborg Me  

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John Connor has failed us all! Skynet has taken over over! The machines have taken over! 

No, wait. It was just me. Sorry. We're not really going to be used as batteries for a race of sentient machines while we live in a world that we think is real, no. What? Oh, wrong movie reference. 

For the next 24 hours, I will be going about my usual business with a machine strapped to my arm and waist. Yes, I have finally invented a machine that replicates superhuman strength and I have decided to test it on myself because I am strongly against animal testing. No seriously, I have what is known as an ambulatory blood pressure monitor hooked up to me, which as the name implies, is supposed to monitor my blood pressure for a duration of 24 hours. 

They did say I looked thinner and
less Asian back then. 
Wearing it feels kind of weird. The device vibrates as it silently pumps the blood pressure cuff every half hour, then the readings get saved in it's hard drive. Amazing what technology can do nowadays, right? All I have to do now is wait for the data to be collected and have my cardiologist read it tomorrow. Hopefully we can find a way to eventually bring my blood pressure down. Otherwise I may have to quit my job again. No, that would definitely not be good. 

Well I'm hoping that visiting four doctors in a span of two weeks will help me finally find a solution to this hypertension deal. I'm absolutely sick of being sick. You know, if this keeps up then there's no way that I'm gonna live on to a hundred. Oh wait, these days nobody does anyway. Bah humbug. 

Rain Bane  

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Say what you want about the rain, like it being a melancholic symbol of sadness or a joyful shower of blessings from up high, for me it's the cause of my pain - at least for the past couple of days. Pain, not only because getting rained on had me shivering down to my boots and giving me the sniffles, but also because it's one heck of an inconvenience. Just when I thought I've made a hard-fought, psychological commitment to not be absent from work, this hits me. What's worse is I'm sure I'll get that angry unbelieving look from my boss again when I come back to the office. Oh boy.

On the other hand, this rain does seem fitting in a sick, cosmic kind of way. I do feel a bit disheartened, now that I had just found out that the hand I held so smoothly not so long ago had already been held by someone else. She's off the market, and the fight was over before I even had a chance. I guess it was for the better, though now I have to find some other way to keep myself going. Apparently, this dance was over ten prom nights ago. 

The Dance of Fools  

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Here we are again for another edition of the "me, me, me" show. I was thinking of writing about stuff other than my own thoughts that was actually worth reading, unlike the 11-11-11 fiasco, but I came up with zilch. Nadah. So before I post another entry about sucky calendar dates, I've decided to go back to flinging my usual rants.

Last night marked our company's first solo Christmas party ever, and I have to say that despite the fact that I didn't win a single freakin' prize in the raffle, I still had a Glam-Slamming time at the event. Well, sort of. There was a second when I found myself surrounded by friends, reveling in a night filled with crappy good food and great music, with beautiful people dancing and prancing about, and yet I felt like I have never been more alone in my entire life. I realized I miss my old friends. I know that in life, friends tend to come and go, but my creepy current dance partner sort of sucks. He's a lazy, opportunistic sonofabitch that's just as screwed up as I am, (if not more screwed up than me) which is probably why we get along. He's also one of the biggest know-it-all's on the face of the planet. Sometimes I honestly just can't stand the guy. But still, that's more than I could say for some people.

I realize the fewer friends I've got, the fewer inside comments I can squeeze into this blog, so in time nobody will ever understand this piece of literary excrement that I'm shamelessly trying to shove down their pie-holes. That also means I'll have to start writing about stuff that's rated-PG, or things that everybody will appreciate. Oh boy. To be mundane is to sin.

As usual, I'm only making sense mostly to myself again. I think I'm falling under another depression spell, and I have to find a way to get around it or else. Maybe another dance? There! Another inside comment! And despite what you might think about the photo, I still hate Twilight.

"Her hands felt smooth as silk, and her eyes sparkled against the clear night sky. We danced, and it felt like magic. Not even the cold air could keep the warmth of her touch away. But as the song faded, so did my dreams." 

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Stories from the Simian Crease by Binchee is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Philippines License.
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