Growing Up

I wrote this around the same time as On Call Sex Doll. It was a particularly angsty time after getting kicked out/leaving home, and it feels appropriate today when I'm feeling icky.

Welcome to your teens
Where moments of insanity or vanity
--- aren't they the same thing?
Not only burn bridges to the ground but
Scorch entire towns
Not yet with a complex gray matter
It's easy to shred it quickly to tatters
What'd it all mean anyway?
You can't know until the end of the show
When the performers chase you out of the aisles
Grab what you can
You'll want to destroy that too, later.
Kill the memories, only to see
the way life was, was better.

Natural Remedy for Swimmers Ear/Ear Pain after Swimming

     Sitting at the computer last night, I started to feel the all to familiar twinges of an ear infection.
Oh boy, I thought, I have to take two airplanes in 3.5 days. There's no way I can get rid of this pain in that time.
      When I was about eight I started getting Swimmers Ear every single time I went swimming. The awful doctor I saw until I was 15 (And we had the PAP Smear Incident...) wrote it off as an allergy to chlorine to the pain after I went to pool parties. It sure was fun to be the chubby outcast who couldn't even swim in the pool above my head "'causa chlor-in allergy"... But I still had the local river, which was known and well-reputed for it's clean waters. It was strange to me (and no one else) when I started to get excruciating ear pain/infections after swimming there. Mom trucked me back into the doctors, where we were told that I must have stirred up some algae and it had to have gotten into my ears; we were sent away with the same instructions.
        Chronic sufferers and their parents know how unpleasant it is to have this happen all of the time; not to mention the expense of the medication! I'm lucky to live in Canada and have the majority of it covered in my health insurance, but when the pain struck last night, I was S.O.L. Seeing a doctor here in the Philippines is pretty damn close to the bottom of the list of things I want to do, so I googled frantically for home remedies.

My familys tried-and-true recipe:
1 part Rubbing Alcohol (dries the remaining water that allows normal levels of bacteria to breed out of control --> infection)
1 part White Vinegar (natural antibacterial effect)

Drop 2-3 drops into the affected ear, laying on your side. Pull your ear up and back (GENTLY) to allow the drops to help the liquid go deep into your ear. Wait a few seconds and let it roll back out onto a CLEAN tissue or paper towel. Keep the paper towel/tissue against the outside of your ear while laying on the opposite side to allow all of the liquid to drip out. Repeat on the opposite ear if needed.
Be warned that it's not the most comfortable feeling, especially if you're in a fair amount of pain, but IT WILL WORK. Repeat once at bedtime and once after waking up. Do this for 3 days past when it feels better to fully kill the infection. If for any reason your body tells you to stop (besides the discomfort of liquid in your ear) ie increase in pain, burning, etc, LISTEN and consider seeing a medical professional.

There is no rubbing alcohol here of the isopropyl variety, so I'm currently using 1 part ethyl alcohol and 1 part white vinegar, pre mixed with water. Ethyl alcohol is more drying than isopropyl, and after treating it this afternoon, had a huge increase in pain. I made a hot compress with boiled water and a towel which helped greatly with the pain after 10-15 minutes, and took an aspirin (<--- HIGHLY recommend for pain management while healing). My step-mom has drops that my father uses for the same thing which I was hesitant to use because we don't understand each other half of the time, but I think I will be using that until I fly out on Monday. I hope to be able to bring the drops with me and if not I'll mix up my own.

I've also seen a recipe that mixes olive oil and garlic. For this one you twist up a piece of paper towel, soak it in the olive oil garlic mixture, and gently place it in your ear for 5 minutes before removing. I've never tried this, but in terms of natural healing properties it *should* work.

Joe Rogan

My best friend is a huge Joe Rogan fan. I'm not sure when it started, but I'd imagine around the time he was introduced to hot knives (Which sadly I have never tried!). Yesterday he sent me a link to a Joe Rogan podcast. It's 2 hours and eight minutes long, and believe me it's worth it!
Graham Hancock is like a real life Indiana Jones, as Duncan giddily says at the end of the video. He was very interesting to listen to not only because of his intelligence, but because he is (or seems) open-minded and passionate. Originally a journalist, he's now an author of several books. I'm a little written out for today, so I'll give you some topics covered from my list of notes. These guys talk about so many different things you've never heard about, and I highly recommend making notes or pausing the video to look things up if you can.

On Call Sex Doll (A Learning Curve Poem)

                 I wrote this a few months ago, back in September-October when I was hanging around an unsavory guy. He's been coming up a lot in my mind: how much I can't stand to think about his face in my mind, or that I did what I did. Generally anger &shitty feelings.

        We started hooking up around the time my mom gave me "60 days to find somewhere else that will want you". Needless to say, I was very vulnerable at the time and looking for love... I even knew I was, knew that was a surefire way to get into trouble. I knew 100% that nothing good would come of it; at least not in the traditional sense. However, I am now able to say FUCK OFF/Leave me alone/Get away from me or I'll call the cops to a guy or anyone else bothering me. No more Ms. Timid-Yes Girl.

             I'm aware that my poetry is nowhere near publishable, but hey it's the internet and I'm sure there's worse (read: cringeworthy) out there. I hope that it will resonate with someone, as simple and straightforward as it is, and help them to consider how their 'lover' *barf* is treating them. (Isn't poetry supposed to be all mysterious and vague and double-entendre'd?)

On-call sex doll
Dial her up when you're lonely
She's got nothing better to do
Than to come attend to you
and ride that pony


Can't look a passing man in the eyes
For fear she'll have to be his next prize
Invisibly trapped into being on display
She can't explain to those who don't know
That ache, for what you just can't say
Ignore her feelings, she's got none
And screw her life, but take away the gun
Don't let her see the better call than
Living life always as some man's sex doll. 

And a song, if you need one: 
Do It Alone (Bigger Than You) -- Kid Cudi   I highly recommend you check out the lyrics. Give him a shot even if you don't like rap. He's not a rapper, he's a LYRICIST.  His music plus a dear friend helped me through a suicidal summer.

A Snippet From my Super-Duper Secret Journal

Despite going to bed after 12:30 again, I set my alarm to wake me up at 7am today. I wanted to go for a long walk, an hour or more, and even checked the tide tables to be sure I'd have enough time and beach to do so. I made toast, took my pill and went over my new Spanish flashcards, just like I'd planned last night. Lately I've been waking up only to say, "Ah screw it, I'm on vacation." 

I wasn't originally going to bring my iPod or brand spanking new headphones (Only thirteen dollars here, can you believe it!? I paid twenty-five for them back home, on crazy-sale.) but after a short debate that really was just to justify the already-made decision, I brought them on the condition I listen only to relaxing, thoughtful music; no DnB, DJ ____, house, beeping/wompwomp stuff.

Halfway between the house and the point that's past Well Beach and the boat repair, I saw rainclouds drifting purposefully across the sea. I saw the haze of rain falling over the ocean, but still I kept walking. I figured I'd be ahead of the rain, and if it caught up to me, I could hide under flat-topped, thorny trees that punctuate the beach. By the time I rounded the point, the spits of rain were turning to tiny drops and I knew I had to find shelter if I wanted my electronics to survive.

Isn't that a sad sentence?

I mean, I'd known since I saw the raincloud, and I was aware of knowing; I ignored the information, stubbornly pressing on. Ego overrode essence.

I looked for a dry place, but the trees didn't look promising. The breeze picked up to a good wind, blowing harder every couple of seconds before falling back down; rise and fall, repeat. There was no way I'd make it to the boat repairs and Well Beach Resort unless I ran over rocks, shells and some glass. There was an unfinished shack, raised off of the sand, next to an abandoned boat cabin within distance. I trotted over and climbed into the shack, testing each worn patch of floor, where there was any. The roof frame was set up, but only a 1/4 section covered. I realized it wasn't unfinished, as I had thought, but that it was another victim of the typhoon that passed through in December. A pile of wood sat behind it on the inland side, blown off and mixed in with crisp, sun-dried coconut palm-fronds. Unfortunately the only section of floor wasn't under the only section of roof, meaning my iPod and headphones were still getting rained on. I peered around for another shelter, noted the boat cabin, and relocated.

There wasn't much room under the cabin. A massive, rusting motor sat dead center, so that I'd have to stick my bikini-clad bottom on the sand and in ant-territory if I wanted to be completely sheltered. I opted instead to put the electronics well under cover, and forme to sit at the open end of the cabin. I was partially protected by a thick square board, peeling faded, blue paint laying against one corner of the opening. Iwas waiting for it fall, ready to jump out of the way and probably bang a body part into the rusty engine.

A guy who looked about 15 walked by in the rain, smiling the "Oh Hi Foreign Girl" smile when he caught sight of me huddled under the cabin. The rain picked up and he came to stand under the overhang of the 1/4 section of roof, outside of the battered structure. When, after ten minutes, he stepped out to check the sky to the east, where the wind almost always blows from, I asked him,

"Is it clearing up at all?"

"Whaaa--?" He looked confused.

"The rain clouds, are they going away?" I asked. "No?" I filled in the blanks when he smiled blankly and moved his head in a nod-shake-circle. He had no idea what I was asking him; he wore the same look as me when Sol (*my stepmom, or as the Spanish say, mi madrastra) starts talking to me in Tagalog and finishes in English. 

It was a half hour before the sky cleared up enough to head home. About ten minutes in, I texted Dad, asking if he could see any sun down at his end, to the east. He predicted the rain would pass in about fifteen minutes, and was right, of course. At first my ego flared up, turning the simple rainstorm into a melodrama from which I needed to be rescued. I listened to Jack Johnson in my head, let go and enjoyed the pattering of the rain; isn't getting caught in the rain a bucket list type event/item? I was still warm in my bikini, and the ants were keeping away from me for the most part. I watched a spider hopping on an old coconut frond, amazed at how well I could see his/her raised eyes and mouth pincers. It looked like s/he was watching me, evaluating, while s/he cleaned/groomed each pincer. I'm sorry to say I shook the frond lightly in a brief swell of fear, and she tumbled into the pile of fronds & wood worn by the insects and elements.

Bonk.

Since When Did Blogger Get So Confusing?

I've had a few blogs, and I'm sure there's a nickname for bloggers like I was... you know, they start a blog, post faithfully for about a week, maybe only a day, and then fall off the face of the earth. They suck up all the cool sub-domain names before moving on to another site to suck up some more because they can't face their failure of a blog. 

Notice this is past-tense?

                   Tonight, I tried to delete my old blogger account, which was tied to an aging email account that's on it's way out. I'd heard a lot about gmail, being friends with someone who uses it. So I made an account, with a grown up name that is appropriate to share with anyone without needing to say, "I made it when I was eleven. I'm really not insane." I signed into my old account through my google browser, only to be confronted with a foreign language. 

                Until February 20th, I'm staying with my father, his wife and her children in the Philippines. Well Google, being the little wonder that it is, changes my location settings to the nearest city. For the last week, I didn't care or bother to try to change it; I hadn't yet needed to, having memorized Google's basic setup enough to know where the Google Images button is in relation to the others. But in order to delete my old blogger/google account, I had to change my language settings two or three times to English, a task in itself. Inside my account settings, everything was still in Filipino (I don't understand how the language can be called Filipino when they speak Tagalog or Vinsayas.) and worse than Greek, because it's garbled semi-english. We'll make a long story short, like two hour long, and skip to changing your location setting. Thanks to all these fucking satellites and GPS as part of every program/app/electronic what-have-you, that's not possible! Nope, Google is so smart, and because I'm in Dumaguete, Phils, I must be able to read Filipino.

             Pffft. You'll get to know more about my feelings on satellites, GPS, automated everything over the course of this blog. Though it's come to my attention that I'm transparent when it comes to emotions, so maybe you already have a pretty good sense of them. 

Bonk.