bring in the Kleenex!

My body’s been different lately. And no, I’m not talking about puberty.

It’s really weird how I’ve been getting frequently sick over the past few months. It has only been a few weeks past since I have had a fever, which, if I may add, unfortunately fell on my summer class’ final examination day. (And it cost me a few items on my test, thankyouverymuch.)

But then, even if I’m still trying to recover, here I am again facing yet another illness.

My eyes are actually drooping like that of a person with Horner’s syndrome as I continue to stare at the computer screen. With a tissue paper strategically wedged on my right running nostril, I am having hard time breathing --- *sniff-sniff*--- and with my left uncontrollably snuffling the dust off of my keyboard, my condition’s getting worse.

Yes, obviously, I have the colds.

I really just hope it’s not A(H1N1). Well, I haven’t been in contact with anyone who could’ve have had the virus. But in this age and time, not to mention with today’s disturbed state, nothing is impossible. Who knows if our Labrador, Rocky, might be nursing the viral disease? Or our boarder? Or the old lady who asked for scrap? Or the mosquito that feasted on my ever watertight legs yesterday?

Who knows, right?

To tell the truth, I think I got the colds from my niece. She was suffering from it last week and she might’ve contracted the disease to me. I haven’t left the house to go gallivanting since I had myself enrolled, so there’s a great chance Zeniah’s the culprit.
Out of all the possibilities that I have presented, together with the mosquito and all, I think this one’s 98% true. *teehee*

(Pause. I have to change the tissue paper on my right nostril with a fresh one. It’s getting soggy and unpleasantly heavy.)

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Ok, where were we?

Aw, yeah--- the colds.

I was already in bed when I felt something mucoid from my nose. I kept wiping it off every now and then but there was just no stopping. It kept me awake thereafter.
So here I am, typing away this entry.

I haven’t taken any meds yet. I was supposed to take one this evening and I asked my mother for a cold tablet. Apparently, we ran out of stock. I’ve decided to fix myself some juice instead. But then again, we ran out of that as well. So, in the end, I settled with water and a glass of fresh milk.

So far, I don’t feel well. But I have faith. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be better.

Pray for me? =D

shit happens

‘Shit happens,’ they say… true enough it always does.

I’m not likely to come in regular terms with neither Luck nor Wellness. I am more attached to Luck’s wicked brother Calamity.

The truth of the matter is I’ve subliminally been a living example of Murphy’s Law for almost all, if not all, my life: What can go wrong, will go wrong.

It has only been recently that I have finally affirmed this… or, say, accepted. It didn’t really occur to me that I was jinxed… and if, by chance, it did, it eventually landed up being tossed at the ‘stupid-idea’ box and shelved at the ‘crazy-speculation’ ledge. I always found ways to dismiss any thoughts, suggesting that I had badluck written all over me.

I assumed that getting lost at church at the age of 6, which almost got me adopted, was only a life-spicing encounter;
I assumed that falling down the stairs during 4th grade was just a call by science to prove ‘gravity’ to me;
I assumed that damaging or losing 15 cellphones by unnatural cause was an opportunity of having a new one every now and then;
I assumed that entering a classroom by mistake, thinking it was my subject room assignment, was a way of meeting new people (regardless of the humiliation of being acknowledged for not being on the class list);
I assumed that destroying 2 dvd players, 2 desktops, 1 laptop, 1 mp3 and 2 mp4 players(1 of which is not even mine), 2 headphones and 2 inkjet printers was just a matter of faulty gadget purchase;
I assumed that my failure to take a picture of Chito Miranda at the Boracay airport even though he was literally sitting right next to me was because it would’ve made me appear like a pathetic fanatic (though I have nightmares about that meeting every night since then).

I have had myriad assumptions that got me off the hook from being called ill-fated. To some, those were lame excuses; to me, those were justifying reasons.

But it took me only one head-knocking incident to jolt me back to sentience:
Getting my hair stuck at the vent of my hair blower was the last straw.

I could still feel pain at the area where the blower bestowed its hot kisses the other day… its really HOT kisses. It was so hot; I think it fried my mind to ultimately conclude that I am indeed a mistress of calamity.

I don’t really know why life has chosen to torment me out of a billion other people. I mean, I’m good. I’m so good I could be Mother Theresa incarnate…

So how come bad things happen to me?