Sat, 27 Nov 2004top
I now officially hate the holiday season.
I can't really explain this sense of dysphoria churning inside of me right now. I am angry and depressed at the same time, at nothing specific. There is no target of my ire, just this vague feeling of wanting to bash something with a baseball bat.
It's ironic that now that I only live 2 hours away from home, I still can't really come home. Not in a metaphysical sense, at least. There's something missing. It isn't really the fact that my sister is 3,000 miles away, because for years now neither my brother nor my sister have been home very much.
It's just that the last few holiday seasons just make me think of an old VHS tape being played over and over again, each time losing some of its quality, deteriorating from wear and tear.
I don't want to say it, and I don't want to believe it, but nonetheless: I think it's because we are all growing old. Not just older, either. And there aren't any kids in the family. There is no one with a sense of wonderment around, no one to ooh and ahh the pretty lights and the decorations and the special dishes and the turkey and the pumpkin pie and the cambing and the bibingka. It's just the same old, same old each year, and one of these days, someone is simply not going to show up, and not because they have something better to do. Yeah, I'm being morbid.
Speaking of which, I basically spent the weekend killing things. No, not in real life. But, bizarrely, it has become a sort of tradition between me and my brother. We sort of mutually decide on a particular video game and play it for hours and hours on end. This year it was Halo 2.
Maybe it was the fact that we beat it so easily, and the ending was really anticlimactic. (But that's all I'll say about that.)
and again, I really get too much time to think as I drive back and forth between S.D. and L.A. I realize that at this stage in time, I don't have a long range plan. I'm sure if you knew me well, you'd think that this wouldn't be surprising, and you'd think it would be ludicrous for me to saying something like this, but it's really odd. If you've ever watched "The Princess Bride," you'll remember Iñigo Montoya's little soliloquy about not knowing what to do now that he has avenged his father, after about a decade and a half of looking for his father's murderer. I guess you could say I feel a little like that, what with finally finishing med school after how many long hard, dark years, many of which were spent in going in circles and in backtracking. And sure, there are a few short-to-medium term goals that I have, but they're merely details.
I've always been a big-picture kind of guy, and right now, there isn't one.
I know, I know. Day by day.
Maybe it's because of the dream I had last night. I had a really hard time going to sleep for some reason and I woke up with a horrific headache. But I dreamt about my ex-girlfriend who has recently gotten married. The content of the dream eludes me at this time. All I remember is being frustrated, or maybe jealous. I don't know.
And basically, when I come home, it's just backstabbing and shit-talking. I suppose my parents and my aunts and uncles are at that stage in their life where it's all about looking back, and they keep digging up all this old bullshit that just pisses people off in one way or another. There's this phony facade of getting along, but deep down, there are grudges brewing, and venom simmering. And I know it's all pointless, because you can't undo the past without undoing the present.
I guess it's just the depressing idea of feeling so alone amidst all these people, my family. Home these days means this squalid, one bedroom apartment that I barely sleep in, much less live in, because I'm always at work. I only feel safe here because there's no one around to do any emotional or mental harm, not because it's really Home™
And that thought sends me tumbling down the tired old discussion of the futility of ever finding someone who'll come along with me down these twisted paths, the paths least taken through life. Someone who wants to come along, not because they're desperate to be with someone, anyone, as long as its a warm body, not because I'm hopelessly in love with them and they can manipulate me like a puppet on a string. Just someone who is going the same way as I am, and someone who'd welcome my companionship on this journey.
I don't know. Who knows what I want. All I know is that the lifestyle I'm leading right now can't be permanent, because one day I'll get completely bored with all my useless free time and quite possible blow my brains out.
(P.S. That wasn't suicidal ideation. I'm just being melodramatic as usual.)
Whatever. As they say, tomorrow is yet another day.
Tue, 09 Nov 2004top
getting the hell out
I had long, reasoned talk with the attending physician I work for after the election. She and I are both liberals in a city overrun by conservatives, and we got to talking about leaving the country.
Now I know that we shouldn't bail out quite yet. After all, California is a pretty blue state, and who knows, maybe San Diego could have a liberal mayor yet (Go Donna Frye!) I was actually quite amazed at the number of Kerry/Edwards stickers I've seen here in S.D., and I have a feeling a good number of those are on the cars of people in the military who are sick of the shit that Rumsfeld and W are feeding them.
Various forms of secession have been discussed on the Internet, abetted by the fact that Red State America would be gladdened by getting rid of us. California would probably be all right on its own, although I'm sure water rights to the Colorado River would get nasty, a border war waiting to happen. (I wonder if Las Vegas would join up with us? After all, much of the commerce done there is by Californians, and Clark County voted pretty blue. Then we'd have a bigger claim on the Colorado...)
Barring successful independence from Jesusland, I've tried to figure out a graceful exit plan. There is a chance that tyranny will be overcome, and perhaps we will be a free country again in 2008, when I finish my residency, but I'm not holding my breath. So currently I'm looking for a place to deposit my money where I can hold it in pound sterling in anticipation of the impending massive devaluation of American dollar, once China decides it's done with subsidizing our massive deficit and gets rid of their hoard of dollars. I'm still a little wary of the Euro, although I suspect it will be much more stable than the dollar in the next few years, so we'll see. I still haven't figured out a country to emigrate to, though. One, I have to figure out somewhere where my M.D. would translate into a job. Two, I'd have to find a place where I wouldn't be driven to suicide by seasonal affective disorder. (So despite it's utopian-like society, this kind of X'es out Finland.) Now lest you believe I'll be surrounded by white people, well, I will be, but there are Filipinos everywhere. I've met Pinoys and Pinays from Norway, Denmark, Austria, you name it. Good thing I know a little Tagalog.
But I'm not in a hurry. I'll have to keep my ear to the ground in case there is a civil war, but maybe W will go the way of Nixon and fail to finish his term.