My third chemo session proved to be the worst so far.

First, my porta-cathe (that metal port surgically inserted in my chest to facilitate the introduction of chemo drugs) got clogged, and this did not allow any fluids to enter my body through the port. The five residents who tried to insert an inch-long needle through my chest did not realize it was clogged. So they tried to insert the fucking needle seven times. Seven stabs through my chest.

This would be no problem if the needle were thin, or that if I healed quickly. The needle was as thick as your mechanical pencil's lead, and it takes me two weeks to heal a puncture wound as small as a needle prick. Think seven of these puncture wounds are on my chest, one dangerously sitting beside the other. One can literally scoop out my flesh with a fingernail.

Second, the last surgeon who tried to poke a hole into me flushed my clogged porta-cathe with saline solution. Since it was clogged, the fluid collected in my chest, and my right chest swelled. I practically had a breast of bruise, blood, and water. Apart from the aesthetic horror, the risk of infection was so high, it could have been fatal. The porta-cathe is directly connected to my heart; any infection directly poisons my heart. I am now on antibiotics just in case the infection gets out of control.

Third, since my porta-cathe was not available, the chemo drugs had to be introduced through my arm. The blasted chemicals went through my arm like a bitch, and my veins were burning for the entire five hours. It did not help that I was partly sedated, as I could not scream out the burning pain that was in my arm. Five endless hours of burning inside my veins, and I could not even scream.

My arms and legs are now thick with water retention, and my migraines and body aches are starting. Of course, the vomiting is a staple to the chemotherapy.

I remember screaming at the nurses and the residents during my first night at the hospital. It felt awful, because I knew it was not really their fault, and they did not want any of that to happen. It's just that I was in so much pain, I hated everyone.

It didn't help that I was alone that night. I felt so alone and had nobody to talk to who could be strong enough for my ailing faith.

I do not wish cancer on anyone. Really, no experience has ever made me feel more alone than this one. I know everyone wants to help, but when it comes to experiences like this, I'm all alone.

J'adore cette video!

This has got to be one of the most skillful displays of politicking in this country. I like Mar Roxas and Korina Sanchez, and I am in love with the way they are using this engagement as a tool to catapult Mar into Malacanang.

Brilliant move, power couple. Perfect. Wowowee with its immense viewership, the pandering to kilig moments ever so popular, the swelling music. Perfect to the finest detail.

I am super impressed.

Current Mood: impressed

Hullo, everyone. This is the first day since my first chemo that I feel pretty normal. It took me eighteen days since the drugs were introduced to me to feel normal again. I am currently taking at least eight pills four times a day. The feeling is gross, and the side effects are insane.

The most debilitating side effect of my chemo is the nausea. The first few days after chemo, I felt like vomiting buckets every single time, but whenever I tried to throw up, nothing would out. I felt dizzy 24/7, like I was spinning non-stop for hours. The worst nausea always came up in the morning, just after waking up. There would be a metallic taste at the back of my throat even.

My diet was significantly reduced to a fourth of what I would usually eat. I would eat a tablespoon of rice, a few slurps of soup, and barely a slice of meat. After that, I would hope to the high heavens that I would not feel hungry for as long as I could, only because eating is very difficult when one feels like throwing up.

Despite my religious visits to my derma, my skin has gotten unforgivably dry. I would also grow acne where acne last appeared when I was in Grade 6. I am still simultaneously pale and blue-skinned (like a corpse) because of the drugs.

I had one last surgery before my first chemo, and the incision was supposed to heal five days after surgery. To this day, my wound is still a little fresh, thanks to the chemo drugs.

Nearly all my hair has fallen off and stopped growing. While this is good news for most women and some men, I challenge these same people to walk around without nose hairs as well. Everything smells more intense, I assure you.

I once went out, and was wearing the prescribed mask and was sprayed with alcohol every fifteen minutes. By the time I got home, I still started registering a fever at 38 degrees (a very serious case for people in chemo). Digression: A person in chemo who develops a fever can very easily have sepsis (infected blood), and this can be fatal. Lesson: No matter how safe I am, my immune system will not be able to protect me from viruses and bacteria out there.

Whenever I sneeze, I scare the sweet Jesus out of Jair because simple colds can easily develop into pneumonia for me. I have had clogged nose twice in the last 18 days, which we preempted from becoming pneumonia by a host of pills and drugs.

I have hyperacidity due to all the pills I am taking. Eight pills (at least) for four times each day; that is 32 pills in a day. I still have not counted the ointments, syrups, lozenges, and dietary supplements I am using. These are just for everyday care. If I develop any illness whatsoever, the number of pills increases. If I throw up now, you will not see food; the output will just be pills.

In my last ditch effort at becoming a human being, I am blackmailing everyone to donate something to my chosen charities. In exchange for every pledge posted in the Comments Section below, we will strike a deal with God to lessen my pain during chemotherapy. (Not that we need to bribe God, but this is a pretty interesting way to get help for others.) So, Bitches, give something significant to these charities, or I will remember your name every single time I experience an inconvenience during chemotherapy. I will personally gouge your eyes out as soon as I am over this fucking cancer. Choz.

Please post in the Comments Section if you are in on the game. (Sample posting: "Count me in!" or "I'd like to donate something!" or "Come and get it, you cancer-stricken bitch!" Choz.)

You may donate cash, used (but fabulous) clothes, accessories, food, and other comforts to the following groups.

1. Kythe Cancer Foundation (They help children battling cancer.)
2. Golden Gays Home (They help aged gay men and transgender women who have no homes and no families.)

Do not hesitate to beg from your friends and family, and I strongly suggest you do this with my picture in your hand. I am almost certain that a picture of me looking ravishing will convince them to shell put something. Chozams.

Please let me know when and where I can pick up anything you may have collected from your wallet, your closet, and your refrigerator. I will make arrangements so we can collect your donations in the most convenient way possible.

I will contact you personally to confirm your pledge. I am looking forward to your support.

Now is not the time to be stingy! Give so that I may live!

Dying of boredom in solitary confinement, I risked my life to watch a movie yesterday in the ever so convenient SM Marikina. I was so excited to see Watchmen, that I shelled out an extra Php 150.00 so my housemaid can watch John Lloyd while I was in the cinema. I must say that I was utterly disappointed in myself for not liking Watchmen. I could see the potentially good narrative, but I was just too overburdened by the story and had too little of action sequences. I expected to pee in my pants the same way I peed in Iron Man and Matrix 1, but I was utterly disappointed.

I left the movie after hitting the 2 hour mark. I almost never walk out of movies, however bad they may be. I do not know why, but my patience was tested yesterday, and I am sure I missed out on the pay-off in the last forty minutes of the film.

Friends, how much did I miss in Watchmen?

===

I have spent the last two days shopping and spending the last remnants of my February salary. (I have filed for indefinite unpaid leaves until I am able to get back to work.) I have been buying wigs, make-up, and crafts materials. One might guess that I am starting a career in drag. Buying crazy things that I like for absolutely no reason somehow comforts me as I anticipate the end of my world as I know it.

===

I will be shaving my head this weekend! I have never been hairless since I started growing head hair, but I need to be prepared for my profound hairlessness over the next few months. On the bright side, I can become Ongina in RuPaul's Drag Race.

===

My house and my room are a total mess right now. I am unable to get up and clean things myself, and I find it frustrating to be directing the housemaid (whose IQ peaks at the number of my age) as to where to put things. As such, I am living in sheer disarray.

My house is so cluttered now, I am praying that by some miracle of God I am able to contact my ever favourite housemaid whom we lost after she changed numbers during a vacation in her province.

I need a housemaid with a functioning brain! Please, anybody have housemaids with relatives looking for a job?

Hullo, all. I just got back from a five day holiday at the hospital. I was complaining of severe pains under my right lung, and a very persistent cough. It was difficult to breathe, and my chest was starting to hurt.

I had my second chest surgery last 13 February, and I was expected to fully recover by the end of February. However, March had already begun, and I still could not get out of bed without the aid of bed straps. Sitting down was a chore, and standing up was almost unthinkable. It was very painful to move around, and every step that I took gave me a stabbing pain down my chest.

I was admitted again at Medical City last Thursday for pneumonia and an inflamed heart. The doctors found some fluid in my lungs, and my left lung still had not started to expand to its expected size. My diaphragm was also swollen due to irritation from the tubes inserted through me in my last surgery. Also, the wound I sustained from the surgery still had not healed after three weeks. Apparently, my body could not heal my wound because my immune system was not fully functioning for some reason.

I was introduced to a new doctor, this time specializing in Infectious Diseases. Seeing the symptoms I reported, my doctors said I suffered from mediastinitis (infection in the chest cavity), and that the case was rather alarming. I was bombarded with antibiotics to arrest the infection, and they kept me for a few days just to monitor my recovery.

I had been crying for a few days just because I felt so tired of feeling sick. My emotional strength had steadily failed over the last few days, as my condition seemingly worsened after surgery. I had been crying to my Mum and Jair, and, as much as I did not want to burden them with worries about me, I just needed people to cry to. They both prayed hard for me, and did their part in propping me back up emotionally.

After only one day of medication, I was already up on my feet walking. I was still panting and sometimes gasping for air, but I was generally better. They did an ultrasound and an xray some days later, and the tests showed that the lung fluid has decreased. My diaphragm did not hurt anymore, and the doctors said the inflammation probably subsided as well. With my very good doctors and efficient nurses, we conquered my first post-op infection.

I was released from the hospital today, and am now in my bed, ready to sleep the sleep of the just and the beautiful. My deepest thanks to those who attacked the heavens with prayers for me.

During one of our Maalaala Mo Kaya moments (dramatic episodes of relentless crying), Spongebob Squarejaw decided he will give me a journal in which I should write at least one thing to thank for every single day. According to him, the habit of verbalizing gratitude allowed him to ward off sadness even at the lowest points of his life. He hoped it would work for me, too.

It has been a little over a week since he handed me a blue, unlined notebook that should serve as my Salamat Journal. I was tasked by Spongebob Squarejaw to write up at least one small thing to be thankful for each day. I cannot help but be thankful for more than one thing each day. It was surprising, as I usually think of my days as uneventful.

When Spongebob Squarejaw gave me the journal, I was crying because I did not think he was serious about getting me a gift just to make me feel better. I knew that at that time, both our strengths were nearly failing us, and we were hanging by a thread to handle our sanity. When he handed me the journal, I cried. (Of course, I just told him that my eyes were burning or some lame excuse.) Then, he handed me a beautiful silver pen, with a message engraved.

Two words: "Be strong."

Hullo, everyone. My deepest thanks to everybody who prayed so hard for me, Jair, and my family through my second surgery. I did not expect the overwhelming support all of you have extended to me and my loved ones. I may have been physically in pain, but my happiness and gratitude have been overflowing in my heart.

It is my second day out of the hospital, and it is my first day to have access to my computer and the internet. Although it is still difficult to move around, I cannot help but let my fans (oi, fans? hahaha) know about what is going on with me.

My surgery was a success, and it was as pain-free as was humanly possible. I was attached to a button-triggered pain managment system, which shot up doses of drugs more potent than morphine whenever I pressed a button. (This actually happened: Two hours after surgery, the legs of the upper part of my bed gave out, and my upper body fell hard for about half a meter high. I felt no pain at all.) The tumour was taken out, and, according to Jair who saw it throbbing flesh and blood, it looked huge and ugly. It looked like my liver was taken out. The said tumour was studied further to check for cancer.

Through the tumour, my doctors found that I have Thymic Cancer. It is a very rare kind of cancer that grows from this organ thymus we all have since we were born. In most people, this organ stops working at around age seven. In my case, it did not stop working even if the body did not need it to work anymore, so it produced useless cells. The useless cells became cancer.

The cancer is in Stage 2B, of Type AB. According to my oncologist, the cancer is rather advanced as this kind of cancer only has three stages. He assured me, however, that, at this stage, the cancer can still be managed easily. Special care, however, still needs to be taken. According to my team of doctors, they have only encountered actual cases of this cancer three times before. They said all the cases were able to live normal lives after treatment.

I asked whether this kind of cancer was brought on by my lifestyle or not. I was told that there could have been very little correlation with the cancer and my diet, lifestyle, health practices, and what not. The cancer is mostly genetically triggered. I just had the luck of the draw, in a nutshell.

I will be undergoing six cycles of chemotherapy for around six months, and a month and a half of daily radiation therapy. I have been warned that it will not be an easy time for me, so it was suggested that I ask for all the support I can get. (Honestly, I still have no idea how difficult it would be. I mean, I know in my head what to expect, but I do not know what that means while I get through it all.)

For the duration of my chemotherapy, I will be alternately staying in two places: my apartment near Katipunan, and Jair's house in QC. I can probably accept guests (I would definitely love company), but I will clear it with my doctors first. Definitely, though, I can expect to harass my guests with baths of alcohol and fumigation (hahaha) before entering my room. No offense, my beloved people, but my room must be kept sterile during that time as I will have little to no immune system to protect my body.

Please keep praying for me, Jair, and my family. This time is very trying for all of us, emotionally, physically, and financially. Your prayers and moral support are all that we can depend on, so please keep the love pouring in.

Again, my deepest Salamat to everyone who has stood by us through surgery. I am hoping for the same overflowing support through chemotherapy. I know we will all get through this. You will still have many years of my antics ahead of you.

Hullo, everyone. I will be in Medical City beginning today (Thursday, 12 February). The heart/lung surgery will be done tomorrow, time TBA.

Please pray hard for the success of the surgery. Please pray for Jair and my family as well; all this has taken a big toll on them. I'm super terrified now, so please keep praying. Salamat.

The doctors said that they cannot conclude yet whether or not the lump is benign. They will know for sure soon enough. (My surgeon, though, is pretty confident it is benign.) Surgery will push through in any case. Please pray hard that the lump has not metastasized, and that it is not cancer.

Please pray, pray, pray. I am confident that my doctors will do their job exceptionally well. I am just scared of the pain I might need to endure after surgery. Please pray hard, as the terror is getting to me very badly.

Salamat, everyone.

Hullo, everyone. The biopsy-slash-exploratory surgery went very well, and I am supposed to leave this afternoon. I will be staying here until tomorrow lunch time, though, just to be sure that I will not have to go back in for minor complications. Thank you very much for your prayers. I have very little pain and discomfort from the first sugery.

The conclusive results of the exploratory surgery are yet to be released, but my impressively good doctors say that if they are pressed for a diagnosis right now, they are inclined to say that the gigantic lump is benign and will require nothing more than another surgery. Chemotherapy most likely will not be necessary after surgery, and this is the only thing they are trying to find out with the remaining tests.

I will have my major surgery anytime in the next two weeks, depending on my psychological readiness. My surgeon actually wants my surgery to be done by Monday, but I am way too scared of the pain to be ready for another surgery so soon. I requested for a leave of around two weeks just so I can get a breath of fresh air before being confined for another time in the hospital.

My major thanks to everyone who prayed for me and my loved ones. My deepest thanks to Spongebob Squarejaw who went through unimaginable lengths to stay with me through this very tough time. PLease pray for him as well; the experience has taken a huge emotional toll on him, too.

My sister and my mum have been nothing short of supportive, even flying back to Manila just to make me bantay. I love them to pieces.

My friends who have kept me from sinking into boredom and depression (Mi, Ronald, Shelah, Ivan, Jacq, Pier and Joseph), and my other friends whose closeness to me I underestimated (Darling, Teena, Girl and Alfie), my thanks.

My dearest Abbey who has been very helpful in keeping me afloat in the office, my many thanks. Team Pomfret, I love you guys for the effort or making takas over lunch.

People at work who have been supportive with my schedule and accommodating my workload, thank you, too.

A more detailed and proper thanks will be written when I am home and recuperating. My apologies to anyone I have forgotten; post-operative stress, much.

Again, please keep your prayers coming. The tumour will be extracted next week or so, and I need to recover from the exploratory surgery still. My love to everyone! Kisses.

Hullo, all. Doni here. I was assisted out of my room, and finally got access to internet. (Why internet access is restricted to the mega expensive suites here in Medical City, I do not know.)

I have been confined here since Friday, and might stay here for a while. My doctors found a pretty large tumour on my heart and lungs (twice the size of my heart), and they will still find out what it is. I am scheduled to be cut open tomorrow afternoon for a biopsy. (While the needle biopsy was initially suggested, the surgeon said that he will require a bigger tissue sample. This required them to cut me open to get a bigger sample.) I will be on general anaesthesia.

The possible reasons for the tumour are cancer, a benign lump, or tuberculosis (which the doctors are only including as a statistical possibility). As soon as the biopsy is done, they will know more.

Please pray for me, my beloved man, my family, and friends. We are all scared, and I have to admit I am terrified.

Please do not worry, my doctors are very good. I am mostly scared of the scarring and the pain. (I have been told that there will be big scars inevitably.)

I am looking forward to more blogging days ahead of me. Wish me and my loved ones the best. ;)

Cheers, all.

(I do not have internet access in my room, so my next update might be when I get out of the hospital. Kisses.)

I was feeling very low last night at the hospital, so I went through my phone text messages just to distract myself. I found this message from him, one of the many that he would send whenever I felt like I did not matter to him. This gave me a little something to hang on to once more.

"Doni, I would understand if you want time alone. You made me happy in more ways than you know. I just wish when everything is less complicated na, you're still my best friend. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for caring. Hope we'd be OK really soon.

"I know that you love me very much. I have no doubt about that. Thank you for that as well."

I know he is just a phone call away, and I know that he will talk to me if I asked him to. However, I cannot help but miss the days when he would be more than eager to talk to me, respond to my messages, and meet me whenever. He used to be crazy about me, even to the point of crying over it.

Things are different now, and I blame myself mostly for the change in the set-up. We meet regularly, yes, but, most of the time, I feel like we are meeting just so I wouldn't feel awful, or so that we wouldn't have to discuss "our issues." I feel like I'm forcing myself to him, and it does not feel good feeling unwanted. I don't see him excited anymore, and he definitely does not have fun with me at all. It's debilitating to know that I have become dead weight to him.

I acknowledge the fact that I have not been the most fun person to be around for the last few months. I really wish I were, and God knows I have been bending over backwards to be everything for him. I have done things I would never do in my life just so we could spend time together. I have also forgone nearly all my priorities just so I can accommodate his prirorities. However, I know that this has taken its toll on me being exciting and thrilling enough for him. Someone who is always available and dependable will inevitably become predictable and boring. Therein lies my predicament.

To be fair, I know that he has been doing his fair share of keeping me around and not dumping me out of sheer boredom. I know that he invites me to be with him inspite of all the fun he forgoes when I am around. He tags me to all his family affairs, and he spends his free time with me whenever possible. He has been nothing short of thankful for everything we have been through together. In fact, I feel blessed that he has let me take care of him in ways only someone ridiculously in love can do. For the most part, I know he only humours me when I take care of him. We both know he can take care of himself, and would rather do so, but he lets me do it because he knows it makes me incomparably happy being there for his needs.

I just miss the days when he used to like me like crazy. I used to get him giddy, and I used to make him think of hugging me when he was hugging pillows. It is so sad when the attraction has faded, and my value has significantly decreased. I wish I could offer more, and I am trying my very best to do so. I wish I could be everything he needs just so he can look at me again and he can feel an attraction similar to what he had for me before.

I guess this entry comes mostly from a fear of losing him. I know that it would only take a little argument or some other interesting person for him to find me completely irrelevant and uninteresting. I cannot help but feel that the only reason I am still around is because he feels like he owes me for helping him out. While I am grateful for him letting me stick around, I would want that to be motivated by an interested desire to be with me. I would want him to want to be with me, not just because he feels like he owes me.

My horoscope today told me to be wary of my romantic ties. "Relationship issues are clouding your mood. Get some space off by yourself today." I guess the stars have aligned to tick me off into depression today.

===

I have been suffering from severe back pains since Tuesday, and, as of last night, my fever has been consistenly high. It did not help that my neighborhood sufferred from a blackout all night; I was both hot and cold at the same time.

I got invited to sleep over at his place, but I wasn't feeling OK, and I was worried he might get sick. He has been depressed enough in the past few days; the flu might not be a good thing to have at this terrible time.

Anyway, I skipped work again today. It might be hard to believe, but I have been looking forward to going to the office recently. I have been excited to work, and it's a good thing. The sad part is I cannot go to work because of this viral shite. My fever spiked to 39 degrees right now, and the doctor said I just need to rest. I am feeling woozy from the meds, and I feel to awful to get out of bed o go to the ER.

I wish I feel better in the next few hours.

For some reason, in the past few days, I have been plagued by a longing for grand gestures of love. Of course, no one would oblige, so my frustration has been steadily mounting for some time already. I am feeling very needy, and I want to feel wanted and loved.

I am not really getting depressed by it, and I am handling things rather well. I do not like my situation, that's all.

===

In my pursuit of being surrounded by people who love me, I have decided that I am firing my maid. I was sick today, and took a leave from work. I stayed home the entire day, and spent all of my time immobile in bed. My mid-40s housemaid did all the housework, without my supervision. (Note that this maid is articulate, fairly smart, and very, very cunning.)

While she did an OK job in cleaning up the house, it clearly was not motivated by love. One can tell that her work looks clean, but there was nothing extra in her output. No offer if I needed help in getting out of bed, or if I had the energy to make my own meals for the day. It was not like I needed any help, but being offered help feels comforting enough.

However, she did not forget to talk about getting her money earlier than her payday. Yes, she cleaned up the house today to put herself in good graces to borrow money from me. Of all the motivations for caring, money is the least one that endears people to me.

She goes as soon as I find a better housemaid. I am now looking for someone who can live with me. I need another warm body in my house; The loneliness is getting palpable.

===

I missed work today because of a terrible pain in the back. I was in the office early in the morning, and, a couple of hours later, I could not take tha back pain and the migraine anymore. I do not feel better yet, but I cannot get out of bed to go see a doctor. If I feel worse tonight, I'll fly to the hospital, pronto.

Why the fuck do I keep putting myself through this shite? I'm a fucking idiot, that's why.

I never, ever learn that nothing will come out of this desperate pursuit. I sure as hell know it is a dead end, but I keep on forging on. This is one of the reasons why suicide is always in my options: life never gets better because, somehow, I manage to never snap out of my stupid fantasies.

I was very happy an hour ago being on the phone, and, in the same hour, I found myself hating myself again. Again, I want to smash my head with a metal pipe.

Putangina. Ang tanga-tanga ko. When will I snap out of this shite?

I found myself crying while reading this. One must hear Mr President deliver this.

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often, the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land -- a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America: They will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the fainthearted -- for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long, rugged path toward prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again, these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions -- that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act -- not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions -- who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them -- that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works -- whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account -- to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day -- because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control -- and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: Know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort -- even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus -- and nonbelievers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West: Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment -- a moment that will define a generation -- it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence -- the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

I have to admit, my admiration for BB shot up a thousand notches. She may not be articulate about what she believes in, but she sure as hell knows what the fuck she wants. I may not like her as much as I would love, but I admire her for her consistency and boldness.

As opposed to Butch Francisco, who kept on dishing out insipid comments like toads jumping out of his putrid mouth. (Mixed metaphor, ikaw ba yan?) Butch, for a cocksucker, you sure as hell are a hypocrite from the bowels of existence. Butch had nothing but ignorant quips on BB: one politically incorrect statement after another.

Kudos to Joey de Leon. He sure as hell understands what human respect is about. Very respectful, very intelligent, and very considerate. I heart you, Joey.

Last week, I decided to spend my extra money before payday on my eyebrows. I went to Browhaus Serendra, and I encountered one of my biggest disappointments.

Since two weeks before my appointment, I have been anticipating my Tuesday visit to Browhaus in Serendra. Browhaus is this eyebrow grooming center newly franchised in Manila from Singapore. The center promises its clients a "face [that] can enjoy the virtues of a tide brow that has shape, volume and panache." (Quote taken from http://www.browhaus.com/.) However, my experience in their store was nothing short of disappointing. I expected so much from them, I admit, but they were not even able to meet my very basic expectations of what good customer service should be.

The website promises that, "Browhaus is no ordinary brow grooming base, there is an idea behind every tweeze." I had hoped to get eyebrows where every strand of hair spared from the thread had a reason for existence on my face. I imagined getting eyebrows that looked like they grew out of my head so perfectly. Instead, what I got was my usual threaded eyebrows look. (Note: My eyebrows did not come out horrible, but they did not come out as ground-breaking as I expected.)

<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/keanoidd/3198041232/" title="What ugly eyebrows look like."><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3533/3198041232_deb957624c_o.gif" width="139" height="189" alt="4fd8bbd0" /></a></center>

When I got to their store, I was welcomed by three to four women who obviously had nothing to do but chat all day. They were lounging around in the lobby, and seemed to have been doing so for hours.

The place was noisy with chatting women, and these women's cellphone loudspeakers were blaring with Backstreet Boys anthems from the 90s. Apparently, these women were the "therapists" of Browhaus. So much for the website blurb, "That’s why Browhaus has specialists in style and fashion contributing their knowledge towards the perfect arch." They did not seem like specialists, and they definitely did not behave like specialists.

I requested my therapist to take extra care of my eyebrows. I told her that I am extremely sensitive with my eyebrows, and that if it looked ugly, I would be terribly disappointed. Instead of assuring me that she knew what she was doing, the therapist said, "Sir, kung gusto ninyo ng magandang kilay, i-try ninyo (ang treatment na ito). [Sir, if you really want good eyebrows, maybe you should take (this certain treatment).]" I did not hear concern in her voice; I could swear I heard her head go, "Ka-ching!" like a cash register. For the duration of the session, she kept on bugging me to take this and that therapy. I felt like she was running really low on her daily quota, so she had to sell her services really hard.

I requested that the noise from the other therapists be kept low, and that the music be made ambient. Neither happened while I was in Browhaus, and I did not feel like I needed to ask them again since I was staying for at most twenty minutes. I just kept telling myself, "I am never going back here."

I noticed that the therapists had ready-made spiels. This would have been a good thing, if the therapists knew what to reply in case there came up situations that were not in their rehearsed scenarios.

Therapist: Sir, can you hold your eyebrows this way, Sir?

So I held my eyebrows as instructed. I did not feel any movement whatsoever, so I opened my eyes and I realized I had been waiting for nothing.

Therapist: (running off to the other therapists, and talking at the top of her voice) HOY, IKAW NGA DITO! NAHIHIRAPAN NA AKO SA KILAY NI SIR! (You! Come here! I'm having a terrible time with his eyebrows!)

It seemed like I was in a palengke of sorts. The therapists did not seem like they were professionals; they felt more like housemaids who were given a side line to pass the time while their bosses were away.


On my way out, the receptionist asked me, "How did you like our service, Sir?"

I replied, "Ang ingay-ingay ng mga therapist. Plus napaka-init. Bakit nakapatay ang air-con? Ang ingay pa ng tugtog. May tugtog ang store speakers, tapos may tugtog pa ang cellphones ninyo. Hindi ako happy. (The therapists were very noisy. Plus, it was infernal. Why were your aicons turned off? Your music was very noisy, too. You had music playing on your store speakers, and you had music blaring from your cell phones. I wasn't happy at all.)"

To this, the receptionist replied, "Sorry, Sir. It will never happen (sic)."

This check-up, apology, and out-of-spiel response happened again the following day when they texted me to ask for my feedback. At first, I wanted to scream at them, "I already gave you all my feedback last night!" but kept my annoyance in check.

Now, all this seems like I am nit-picking at Browhaus's services. I usually would not mind any of this if I were in some low-rent salon or even moderately priced salon. The case, however, is that I shelled out a premium to get more than a typical threading service. I went to Browhaus for an experience, and, sadly, I had a terrible experience that was definitely not commensurate to the price I paid. I was more than prepared to go all out on Browhaus's services, but after the terrible impression they were consistently building up that time, I decided that Browhaus was not really a good store to splurge on. Browhaus in Serendra is terrible, and if you feel like getting your eyebrows a treat, go someplace else.