The Politics of canteen buying and some

When i entered school age, everything was really new. Quite vividly, I can still remember my pre-actual grade 1 experience during dinner, I asked my mother if a whole day schooling is okay. Before dusk set in, I approached the start of my serious academics with vigor and cleaned all my bookstore-smelling-but-i-love-it-anyway school items with tissue and alcohol, even the plastic flat box of my 16 pc. crayola. I sharpened all my perfect cone shaped graphites, and neatly piled my sepia (because i had no concept of whiteness with gratis to my mother whose notebook decisions are little less confined to what can be more practically afforded), placed neat and straight bond papers, rulers, paste, and other sorts of art papers (that now I find it pretty much useless and funny)in the clear envelope. I was not a Disney-worhipping child, but I always would want everything pleasing to the eyes and pastel in hue. I went to school like an adult,devilishly eyeing (as a matter of fact) adults even big kids as if this 4-ft something is someone they should fear. During break times, I always had juice and sandwich. But after a while, my parents got tired of fixing me a good-parent-merienda that I had to tirelessly exhaust a quarter of my break lining the mamihan arm of the canteen. 1997, apart from the looming Asian crisis, is the year I was oriented that kids can in fact change their personal menus, nutrition aside. The heavens defecated Piatos and entrusted its key special ingredients to Jack and Jill.I had tasted it first from my friend, and it was this time when asking for some spare was difficult because kids tend to be so possessive with their items very much and unsurprisingly including food. I therefore theorized that I got my first answer to the ho-hum question of the righteous "what is my life's purpose" when I tasted potato chips powdered with cheese that crushed my taste buds and classified all distinct four into one classic gastronomic euphoria. My science teacher, at some point, deceived me, but took the extra credit anyway. Piatos was sold at P7.00 and immediately the next day, I ran ahead after Bless-us-Oh-Lord, to plunge into the sea of kids raising their bills, screaming decibels as if the tindera is at the other side of the road. We were a club of superficial people who only want a piece of the new brand(our first introduction to phoniness). That is, everytime further pupils come within the area of extreme heat and stress, pre-existing lining kids would tender a poisonous alarm of displeasure. As a fight and flight response, muscular power increases beyond measure enough to push towards the grills half past people as if they're chickens about to be chickened, voices sharpened enough to overpower 3 weaklings, and arms extend beyond 60 degrees, innocently shoving off whoever it is that got in its way. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the politics of canteen buying. Its Harold and Kumar's pre-and intra- experience to whitecastle except were not debating racism, migration politics, who should be on the wheel, and buying pot. The ordeal after acquiring the purchase is another political idea, however. This was also the time wherein I had developed my concept of hating and liking people. It was when I was 7 that I discovered my affinity to the misfits, rejects and weirds. Its just that over kids who love to display the "amor" of their greatness, I find it gratifying to share my baon and spare some talk to people who especially gets bullied. I also discovered that a slight magnification of their presence will move me into tears. I had this fat girl classmate who was asked to write something on the board, and I gazed at her like I would have done to Mama Mary at the school grotto because of her cuteness and size. The way she stood up carefully bringing her plus-sized extremities in control and her gluteus would seem stick out. Some of my classmates would tease her and I would look at them straight. But there was one time when she was asked to write again, and the same thing happened, I stupidly cried. At this point in time, I was already active in extra curricular activities. It was also at this point that I can say I loved coloring and I always wanted to see my work posted in front of everybody else, which was not the case all the time.

Righteousness aside

I have forgotten to address few questions that quite baffled me on rabies. The thing on hydrophobia, if the reason happens to be laryngeal spasm, why does it have to be so liquid-specific. Laryngeal spasms itself cause inability to swallow, then it may also include the solids. If liquid’s resemblance to saliva perhaps explains it, then neurologic-defect bound anxieties enables them to reject liquids. I also have come to know that difficulty of breathing, swallowing, and the feeling of strangulation comes with the combined spasmodic effects of the diaphragm and larynx. I have this realization in the past on the real essence of the nurse’s work – that it should have been disease prevention and treatment in the first place. If it’s otherwise, we would just be the same as everybody else. No professional meaning can we grasp from what we do, if we make the fundamental the most essential, discounting that exclusive knowledge we impart that makes us put more feathers in our cap. It’s the high-end that delineates us from the average. However, it was on rabies that made me realize that the fundamental remains to be the most essential. If the goal of health care is independence, then we must bank on our efforts towards equating independence not with the management of diseases, but in the consistent observance of health being the primary target. To nurse is mutli-tiered, so we also put prime to prevention and treatment but only if the limelight fails to power enough energy. A bite to death makes me recall Snow White’s careless indulgence to the witch’s apple, but contemporary times (in the rabies sense) put careless complacency drawing closer to Travis’ deadened left. It is the same complacency that adds more damage to the damaged in every aspect of pathology. Therefore countering this potent reclusion from what science can give calls for putting the same compelling persuasion that we can offer. The local barangays must intensify its information dissemination about when and when not to touch dogs, what must be done after getting bitten, and that each is responsible for propagating and actualizing the knowledge acquired. It is also in the same light that responsible pet ownership must be practiced, and that stray animals must be rightfully placed to sheltered agencies. I feel so ambivalent injecting medicine to people. While I gain experience, they gain their life back, but the trauma remains. While I rejoice for every bleb I formed on their deltoid regions, God knows what they’re minds pull off from the pain. It’s anachronistic the way life spells the check and balance sort of practice. Our experience is their life’s uncertain direction (this realization being optimized in critical wards in the hospital).