I was busy reading random novels the other day. I didn’t get to write anything because it took me a little over 8 hours to finish a regular-sized novel.
8 hours.
Man, my attention span really took a hit. I used to be able to finish stuff like these in just under 4 hours.
*sigh*
I really need to get my act together. Less writing, more reading. Or strike a happy balance somehow. Whatever works.
There will be times when everything will be still.
Nothing will come, the horizon spreading blankly across the empty canvas, the voices lulled into an idyllic calm. The quill stops as the ink dries on the parchment.
And that’s okay, that’s acceptable.
Silence, at times, will be a more welcome bedfellow than the cacophony of your own ruminations.
It is as they say, the calm before the storm.
Still waters run deep.
There is an inherent desire for every person to share their subjective experience with the rest of humanity. In other words, people are natural storytellers. Everyone has a narrative to tell, whether it be through verbal or non-verbal narrative – a person will always have something to tell the world whether they are consciously doing it or not. Of course, the trick is knowing how you can improve the way you listen to these stories crafted by people around us.
One of the things I’ve noticed as a barrier to communication is the selectivity – People only choose to listen to people who they can understand, or who can understand them. Eloquence should not be considered as a hindrance to communication; it may affect how palatable the story would be from the perspective of the listener, but understanding the essence should be the primary consideration when gauging what a person is trying to tell. To illustrate a point: I’ve listened to a lot of public speakers back when I was young. A large part of it were sessions where I was required to listen to sermons from preachers, both seasoned and inexperienced, as part of my religious upbringing. I must admit that I had experienced what I would refer to as “Judgemental Listening.” This term refers to that specific attitude where you would only listen to a certain person if their delivery of a topic matches your expectation of how that particular topic was “supposed” to be delivered. Of course, this all sounds highly judgmental and condescending, but keep in mind that youth clouds judgement, and one would be calling the kettle black if they did not admit to some form of intellectual condescension at least once in their life.
Thankfully, my understanding of the importance of bias-free listening came early. As soon as I tossed away the notion that there were only a certain class of people I can learn from properly, the whole world opened up a diversity in perspectives that I would not have realized if I had kept myself the way I was. In doing so, I was learning how to communicate more effectively with people from all walks of life, and learning to share what they passed on to me to other people who were willing to listen; A skill that I was able to translate into a skill that I needed to survive my first few years as a Nurse.
In an ideal setting, a major part of building rapport with your patient is by spending a good amount of time sharing stories and swapping little anecdotes to make them feel as if they have this connection to you. This repartee develops trust, and in turn, develops confidence in your nursing care and any decision you might make in relation to their plan of care. And a major factor in developing my bedside manner, or how you modulate your behavior when dealing with the patient, was understanding their “backstory” so-to-speak. Every person will have something to tell whether they do it consciously or not, and a good nurse will learn to pick-up those telltale signs to determine how you should approach the patient’s plan of care.
Stubborn behavior? Fear of misdiagnosis? Fear of the medical profession? Fear of hospitals? These things are things that are, more often than not, deduced rather than asked outright. I had a patient once that refused to take his nightly medications. At the time, I did not know that he was being stubborn because of his fear of choking on his meds. As it turns out, his previous caregivers did not properly segregate his medications and just gave him one big bowl and forced him to drink it all in one gulp (the family fired those caregivers btw, when they found out). Of course, it takes a certain amount of pride for a person to admit that they’re afraid, and to a stranger no less, so it takes a special kind of listening to encourage people to be comfortable enough around you to share their desires and motivations enough for you to be able to help.
It’s not something that comes overnight. I myself admit that there are times when I cannot function as well as I want to when trying to listen to somebody’s problems. But, an important step to consider is changing your perspective. It’s easy to tell yourself, hey, I can do that, I can listen to this person’s problems, but then immediately shift to untangling that person’s life story the minute they finish explaining their problems to you. That is not the purpose of listening – what you are doing is merely listening for your own means, not listening for the sake of understanding what needs to be done for the sake of the person you are listening to. If the first thing that comes to your mind after listening to that person’s problems is what you’re going to do after, then your Ego is the one that is controlling your response, not your empathetic side. For me, I try to think of that person as someone telling me a story about their life – no analysis, no introspection, just a plain old story. If they offer to let me give my opinion, then it’s appreciated, but the method that works for me is to keep my mind neutral and unaffected. That way, I can process it better than if I had listened to it with a definite bias. I’m not saying that it works for everybody though; I believe that several methods exists depending on your predisposition towards listening, but I can say that if you’re looking for a good place to start, then fixing the way you listen is as good a place as any.
The mind is a capricious little entity: At times, you remember what you ought not to remember, and at times you forget the things you ought not to forget. Strangely enough, this quality can also account for random things popping up in our memory that we have no recollection of, but is somehow familiar enough to strike the occasional twinge of deja vu. Like for example, just the other day, an odd word popped out of my head for no apparent reason.
Cavalcade noun. a formal procession of people riding on horseback, or riding on vehicles.
Now why on earth would I recall such a random piece of vocabulary out of the blue? I had no idea. I had no apparent use for such a word in any recent memory, nor did I remember reading about it in some random article or book these past few months. I found it a tad bit unnerving that somehow, this word slipped past my conscious and went straight into that weird pile of odd facts and frivolities of my unconscious.
Apparently, it came from a source I wouldn’t describe as unlikely, but rather, less conspicuous.
I managed to figure this out as I was reading some Gladiator-themed stories; I found one particular story where the protagonist, who was a Gladiator, yelled out as he was about to die, “We who are about to die salute you!” Of course, those who are familiar with the Gladiator movie starring Russell Crowe will find this quote familiar, but at first I thought this line came was from a medieval-themed romance novel I once read. I found the book, flipped through the pages where I thought I remembered the hero say that line, and was promptly disappointed that instead of uttering that famous phrase, he performed a salute with his lance towards his love interest before participating in a joust.
I did however, find the word Cavalcade used in a sentence 4 pages preceding that scene, so it wasn’t a useless venture after all. This got me thinking though.
I don’t remember marking that word specifically as something that I should have remembered when I was reading that book. Sure, it’s a nice word to have in your vocabulary, but not something that immediately struck me as Awesome! in comparison to words like, well, Cipher (taken from a military novel about a group of terrorists taking over a submarine. And no, it’s not Red October), or Decrepify (I probably read this from game lore; it’s an oft-used term in RPGs). But it’s strange though, this is probably one of the only few sources of this word I can recall off the top of my head. Why would I remember it now? This innocuous word, with no discernible real-life applications, was somehow embedded into my subconscious, and suddenly I’m finding some use out of it?
The mind is truly a fascinating thing. Examples like these make me realize that in an ideal, relaxed setting free of stress, we allow ourselves to unearth little fragments of our psyche that we were forced to set aside as we prepared for adulthood. I remember an episode from an anime called Kino No Tabi, where a traveller called Kino visited a city called the Land of Adults. Here, adults and children live together in family groups as a typical family unit, but when a child turns 12, he/she undergoes an operation that transforms the way he/she thinks, in order for that person to get a “job,” or as the anime portrays it, be a functioning member of society. Jobs are, as verbalized by a local that Kino meets, neither fun nor were supposed to be fun, and having this operation would ensure that the child in question would lose that sense of “freedom” that a child has to bear the drudgery of adulthood.
I find that depiction eerily similar to what we experience in real life. More often than not, we try to limit the capabilities of our imagination precariously enough for us to fit into our daily rut, that we forget that when we were children, our minds were as powerful as any source of creative wellspring that modern day “geniuses” try to emulate in their adulthood. I wonder, if we were to restructure our society in which we are allowed to tap into the state where our imaginations were activated as it was when we were children, what kind of society would we have? Would we have a more caring and understanding society? Would it be worse than what we have now?
This probably might sound like a mundane piece of recollection to you as a reader, but wouldn’t it be nice to have that kind of epiphany in your life sometimes? A thing, a word, an event that you suddenly find a connection to from your childhood – the only catch being that you don’t remember how you managed to connect yourself to it, but a connection exists nonetheless? The feeling is similar to discovering something for the first time, like watching a TV show for the first time, or the joy of cracking open a book that would eventually be one of your favorite, or perhaps waking up to Christmas morning for the first time with your parents secretly watching from the staircase above your Christmas tree. It allows us just a fleeting moment of connection to the freedom we once had to see the world unbridled through the eyes of an innocent child.
And call me bloody nostalgic or whatever, but I do hope to find more of these moments every day. Maybe then can the world find a little more life to share with people rather than berate themselves and others about it.
Author’s note: I’m going to try writing something in my native tongue – One of those short, cheeky, cheesy vignettes that teenagers seem to love reading.
“Sir, ok lang ba po pakuha ng stat kong gamot?”
“Ay sir, pasabay na din po ng pang-insert ko. For OR po kasi e. Salamat po!”
Haay. Buhay GH nga naman. Mahirap maging bagong Nurse, di mo maiiwasan na laging mapagutusan ng mga senior mo. Ok lang naman din, kasi nakikita ko naman na kailangan din nila ng tulong. Sa dami ba naman ng hawak naming pasyente kada araw, kulang ang dalawang kamay at dalawang paa para maasikaso silang lahat. Pero minsan nakakapagod din magakyat baba ng gamit, lalo na kapag nadatnan ka ng araw na sira yung elevator.
Siya nga pala, Allan ang pangalan ko. Bagong Nurse pa lang, kakapasok ko pa lang dito last January. Medyo swerte nga ako nakapasok ako kaagad e, mukhang kulang din kasi tong ospital ng Nurse kaya open na open sila sa mga bagong salta. Hindi naman ako nagrereklamo, kailangan ko din ng trabaho e.
Oo nga pala, baka kasi maguluhan kayo. Ang ibig sabihin ng GH ay General Help. Kadalasan, ang mga bagong nurse na wala pang hawak na pasyente, ganoon trabaho. Tigatulong sa mga nurse na on-duty. Tagaligpit, tagasundo ng pasyente sa baba kapag may procedure, tagakuha ng gamit, ganun. Minsan, may mga kasama kaming mga senior nurse para magturo sa amin, pero kadalasan kapag punong-puno na yung floor, nagiging General Help kami. Para makatulong man lang. Hindi na kasi magkamayaw mga tao dito e, akala mo palengke hindi ospital sa dami ng pinapagawa sa kanila.
“Sir sir, sorry na, pasabay na din po ng bote ng IV fluid, naubusan na kasi tayo dito e.
“Brad bababa ka ba? Pasabay naman diaper o, saka underpad. Nakalimutan ng bantay bumili e.”
Sus ginoo, ano ba nangyayari sa umaga nila? Parang antoxic naman ata masyado.
“Ok po, bababa na po ako!”
Dali-dali kong kinuha yung malaking tackle box namin sa supply room. Yung tipong pangkarpintero. Malaki siya para lahat ng gamit na pinapakuha nila mapagkasya ko; Syempre ayoko naman na pabalik balik ako sa baba diba?
Dahil sira na naman yung elevator, kinailangan kong babain sa hagdan yung mga gamit. Tinalon-talon ko na yung hagdan sa pagmamadali hanggang makarating ako sa Supplies at Pharmacy sa 3rd floor. Mukhang kailangan nila kaagad yung mga gamit kaya kailangan magmadali ako. Dali-dali kong pinila lahat ng gamit tapos naghanap ng mauupuan habang nagaantay. Kailangan magreserve ng enerhiya pagkayat.
“West Wing! Sino po may stat na Lasix sa 10 West Wing?”
Teka, sa akin ata yun. Tumayo ako para kunin sa counter yung gamot. Pag dating ko sa counter, nagabiso sakin yung Pharmacist,
“Sir, madami pa po kayo gamit dito. Pakisabay na po yung iba at kailangan na namin ng space sa lalagyan niyo.”
Napakamot ako ng ulo, “Ah, sige po ma’am, pakisabay na lang po yung listahan diyan sa stat ko na gamot.”
“Eto po sir o, pa claim na po lahat.”
Nanlaki mata ko. Teka pang ilang shift ba tong mga gamot na to? Ba’t sobrang dami? Parang kulang pa tackle box ko dito sa dami ng hindi pa nakukuha. Ate, magisa lang po ako, hindi po ako nagggrocery, bulong ko sa sarili ko habang kinokolekta yung mga gamot. Syempre no reaction si Ate, balik trabaho lang. Napabuntong hininga na lang ako. Buhay nga naman.
Parang walang pinagbago noong dumaan ako sa supplies. Feeling siguro nila 3 kaming magdadala kaya tinambak lang nila sakin lahat. Hindi ko din naman kung ano yung stat dito o kung ano kaya kinuha ko na lang din sila lahat. Pagkatapos kong kunin yung supplies na pending ko sa Supply, nagsimula na ako maglakad pabalik ng hagdan. Siguro mukha na akong namalengke sa Divisoria ng pamasko sa dami kong dala. Tackle box na puno ng gamot sa isang gamay, supplies sa kabila, tapos may nakabalanse pa na ibang gamit sa taas ng tackle box. Kung alam ko lang na ganito mangyayari e di sana nagdala ako ng kariton. Hay naku.
Habang papalapit ako sa pinto ng hagdan, bigla akong napaisip. Paano ko bubuksan yung pinto? Bitawan ko lahat to ulit? E balanseng balanse na lahat ng gamit mahuhulog pa yung iba kung bibitawan ko to. Kung ano-ano tumatakbo sa isip ko na solusyon para mabuksan yung pinto na hindi ko kailangan ibaba lahat. Noong nakalapit na ako sa pinto, nagkaroon ng solusyon problema ko. Biglang bumukas yung pinto.
Problema nga lang, bumukas nga yung pinto, diretso naman sa mukha ko.
BLAG!
Aray ko. Napa-atras ako at medyo nandilim paningin ko. Nabitawan ko yung hawak kong mga diaper at supplies. Anong nangyari?
“Sir! Sir! Sorry, okay ka lang ba? Naku, sorry, pasensya na!
Medyo parang lutang pa ako kaya hindi ko gaano marinig mga sinasabi ng nakatama sa akin. Binaba ko sandali yung mga gamit ko para kapain yung ulo ko. Mukha namang okay. Concussion lang. GCS 15 pa naman ako.
“Sir, okay ka lang? Hala naku, nahihilo ka ba? Kailangan mo ba umupo?”
Actually ok lang naman ako. Sa dami ng taong nagmamadali dito sa ospital ko, nagtataka nga ako bat hindi dumadalas yung mga bangaan na katulad ng ganito e. Dapat siguro nilalagyan nila ng warning sign tong mga pintuan na to. Nagpuyas ako ng konti at tiningnan ko kung sino yung nakabangga sa akin.
Chinita siya, yun yung una kong naisip. Cute yung mata niya. Naku, medyo malakas siguro tama ng pinto sa akin kung ganito unang reaction ko sa taong nakabangga sakin.
“Um, okay ka na ba? Kailangan mo ba ng ice? Ikuha muna kita kung gusto mo.” Naririnig ko yung alala sa boses niya.
“Hinde, ok na ako. Nagkataon lang talaga na hindi ko nakita kaagad yung pinto na bumukas. Bigat kasi ng dala ko e.”
“Naku, sorry talaga. Nagmamadali kasi ako may stat kasi ako na procedure. Pasensya na ha? Bawi na lang ako!” Binigyan niya ako ng mabilis na ngiti tapos takbo na ulit siya papunta sa Pharmacy.
Ang cute ng ngiti niya no? Siguro mga ilang segundo rin lumipas habang tinitingnan ko siya makalayo, ilang segundo din na nablanko ako sa pagiisip bago ako tuluyang natauhan at naalala na marami pala akong stat na dala. Hala naku!
Hindi malayong sabihin na buong araw na ako distracted sa duty kakaisip kung sino yung babae na yun na nakabangga sakin. Halos magkasing tangkad lang kami, at mukhang bago lang din siya kasi may dala din siyang Tackle Box. Bihira lang naman bumaba ga senior nurse namin dahil sa dami ng trabaho nila, so baka bago siya. Kaso, hindi ko siya kasabay magtraining. Anong batch kaya siya? Saan kaya siya nakaduty ngayon? Natapos na lang yung araw at hindi ko parin alam kung paano ko siya hahanapin. Hay, siguro baka sa mga susunod na araw ko na lang siya makita ulit.
Lumapit ako sa manager ko para tanungin kung dito pa rin ako magduduty bukas. Sabi niya,
“Ay hinde, report ka daw sa Nursing Office bukas, mukhang hindi muna magiging permanent assignment mo kasi madaming tao sa hospital. Kung san kayo mas kailangan, doon muna kayo. Uy, salamat nga din pala sa tulong niyo ha? Ingat kayo pauwi!”
Magaling. Baka naman siguro, baka sakali man lang, makasama ko siya sa duty no? Natawa ako sa sarili ko. Malay natin diba? Pero syempre, hindi naman to love story. Real life to, pre, Real life, sabi ko sa sarili ko.
Kinabukasan, maaga akong nagreport sa Nursing office. 0530 pa lang nakaupo na ako sa mga silya sa labas. Syempre, hindi ko pa alam kung saan akong unit ma-assign kaya mas maganda maaga pumasok para maaga makapaghanda. Nagrereview na ako sa utak ko kung ano mga natutunan ko kahapon para hindi naman ako mukhang lutang ngayon sa pagdudutihan ko.
Nasa kalagitnaan ako ng pagrereview sa mga gamot na pang AGE (Acute Gastroenteritis o in short, Pagtatae) nung nakita ko bumukas yung pinto sa hagdanan. Isang babae yung dalidaling lumabas habang tiningnan yung papel na hawak niya. Nung makita niya ako, biglang lumiwanag mukha niya sa isang ngiti na hindi ko mapaliwanag sa ganda.
“Uy! Nandito ka rin! GH ka ba ngayon?”
Medyo nakakahiya man isipin ngayon, pero natigilan ako sandali bago sumagot sa kanya. Akala ko ba real-life ito? Anong teleseryeng twist na naman itong nangyayari na ngayon?
“Oo, puno daw ospital ngayon e, kaya hindi muna daw ako magsstay sa isang unit. Ikaw?”
“Oo ganun din sabi ng manager ng unit na pinanggalingan ko kahapon. Bago ka din pala? Anong batch ka galing?”
“14”
“Ah, ako 15. Halos magkasabayan lang pala tayo e. Carmela nga pala, Carms for short.”
“Allan. ” Inabot ko kamay ko para makipagkamay. Kinuha niya kamay ko at ngumiti ulit sa akin.
“Ayun! At least ngayon alam ko na kung sino hahanapin ko. Alam mo bang sobrang naguilty ako kahapon kasi hindi ako nakabawi sayo? Sorry ha, toxic talaga kahapon.”
Natawa ako ng bahagya, “Ok lang naman, busy naman tayo lahat normal lang yun. Akala ko nga nakalimutan mo na sa kakamadali mo din kahappon.”
Nagkwentuhan kami ng mga ilang minuto hanggang sa bumukas na yung pinto ng Nursing Office at sumilip yung manager on duty.
“Kayo yung mga GH ngayon? Halikayo dito, bigay ko na unit assignment niyo ngayong araw.”
Sana magkasama kami, Sana magkasama kami, Sana magkasama kami.
“Allan, sa 11 East ka. Carmela, sa 10 West ka ngayon. GH lang kayo ha? Wag muna kayo humawak ng pasyente,” ang sabi ng manager.
Haay. Real life pre, real life.
“Ok po ma’am, salamat po!”
Lumabas kami ng pintuan. Tiningnan ako ni Carmela sandali at tumawa, “Sayang, akala ko magkasama tayo ngayon. Babawi pa naman sana ako sayo mamayang lunch.”
“Wow, manlilibre ka?”
“Hinde, bibilhan kita ng ice!”
Nagtawanan kami hanggang sa makarating kami sa sari-sarili naming floor. Ngumiti ulit siya ulit habang palabas ng pinto,
“Kita-kita na lang tayo mamaya!”
Hindi ko din napigilan ngumiti. Slight lang naman, hindi naman masyadong OA.
Ibang usapan na nung napunta ako sa unit na pinagassignan ko. Sobrang gulo, parang warzone nung umagang yun. Siguro dahil kakabalik lang ng mga doctor galing bakasyon kaya andami nilang pinapagawa sa mga pasyente nila. Wala sa aming nakaupo buong umaga, yung tipong 5 oras na yung nakalipas akala mo 5 minutes pa lang. Akala ko makakalabas ako for lunch ng maaga pero hindi ko naman maiwan yung unit kasi nakakaguilty iwanan sila habang toxic sila.
Halos magaala-una na nung pinababa nila ako para makakain ng mabilis. Hindi ako nagtagal, mga 5 minutes na kain lang, at bumalik ako kaagad sa taas para tumulong. Pag akyat ko, madami na namang pending na kailangan kunin sa baba. Dali-dali akong kumuha ng tackle box na malaki at bumaba ulit ako para magrocery.
Sa baba, nadatnan kong nakaupo si Carmela sa tapat ng Pharmacy, mukhang nagaantay din ng mga gamot na dadalhin sa taas. Napangiti ko ng di ko namamalayan at tinawag ko siya, “Toxic din kayo sa taas?”
Nakita niya ako at nanliwanag ulit ngiti niya. Ganun ba siya sa lahat ng taong nakikita niya?
“Oo, angulo rin sa amin ngayon. Naisipan ng doctor na nagrounds na magthoracentesis kami bigla sa bed. E wala naman siyang pinakuhang gamit! Tama ba yun?”
“Anlabo no? Hindi naman tayo genie na basta basta nakakapaglabas ng gamit.”
Bumukas yung bintana ng Pharmacy sa pagkakataon na yun. “10 West! 10 West please!”
Lumingon ng saglit si Carmela sa akin. “Teka, kunin ko muna to ha.”
“Sige lang, banyo muna ako kanina pa ako hindi nakakaCR e.”
Dali-dali kong tinapos trabaho sa CR at naghilamos. Pagbalik ko sa Pharmacy, wala na si Carmela. Mukhang kailangan niya nga iakyat kaagad yung gamit pangthora niya.
Umupo ulit ako sa upuan. Dapat sana niyaya ko na lang siya kumain kanina pagkatapos namin. Hindi ko rin kasi kaagad naisip. Mali e. Puntahan ko kaya siya sa taas pagkatapos ko?
“11 East! Pakuha na po ng gamit ng 11 East!”
Ay naku, baka hindi din naman ako makauwi ng maaga sa dami ng trabaho. Saka ko na nga lang pagisipan yan, sabi ko sa sarili ko habang tinatambak ko lahat ng gamot na nakabalandra sa counter.
Pagbalik ko sa taas, nilapag ko sa table yung tackle box at isa-isang nilabas yung mga nakuha ko na gamot. Gaya ng turo sa akin, chineck ko lahat ng mga lalagyan ng tackle box baka may nakalimutan na gamot na nakasiksik doon. Pagbukas ko sa kaliwang flap ng lalagyan sa taas, may nakita akong papel na maliit na nakatupi. Binuksan ko siya at binasa yung nakasulat.
“Kain tayo mamaya? Antayin kita sa labas ng Nursing office. 🙂 – C“
Hindi ko ulit napigilan ngumiti. Nakakainis, kinilig ako ng medyo doon.
Biglang pumasok isa kong senior sa supply room, naghahanap ng supplies. “Allan, nakuha mo na? Salamat, salamat! Ilang Ciprobay nakuha mo?” Tumigil siya sandali para silipin yung papel na hawak ko.
“Luh, lumalandi si Allan! Supplies lang pinakuha namin sayo a, anong kalokohan yang napulot mo sa baba?” sigaw ng senior ko sa mga tao sa labas. Biglang nagdagsaan yung mga ibang duty sa loob ng medroom.
“Teka san ka ba talaga nagpunta sa pharmacy o sa ibang unit? Ambilis mo naman makapickup pre!”
“Sige na sabihin mo na, sino yan? Kilala ba namin yan? Gusto mo tawagan natin?”
“Endorse niyo na yan dito teh! Ipaadmit na yan dito sa atin! Amina, anong pangalan niyan?”
Parang hindi kayo toxic kanina a. Labo.
Tinago ko yung papel sa bulsa ko at bumalik na sa trabaho. Syempre hindi ko namalayan yung ngiti na dahan dahang kumakalat sa mukha ko. Bakit, bawal ba magkainspirasyon sa trabaho? Natawa ako habang lumalapit sa nag-aalarm na call bell sa station.
Magparecall kaya ako bukas?
to be continued..
“In the end, I guess my biggest mistake was thinking that I could make those kinds of promises to myself, things that I thought I wanted but didn’t intend to keep.”
She took a moment to reply. “Isn’t that what maturing is all about? To realize that what you decided on yesterday isn’t necessarily one that you would agree with tomorrow?”
“I guess, but is that a bad thing or a good thing?”
I saw the shadow of a smile – half-amused and half-wistful flash across her face, “If every person had an answer to that question, then wouldn’t life be a little bit too trivial?”
I turned away from her and stared off into the dimming sunset. “I guess. but then again, I kind of wish my peace of mind didn’t come at the expense of finding peace with myself first.”
Author’s note: Something I wrote a few years back. I’d forgotten what emotion I was trying to capture here. Probably an introspective one about self-love?
Oh waffle fries. Or CrissCut fries, whatever works.
Some people swear by the holy grail called Twister Fries. But no, not me. No sirree.
Once upon a time, there was this. This absolute perfection of culinary genius that makes you wonder, who thought about placing one perfectly good, cooked potato in a grid-iron waffle maker, then tossing whatever comes out of that into a vat of boiling oil? That man, or woman, is a genius I tell you. genius.
Crispy on the outside, buttery smooth on the inside, with just the right amount of gaps in between to let your tongue taste the flavor in between the crevices of its fried goodness. It’s so good, you’d wonder why they don’t sell a bucket of these bad boys in fast food restaurants.
Hmm, now that’s food for thought.
Day 4 (or was it 5?) since I renewed my interest in writing again. I don’t know if I can sustain this in the long run, but it’s infinitely better than sitting around and letting my thoughts go stagnant and unpenned inside my head.
I realize though, that my tongue, or rather my inner voice, is out of practice. Sure, it’s easy to spew out a formless narrative – reciting soliloquies and poetry on a whim, but that wouldn’t be much of an exercise now, would it? Structured technique would help me bridle my thoughts into a more purposeful and pervasive direction, instead of me just randomly ambling about my keyboard, typing whatever and whenever. To recapture that skill, I need to rediscover my love for reading again. I must rediscover that spark I used to had when I enjoyed countless hours perusing through old bookstores, searching for that one book whose premise will catch my attention and never let it go.
Although I suppose it’s easier said than done. Responsibilities keep piling up, and as they say, Man can’t live on silly dreams alone.
Well, here’s to the defying the odds, right?
Author’s note: This is not intended to be an informative article. Just something to get the ball rolling, so to speak. Stream of consciousness, perhaps?
What if Sentience was a commodity?
I realize that this might be too broad of a subject for a simple warm-up essay, but the rules of my newly-established practice routine states that I should write about the first topic that comes into mind when I wake up in the morning. Sadly, I’ve been dipping my toes in dystopian themed TV shows a lot recently, and I can’t help but think about random stuff related to their thematic conflict, so here I am.
I’ve always wondered why dystopian universes hold such an appeal for some people. Personally, while I find the topic interesting, I find that the image of a future where some aspect of humanity is warped beyond common sense a bit too drab for my taste. Sure, I enjoyed reading Farenheit 451 and 1984, and I sure wasn’t complaining when I watched movies like I-Robot and the like, but take away the action, the intrigue and the mystery of the post-apocalyptic genre, and you’re stuck with a world full of nothing but depressing tropes and endless conflict with barely a resolution in sight. My opinion would probably change if an author could somehow create a dystopian world with a more positive outlook, although I can’t help but think that at best it would like a satirical commentary of what would happen if we were to experience that today. Nonetheless, it still doesn’t change the fact that it’s probably the least favorite of all the possible worlds I can come up with. (High Fantasy Victorian Steampunk ranks #1, btw.)
Sentience is a common theme in these dystopian novels, primarily with storylines that tend to focus on the question of essence of humanity. Asimov’s train of thought being the initial example that comes to mind. The fascination with dissecting the nature of emotion and subjective sensation is one that is always a point of contention among science fiction writers. What constitutes a sentient being’s subjective reality? Is it the ability to decide? Or the ability to feel emotion tied to your decision making?
If we go by the first premise, then logically speaking any organism with the capacity to decide based on a certain precedent (i.e programmed set of logical rules) is sentient. However, many would agree that sentience is not merely the ability to decide, but the ability to internally interpret, connect, and express this decision into an emotion that can in turn, be interpreted by other sentient beings as such. This ties into a much broader discussion about empathy, compassion, and other intangible elements relating to humanity that most certainly would not be attributed to any other life form that cannot satisfy the pre-existing conditions, much like the argument about Robots and Artificial Intelligence. Simply put, Sentience, in an overarching definition, is the human quality of being able to feel, to express, and to sympathize, all the while understanding the basic process of why we are able to feel, express and sympathize.
Most would argue that humans are not the only organisms that are able to feel however, and most animals have exhibited some sort of sentient behavior that we can be classified as “human-like.” Like for instance, pain is a subjective feeling that we can link to the process of sensation, but not every living being has an observable reaction to pain. At least, not that we know of just yet using our limited capacity for understanding. There is an existing train of thought within the subject that in order to understand suffering, or the process of undergoing hardship and pain, we must first consider if the subject in question is sentient or not. And one of the easiest ways to determine the extent suffering can be quantified by our existing scales to measure pain in living beings. It’s easy for humans, and right now, we are beginning to see that other living beings like dogs exhibit the same biological reaction as ours when they are subjected to suffering. They cry, they howl, they even shed tears when they were subjected to abuse. It is by that kind of logic that people argue for the progression of animal rights, because they believe that the nature of suffering proves that sentience is present not only in humans, but in animals too.
But what about plants? The flora of the world around us? Are we able to assess if they possess sentience? Science has already proven that they are living organisms, but with different bio-composition. If they can express sentience, what form would it take?
There is an oft-quoted experiment regarding this topic that the reader has probably heard of by now: Two plants were kept in a similar environment, with same amounts of water, sunlight, and air to keep them nourished. One however, was exposed to classical music, and the other, rock music. After a month or two of exposure, the plant exposed to classical music flourished, while the other displayed a significant decrease in its growth and overall health – its leaves drooped, its color dull and faded, and at first glance, it looks as if it were slumping down. Leaf browning was a noticeable attribute as well.
Going by this argument, that plants are in fact, actually conscious of human stimuli, can they in turn, be subject to suffering as well, And going by that argument, can plants be sentient? If plants were actually sentient, would we have a way of knowing? How would we quantify that?
Most scientists argue that emotion is just the interplay between several biochemical reactors in our body. That is true, to some extent. However, we have not been able to fully understand the relationship of this biochemistry aspect of our emotions to the spiritual side of humans. If we go by the plausibility of the previous argument – that human emotions are simply the result of an extended chain of biochemical reactions occurring throughout our body, then theoretically it would be feasible to design a robotic shell with compounds designed to stimulate anger, fear, and the like. However, that is easier said than done – we still haven’t fully understood the developmental mechanics that enable our brain to express these kinds of natural reactions.
But what if we did?
What if we did know how to control our body’s input and output of chemicals, and somehow duplicate that? Or maybe, reverse-engineer the whole process?
It would be a terrifying scenario.
Instead of us building robots from scratch, we would be the ones turning ourselves into robots. And the scary part is, it doesn’t matter it we were coerced into it or not; It will be part of the system whether we like it or not. Think about efficiency, think about productivity – most corporations would jump at the opportunity to divest their workforce of attributes that would otherwise hinder their employee’s dedication to their job. Things like fear, anger, depression, those things fall by the wayside. Of course, we would have Moral Relativism to consider, but hey, we’re talking about developing scenarios for a dystopian future, yes?
Imagine the world building possibilities – A sprawling Metropolis but with sparse human population, primarily because the emotions linked to procreation (Fear, Love, Security) has been commodified into a shot that can only be administered in selected areas called Eden. Edens are thought of as relics of the past, with their existence being deemed as a necessary connection to humanity’s continued existence. The shot, called Sentience Serum, has different strains, several of which can be injected to other living beings to manifest human-like displays of emotion. Plant-based organisms can now be grown in the likeness of man using bioengineering vats mixed with the DNA of human subjects. Genetic modifications also exist to give human-like qualities to animals such as dogs and cats to finally eliminate the only roadblock to “animal rights.”
Now you tell me why I think dystopian worlds are depressing and bleak.
Cold. I feel.. cold.
I feel weightless, almost as if I were floating in space. What’s holding me up? I look down at my arms and try to lift them up when I realize that this feeling of weightlessness was just me floating, floating on some sort of semi-viscous liquid inside a spacious translucent container. I peer down and see an oddly shaped transparent material beneath my feet, shaped vaguely like a claw catcher turned upside down.
To say that I was disoriented was a bit of an understatement. What the hell is going on here? And why can’t I remember anything?
I get distracted a bit from my perusal of my container when the sound of voices echoed around the glass walls of my fish tank. Muted voices, like people talking underwater through fiberglass. No wait, scratch that, it’s probably more like people are talking above me, out of the water, with me stuck inside a windowless aquarium. I look upward and see vague outlines of people staring down at me from the ripples of the water surface above me, or whatever liquid I’m currently in. Am I dreaming? The more I think about it, the more questions keep coming up. Ugh, what happened to me? Am I here against my will? Did somebody offer me a written consent for all this? And why can’t I remember? Wait, I just asked that earlier, right?
One thing’s for sure though, I probably won’t get anywhere by floating around like a desiccated corpse. I try to extend my arms and legs further back, but it seems like my body won’t listen to me. I feel like my whole body’s gone numb for some reason, and I can’t move any of my extremities, save my eyes. And god, why is my mouth so parched? I’m technically supposed to be underwater right?
The people outside my cubicle seem to have noticed me moving about, and started bustling around, presumably to activate the machine I was in. An otherworldly hum started to emanate from the walls of my container, and several veins of bluish-green light started to glow from several sphere-like ports on the walls. I panic and redouble my efforts to move my extremities, struggling desperately to move my arms and legs and begging my neurons to snap out of whatever stupor they managed to fall into. A futile effort for sure, but I didn’t want to become someone’s sushi dinner without having to put up a fight.
“Rapture Sequence 1015, starting in 5.. 4.. 3.. “
What? What were they talking about? I try to shout but my mouth only opened a fraction of the way. Who are you? I tried to scream as I struggled mightily to lift my arms out of their self-imposed stasis, but it seems like my body stopped functioning permanently at this point. I was basically a living, sentient coffin.
“2.. 1..“
Then the lights flashed once, and I was gone.
Cold. I feel.. cold. Why do I feel cold?
I slowly opened my eyes, and promptly closed them back again. Good Lord, where’s this light coming from? It’s too bright. At least for someone who probably had his eyes welded shut for about a decade or so.
I promptly sat up to shake the cobwebs out of my brain, slowly clearing away the haze that was dancing around my eyes. For some reason, my head started throbbing earnestly as soon as I sat up so I placed a hand gingerly on my forehead to see if I had a concussion or something. Finding nothing, I stretched my neck and slowly looked around my room. A single luminescent light source lit up the room from the ceiling, and the the first thought I had was that I was pretty sure it was not some overpowered electrical light bulb. Strange thing to mull about after waking up to this scenario, but okay, I guess? At least my brain was functioning properly. The light illuminated a plain-looking white room with a couch in front of the bed I was currently lying in. No tables, no lamps, nothing save for the couch and the bed. No outline of a door or window in sight either.
Where was I? What the hell was going on here? And why can’t I remember anything?
I look down at what I was wearing and was mildly surprised. Was this a gown? It feels like silk but looks like a modified Terry robe that doesn’t have openings at the front, with two small pockets lining both sides of my upper things. I won’t lie, I like it. It feels infinitely more comfortable than those oversized cargo pants I used to wear out of necessity. I stop for a bit and wonder if I managed to find myself inside a hospital of some sort. Don’t they use gowns like these when they bring patients in from the hospital? Is this solitary confinement?
I started to get a little angry at that thought. Nobody’s sticking me inside some hospital without my consent, and they’re going to let me out one way or another. I sat up gingerly on the side of the bed and tried to look for things around the room to help me orient myself to this predicament I managed to get involved in. I dug my hands into one of the pockets of my robe, and surprisingly found a small, thin object nestled within the folds of the pocket. I bring it out and gave it a quick scan. Oddly enough, it looked like a blank piece of cardboard, only it felt like some kind of super-thin metal with little serrations on one face of the square, and a smooth surface on the other face. What the heck was this? And who slipped this in here?
I turn it around to see if it had something written on the back. Nothing, It was the same blank, nondescript surface. Was this an ID of some sort? A key card? I had no idea, but seeing as to how I found something inside one of my pockets, perhaps the other one had something I could use too. I dug around my other pocket and found a little marble. Very surprising indeed, I mused. It was a marble the size of a miniature pea, with a odd shade of black with grey markings mixed in. Holding it up against the light, I wondered what possible use this little marble could have. It didn’t look like something that belonged here, rather it looked out of place against the stark white walls of my room. I rolled it around and my palm and thought for a minute or two. What would a sensible human do at a time like this with a small pea like this?
Eat it, probably?
I shrugged to myself. Nothing ventured, nothing gained right?
I placed the marble in my mouth, and almost immediately spat it back out. The moment I placed it on my tongue, whispers started to float around my head. Incoherent whispers to be sure, but it felt like someone was trying to tell me something. I looked down at the marble and thought, what the hell, I’m already knee-deep in this crap anyway. So I took a deep breath and popped it back inside my mouth, swallowing it whole in the process.
The moment I gulped that marble down, echoing whispers started swirling again in my head, this time gradually becoming clearer as I started to hear the voice with increasing clarity. I can hear the urgency in its voice now, as I slowly pieced together the message it was trying to tell me.
“You.. ma.. side.. Do not.. ..rget.. Find Let..“
Me? Beside? Inside? Topside? It sounds like it was telling me not to forget. What would I forget? And who was Let?
The hazy voice suddenly vanished as a door opened up beside the couch I was facing. Two persons entered, dressed in an all-white uniform that looked like something out of a Navy issued official uniform. One of them, a female I assume, smiled and approached me, hands extended in a gesture of a handshake. Am I finally going to find out what happened to me?
“Hello, Sir, You are finally conscious and coherent. For practical purposes we will not be referring to you by your former name. Instead, you will be given a new one to serve as your identification once you have been oriented to our facility, so we will be referring to you as Sir in the meantime.”
“Excuse me?” I coughed out. “Would you mind telling me where I am first before spouting all that nonsense at me?”
This time, it was the male one that spoke out. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Of course, we will be happy to orient you to your immediate surroundings if you would kindly follow us to our transportation to the main atrium. If you please?” He smiled at me then, a pleasant enough smile, but the kind that made you think twice, or made you do a mental double take. I shrugged off the feeling and sighed. What else can I do about this anyway?
“All right, I guess. Lead the way.” The pair smiled again and walked towards the door, gesturing that I come through. I strode briskly towards the door, eager to get some fresh air when suddenly, a blinding strobe of light assaulted my eyes as soon as I peered outside. I closed them quickly and shielded both my eyes with my hands, fumbling backwards inside the room. “What the hell is this, are you trying to burn my eyes out of my sockets?” I fumed.
“Of course not sir, give it a moment and your visual functions will adjust in time to our natural lighting. It just so happens that your body is still in the process of acclimating itself to these surroundings. It may take you around a minute or two for your eyes to adjust to the radiance.” the female stated. I swear I can hear their voices smirking at me from behind my tightly shut eyelids.
I open my eyes cautiously, wary of any backlash, but the flashing strobes in my line of sight threatened to make me keel over again, so I promptly closed them again. “Now what?” I asked. “Don’t tell my I’ll have to content myself to just walking around with my eyes closed all the time?” The female sighed, and I could maybe, just maybe, hear a little bit of exasperation in her voice. “If you would just open your eyes sir, you’ll see that your concern is misplaced. I urge you to try it now.”
So says the female with her eyes perfectly intact. Goddamit. Whatever, I can’t very well figure out what to do if I’m running around blind now could I? I shuffled slowly back towards the door and I slowly open my eyes, steeling myself for the inevitable pain that I knew was going to happen. And I was right, the bright light exploded like a supernova right in front of my face, shining a dazzling ray right through my cornea. At least, that’s what it feels like from my point of view. Like staring at the sun too long as a dare on a hot sunny afternoon. Or staring at an incoming truck with headlights designed to scare away intrepid moose wandering the highways. It physically hurts, and I after a minute or two I was beginning to feel like I should give them a piece of my mind for lying about the time it takes for me to adjust. But then suddenly, it happened.
You know the feeling of your eyes adjusting to the dark after staring at it for a while? Something about retinas and pupils adjusting whatever. Well, that’s what happened. Suddenly, shapes and outlines beyond the light started to form. And as soon as they did, my mouth started to drop.
I turned to the male beside me and asked, “Where exactly am I?”
The male smiled again, that creepy, squeaky clean smile designed to scare the living daylights out of you and gestured towards the horizon with a brandishing sweep of his hand.
“This is our own brand of paradise sir. Welcome.. to Heaven.”
to be continued?
PELANQUITOUS 