this one's for you bitch!

MJ and I had a short talk about "L" yesterday and we claim to a conclusion that she is indeed a bitch. Well, considering the reputation she has, I would say calling her a "bitch" would be an understatement. She's like a rabid dog. :p She puts up a fight with everyone. She even made this infamous statement that she "doesn't like me" for reasons she "can't think of!" Pathetic! But you know what, I don't have to deal with her coz I follow a general rule:

"Never ever get into fights with UGLY and STUPID people. They have literally and figuratively nothing to lose!"

Right, MJ? :)

serendipity

s-e-r-e-n-d-i-p-i-t-y

Do you believe in serendipity? I didn't. I do now. Just a few minutes ago while reading my gazillion mails, I was answering this Feng Shui quiz my former doppelganger sent me. I breezed through the forecast and I silently said, "kuyawa gud"!

This little event unraveled into a more complicated thread minutes after. Someone sent me a ringback of one of the more meaningful songs I've been listening to for the past few months for my mobile phone. I asked my closest friends if they were the ones who sent me this sweet gesture but none of them were guilty of the deed. I suddenly thought of kindred and my fingers began tapping at the keys. I suddenly received a message from this curious creature --

"Are you already in the office?"

Serendipity! (char!)

duh!

I'm in woe. Words need not be spoken in order for you to fathom what's really in the rabbit hole. Psyche kept her silence knowing that amour is enough. That Eros would remain her knight despite the enticing stream. But this... I guess, there is indeed too many nymphs bathing and it is too much for Cupid to handle. Did you ever feel like you were stabbed in the back by someone who's been nonchalantly silent, a watcher that broods through everyday events in the arena? I did. Just now. I don't know if this is the reason why you keep silent when you are with she who's been patiently waiting for an answer -- an answer she already knows but fails to hear due to the drowning wave of lies. She never questioned your motives because trust is always a scarce commodity. And so, she clasps at her ears each and everytime until the pillars of pallor turn her into a wan zombie feeding on what is just served up front. She was warned of the fire you wield. She stood her ground despite the murmurs from the stream. She knows that the cool wind would soon smite the fire to frozen embers. But it is stoked by circumstances that always point to the other direction. I hope nalipay naka. Don't count on winning any bets, if there is one. Your egg just cracked. This is what I get for thinking there is innate kindness in everyone even if it's just a little bit. This is what I get for being so trusting. This is what I get for being so stupid. Right now, I know enough. But what I know, you will never know... Get a life! **

random thoughts

We were once asked by our Literature teacher to describe ourselves in one sentence in the most unique way possible. And if he liked how we described ourselves, he would exempt us from the final exams which was the most excruciating part of my entire existence with him. :) He called us randomly and in a split seconds, I uttered the following sentence:

"A wedlock of emotional poetry, prose, sentiments, and ephemeral illusions; created mainly to present a shape-shifter’s mindless ramblings, cathartic furor, and infatuation with the benign laugh of life. "

I know this sounds so pathetic but I was asked my my teacher, remember? I don't really care about those who will find this egoistic. All I know is, that semester, I did not take the final exam and got a final grade of 1.0 :)

Why am I saying this? Well, I just thought about that incident while riding a jeepney on my way to work today and I was surprised why I still memorized the exact sentence. :) I know... things can be random at times.

....

I tried tapping at the keys of this plastic wonder. Futile efforts fading away to hopelessness. My mind is not blank. But it is saturated by thoughts fleeting and going, fleeting and going. Nothing lingers. Nothing chooses to remain. Not even a limerick. Inspiration again, chose to knock on the door...not on mine...never on my door. The only consolation for a plebe like me is that smile that flits and floats like a cotton flower, wished upon but blown by the wind, never to be caught again. It's a draining week. A lot has happened. But the tempest has ceased. There are but the muddy puddles left by the rain which caused much distraught upon more than two people's hearts. I could feel myself being pulled towards getting up and making the first move. But pride is such a stubborn partner. It will never leave me. :(

100 Skies

1. I have been called a number of names a lot of times bute preferrably, I'd rather be called "Anne".
2. I am a shape-shifter.
3. I am a righty.
4. I usually get into trouble when I open my mouth. And I love it.
5. I am an obsessive compulsive. A true blue member of the oc-oc clan.
6. I find stupid questions both irritating and funny.
7. I play dumb, just to be sarcastic.
8. I know a little bit about a lot of things.
9. One reason why I think, I am such a fascination magnet.
10. Or it's just the fact that I am too queer to handle.
11. I have attended 4 universities and never graduated.
12. I filed leave of absence in my previous work without even thinking of coming back.
13. Cameras are my worst friend but I sooo love photography.
14. Yes, I am not vain.
15. I can be both overly optimistic and overly pessimistic at the same time.
16. I can easily forgive but I never forget.
17. I don't forgive myself easily. Some days, I don’t forgive myself at all.
18. I have a penchant for books and Mac products.
19. I am an infant vampire when it comes to pineapple and coffee.
20. I have a terminal state when it comes to love songs and classics.
21. I am a walking contradiction. The anti - thesis of myself.
22. I am hooked with Dr. House, Grey's Anatomy, Dexter, Numbers, CSI: Vegas and all those interesting series.
23. I've just discovered that I'm no longer a teenager. I do groceries instead of shopping nowadays.
24. I prefer black over white.
25. Basketball is the only sport that tickle my fancy.
26. I owe my figure to genetics and metabolism. I am seriously overweight!
27. I am my own alarm clock. I sleep lightly.
28. I’d opt for chocolates over flowers.
29. But I would easily choose a note or a letter over the latter.
30. Driving is a fleeting lesson. I’ve been taught several times.
31. And surprisingly, I eventually learned to.
32. I never learned how to swim. Someday, I will.
33. Friends taught me once but it was such a disastrous event for me.
34. I wanna become the Pope.
35. And so I love to commute. Because I don’t have a choice.
36. Road trips are my second favorite.
37. I fancied becoming mortician.
38. I can fry anything. Just don’t ask me to cook rice. But the kitchen is some place I wanna thrive.
39. I realize that the television is not a relevant tool in my life.
40. Music is something that perhaps, I will not be able to live without.
41. I update myself of the world around me by surfing the net.
42. I collect nasty comments from people about me. Hehe!
43. At 7 years old, my little brother learned the “finger sign” from me. I still get scolded for that.
44. I accept compliments in jest because I am lousy at accepting them.
45. I hate hanging clothes.
46. And doing the dishes.
47. When I’m depressed, I don’t get a haircut. I write.
48. When I want to indulge, I still write.
49. I was once undefeated for three consecutive years in a national Essay Writing Contest. (On the fourth year, I placed second.)
50. I prefer the Jollibee over McDonald's.
51. I prefer email to the telephone.
52. I love surprises. So drop by, anytime.
53. I don’t forget my passwords and I don’t forget other people’s passwords.
54. I have 7 tattoos. Yes, I love hurting myself that way. Artistically.
55. I don’t believe in luck; I am the captain of my ship. Destiny is what I make it.
56. I am a self professed bitch. I try hard not to be, but I can’t help myself and I feel better when people are scared of me.
57. Even if I hold the greatest ire for someone, the only thing I’m capable of doing is to plant virtual kicks on his/her face.
58. I still sometimes regret not being a lawyer.
59. I am intensely loyal to the few friends I have. Sometimes, to my own demise.
60. I am quite good at getting out of a fix.
61. I always wait on people even when they're late.
62. Patience is my virtue.
63. I just quit smoking.
64. I can drink 6 bottles of beer and I don't I pass out. Before I quit drinking.
65. I am a fascination magnet, or so I’m told, with my mindless ramblings.
66. People tell me I inspire them to do new things.
67. I touch and hug people I love a lot.
68. I am rabidly pro-choice.
69. I have no qualms about having gay friends.
70. I don’t enjoy porn.
71. I have a myriad collection of books
72. Yes, I'm a book junkie. I stopped counting a few years ago.
73. I dreamt of having a pet pitbull named Choco, short for Chocolate.
74. When I get a pet rottweiller, I'm gonna name 'em, Dragon. To scare those little kiddies that keep playing outside the house.
75. I am nocturnal.
76. I have a complete collection of Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles and New Tales but I never read them.
77. I can usually name that Greek/Roman/Norse god in 5 seconds.
78. I’ve convinced more than 10 friends to start their own journal.
79. And that's not counting my cousin who's really into it.
80. I’ve frustrated myself into learning to fully play the guitar.
81. I play a little bit of the piano and a sing when no one's listening.
82. I always get invitations from people I don’t know in Facebook and Blogger.
83. Some days, I think, my sarcasm will be the death of me.
84. I walk slower than anyone I know.
85. I no longer watch the movies. I just buy pirated DVD's. (I don't support anti-piracy, so?!)
86. I don’t paint well but I think I fare well in doodling.
87. I like reading.
88. I love rambling. My mouth is composed of involuntary muscles. It talks regardless of the circumstance.
89. I’m devoted to writing.
90. I am going to die young.
91. Before I do, I have a feeling I'm gonna do something great, like documentary-great. I just dunno what it is.
92. I'm afraid of losing the magic. But I think I hide it well.
93. I enjoy the close friendship of men more than women.
94. The female friends I have, I keep because they are truly special.
95. I have a fairy godmother.
96. And I had a demigod who still makes himself visible once in a while.
97. I still firmly believe that man is good.
98. The "story" still ends with a comma.
99. If you’ve read this far, you’re either my friend, or is fast becoming one :)
100. More of my mindless ramblings…

lessons on a wednesday morning

To say that I was not insulted is an understatement. I was. And I felt blood rushed to my head when two of my trainees exchanged verbal daggers infront of me. I found it very unprofessional. I have all reasons to serve them FAs for that great act. More so, I have all the reason in the world to display and make manifest my power as "god" and them as my minions.

But I believe having the power or control over people is a privilege that is given to a few. It should be used in wisdom as it was given to you. There are decisions in life that should be thought of. Yes, there are some that should be made in accordance to what is in the norms but sometimes, there's no need for us to use iron fists to correct what isn't, right?

What am I saying? Let me quote Donald Bullock, a reknowned American Business Trainer, "most of our executives make very sound decisions. The trouble is many of them have turned out not to have been right."

hell - bent!

Gawd, it's been ages since I've last updated this god forbidden site! My previous post talked about my thoughts on dying and how it has always fascinated me. :) (you know the love to explore the unknown..)

Ive been busy as HELL! Juggling teaching and schooling is hard (i reckon that it's the understatement of the year). I got promoted as a Trainer at the company I joined barely 7 months ago school and im taking up 2i units at the University. On top of it, I've been doing sidelines. (grammar checking thesis and dissertation). To be honest, I've been pretty stressed out. I'm getting haggard and haggard each day and im getting break outs on my fuckin (excuse the french)face!!!!!!!

Im going to judge a University's Extemporaneous Speaking Contest this Saturday. It may be noted that I've always been fascinated about public speaking, specifically in the area of impromptu speech. It may be draining the life force out of me but i believe that it's well worth what I stand to gain.

The last time I went out? Oh, that was eons ago! I miss the spotchecks of cute guys everywhere. :p (come on, there's no harm in appreciating beauty, ayt?) But in most cases, I subjugate my animalistic and earthly desires and I'm doing a good job at maintaining it so far. But I do get the itch every now and then. :pAnyways, I have two big zits on my face. One in my left cheek and the other right below my lower lip. I hate my face right now! :p

dark thoughts

Have you ever thought of dying? I have – in great detail. It was an obsession of mine from a time, and sometimes crops up when a deep depression hits me.

It doesn’t matter if it’s suicide or accident. As long as it’s not so violent they will have trouble recognizing my body afterward. Actually, I would prefer to die in sleep, peacefully, never to wake up again to the noise and sounds of the living.

My will is maybe too much that even in my dream I died several times. It’s like someone is showing me how it feels to die. You can’t move, you can’t scream. You’re body is frozen into immobility but inside you are screaming for help. “I’m dying! Please help!” you cry, but no sound comes out of your lips. Then you get smaller and smaller inside yourself, shrinking inside your body, everything going dark but you can still see the outlines of your room. You are slipping away, fading into oblivion, with the terror of certainty that you are going to die, die, die. You are thinking you are not ready, please-God-give-me-another-chance-please-don’t-let-me-die!

Then you wake up in terror, not relieved enough to find the world a suddenly beautiful and meaningful place, but the same old shit that made you want to die in the first place.

Sometimes there’s another version of dying. This one scared me more, for it seems darker, almost evil in nature. You find yourself awake in the middle of the dream. Instead of shrinking inside, you feel a slam of force, a huge suction of power that draws you in, that no matter how tight you hold onto your bedposts you are led to the unseen source of power. Again you cry for help, but nobody hears for your lips remain immobile, useless. Inside your brain you are terrified – saying forgotten prayers, inventing new ones. You are getting weaker and the sinister whirlpool is getting stronger, and you are second by second drawn in, your hands losing its grip and you let go and you scream and…

You wake up drenched in sweat and search the room for any unusual elements. You remember that in the dream it was invisible, like a treacherous black hole, just waiting for a moment when your guard is down to open it’s mouth and suck you in, suck you right into hell, probably.

Those are my two versions of dying, of death that I’ve experienced already. It’s rather like a test-drive, you feel the whole experience without the end result.

I don’t want to be raped or brutally murdered or hit by a bus. I try to think of any accident that I might want to die of – maybe a stray bullet, a gunshot that wasn’t meant for me but somehow finding its way to my heart or my brain. There, instant death.

Poison comes to mind, but I don’t want to retch and vomit to my last second of dying. It seems awfully prolonged and needlessly painful.

Suicide. Very easy task. I won’t do it with a rope. It would scare anybody to find me swaying, tied from the ceiling, neck strangled by the rope, my tongue lolling and my face a strange purplish hue. I’d be too vain to try this stunt.

So maybe my sleeping pills? How many capsules is there in a bottle - about 60 pills I think. Would that be enough – if not I’ll buy more. I hope it will be instantly effective. I hope they won’t have time to revive me, to force the substance out of my body. I want them to find me dead. Gone. Gone from their reach. Gone from everything that could hurt me.

Just gone.

epistaxis

It has been a common knowledge that Conflict comes in various types. If I am not mistaken, I guess there are four: Man versus Himself, Man versus Man, Man versus Society and Man versus Nature.

Conflict occurs when two opposing sides collide; it happens when two contrasting parties clash. Not so much of a lovely idea, yes; but such grueling condition takes place often.

Among the four kinds, I can matter-of-factly claim that the fourth type of conflict (Man versus Nature), is the most difficult and the most complicated of all. Although each of the type has its own degrees of difficulty and measures of complication, I still see man’s struggles against nature a downright futility.

Man can always scold himself if he makes a faulty decision. Man can always recompense over a certain loss or injury brought about by his action; yes, he can move on, get over his blues and hang-ups and eventually live in peace for the rest of his life. On the other hand, man, on the context of his shadowy character, can also provide a twisted response to this. He can easily put up a cold, vile front and go for the retaliation---- vengeance! This situation encompasses all of the conflicts mentioned except the fourth one--- man’s hapless grapple against fate.

A literal analogy between You and a wall might further explain the said issue. Say, you happened to bump against a wall and hurt yourself. A few bruises and a scraped skin appeared shortly after that. This pissed you off and made you decide to hit the wall back. Thump! Cracks… Whacked little knuckles… Dripping blood… Oh, poor little knuckles. Perhaps, the impact of that blow was enough to make you yell out a curse and a sharp cry. However, what made you more upset was the fact that you failed to make that hard, lifeless wall pay back.

The said situation can also be likened to a simple argument between a child and a grown-up man, or a fight between a full-grown man and a mentally-distraught person. Who do you think wins? No, make that: Who do you think always wins? And who always loses?

My point is: there are things in this world that are beyond our control--- things that we cannot do anything about no matter how we try—no matter how long we try. These things always trick us, or pull nasty pranks on us. We get upset, and maybe we try avenging ourselves in any possible means or at any possible cost; but, guess who often ends up cursing the stars? Could it be the weatherman? The milkman, perhaps.

You see, accepting our futility against the invincible Fate is exhausting, exhilarating and absurd. To some of us, including me (especially me!) the thought of going down the drains unjustified is more spiteful than anything. So hateful, that if Fate were a man, I would (with all my might) rip him open, pluck his heart out, gouge his eyes, sever his head and wear his skin. Then I would gloat over that fallen Fate--- my toppled Nemesis, my conquered Enemy---- at last, at long last. Oh! How sweet revenge could be!

Quite a scene, that is. But it is not that--- because it cannot be like that. We can neither will it nor plead for it to happen so we could finally claim our fair share. Man is futile despite his intellect, might and initiative. Man is pathetic despite his courage, beauty and pride. He is only a pitiful heap of pretenses and lies. He is only a funny little dummy in fancy shoes and gaudy clothes, after all---- a laughingstock over Fate. I cannot contain it. Nosebleed.

boring thoughts on a boring Sunday

How do you get away from a boring life?

Everyday you wake up in the morning you grab a mug and pour out a coffee from the pot. Get dressed, and walk towards a bound direction. Time and place are like a one-way street that you pass by every now and then not by choice but by certain obligation. You sit on a chair and stare at the clock until your eyes sore. Then, when everyone seems ready with their backpacks, you’ll pour out the last coffee of the day and head towards that same road again. You talk in your sleep and wish life could be a little different just for once. Then you wake up at exactly the same position as the first time you sleep.

Life is a big redundancy of what you make it.

It happens without you being fully aware of the time and days that passed by. It’s as if months have already passed when in reality, it has only been days. You live, merely for living…merely for breathing.

For me, life could mean two things for people: a vibrator or a time bomb. Both concepts center on time as a major element but function on the opposite side of the leverage. The first one sees life as a constant prodder—both acting as a regulator and energy booster. There’s no room for limp soul only those who wish to contend and be contended with. Meanwhile, for those who see life as a time bomb, everything swirls up and readily be blown away when you least expected it.

Boredom. World weariness. Monotony. Whichever way we want to describe it, only one thing remains… we all go through it at one point in time. It’s like a sudden gush of wind, we don’t see it coming but we feel it. We can’t prepare ourselves for it, but we have no choice but to face it. And when it’s there, it confronts us with fierce.

Everyone is a bore to someone. But that’s beside the point. The thing to avoid is being a bore to oneself.

the waiting

there in that crowded Church,
you stood in front of me.
you, so magnificent--- so beautiful to behold.
were you real? i must have strayed in a dream.

in that crowded Church,
you were there--- but not with me,
for, somebody else stood beside you.
could she be, the one who makes you smile?

but i saw her left you.
and you were suddenly alone.
you groped but you never did find her.
was it also painful to be left all by yourself?

along with your swift strides away from me,
was my heavy dragging of my numb feet on the cobbled grounds.
you stopped and waited for more,
but tell me, was it also hard to wait in vain?

in that Church, in that crowded Sanctuary,
Someone else stood behind you.
Someone, who could have touched you and held you.
but you never knew.

in that Church, before God,
you could have been truly found---
had you looked back.
if only you looked back.

mountain massacre

I hated the heat; the kind that would scorch you inside-out, boil the sweat in your pores, make you grope in the road and eventually, send those big hammers in your burning head. I hated the cold; no, not the kind that would just give you goosebumps--- but the biting, piercing cold that sends shivers down your spine; the kind that would make you grit your teeth and make you lock your head between your knees. I'm talking about the cold that makes you freeze and crumble wherever you are positioned--- the kind that would deprive you of sleep--- the kind that knocks your breath off your system--- the kind that is almost painful. I hated the long, seemingly endless trail; the rocky, steep, dizzying cliffs; the sharp stones that prick your soles; the wild grasses and twigs that scrape your skin... oh! The flaring of the nostrils and the panting and the gasping for air that follows! Well now, I don't really hate everything per se. I only hated the big, naughty, enormous sun and its sinister grin. I only hated the unfriendly frost--- too much of it during the night, and maybe, the utter discomfort of the situation up there in the middle of the wilderness --- almost a mile away from civilization.

Life of a "demi" mountaineer, in a more or less rough estimate is like this, hehe... though no longer a neophyte in trekking and mountaineering stuff, i call myself as such because i still trust that i haven't gone half-way of what it really takes to be a true-blooded mountaineer. I still don't have both the heart and the stomach, I'm afraid. Oh yes, I can bear with the day-long hiking--- cutting through fields and cliffs and mountains whether under rough or fine weather conditions. I can bear with the intense muscular pains here and there afterwards; the kind of aches that would make me feel at the same time make me look like a quadriplegic (because it robs me of movement! any slight movement is a hell of pain!) I can withstand the throbbing blisters in my soles and ankles and the itchy, hurting lashes of broken skin tissues in my arms and legs or the persistent poundings in my head. I don't mind the weariness and the exhaustion experienced especially if you go against gravity. I don't mind the awkwardness felt during sleeping time when you're made to squeeze yourself into a cute tent for three. I don't fuss around thinking about water sources, as long as I have gulps of it to quench my deep thirst. I can stand the churning of my intestinal walls--- a gum will do to defy hunger. And I must say that i'm getting used to (if not getting comfortable with) getting a public bath, a public peeing and -- hehe, you know what else I mean. Well, it's not a heart-warming, pleasant experience (dramatic perhaps!) but you won't have a choice when you're up there. You'll just have to make use of any available material at hand--- "do it or die" in other words.

I have had lots of thoughts about climbing since the first time i tried it February of last year. our destination, on the other hand is just the same: Mantalongon, Dalaguete to Badian, Cebu. during our first and merriest climb, more than a dozen students were with us. And so far, it was the worst! The experience was terrible; for we were welcomed by a storm the moment we stepped into the undertaking, making us back off to save our necks. It was awful because we lost our way, making us take the risk of cutting through strange, slippery hills; muddy cornfields, vast farmlands; dangerous, edgy cliffs and rough rivers (maau nlang gani naa c Buki hu served as a human post nga maoy midawat kada usa namo para lang mkatabok!) It was creepy; for we found ourselves being scrutinized by odd people in a queer village. There were no lights, no food, no water, no transportation, no signal--- all we had were the rain in torrents, the stinging cold against our skin, the threat of the nightfall, the sour friction of our intestinal walls, the mounting worries and maybe -- the fear. But then, the long weary day wasn't that bad after all; for some sort of miracle happened. We were led to our final stop and finally, we were able to go home safe and sound.

My second come-back in the chilly mountains of Mantalongon was last October 15, 2006. the experience was not as tough as the first one though but it also had its own perils that nearly took one of our team mates. This time, with a smaller backpack (courtesy of harris) and definitely a lighter weight on my back, I braved again the inscrutable mixture of heat and mist of the weather and the terrifying depths of the mountain ridges. This time, we conquered Osmeña Peak. We inhaled the fog and lingered with the new-found pride because of that little achievement.

I learned that talking and giggling while trekking aren't useful. Talking just slackens your pace, weakens your energy level, diverts your attention, as well as spoils your concentration and above all, increases your tendency to trip over and fall. Of course, the monotonous cadence of my fellow trekkers was broken by sudden thuds, startled shrieks, muffled curses and even bellows of pain all throughout the journey. I was not an exemption. I fell for the nths time--- making me a record breaker para sa knadaghana'g 'dakdak'! saon!

On our second night, we camped at Kawasan (d third flr; kanang source gyud sa falls), where I was racked by chills and shivers at night. My inner convulsions scared me. My inner tremor was so great that I almost felt my heart or could be my lungs blocking my throat! I damned the cold for that, but it didn't cease. Only after a couple of hours when my chills stopped and I was spared.

But what really weighs more than the kilograms of loads on our backs-- what really weighs heavier than the tons of sweat that me and my fellow climbers shed-- was the rare opportunity to be with the lowly mountain people-- the less fortunate ones--- our less fortunate brothers and sisters. I abhor going maudlin (coz in the first place, m not a slave of my own emotions) but seeing these humble rustic folks smile makes me feel being gunned down. Each bashful yet sincere smile they flash at me seems like a bullet through my head (err.. heart?) each shy, apprehensive glance seems like another bullet. Each subtle, polite word these humble people utter seems like another bullet.. and another... and another. Boy! could it be that i have died several times? I have been shot many times over, that I am certain-- and it's terribly painful. It's horribly unthinkable. It pains me everytime. But just why are they too real? Why are they too simple and uncomplicated? Why do they smile so readily? and, just why are they too happy? Isn't Happiness an elusive concept? But yes, they have it--- and I envy them.

I envy them. I envy their naivete--- their innocence. They live a life most of us probably dare not imagine: poverty-stricken and a leap behind the modernization of the world. I even sneered at the first thought of it, but that was before i got killed. :-) I saw them smiled again in-between spoonfuls of spaghetti that we prepared for them. I saw them smiled again when they gave their heartfelt thanks-- then, they flashed those fatal smiles again when we turned to leave. This was during our third climb (March 30, 2007) and as usual, something inside me crumbled. As usual, there was that familiar bolt of pain. How I have suffered a hundred deaths! Yet, surprisingly, how those lowly commoners humbled me. How those hundred deaths made me whole!

Nah. Forget about me hating the scorching heat of the sun or of the nasty sun's battering against my back. Forget about me hating the freezing coldness of the night or of the night's icy clasp of my nape. Forget about the long and winding trails of the mighty mountains or of the mountains' nasty pull of our weary legs. This was before I got massacred, anyway.