One of my new favorite things: a ring

I received an adjustable cocktail ring as a freebie with a purchase I made from Carousell. I didn't like the color at first, so I immediately tossed it into my To Donate pile, which soon got lost among my clutter. 

I found it again recently, years later, and this time around, the light hit it differently, and I found myself enamored by the vibrant cyan color. I looked closer and noticed that the center stone was framed by tiny crystals instead of what I mistakenly thought were metal engravings. There's also a marking on the band that may be "925," which indicates that the ring is made of sterling silver, a precious metal.

So I did some quick research. While the ring is not that valuable, it's also not as cheap as I originally thought! I really thought it was glass or, worse, plastic!

My quick research told me that, for costume jewelry, sterling silver is typically partnered with cubic zirconia and, at a minimum, lab-grown gemstones. In the case of my ring, it could be a lab-grown spinel made to mimic the incredibly rare Paraiba tourmaline.

Paraiba tourmaline is more expensive than a diamond. One Paraiba tourmaline is unearthed for every 10,000 diamonds mined!

Tourmaline, in general, also shares with opal the designation as the October birthstone.

Paraiba tourmaline is highly favored by artists, writers, and entrepreneurs because it is believed to trigger intense creative inspiration, helping a person take an abstract, brilliant concept out of their imagination and successfully manifest it into the physical world.

I also read that Paraiba tourmaline is considered one of the ultimate stones for self-expression, helping one align their thoughts with their voice.

Let me channel those energies with my synthetic gemstone!

Another plus point is that both cubic zirconia and spinel have a Mohs hardness of 8, making them durable for everyday wear.

Personally, I have come to love this ring because it reminds me of our country's turquoise waters and my deep but forgotten connection with the ocean, being an island girl.  

The sight of blood

I still need to get my blood drawn regularly, as I am still required to undergo a lot of tests. It feels never-ending, and while I've gotten used to it, I still go on a little bit scared. 

Yesterday's blood draw was quick. The tech found a vein on her first try. But when she pulled out the syringe, there was a bit of pain. After bandaging me up, she told me to apply pressure for three minutes and not to bend my arm. 

As my mother and I were walking outside, I felt a thick wetness on the site. I looked down and saw blood. A lot of it. I panicked. What if the gushing doesn't stop? Mommy calmly said to continue applying pressure. That will stop, she said. 

I remembered my grandfather, who passed away when I was 9. One of the stories my mother always told us was about how he would faint at the sight of blood. I believe I got my squeamishness from him, although another side of me is still sometimes fascinated by gore. 

Anyway, I asked Mommy to tell me more about Lolo Lino's encounters with blood. She told me that one time, in Junquera in Cebu, he saw from their window a neighbor getting hacked. He came crashing down on the floor after that. 

My arm bled again after she told me that story. I had to get a second wad of tissues to press on it. But by the time we got home, the bleeding had stopped. We cleaned the tiny little wound that looked huge for a needle, rebandaged it, and called it a night. 

I fell asleep almost immediately. I didn't faint. I'm still alive.

On finding good luck charms

Still in the thick of decluttering, I found these seeds I picked up during a trip to Siquijor years ago. They were nestled in a small pocket carved by the waves on a beachside rock. I was fascinated by their shape--they looked like stone-gray eggs--and when I picked one of them up and shook it instinctively, I was amused to hear it rattle.

I found out today what they are called: nickernuts, sea pearls, or fever nuts, the seeds of the coastal Caesalpinia bonduc vine.

​In our language, they are called ​kalumbibit or ​bayag-kambing.

They usually come in pairs in a pod that cracks open, releasing them into the sea, where they travel on currents, crossing oceans and washing up along beaches.

Apparently, they have medicinal (they are used to treat fevers, expel worms, ease period pains, and many more ailments) and traditional uses (children use them as marbles or as tokens in the board game sungka). 

What fascinates me more, however, is that they are also considered good luck charms in many cultures.

The Aztecs believed they had protective energy. In Santeria, they are considered "curse removers." In India, these seeds are strung on necklaces to ensure a safe pregnancy.

In the Philippines, they are seen as natural tokens of protection and fortune. In fact, they are for sale in Shopee and Lazada as "pampaswerte sa sugal at negosyo." 

How serendipitous that I gravitated naturally towards picking them up. I'll take all the positive juju I can get, thank you.

 

Dream: John Lloyd and Bea

Last night, I dreamed that I was getting married to John Lloyd Cruz and I was Bea Alonzo. We'd been completely in love, so I was confused that, right before the ceremony, JLC was suddenly distant. 

He spent time with his friends; didn't even look at me. I wasn't sure if we should even continue the wedding, but all the guests were there and I was already dressed. 

I thought about talking to him, worried that I'd be legally bound to someone who didn't want me even if he was JLC. Then I considered going with the flow but also being emotionally prepared to question him why he still proceeded to marry me. I would be blameless, I figured, even if stuck. 

I wondered if he loved someone else. But we had been so happy! And his eyes had always seemed sincere. And why hadn't he said anything?

We got married, but he didn't join me in the room later.

Then someone told me why, but I can't remember how. Maybe it was a narrator: You're messy. Your bed is full of cookie crumbs, and he can't stand it. He loves you, but he can't tolerate your being a slob. 

Bea Alonzo swept the clothes and crumbs off her bed. Sniffed her hands. Then she sobbed. 

Prognosis

For Jenny Rockwell

When life is measured
in months, no longer years,
you find your way through the dark,
your knuckles white, gripped tight
around everyone you hold dear.

I think of that photographer
who saw the distant mountain
from where he sat in the city.
From his rooftop, he showed us
what the smog can take away.

We did not know we could see the mountain.
But, see, we only noticed the veil
on that one clear day.

Messianic

 For Jameson

This morning, I read about a dog that died
doing what dogs know to do: run
towards a noise at the door,
to strangers barging in.
He was wearing a bold blue shirt–
dressed with care, no doubt,
by the woman of the house.
But maybe I am wrong: The dog was
not protecting but welcoming,
dashing to the door, expecting
someone coming home,
a wildly open heart
before being shot.

Sometimes I wonder, when I look at the world,
do I pretend not to see
the hiding spider, the wayward ant,
and proceed without caution
because I cannot survive the wave
of the many others that cannot be saved?