Documentary

With a press of a button, it was ready to go. The red circle blinked away at the upper right corner on the digital screen, where the actual recording could be seen. The bright red light lit to signify that they had begun recording.

"It's another day on the Velez Jungle..," he said in his fake Australian accent. He wanted to come off as someone adventurous which simply meant putting on an accent resembling the more daring kinds of people in front of documentaries and television shows. But unlike those people, he never showed his face in front of the camera. He held the camera with vigor, and kept saying what came in his mind. Whatever random thing.

The star of his little documentary was Theo Mari, though known more as TM. TM was wearing his plain white V neck shirt and his navy blue school pants, as they were filming inside its vicinity. TM's eccentricities and idiosyncrasies worked well with the randomness of their film as it had worked once before.

Their previous efforts had proved funny enough to garner enough praise from their classmates, enough for their classmates to actually expect a sequel, but not so much so to really see one in the near future, or ever. Their last film had the uniqueness of being very unplanned, just a random afternoon with a camcorder, an willing character, and a crazy director.

"..not just some other day, but the..," he continued on in a mildly English accent. "...day we find out if we still become regulars in the next semester."

His speech sounded controlled, forced. But he urged on, wanting to make the impact his last project came out to be. His last project was made on a whim, something to show before TM's production, similar to movies at the cinema. TM's own project, a simple retelling of Gilgamesh, was overshadowed by the sleeper hit of his "trailer." The three-minute venture was repeated twice more after TM's main project. TM wasn't bothered by it, his ego was large enough to see that he himself starred in the trailer.

"Here are a few tips to survive Judgment day," he referenced his older work. The trailer had given viewers three tips to survive "The Velez Jungle." The school had many trees, enough to get its namesake in the short film. But over the years, the number of flora at the school had slowly diminished due to increasing cases of dengue fever.

"First, you need your admission slip," he started, accent and all. TM in his self, hopped on leg to another and showed the camera his piece of white paper. The admission slip was a piece of paper you had to have signed during your final examinations. It contained all the subjects enrolled in the current semester. Failure to at least bring the thing on that day was prevention of taking the final exam altogether, but some teachers were forgiving.

TM still smiling as he waved the piece of paper back and forth across the camera. He gave a thumbs up sign, gave a large grin, and placed the admission slip back into his pocket where it had come from. It may  had been small, but losing it could place one in a very bad position and about twenty pesos poorer.

"Second, you need...a...pen," he was out of words to say and less of an accent to say it with. To put things into consideration, if the teacher somehow manages to run out of ink writing down grades, and is without a new pen to write with, then yours can be the extra one he needs. The teacher could probably add a few points in there which is unlikely, but a student who valiantly gave his pen to a teacher would be no doubt be hopeful.

TM looked at the camera and nodded, with the dumbfounded look on his face shadowed by the pair of sunglasses he used to cover his eyes from the luminescent light bulbs in the small room. He reached down to his pocket and drew out the admission slip, placing it on a table right next to him. He emptied both his pockets, realizing that he had not brought a pen with him. It was understandable, classes were not being held on those days, something the director had not thought to consider.

The camera still focused on TM started to shake, and a pen came in view from the bottom. TM took the pen and held it in front of the camera, and he smiled his wide smile. He quickly replaced all his belongings back into his pockets, the pen with them. The director made no mention about his pen.

"Third, you need to pray," alluding his older work yet again. His older work was made in views that the animals, the students, were savages hunting for prey with the three items being "a spear made out of rock," "protective headgear for the eyes (eyegear)," and the need to search for prey, which was shown as "pray" the first time and corrected into the correct word. All "hunting tips" in his short film were filmed in a sequence of checklists, with the first two having the actual objects and the third, being just the words in the shot. Pray in this sense, had a more deeper meaning in context.

TM in his person just looked straight forward at the camera and gave himself the sign of the cross. The small room they had been was where they had their classes on normal weekends. Just outside and left of the room was a door that led to another classroom. And a few steps more outside the classroom was the faculty room.

The faculty room's double doors opened and the teacher was telling the students to bring their admission slips to him. The camera panned quickly to show the many students flocking around the teacher to give him their pieces of white paper. TM stood up and followed suit, out the door and outside the faculty room. The director slid his paper at the bottom of the camera for TM to give along with his own.

"Now, we wait," he exclaimed, accent and all. Panning from student to student, waiting for their names to be called. "The anticipation could kill a man, they say."

Some students shown in the screen awkwardly nodded.

"Now, we're just sitting here, waiting," the director said, in a mix of English and Australian. TM shown again on the screen, nodded and sat down on the floor. And the camera followed down as the director sat beside TM.

The camera just stared idly on the closed double doors of the faculty room in what they had all felt like forever. TM keeping his smile and talking to others. As one side of the door opened, the teacher went out and stood as to block the door from closing, and started calling out names one by one. And one by one, they all stood and got their papers. The few called first all jumped and screamed in delight. And some waddled and looked down at the floor. "..Theo Mari Ortiz!" the teacher finally yelled.

The camera followed TM towards and the faculty room double doors. TM, still smiling. TM grabbed the piece of paper and removed his sunglasses to have a better look at it. The teacher gave the director's piece of paper and he reached down and took it. He focused the camera on his paper.

"YES!" he shouted, accent forgotten. He panned the camera quickly to TM, to find out he had already left his side. The director ran and looked for TM in the classroom. TM was sitting on a chair on the far side of the room. The camera focused on TM for a moment, and the red dot blinked for the last time.

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Bleed Me Dry

Still fresh from Intrams, I was not ready to go to school yet. The previous week had gave such a lot of excitement. From the games to the dance competition, last week was really a blast.  But as fun as it was, it had to end and be revisited again next year.

My 450 mL of blood

Class had not started on time, which was only dragging everything along. When the teacher got to the room, there was no projector he could use. So, he assigned us to topics to report on another day. With less than an hour until my break started, the group planned out whatever we had to do for the report. And with that, my break had begun. With the impulse of a bored irregular student, I went to Red Cross to donate blood.

Blood donation was always a thing I had always wanted to do. And almost a year ago, I had done it. With the benefits of renewal of your RBCs and giving your blood out to those who really need it, there was no bad side to donating. Well, there is the pain of course. But, we'll get to that later.

The lady who bled me my first time I donated had given me a card to keep. The card was a small yellow paper with my name. It served as a record for how many times I've donated blood. The card collected dust for the most of the past year, but I had put it back in my wallet because I had the thought of donating more blood.

A week or two ago, a friend posted a status on facebook asking who were blood type B+ because her mom needed a transfusion. And seeing that I was healthy and eager to donate blood, I quickly responded. A day had been planned to finally go and get myself bled, but things didn't go well. I ended up not donating blood that day, another person had donated. And today, the mom is out of the hospital.

I would've donated a lot sooner, but the lady told me they were only open to blood donations on Mondays. Any other day, you would have to schedule an appointment or something. And for a while then, I had no time to go out from school on Mondays. But come my first semester of being an irregular student, I was finally available to donate blood.

Red Cross was a small building beside the Cebu Public Library, a landmark always associated with the facility. The distance between the school was not far. But after discussing it with some friends, I opted to take a ride going there because I might not be able to donate if I looked remotely fatigued.

There were steps to follow before donating blood. I remembered there only being three. What the steps say, I cannot recall.

First, I had to read a piece of paper. It stated the things I can't have done if I were to continue with the process. The most prominent rule of not being able to donate is having HIV, a rule I found appropriate. It also mentioned things about having a piercing or tattoo which were more or else standard.

After, they gave me a form. I had to check if the scenarios applied to me. Questions on the form were in a form of yes/no. It had questions like if I had cancer, or if I had drank alcohol within the past few days. Most of my answers were no, but I had ticked yes on lung problems and leaving the country. Leaving the country proved to be a problem when they had to ask a superior if I was able to donate, seeing that I left the country for a month or so. But it was quickly resolved and I was back on my way through the steps.

The only thing I had truly hated my first time donating was the lancet. The lancet was a small pin used to prick a finger so they could get a blood sample to determine my blood type and whether or not I was anemic. I had to relive this moment again earlier, and it hurt like hell.

After a quick check-up from the doctor there, I was ready to be bled. The place to do the bleeding was in a van parked outside the facility, which would have easily passed as a front for a small drug cartel. (But it's not, I think it important to mention that.) The reason probably for that was because the seats were reclined and they had arm rests.

So, I sat down and laid my arm on the rest. The person in charge of bleeding me quickly placed a pillow under my elbow and applied alcohol and betadine (povidone iodine) to make sure the wound would not be infected. She reached down to her kit and got the bag, the one where my blood goes, and attached to the end of it, the needle which was considerably long and thick.

She put on the tourniquet on my upper arm and searched for my vein. After she had located it, it was time to insert the needle. As she forced the needle onto my skin, the pain was a kind of weird. The oozing blood didn't help. The blood didn't go through the tube and into the bag. Instead, it spewed outwards and towards my white uniform, a thing that did not happen during my first time. The medical technician apologized and rushed to find a superior who had applied it properly. Things like that tend to happen when the vein gets hit directly, she said.

The actual bleeding took up to almost a half hour. I was given another sticker for my yellow card, a pack of orange juice and a band aid. After the whole process, I was told to sit back awhile so I wouldn't faint when I stood up. Well, I thought so. The guilty conscience of the lady made her clean my uniform. They had applied a NSS (normal saline solution) to rid the stain which worked. Clearly, they've done this before. One of them even said Hydrogen Peroxide would've worked better. Clearly. But in all fairness, they were nice. All of them were. A trait probably acquired from bleeding a person.




When I got back to school, I felt light headed. They had warned me to not look down as it would cause dizziness and/or nausea. But I urged on, school would end in a couple of hours anyway. Lunch was weird, things were happening that might have been caused by my blood loss. Either they really were, or my friends are assholes.

During my last class of the day, bored out of my mind, I challenged my friend to a game of chess. This friend of mine was a really good player having competed in the Milo Little Olympics when she was younger and in the school's own Intramurals. I had never beaten her ever since my liking to play better at chess. Until today.

The move that caused her downfall was really just her own fault. She had left her queen to be eaten by mine. Even without a queen, she still fought ferociously. But I proved victorious, if only the one time I would have been able to do so. Feeling robbed, she challenged me to another game. She won, but the feeling of winning against a better player never got away from me.

So, today I donated blood which inevitably gave me superpowers to win at chess.

It was a good day.

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If one donates a total of 9 times with the yellow card, he is called a galloner. After that, he may be able to donate every two months, rather than the usual three month gap.

New goal: Be a galloner.

Those living in the Cebu area who are willing to donate, healthy, and above 50kgs may be able to donate blood at the Red Cross office, beside the Cebu Public Library.