Friday, 24 April 2015


I can’t exactly remember the first time I met you. I can’t even remember if I let you in my life on purpose. You just probably barged in, did your usual magic tricks to get a pretty girl you like, and then boom! We’re friends. Bago ka kumontra, of course I’m the pretty girl. Hehe. Sshhhh.

I don’t think I ever expected us to be friends. You were so loud. Making people laugh is such an easy feat for you. You were the exact opposite of who I was back then. Hehe… Because in my mind, I will always be this prim and proper, calm, cool, and collected lady. #mayganon

Anyway, back to my story.

Our friendship (like most relationships) is a roller coaster ride. There was a time when I was so mad at you, we didn’t talk for months. But being the sweet and determined person that you are, of course you did everything to get me back.

We loved each other more since then… (Hahaha, yeah) Even if I went back to my hometown and we were forced to be in this long distance relationship where we just couldn’t find the time to talk to each other regularly. A lot of things happened; we missed important events about each other, etc. Blah blah. I was sad I didn’t get to be with you and Kat on most of your adventures. I kinda felt left out or whatever. But deep down inside of course I know we will always be friends, no matter what.

I still talk to you when I feel down. You take me away from my problems and away from the things that bothers me (but shouldn’t). You’re really one of the truest friends I have left. And you’re sort of the one I feel closest to. Haha. Weh.

There’s really more to say… But if I tell our whole story in this post, what would be left for me to share next year? Haha kidding. So, as cliché as it is, I am really blessed to have you in my life. I will always be thankful for your constant presence and friendship.


Wednesday, 22 April 2015

Way Back Wednesday #1

December 26 2009

When the hurt hurts so bad that I just wanna scream it out but screaming is impossible at the moment (because I can’t make so much noise and someone will surely hit me if I did), I write. I let my thoughts flow from my mind down to my arms into the hand that holds a pen in front of a paper or into my hands that are resting on the keyboard.
My thoughts are actually on a mess. My thinking is fuzzy, alright. Before I come up with something that isn’t all too weird, vague, circular, stupid or fuzzier, I had to sweep everything in my mind first and try to organize them in a way that can be understood by others other than myself (duh). However, others don’t have to understand me anyway.
Writing has always been my refuge. And I don’t wanna bleed anymore. My blood is precious to be wasted. I know there are people out there who die because of blood’s unavailability right when it’s needed the most. So I don’t slash anymore. I realized it was… Just not for me. And I am not so proud of the fact that I used to. But I don’t regret it either. I just don’t wanna do it again.
So what do I write about? Well, I write down everything inside my head just to empty my mind. ‘Cause my head throbs so much if I didn’t. My heart feels like bursting if I try to keep it all inside. My insides won’t be at peace so sleeping will be impossible. I’ve always had trouble sleeping anyway. I dunno if there’ll ever come a time that I’d fall asleep as soon as I lie down. It has been a long time since I slept without too much baggage in my consciousness.

It’s just so hard. This is all so hard. I feel unbearably heavy. When will I be able to experience that unbearable lightness for a change? How.

Friday, 10 April 2015

Kaela's Special Fall

On Easter Sunday, Kaela was pushed by an 11 year old special child. I witnessed the whole thing and I just sat there. There’s probably something wrong with my reflex when it comes to some accidents. I suck.

Kaela and I were at the boy’s living area when he suddenly went down the stairs (from his room probably).There was only the three of us there. The boy’s parent and the other guests and helpers were upstairs or outside. I said hi because I wanted to ask him about his paintings. He undeniably has talent. He didn’t say anything but just looked at me and then at Kaela. I was just staring at him, observing how he’d react to my daughter. I was kind of confident he wouldn’t hurt Kaela, but at the same time, something’s telling me I should approach my daughter and protect her.

I didn’t want to assume anything bad. After all, my cousin is also a special child and he’s nice to people or he just leaves them alone. I’ve also dealt with people with autism and I’ve never met anyone who hurts people on purpose. Maybe I’m just really clueless. I don’t know a lot about these things. I don’t want to assume I know something too. I don’t want to discriminate and all. They will always have a special place in my heart.

(Dang, I don’t even know how to write this piece without offending anyone.)

So I just sat there in front of them, approximately four to five feet away. I looked at Kaela being amused that there’s a kid in the house. (She loves playing with them and calls every child baby; no matter how older they are than her.) I swear her eyes were so wide with wonder and excitement that finally she’d be able to play with someone other than me. The boy approached Kaela and stood in front of her then just pushed her on the chest. Just like that.

I saw the entire thing. It was like a fucking slow motion movie. They were standing in front of each other and then he pushed her. She fell down on her butt first, managed to spread her arms for support and then her head hit the goddamn floor. It’s such a fucking good thing the impact wasn’t that strong so she didn’t injure her head and there was no bump whatsoever. But she cried so loud, it was heartbreaking. I felt like a fucking failure.

I think she cried because someone she probably thought she could trust hurt her. She wasn’t expecting that from a “baby.” I felt like I betrayed her. I was supposed to protect her but I failed because I didn’t trust my motherly instinct.

Of course the moment Kaela fell down and started crying I went to her then carried her from the floor and comforted her. I felt so bad I wanted to cry too. I felt like an incompetent parent. I couldn’t even scold or punish the boy who immediately ran to the kitchen with his hands covering his ears. I had no one to be mad at but myself. I can’t even blame the boy who probably didn’t know the extent and consequences of what he did.

LESSON: Never ever leave your daughter’s side. I really have a lot to learn about being a parent and a decent human being in this world. I guess I could also say that one should never ever assume that there won’t be any danger to your child, even when you think they’re in a safe place. 

Friday, 27 March 2015

Flashback Friday: Hayop Ka!

I find it so hard to keep a blogging schedule but I’m really trying. So here goes today’s Flashback Friday!


I remember physically fighting with my sister Bea. We were fighting about this stupid toy. I forgot what it was, all I know is that I so wanted to play with it but she didn’t wanna give it to me so I got hysterical and crazy. Being the older child, of course my mother wanted me to give in to my sister. But I wouldn't surrender without a fight. We started hitting each other, pulling each other’s hair, kicking limbs, whatever. And then my mom intervened. Bea got the toy and my ego got wounded. (Haha!) She started going to the second floor so I chased after her while shouting “animal ka!

Happier times. I'm pretty sure we were older here than we are in this story.

I can still remember clearly that I really meant that she was a literal animal. Like a cat, dog, bear, etc. But my mom didn’t take it that way. Hayop is the Tagalog word for animal and when you say Hayop Ka! that means you’re cursing the person you’re talking to.

So of course I got spanked and the situation, chaotic as it is, got worse! My mom asked me where I got that. I just said I heard it on the television. She then banned us from watching TV for a few days. Hello, I heard that from a teleserye they were watching. It wasn’t really my fault. Haha.


I guess I was confused at the time. I didn’t really mean it to sound like I was cursing Bea. I just really wanted her to be like a real animal. Hahahahahahashjaksalk.

Monday, 16 March 2015

I no longer...

“I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature. I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me.

I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate. I decided not to coexist anymore with pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise. I do not tolerate selective erudition nor academic arrogance. I do not adjust either to popular gossiping. I hate conflict and comparisons. I believe in a world of opposites and that’s why I avoid people with rigid and inflexible personalities. In friendship I dislike the lack of loyalty and betrayal. I do not get along with those who do not know how to give a compliment or a word of encouragement. Exaggerations bore me and I have difficulty accepting those who do not like animals. And on top of everything I have no patience for anyone who does not deserve my patience.”

Friday, 6 March 2015

Flashback Friday: No More Long Locks

For my birthday this year, Ken and I decided to go with his workmates to their other co-worker’s family farm in Mexico, Pampanga. When we were on the road, they decided to ask everyone to share their earliest memory. And I couldn’t think of mine. Sure I have lots of childhood memories, but I’m not sure what’s the earliest.

So to be able to not forget them, I decided to write down every childhood memory I have that made an impact in my entire life. And I will be naming these posts Flashback Friday: (their individual titles).

I decided to go with this one first. (I kind of have a lot, I mean don’t we all?) Although I’m sure this isn’t my earliest childhood memory. Also, I’ve written and shared this already to my high school English class and I remember my professor finding it so funny. Here goes…

That time I made my girl cousin almost-bald.

I can’t say I actually did it. But it was my fault my aunt shaved my cousin’s long, beautiful, luscious hair. I’m really not sure how old I was. I think I’d just ask my aunt how old my cousin was when she sported a skinhead. Hehe. Anyway… So we were playing in our bedroom with my sister and I think I was doing my cousin’s hair. You know, braiding it and stuff. And then I just decided to grab a pair of scissors and cut a little portion of it at the top. Of course it looked weird and all. Haha! So my aunt got so mad she took my cousin to a parlor and asked the hairdresser to shave my cousin’s entire head. She’s a lesbian now, btw. Maybe having a boy cut then triggered that. Idk. But she acted so much like a boy after that incident.

What I remember the most is the satisfaction I felt the moment that snipping sound was heard. I can imagine the face I made when I made that cut, until now. I was so pleasured by what I did. Why?? Because I envy her hair, of course! I loved her hair and mine at that time was a short bob. (I’ve always sported bobs during childhood, btw). I wasn’t sure if I felt guilty. Probably not. Lol. But I believe that is a life-changing event for my cousin.


Feel free to share YOUR early childhood memories. I’d be happy to read them!

Wednesday, 4 March 2015


Instead of doing something I was supposed to do for work, I am currently listening to Lorde. Yes, Lorde. Hipster shit. Am I right? Char. I do like Lorde most of the time.


I love blogging. And writing in general. But lately, I’m losing touch of my “writer” self. Asa. But I will always admire great writers who know how to express what I’m feeling for me. All these feelings and thoughts sound much more profound and coherent coming from their mouths. Or should I say pens? (Typewriter, computers, etc.)

I’m just not inspired. Can I use that excuse? Damn.