Tag Archives: family

Quick Thanks!

I was about to say that I am thankful of the same things I was thankful of last year–family, friends and loved ones. Although I am still thankful of these same things I was thankful of last year, I realized I am also thankful of the gigantic lessons I’ve learned about life. This year has really opened my heart and mind to a lot of thoughts that I wasn’t paying attention to for the past several years. Things like, kindness to other people and being spiritually fulfilled. I have witnessed all that from the events that happened this year.

I’m thankful for that time I got to hang out with people from the Missionaries of the Poor. I’m thankful for that life changing company retreat. I’m thankful for the inspiring conversations with my boss. I’m thankful for the road trips with my friends. Heck, I’m even thankful for the awful fights with my mom and those bad days with C. Because moments like these can really give you a good shake.

I guess that’s about it. Right now, I only have a few words. I sort of don’t want to give details on my plans this year. I’m afraid of jinxing it. But I do have a lot of hope this coming year.



Farm Life

When you ask me where I would want to spend my days when I grow old, I would automatically tell you about my grandparents’ place in Sorsogon. Of course, it’s just a mindless, unplanned desire. I mean, who knows where I’ll be when I grow old or whether I’d live long enough to be called “old”. But having to wait for death to come around when I grow old in a place as pleasant and peaceful as my grandparents’ is probably what I would call, the dream.

I was on leave for almost a week to spend All Soul’s Day in my mom’s hometown to visit my grandfather’s grave. Also, we went looking for someone to be with my grandmother since there are things that she now finds difficult to do by herself.

I just realized how much she’s gotten older as the years went by after my grandfather died. Sure, grandmothers are commonly visualized as old but this is really the first time I’ve seen her as this delicate woman who is in much need of assistance. Her eyesight has now gotten worse and she is now dependent to a cane which makes her move a lot more slowly. She would now ask these mundane questions about the weather or anything that can be answered through observation. And she would ask them over and over throughout the day.

Most of my days there were just lying in a hammock reading Still Alice–an incredible book by Lisa Genova about a woman who struggles with an early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. Sometimes I would drift into a pleasant sleep while other times I’d just watch the chickens as they peck the ground.

You know, there isn’t really a word to describe the unbelievable lightness that I felt while I was in that hammock. I really needed a break from a lot of things. To put things nicely, I have been feeling a lot of anxiety over daily responsibilities. There is toxic in the atmosphere around me and the days are just too long and monotonous.

So the whole leave really helped a lot in clearing my mind.

Plus, I missed my grandfather so much and talking about him with the people who also love him was nice.

Child Story

When I was about four or six–somewhere in that age, I was wandering around the marketplace, hanging around the stalls when I was approached by this woman who sells slippers in her own stall. She asked me about my personal life. She wasn’t a stranger at all. Nobody was, because every store owner knew each other there.

Now, this lady, she was so interested about my life and she was asking a lot of question about my family. Eventually, she started to annoy me as our supposed conversation, like any other conversation between an adult and a child, became an interview. And then I wondered how far our little chat could go if I twist my stories into ridiculous lies.

For a start, I lied about how mom wasn’t really my mom. And that she really my aunt and that my real mom died when I was very young. That’s when the lady’s eyes widened as she straightened her back and craned her neck towards me. That’s also when I felt how good it was when someone is suddenly becomes curious about something you know (even if it was a lie). I felt important. I felt mysterious. I felt powerful over someone begging for information. But before I went on expanding my soap opera life story, my mom came to take me home. And well. The lady asked, as carefully and politely as she could, about all the outrageous stories that I told her. My mom, after giving her a look of confusion and shock, denied them all.

I never knew how my mom explained to her the real story. I doubt the lady ever believed my mom’s version. People tend focus on the intriguing stories and they sort of put aside what is real. Also, I think she was the type to believe in the phrase “Kids don’t lie.”

Now, you may think that I was this psychopath kid who would grow up to be an evil human being about to take over the planet. But I just want to tell you that I felt guilty after that. And I felt guilty all the way home. And I still felt guilty when my mom scolded me and gave a long lecture about honesty. Although, at this very moment I look at it as a funny story, it was very curious how wild I would go to make myself feel high and mighty.

Daddy Day

My dad is far from being an Atticus Finch–the best fictional dad I know and kinda wished I had (Although, recently I’m starting to have second thoughts because I’ve been reading Go Set A Watchman, the sequel for To Kill A Mockigbird by Harper Lee and I found out some things about him). But I love him more than Atticus not because he’s real and he’s my actual dad but because I just do.

This year has been an important year between me and my father because this is the year that I had the courage to confront him about the things that has been bothering me for many years. And he responded to it and we had our very first talk ever. And in that talk, I get to understand just how much he loves his children and how sorry he is for the things he’s done in the past.

And I get to do the impossible and forgave him. For real, this time. And I loved him more than I ever thought I did.

Two Decades of Existence

Before anything else, let’s just talk about this post on my Tumblr account 5 years ago. Yeah, back then I thought this was how Tumblr works.


It’s funny because yesterday was my 20th and clearly I’ve been through some shit since that moment I was wondering how a 15-year old feels like. Wow. I’m 20. I’ve been existing for two decades.

When I was a kid, I’ve always thought of 20 as an adult with serious life commitments and responsibilities. I wasn’t informed that it was also the time when you’re this sleep deprived, caffeinated, crying college student who’s terrified of what shall become of her when school kicks her out into the real world.

But enough of that, let’s save it for some other day. I’m gonna talk about how I celebrated my birthday yesterday with the people I love.

So, I had the time to catch up with my weird-ass high school friends (who are currently fangirling over this musical called Hamilton). No photo to prove that. I guess, no one actually has a decent camera phone to use. But I had fun and it’s been a while and I missed them so much.

And in the afternoon I get to spend time with some of my college squad. As usual, these people never failed to make an ordinary day hilarious.


And I have gifts! It’s been a while since I last received an actual gift on my birthday. I felt like crying because…well I don’t know. I didn’t really expect them from my friends and it was something I never looked forward to every birthday because I rarely had one and…okay I’m tearing up.


  1. I got a framed photo of me as a Taylor Swift 1989 album from my really hot photographer friend complete with my initials and the year I was born. Now I can brag to my kids someday.
  2. The Admin Assistant of the office I used to work in was sweet enough to give a notebook.
  3. My stupid, weird-ass friend gave me a cactus. Yeah, she knows me well enough that she gave a low maintenance plant because I suck at taking responsibilities on things like these.
  4. I got a can of fabulous fries from this fake bitch that I should have bullied more because I think that’s her basis on giving gifts to people. But I love her.
  5. And it’s been a while since someone gave me a book as a present! Actually it’s a graphic novel of the life and times of Johnny Cash from a really curly friend. I am geeking out right now!

So that’s how my day went. I also got calls from long distance friends and had a great dinner with my family.

It was a fun day and I couldn’t ask for more.


August 19, 2015

I came home from school awhile ago only to find my brother alone in the house. Turns out, my parents went out to go to the doctor because my mom wasn’t feeling well. High blood pressure. Stress. Stuff like that.

She’s okay now but I can’t help but think about that look on her face awhile ago filled with pain and agony. And I can’t help but cry. This was supposed to be a fun night because I was planning to watch today’s missed episode of the Kalyeserye but I ended up lying on my bed, crying and contemplating about what shall become of me when my mom goes.

I don’t really talk to my mom about the sad things that happened in my life. Usually I talk to her about the latest gossip inside my circle of friends or the random people that annoy me. I never talked to her about heartbreaks and disappointments and all those stuff that I find heavy. As much as possible, I avoid them afraid of letting her carry a burden. She’s got enough of that so I don’t really want to add more.

Most of the time it’s the other way around: She would be the one talking about these things and I would quietly listen. Sometimes she would cry and sometimes she’s raise her tone. But it was always me who would sit still and listen.

And with that, I always thought of myself as someone who would be strong enough for her so she’d have someone to pour her heart out to. But I guess I’m not as strong as I think I’ve always been. I just thought of her and the tears start welling up. I don’t think I can handle if she ever leaves me. Without her, I’m just plain lost.

I believe, at this very moment I cannot compose proper sentences anymore. The feelings I’m having are just too sad that I feel like I’m failing to use better words to echo them. So I’ll probably leave it like this.

I don’t feel like talking, anyway.

Lies and Bruises

There is a reason why I let go of many grand long-hours-from-home adventures and didn’t participate  —It’s because I can’t lie to my mom. And no I’m not saying I’m a saint because I’ve lied to my parents a couple of times, it’s just that I have this set of boundaries and these boundaries usually fall into situations where I think it’s safe to tell a false story on because if ever my parents find out, it wouldn’t make a big of a deal. Usually it would be about failed exams, locations of where I’m going to sleep for the night (in which I always say the same person and usually that person is someone my parents have heard of) , dinner schedules (when I haven’t eaten yet but still don’t feel like it), cut classes, school punishments, fucked up relationships with other people, etc.

As you can see most of these situations are in short term and can be forgotten easily. Well, except for the last one and if that happens, I always make sure that that person is someone my parents does not have any knowledge of.

But whenever someone invites me to go somewhere far off, on a remote place perhaps or swimming with my friends someplace, I would always say yes and make plans with my them but back out in the last minute.

You can call me a wimp or weak all you want but I always have this picture in my mind that there’s gonna be a car crash and I’m gonna die and my parents are gonna blame themselves for irresponsibility and I can’t console them because well…I’m dead. Also, dying in a middle of a lie where you can’t be there clear things up, is not my dream death (I don’t wish for death, but I do have dream deaths, it’s weird but I’ll probably explain it in the coming entries).

There’s also another thing: My parents have always put their 100% trust on me. I know that because they told me so. And It’s always one of the most sacred thing that I have between me and my mom and dad so I do my best not to break it.  For years, honesty has been a big deal inside our house and I make sure that I choose the right lies (lol I didn’t realize there are right lies) to tell.

Well actually, as of now, there is one thing that I’m currently hiding from my mom and it’s this giant bruise on my arm. And it’s not any ordinary bruise from bumping somewhere or shit, It looked so horrible it seemed I had an accident somewhere! And no, I haven’t even told you where it came from.

Last Friday, right after our department’s first-ever acquaintance party, I asked my friend to punch me. Just so you know, this friend of mine is a guy and look, I’m not being sexist or anything but I’m totally being rational here and we can all agree that the physical male anatomy is more advantageous than my beautiful female gender. Also that guy goes to the gym most of the week and probably has a background on martial arts.  So you get the idea of how my bruise looked like.

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And if y’all wondering why I even asked him to punch me in the first place, well, there’s this habit that me and my friends have grown accustomed to and I think it started on the time when we got together at a birthday party at my friend’s place where everyone got wasted. I probably talked about it on the entry before this one.

Anyway, we have this weird fixation on forming a small circle and punching each other’s arms for no apparent reason except for pure entertainment. And it just feels so good to extend your inner force into your fists and transfer it unto another person’s flesh. I’ve never been into a fist fight before, well, except with my sister but that doesn’t count. So I poured all these reserved energy to my friends and theirs to me.

I don’t know maybe it’s because of the stress. Because one time, my classmate told me that there should be a punching bag inside the lab so we could just punch our hearts out whenever we want to when things fall apart.

So maybe I’ve been stressed because this week I’ve been sick a lot. I mean, my body seemed to just welcome all the bacteria around me with open arms. I’m still recovering from colds. I had dry coughs. I had swollen gums. I had diarrhea. And now the stupid bruise on my arm.

Anyway, it’s 2 weeks before the deadline of the AMV so the urge of punching someone again is steaming up.