March 1, 2015 § Leave a comment

I was sorting through my laundry awhile ago when I suddenly had the epiphany that most of my clothes are either black, dark blue, or white.  I literally walked to my dresser and opened the doors to check and was flabbergasted that indeed most of everything I had here are in those colors.  I used to like wearing prints.  Deadly flower prints.  They were so deadly I cannot forget my brother’s remark one day that my clothes look like curtains because of the flowery prints.  To my defense, they absolutely did not look like curtains (how narrowminded can boys’ descriptions sometimes be) – but yes, I did love flower prints.  And I used to love yellow.  It was the color I received the most compliments for.  I even wore pink, and baby blue always caught my eye when I go to stores.  My favorite swimsuit was orange and green.  Now my existing wardrobe’s majority is the embodiment of the absence of color – black.  I wondered when my wardrobe started changing, and I think it was the moment I  started living here in Singapore.  I swear I wore lively colors up until when I was teaching.  If it was because of the fact of living away from home, doing a PhD, my mourning for the loss of my mother, the practicality of having such a straightforward and timeless fashion, not to mention dark colors does wonders in slimming down (hmm this might actually be a huge factor) – I can only guess.  No wonder when I went home last December, I couldn’t find anything I was comfortable wearing.  All the clothes I left behind were lively and seemed too loud.  It made me queasy wearing them, and so I even bought a few more black tops when I was there.  Looking back, it just seems queer.  I didn’t plan a conscious transmogrification of my wardrobe to black, but somehow it seems like I gravitate towards that color as of late.

But I don’t want to die in black.  Not that I am a firm believer that fashion is deeply connected to personality (because really, black does wonders in slimming down…and it’s always classy to be in black), but because I simply miss being able to pick green, or yellow, or pink, or daisies, or ducks, or or or watermelons, or whatever.  It might be symbolic, that I will now make a conscious effort to buy colors the next time I go shopping.  And the fact that of all the trite things I can write about, I chose this as deserving of a public entry.  But whatever it is, let me just say that black is utterly boring.  I hypothesize that the moment I get back my colors, doing the laundry will be much much more therapeutic.  As for now, I will have to make do with the yellow on the center of that white flower print I have on a sheer black tank top.

full time baby

January 31, 2015 § 1 Comment

It’s quite a hassle to be treated like a baby when you’re turning 30 soon, but sometimes it’s also amusing. I wonder when my Dad will think I’m at least a toddler already.


Whatsapp conversation with Mamow

the compassion in people who have lost

January 25, 2015 § 7 Comments

I keep remembering this sentence I saw once in Humans of New York.  It was from a story about a widow who lost her husband of so many years.  When her husband was dying, she asked him How am I supposed to live without you?.  And her husband answered, Take the love that you have for me, and spread it all around.

To this day, those words reverberate inside my shell, filling my core with both sadness and wisdom.  Of course, that is absolutely the right thing to do.  But for some reason, the idea leaves me with a heavy sense of heartache.  It was an order to give away to whoever else something you have allotted to someone special.  It was the gentle pushing away of hands that yearn to hug someone.  It was the last forehead kiss of a lover, who refuses you to kiss him back for the last time.  It was when I took down my mom’s clothes from their hangers, laid them out on the bed, sorted them out through wafts of familiar memories that dusted out of them, folded them and decided to whom they should go instead.  It was painful, it was generous, it was the right thing.

Perhaps this is why people who have lost someone can sometimes show the most amazing compassion.  Look at them, look at those who suffer silently for people who have long gone.  Perhaps they too want to say, no, I’m not kind.  It isn’t me.  It’s just that, I don’t know what to do with all the love I’m left with.

This post is dedicated in loving memory of my mom, and to my dad who continues to serve others. Happy 32nd Wedding Anniversary.  This is also dedicated to every beautiful person I have been lucky to know.



January 11, 2015 § 1 Comment



January 2, 2015 § Leave a comment

2014’s pages has come to a close.  If I try to encapsulate its entirety to a single concept, it would be “coping”.  Every day was just trying to cope up with everything that if I could suspend, I would, but I couldn’t so nevertheless had to  do.  And in that coping, although I was able to still make “ends meet” in a psychological, spiritual, mental, social and practical aspect, it all seemed half-done.  I felt that my mind, heart and soul was neither here nor there.  In fact, it would have been easy to fall apart and surrender to the evils of sloth, despair, depression and hopelessness if not for the strong loving support of my family and friends.  And so, as 2015 begins, I would like to sincerely thank all of the people who in one way or more sent me a wave of encouragement, comfort and joy the past year.  I would like to live 2015 as an act of gratitude to God and everyone He sent – to remember that there is joy and hope in every single day I am blessed with.  To know that I am capable of more than I think, because of God’s grace and not merely of my own self.  To not forget that other people are going through their own battles and I will never be adequate enough to judge them.  To not lose sight of my dreams and aspirations, no matter the difficulties.  To trust that in every moment, my mom is with me in everything I do.  To dare far, but always know how to come back to my shore – family, friends…home.  To choose to love and become love.

Thank you for the lessons, 2014.  Here’s to a fresh start!

DSC_1500Lemery, Batangas 2014

IMG_1900 Pangasinan 2014 | Ama, Gab (with Inay) and I

Inay’s 1 year in heaven

January 1, 2015 § Leave a comment


do you love me?

November 23, 2014 § Leave a comment

He asked me a question. I knew the answer. But I had buried it in deeply. Consciously. Intentionally.  It was stuck in a place where it had no room to grow.  Though it ached for the dew drops and the sunshine, I could not bear to let it go.  For the moment I part with it, I have no doubt that an ocean will spring into life, and a mountain will rise from the ground, and a forest will cover the land.  And on that same world of growing magnitude, there will be that single delicate rose.  Unadulterated, it will bloom.  It will bloom as easily as a falcon can cut it in a single stroke.

I was not prepared to bear the death of that rose.

day marker

November 20, 2014 § Leave a comment



November 16, 2014 § Leave a comment

Does it matter if you take a small step or a big step?  Because either way, it will be a step.  Do you dip in with your toe, or plunge in without a moment of reluctance?  Do you offer your hand or embrace with your soul?  Do you taste a crumb or lavish in an entire portion?  Do you play a single note or perform a concerto?  Because in the end, love is given full, or nothing at all.  And pain is compulsory, not just an option.  Hesitation is a byproduct of collective sorrows, but it has nothing to do with your own emotions.

That doesn’t make it any less scary though.

mail from Fub

November 6, 2014 § Leave a comment

More than a month after, I finally got the birthday package my brother sent me from Hong Kong.  The post office apparently forgot to send me a notice, so it had been sitting around with other parcels for more than 2 weeks already, at the threat of being disposed if not collected.  Well, that’s a surprising lapse in the Singaporean scheme of things.

Upon sending other letters and settling my bill, I proceeded to break open the adhesive that separated me from what my brother gave me.  The card had a familiar figure that only me and Gab (and probably a few of my cousins) would appreciate.  He scribbled down some particular instructions before I was to read the letter, and even though I would typically not follow instructions when it comes to things like this (case in point: the despidida gift I got from my friends haha), I hesitantly closed the box and made my way back home to get internet access.  Upon reaching home, I put on his requested song on youtube and read his card. It was a really lovely story that brought me back to our childhood. I miss our “pillows”, I miss home. :”) Thank you, Fubby. :)





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