Modesty is probably something I’ve incorporated to my daily wardrobe. I’m not the type who would really show skin or wear what’s fashionable (when I reached peak adulthood- I’ve pretty much kept it simple and basic with a little bit of color or something). My mom used to tell me to dress decently so I won’t attract unwanted attention. I mean, it’s been that way but the ill-minded still exist.

There are cat-callers, there are people who try to cop a feel in packed transportation systems, there are people who try to take photos of you without your permission, there are people who simply want to get in your private space.

I’ve had several encounters and honestly, these assholes don’t really care how you look or how you dress or how seemingly plain you look. They just do it. There aren’t really set factors on the victims’ part (we can’t just say she’s ~pretty~ that’s why she gets it every time) but there are definitely plenty on the predator (mental problem, weird fetish, weird urge, the list could go on). All the while I thought that modesty would protect me from such incidents. No. Never. Again, there are no set factors, the predators just do it.

From my point of view, it’s not bad to be modest and it’s not bad to be a little out there. There are always some people out to blame the victim when in fact, it’s really the predators who started it.

Whatever happened to self-control, discipline, to having moral values? It’s one of the most overlooked challenges society has today and definitely some of the things we need to focus first to remedy this shitty situation. People have gone as far as shaming other people for speaking their minds. People started spreading fake news. It’s hard to trust the world if the world- humans, nature, resources- is being harrassed by the people who live in it.

I still walk in my modest clothes, armed with my sharp tongue and cunning alertness whenever I walk the streets. It feels a little safe but not ~too~ safe. I’m ready to attack though.


Of children and more children.

I’ve been wanting to talk about this for some time but I never really had the time to make it. People have been asking me on a weekly basis but I can’t give a straight yet detailed answer. Today is your lucky day, curious friends. So here goes.

I’m 28 years old and some (if not, most) women my age are probably married and/or building their family and/or have (multiple) kids. Every now and then I go through my Facebook screen and see updates about peers going through this experience. Sure, there is a little pressure especially when you congratulate them for this milestone and they ask you when you’ll experience yours. Quite frankly, there’s just a teensy bit of envy but not really to the point of pressuring my partner to do the same. After all, I’m not the type to one- up and keep up with everyone around me. Also, I’m not married. I know it’s not a ~requirement ~ nowadays but I’m not that eager to reproduce just yet.

No- if you asked me when I plan to have children and I told you “in about 5 years”- I wasn’t joking. My boyfriend will tell you the same thing either. We have a lot of plans for us but the baby card won’t be laid down soon. It’s also worth noting that we’re focusing on the things that we can do now that we might not able to do once that responsibility comes. We’re all for adventures but not quite the family kind, yet. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.

Before you shrug your shoulders and call me a hypocrite- for the record, I’m armed and I’m prepared. No matter what happens, by some divine miracle we’d be blessed with a child, I’ll be up for it.

For now, I can babysit your children, give them a little pinch in the cheek and shake their little baby hand. I’ll work on being an amazing aunt then transition to a cool mom, I guess.

It’s an honor and responsibility to be mother and that is one thing I don’t want to rush. My time will come and we’ll all wait and see how that unfolds.

Screw It.

That was such a fail-worthy title.

Lately, things have been so insatiable to me. Nothing is ever okay. Nothing is ever easy. Nothing has ever met the kind of bliss and peace of mind I’ve been craving for. I’ve had wins here and there but it’s just not enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for every little thing that made me smile these past couple of weeks. It just came to a point that I needed more of it. I demand it. I crave for it.

Travelling from work to home and vice-versa hasn’t been as smooth and as easy as I planned it. Every single time I plan to commute, something inconvenient would come about (heat, crowds, space). I mean, I’m pretty sure people would tell me to deal and get over it but still, I have yet to come to terms with this circumstance. I know people do it everyday but that doesn’t mean I have to do it too. Whiny? Yes. No one cares, really.

I’m just not crazy about the direction my life is headed to at the moment. I can’t say I’m spiraling down or going up but it’s as if I’m stuck in the middle, getting pulled in different directions.

Sometimes I think it’s sad that I have these episodes in my life where I feel like I’m so defeated in everything. Anxiety can be such a pain in the bum. I feel like a terrible person and a hypocrite- I say that we can all sail through all of life’s problems by being positive but I’m really, truly troubled inside. I can’t even face myself in the mirror and say great things about myself.

We’ve probably faced this dilemma once or twice in our life and it’s just us being human. I’d like to think being human got the best of me today.


Haaaaaaaaaaaaay. Life.


Coming to terms.

First week in the new house has been challenging. I haven’t really found a comfortable way home and I’ve been masking all this frustration with double shifts in the office.

Actually, I don’t mind going to 2 shifts in a day. Once I go home, I’m REALLY home and no amount of work can bother me. I’m just making it worth my time.

Going back, this hasn’t been a good week either. I’m in the middle of so many hiccups, it’s good enough to make someone quit. I’m doing my best to not falter nor have it consume me so much. People around me don’t have the same patience as I do so it’s not exactly a good, harmonious place.

People could say I need a rest but it’s not quite restful to have all your problems, all the work that people want you to do to interrupt you while you settle and fall asleep. This is part of adult life, I know, but nothing will progress if we render people restless. Passion can only do so much. You need to be motivated too.


Once in a while, you just want to put a stop to whatever it is you’re doing in the world.

I’m not usually this ~triggered~ but I just want to say that there are better ways to deal with this without dividing my body equally to everybody that demands for it. These are the times I feel most human, like I’m in the verge of just collapsing and not be of help to anyone, to anything. I have moments when I simply want to truly get away from it all.

It’s these moments I regret knowing many things as it gives people a reason to rely on me and not do anything on their end. Not being arrogant or hateful, I just don’t like it when I have to step in because people don’t know how to do anything around.

This is the very reason I’m struggling to delegate. I don’t exactly trust what people can do sometimes and I’ve had one too many heartbreaks.


It’s been about 4 years. This is probably one of the last times I’d ever mention this. It makes me uncomfortable thinking about it and in the event of any untoward incident, I have proof, I have documents that can completely turn this person’s life around.

Growing up, I had this person take care of me. He was more like a nanny, a caregiver. He’d bring me to school, prepare my food and put my toys away. You’d probably think he’s the big brother I never had. We treated him like family. We let him live in our house for most of his life (til now, actually).

I don’t know when it started, really. I had night shifts and uber/grab wasn’t available then so he’d ride with me in the cab and made sure I make it work in one piece. He started acting weird and was giving me chocolates everyday. I sensed that there was something unusual until one day I just decided to ignore him. One night, on our usual trip to work, he told me what he felt. He was crying and he was guilty. I, on the other hand, was shocked beyond belief. I was scared for myself. I mean, I treated this man like my brother for 20+ years, almost my entire life and he comes ruining everything.

I was so disgusted. I was sick to my stomach. He wrote me a very long letter apologizing and everything but I didn’t respond. I kept it though, as evidence. Who wouldn’t be scared- my parents let him stay in the house as a helper and at any time, he might do things to me. I felt harassed. I felt unsafe living in the house with him. What’s worse is that he’s suicidal and has a violent tendency. I don’t know what has gotten in his head but it was not normal and he had no right to do this to my parents who treated him well all these years.

Until this very day, I’d always be as cautious as I can whenever he’s around. I barely talk to him and I don’t really care for him anymore. The only person who know this situation is my boyfriend and I told him that if anything happens to me, he knows what to do and who to look into.

I haven’t shared this with my parents because one, the person in question might wreak havoc and two, I think, ironically, we’re at peace with this animosity.



Homophobia. Such a suicide driver.

It’s a touchy subject but extremely relevant today. Many individuals struggle to be accepted and to be able to function without the prejudice of others. We can say there are many changes in terms of recognizing gender but there are still many people who can’t come to terms with it or have problems dealing it.

Homophobia can happen in little, subtle ways. For the record, I don’t know how, why, what exactly caused some people to have it. Some people I know say it’s from trauma (early experience of molestation, mostly), some just don’t have the proper education or some are just heavily influenced by the society, whether religion or community, they live in.

I’m all for gender expression and I don’t think it was ever violent nor destructive. In fact, in my eyes, I see it as an expression of love and all it’s manifestations- self, others, life itself and environment. Most of the people I know who identify themselves as members of the LGBT community are also some of the most creative, most loving and most open friends ever. I know for a fact we view things differently but for me, it doesn’t make sense that there are still people who look down on them, who feel disgusted and feel weird even when they did nothing wrong. Was it ever wrong to be yourself and to love people with “the same parts”? Does individuality ever come with conditions? Does loving have restrictions?

I had my share of gender identity crisis once upon a time. Growing up in an all-female school, it was impossible not to go through a phase of crushing on someone and hoping you’d start a relationship with them.

Christine, Elleni, Ellen, Ella, Kim, Nikki. Just some of the ladies and lesbians I love(d). I know there’s more but I simply can’t recall them. No, I won’t go into deep, crazy details but it’s safe to say that these crushes helped me grow my heart more, made me love unconditionally, made me feel more free. It is from this experience I’ve grown to be a more loving, more accepting person and that every time I struggle to find the love I seem to want at that time, I emerge as a stronger, loving person.

Love isn’t just between a man and a woman. Love doesn’t have to mean you’re also feeling lust for someone. Love isn’t a privilege. Love is certainly not marriage and love isn’t being with your partner for 923759056 million years.

Love is about connection, affection, care, growth. No one ever set the ground rules for love and loving and yet we condemn those who express it differently.

Going back to gender, it all goes back to loving- yourself (accepting and coming out, for one), others (accepting and respecting, not tolerating) and the environment (kill society’s close minded views with kindness, by showing we’re better than what society dictates). Many members of the LGBT community commit suicide because they feel no love or hope for love because society has been so selfish in showing genuine concern for them. Discrimination, harassment, pure violence is an everyday thing too.

And what’s worse is that, we witness it and sometimes we can’t just fight back because you know nothing will happen. In fact, it’s like trying to pry a steel door open and after you kick it and beat it, nothing really happens except hurting yourself in the process. That’s how arguing with a closed mind is like. They may have their own reasons (and yes, you have to respect that) but it’s a different when they resort to being disrespectful and violent.

Here’s my example- Our company is having our annual Queen of the Night, a gay and transgender pageant, to raise funds for our Red and Black Fund (employee aid). There are some male office mates I talked to that seemed uncomfortable about it. I mean, they’d snicker and make rude remarks like “Why does it have to be a gay pageant? We have many beautiful real women”. I get your point but this month is PRIDE month and the pageant has been one of the biggest fundraisers we have (Filipino gays have a penchant for beauty pageants and it’s really great that they are all very enthusiastic about it). Besides, we’re looking for someone who could show you that the so-called “other” gender you all seem to think, can make a difference too.

I wouldn’t waste my time arguing with those that don’t agree or support this campaign. Instead, I’d focus my time making it happen for all the queens who want to make a mark in this world by doing good, by giving their advocacy a chance to recognized and supported.

You see, love can also save lives. Love can give people chances to discover the good in themselves. Love can transform a community. Love can make one discover their special gifts.

With all that being said, is there a way homophobia could ever go away? Would there be any stop to this hatred society keeps tolerating?


Relics in a Black Bag.

I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.

My thumb got super sore tearing and tearing every single reminder of things that people already moved on from. I don’t know why they’re still kept and I don’t understand why we’ve allowed such memories to linger.

The thing is, they’re not mine but I know these things aren’t meant to stay any longer if our only focus is to start anew.

When I first opened Pandora’s Box (how appropriate!), I was puzzled then startled after reading and discovering some revelations I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for. I mean, after all, these are personal letters- it’s not like they’re bulletins or something. The point is, these connections, relationships and secrets are all in the past and everyone involved already moved on.

But I just have to mention that 90% of the letters I tore and discarded came from the same person. In terms of writing and the commitment, the consistency to do it, I cannot hold candle to her. That person is something else. I actually looked that person up to see what happened to her after all these years and was surprised to find zero (edit: I found her!).

In terms of the revelations, it didn’t upset me or anything because from where I came from (guess where), it was something almost everyone experienced. I was just surprised that there’s still bits and pieces of that after 40++ years.

If you’re curious to know what it’s all about, you’ll read about it soon but I’m not going to reference this. Figure it out.

Closure? Yes. After 40++ years, we can completely move on without a trace.


I am distracted. I cannot work properly nor think properly without tearing up.

There are many things I shouldn’t be emotional about for some reason, I just can’t stop myself from crying after going through lots of letters from the past.

To be continued…