Enjoy each meal with your loved one.
I have an affinity for start overs.
There's just something satisfying about those two zeros that signify a new hour or seeing that number 1 at the start of each monthly calendar. But 2020 changed that.
Maybe it's the lack of motivation. Maybe it's the thought that there's nothing wrong about not learning anything when your whole country is on lockdown. Some say to use your time wisely now that almost everyone is working from home. After all, those hours spent on the road can now be turned into an extra push of productivity. We can finally practice a hobby, read a book, watch a movie, workout, or learn something new. But again, it's totally fine if you do nothing.
At 27, when we were free to go outside without masks, during the most uncertain phase of my life, I still wanted to be something. I admit though that I used to be the maximizer. I would never settle for less. But honestly, being in the middle—yet again—of wanting to be the best but resorting to the acceptance of what I'm really capable of, I would wonder if age plays a role in all these.
Is starting over a social construct? Is it a sign of defeat if we admit that we aren't who we used to be? Or is it a proof of courage?
To be honest, I thought I got my writing juju back last year. Although some of what I wrote were previously drafted in my notes, it helped my creativity flourish even just a little. But when I lost Papa in October, all creative juices went down the drain. However, knowing him, he wouldn't want me sulking in the corner. After all, he always supported me and let me fly, despite the uncertainty. He'd want me to seek what I'm meant to be and to create a life for myself—even if it means writing as a side project. Or an online diary. Or whatever this is.
But for now, I must admit, I had an affinity for start overs.
When given a choice, is it the right time or the right person? They say it will always be the right time with the right person. At this moment, I don't mind who it is or when it will be. I know for sure it will be easier by then.
Call me materialistic but my receiving love language is receiving gifts (second to words of affirmation).
But really, for blogging's sake, I just enjoy compiling a list of what I like to be gifted with on my birthday in a blog post. After a few months of writing them down, I actually go back and re-read them, ticking off the items that I got or bought for myself. I don't outright ask friends to buy for me though. I just do that with my sister! LOLJK!
At the start of 2021, my only wish was to be financially stable. I finally admitted that I didn't have the best spending habit. I binge watched Thea Sy Bautista's Youtube videos. Some I even watched more than once. I downloaded her budgeting template and incorporated my own formulas. I was finally paying bills on time, giving my mother what she lent me, although little by little. My bank accounts are never zero now.
But, sure, there's still nothing wrong about buying a few items for yourself. My rule of thumb is: if I divide the amount to the number of days I'll use it (usually max 365 days) and the cost each day is PhP15 or less, then there should be a return of investment. That will be good enough for me. But for things that are too expensive, I'll need to have at least half of the price in cash.
Okay, let's stop boring you out and let's move on to the part where I show you my current wants list.
I've been wanting to upgrade to a Macbook Pro since my current Air can't really handle heavy performing programs. Because I want to go back to editing videos and continue learning animation, I need a better laptop. If it's not this, I'd want to build a PC so I can play games as well. LOL! Gamer ka???
A watercolor journal book that won't be that small and won't be that big. Since I started writing on a journal again, I think it would look better if my pages have color. Although the minimalist in me would surely still write on my current journal because black and white. I'll still use this to practice.
My favorite Relx Classic Infinity flavor would be Dark Sparkle. I stopped smoking in October of 2020 and I haven't gone back since. I've felt an urge to smoke maybe once or twice but only because I was so stressed. This is the top flavor for me, Fresh Red being the second.
We're at the part of the list that tells you, just because. Hahaha! I just really want a charging dock. It doubles as a phone stand so win-win, right?
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Those are really the ones I have on top of my head. Other stuff like a new bed, a new nightstand, skin care essentials, desk organizers are all things I should buy for myself. Well, all these I should buy for myself but kebs.
So yes, I suddenly don't know how to end this blog post. Hahaha! Hmmmm... thanks for patronizing and I'm sorry I wasted your time with this nonsense list. Bye!!
A person's value is usually quantified by millions of things in this world. Your college diploma, where you live, where you studied, what car model you drive, that wholewheat pasta you bought from the grocery. Was it soy or almond milk? Did you really live if you didn't make the right decisions?
But how do you define your worth to yourself? How does it spin 360 degrees from an outside perspective? Is being alone okay?
"Galing ka ba sa loob?"
"Para kang adik!"
"Ano ba yang ginagawa mo sa balat mo?"
As a young kid, I'd hear people say these upon the sight of a tattoo. It was a big deal to my mama and her siblings that my older cousin got a huge one on his arm. He was ruining his skin, they said. He was going to have a hard time getting a decent job, they said. That cousin of mine eventually got to tour the world as he worked in a cruise line. He has a big house and a car now.
Despite repeatedly hearing these boomers, I've always wanted a tattoo. I thought they were cool. I thought they were going to make me look like a badass. I never thought that when I actually got one, it was going to be a reminder of life and all the complications that came along with it. I still don't feel like I'm cool or badass. But my tattoos have stories to tell.
During one Thursday evening in August of 2019, this minimalist line art (and the other one below) was embedded on my skin. The first bzzzt was eerily jolting. I was 100% sure with the designs. I was convinced I won't get tired seeing them. And I was certain that I wanted my first tattoo associated with my parents. It was my way of honoring them. Although that is the case, despite being the 26-year-old working adult that I was, they were still going to be a little disappointed so why not use them as my excuse, right? Hahaha! Kidding aside, deep down in my heart, I had an inkling of how the gesture would warm their heart.
And I was correct. I saw mama stop herself from smiling when I showed her. There was a tiny curl on her lips. She was aware even before I got home that I was somewhere in Manila, getting myself inked for the very first time. It was almost 11 PM and I was with my niece Breana so she was more worried that we were still outside.
The design, which I traced myself, was inspired by this photo. It's easily my favorite picture of my parents. I'm not sure if my sister was already born then but it seems that way because they appear younger here (and the tint am I right??? LOL). And they look super into each other. They're still pretty much in love but they're much older now. In hindsight, I picked this out because I'd like to always remember them this way: happy in each other's arms. I know that day will come when I won't get to see them together but I'll always have a reminder of the fondness they once shared.
Just to add, I rarely witness them touchy-feely except when they annoy each other so seeing them hug like this is a sight for sore eyes.
The second one speaks to me in numerous ways. It reads sapat. in Baybayin.
2019 was one of the worst. This was a time when I felt so short in every aspect of my life. The promotion I was waiting for was delayed for months. I felt disconnected to certain people. I was in love with someone who didn't like me back. My mind was clouded with a situation that didn't make sense at that time. I wasn't contributing at all to my family, to society. With one slight movement in my world, I knew I was going to burst.
But this was my reminder that I am and will always be enough. I'd be suitable for a role when I'm finally ready and equipped. Those people who matter will never feel the need to abandon you. That guy didn't deserve me, I was too much for him. The situation was all in my head. And my family will love me for all the things that I am and will accept me for everything that I'm not.
It became my mantra.
Why is it red? Because it echoes energy, passion, and danger.
My third and last tattoo is an homage to my sister and niece.
I talk about my niece a lot in social media, previous blogs, when speaking to friends. Breana was the kid who was so easy to take care of when she was little. She'd be over the moon at the littlest thing. In college, I'd buy her a candy from 7-Eleven before going home and I could already imagine the huge smile plastered on her face. We would go on simple mall dates and she'd be a real trooper, not minding the commute. It would be a staple for us to enter toy shops but she would never ever cry at something we cannot buy. She won't even ask to get a small stuffed toy. "We could just go but we don't need to buy anything," she'd tell me. I would then be swayed to purchase a Play Doh or two because she's being a good girl. She'd be surprised as if I bought her the biggest, most expensive toy in the store.
When I tell you that Breana is my light, I'm not kidding. There were times when I'd feel like life wasn't treating me well and I can just disappear. She'd always come to mind and I'd be reminded why I couldn't leave this baby behind. She deserves all the love she can get. And I couldn't be the person who would make her feel the opposite. I can't be that person.
The design is her birth month flower—a marigold. For the longest time, ate and I have been wanting to get a matching tattoo but we couldn't decide on one. Our ideas went from heart shapes, to numbers, to the silliest Ziz and Zy. (We have different pet names for each other, depending on the phases of our life and now we call each other Zizzy Mae). But the idea actually came up when I saw a friend's tattoo, who commemorated her deceased grandma by getting an ink of the latter's birth flower.
Mine is placed on the back of my lower right leg and my sister's is on her left. We got this on March 13, just a few days before lockdown. It was also a few days before she flew back to Singapore. I haven't seen my sister in a long time and I miss her so much.
At this moment, I'm on a quest to find my next design. I already have something in mind that I'd like to connect to being courageous. I can be such a scaredy-cat to be honest.
With all that's happening in this world, I know the least of my concern is to get another tattoo. But with all that's happening in this world, I think I deserve a new one.
The only bouquets I received in my entire life came from my sister. She went out and walked all the way from UST to Dangwa (in her dress, no less) in the middle of my grad ceremony just to surprise me. She gifted me on one of my worst birthdays without her knowing it was actually a bad day.
Although they're not something I would want to get, I've never really received one from a special someone.
I wish I could go on breakfast dates, lunch dates, or even dinner dates with you. Or maybe we’ll go to quirky places like those cute dessert museums or optical illusion museums. I’d never get tired or bored even if it’s the National Museum, as long as I’m with you.
I’d gladly let you slide your hand down my arm into my hand and lock them as if not letting you go—ever—walking by every piece of art and appreciating the view.
We can go and explore Manila and gobble down food in Chinatown. We can also go to restaurants we haven’t tried or just stay at home and binge on street food.
I’d gladly help you pick out an outfit or two, since I know anything you wear looks good on you. Would you do the same even if I’m not as pretty as you?
I surely would take lots of photos of you. I’m not a good photographer but I think I’d be good for you... I meant you’d be a good subject for me. I’d giddily snap a photo when you’re too serious or make the most out of your barely-smiling smiling face.
I’d take care of you if you don’t feel well and feed you hot soup, hand you medicine and water if you need me to; as long as all your requests can help you be in better shape.
I’d fight for what I think is right even if it leads to an argument; but I promise to retreat if I know I’m wrong. Please be gentle with truths; though I promise to take them constructively.
All these I can do, but the problem is not me, it’s you. You don’t like me enough to go on dates, to let me hold your hand, to let me take care of you, to let me get to know you.
The guys I like don’t always like me back and the guys that are actually interested in me, I don’t like.
What a way to live, huh?
Sad.
For someone who has different circles of friends, I'd only confide in one or two people within a certain group. But I'd always have that part of me who secretly hates doing that. My friends are great and they give the best advice. However, I feel like I'm either just bugging them or I'm always in the wrong, always the one at fault, whatever situation it may be. There are rare times when I'd wish I have a special someone who would tell me, without hesitation, that I'm wrong and that I need to change. Because, well, I can be hard headed and I'm a kid in that way—I need to be told. That feeling resulted to this letter.
This was when I was younger. I admit I can still be hard headed sometimes. But what never changed is the feeling of wanting to find the one.
Remember when I said I have very short letters? This is one of those.
To tell you the truth, reading everything I wrote reminded me of how miserable life was. College was supposed to be fun. Yet, it created a part of me that refuses to go back if she is given a time traveling machine. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time with the beautiful people I met. But college let out my insecurities, something I worked hard on to get over in high school.
That's for a different blog post. Hopefully, I'll muster enough courage to write about it soon.
I don’t exactly remember if I was on a break when I wrote this. Prior to the academic shift, first semester ended before Undas. So I was decluttering either because I had loads of readings that accumulated or because I was procrastinating. You know that moment when you’re in the middle of writing a paper and then you look at your surroundings? And then suddenly you feel an urge to just clean everything because the state of your room reflects the state of your mind. Just me? Okay.
Moving on. Here’s the result of that.
I finally found the courage to release an offline series that I started in November of 2011. Wow. I can't believe it's been almost 10 years.
A few warnings though: one, I told myself I'll write everyday but never really had the chance to be consistent. And two, some of these were written by an immature college student who just wanted an escape from the world. Hence, this series.
Just a background, I've never had a real boyfriend. If I do say so myself. But I've always loved the thought of having a significant other. I'm a hopeless romantic millennial who gets kilig at the most random act of love she reads, sees, or even hear. I'm sappy like that.
Some of them are long, a few are short because I just wanted to rant. But all these are musings I jot down whenever I feel optimistic.
I felt a sudden burst of emotions when I was browsing through Instagram. Someone I was following posted about her current living arrangement with her boyfriend.
I was scared. Or anxious. Or felt betrayed by my own I-want-to-have-my-own-family feeling.
Because, imagine, if you finally commit to a relationship and your partner decides to live somewhere or if an opportunity arises and he has the option to work abroad and bring you along, you would choose to go with him. I think it's not even a choice if it means a better, grandeur life. Because who opts to live in this kind of government anyway?
And then I thought to myself, can I actually do that? Well, yes, commit myself to someone—that I think I can consider. But, also, create such decisions that would be patterned to someone else's life. Would I be able to do those?
The Instagram post I was viewing did not even talk about future plans. But of course, here I am, overthinking trivial things.
I wrote this on the 9th of September 2020. I don't remember why it was never posted.
Hello there!
is an irony of sorts.
The blog titles are meant to be read with the site title. So... in the midst of space, in the midst of writer's block, and so on and so forth.
The blog titles are meant to be read with the site title. So... in the midst of space, in the midst of writer's block, and so on and so forth.
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