« Martine »

Hello 2017~

I got my new baby last weekend! ❤ And by “baby”, I meant that I ~officially~ have a camera now–a camera that I decided to call Martina, or « Martine » (avec l’accent français) for short. Or Marty, if I’m feeling ehh.

The camera that I used while I was applying in my photography org last semester was a loan from my dad’s friend, who really wanted to sell it to me but I thought I’d be better off with a relatively newer model. Thanks to my cousin in Singapore, I now have Martine! ❤

I know that I left this blog as semi-abandoned for half a year–previous post doesn’t count because it’s a backup post lol–but I have something to share and some vague plans to go along with it. I got inspired when I was post-processing the photos I took the day I got Martine, which was last Saturday, when my parents and my littlest sis dropped by UP. I hope I get more motivated (and more disciplined!) to continue curating this blog this year.

Anyway, the following are just some test photos that I took, and a little peek into my daily life, I guess.

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8 months, post-mortem

This isn’t a hero/anti-hero rant or critical analysis about Ferdinand Marcos’s burial at the Libingan ng mga Bayani.

No, it’s not like that.

This is something…personal. Intimate. A secret that I first published in a password-encrypted blog that I’ve never shared to anybody else before. Not even to my best friend.

This is the voice of my fifteen-year-old self: brittle, depressed, and longing for someone who would never be around anymore. This is what my sadness looked like three years ago. This has the promises I made to myself three years ago. This has my frustrations and fears and regrets, my little resentments and the “What if’s” that I’ve long buried in the past.

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je suis heureuse, vol. I

* reaffirm every 24 hours

Just a small side-project I thought of, since I feel a little happier these days and I’d like to share a little bit of that to others. So I compiled a short list of the stuff that make/made/will make me happy.

Doodling with watercolors

Fancy notebooks

Not-so fancy notebooks

Store sales

Small-scale local businesses (hi Common Room PH I am an avid fan)

Continue reading “je suis heureuse, vol. I”

Currently, vol. 4

2nd Semester A.Y. 2015-2016 –done!


I haven’t gotten to the actual reading yet, but I just grabbed my copy of In Case You Come Back, a poetry book my Reese Lansagan and Marla Miniano. ❤ It also features a foreword by my favorite OPM artist, Ebe Dancel, so more ❤ I can’t wait to read it while I’m in Hong Kong this week yassss

I have plans, none of them executed yet. But my sisters are pretty obsessed with the Myers-Briggs personality tests we took, which showed that I am identified as INTP(-A). I already knew that for a while now, but I thought I’d write something about what it’s like for me and how much I identify with being an INTP.

L I S T E N I N G  T O
Ariana Grande’s new album Dangerous Woman. Ughhhhh how to be her??

of the stuff I have to write down for tomorrow’s to-do list

the air freshener that Mom put in our room

that I suddenly acquire mad urban sketching skills so I could sketch around in Hong Kong. Alas, it is but a wish 😦 Well right now, it is, but who’s to say I won’t learn in time?

heavily hoping that I convince Dad&Mom to pay for some art stuff that I want to buy lol because that’s what I plan to do during the break–art stuff and journaling and hopefully writing too

how organized I was today

a sketchbook of great quality!! I personally would like to try our Moleskine’s sketchbook, especially the watercolor blocks, because I tend to lose my works if I use a sketchpad. I really prefer a more put-together sketchbook. The only problem is I’m pretty short on the moolah part.

a nice and rigorous workout 😦

excited to meet Queen Elsa ❤


[ MEMORY, circa 2014 ]

Waking up at 6AM on a weekend, during the break (a rare feat). Going down the stairs, spotting Dad taping up the box where I kept my drawing and drafting tools (with vague plans to sell them off to my friends from architecture school). Hearing dad sniffle once, twice. Staying motionless for a few moments at the foot of the stairs. Not knowing what to say. Feeling shitty all over again, because “Why am I the wrong daughter for my good parents? Why couldn’t I stick with this and bear it all? Why did I have to do this to my parents?” Standing next to Dad, and Dad embraced me. Crying. Both of us crying. Dad telling me, “Nasasayangan lang kasi ako, anak (I just feel a bit regretful, my child).” Feeling my throat close up for the millionth time since–God I am such a fuck up. Saying “sorry sorry sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuc–

(I just wanted to be out of the sad dump that I’ve fallen into.)

(I just wanted to stop making my parents cry.)

(I just wanted to be relatively not sad.)

I’m glad that today, it’s better. It really gets better.

Featured Image from demiiwhiffin via Tumblr; words from Katy Maxwell’s Girl of the Earth

adjusting my adjustments

I am tired of making adjustments.

I am tired of squeezing myself a little bit further to the right just so someone else could pass through before me. I am tired of letting people get ahead of me because they feel too self-important to wait their turn.

I am tired of being told to be more patient, more forgiving, because you’re supposed to be softer and kinder and you should know better, because people need the room for their little insecurities and adjustments and the need to fucking belong. I am tired of telling myself to be more patient and more forgiving because I am supposed to do so, because holding on to a little of anger or annoyance will not merit to anything, that being angry is unattractive.

I am tired of giving concessions all the fucking time, and in return I get incompetence and ungratefulness. I am tired of adjusting to give way for other people’s egos or self-absorbed selves.

I am tired of all those things, but you know what?

I am superlatively tired about this:

Continue reading “adjusting my adjustments”

straight for the castle

Here’s a short piece I wrote November last year. I almost didn’t post this because I thought I put something too dark and gory near the end but it turns out it’s still SFW lol. I thought the topic would be suitable for my current feels about the upcoming Captain America: Civil War–ackkkk!!11!!

Beware of guys who wish to be superheroes.

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Currently, 2016 vol. 3

Tomorrow marks the semi-official second half of the semester, and after spending la Semaine Saint as an unproductive zombie noodle, my academic obligations and tasks are now revived alongside Christ. Happy Easter, indeed.

Lang Leav’s Lullabies before forcing  myself to focus on more important tasks like getting my revisions and readings done

So far, my writing muse is experiencing a major adulthood-caused drought, so nihil from the creative front for now.

Of all the music choices I have to get myself into an agreeable, acads mood, I chose AC/DC because I spent my whole break drowning myself in Civil War feels. I have no regrets (even if I don’t manage to check off something in my to-do list).

(and not looking forward to) about the impending EDSA hell tomorrow, when I go back to QC to face reality.

the aroma of pure black coffee

for the spirit of productivity to fall upon me. But mostly, for world peace (both in real life and in the Marvel Cinematic Universe lol)

that I don’t get distracted so much by my vices (anime, Marvel, and Tumblr) and by men’s pretty. I need to get my daily life groove back

pretty much coffee and watercoloring, how ever random that combination is (P.S. not paired together for consumption)

Troye Sivan’s Blue Neighborhood album ! ! ! I heard there are free posters when you buy the physical album from certain Astroplus branches, and the one from SM The Block is included yassss s ss s

more self-discipline and workout (yeesshh couch potato week), more self-time dedicated to helping my inner self to unwind

longing for time in my daily life to be set aside solely for pursuits of the soul, like poetry and literature and art


Featured photo by Annie Spratt via unspalsh.com

the enormity of adulthood

Year 18 has just ended, and what a year it had been.

When I turned 18, a lot of people asked me what felt different, but I mostly felt the same after the 4th of March, or even after I had an “official” birthday celebration. It didn’t really feel any different from being 17, from being  young and willful.

As the year passed, I gradually saw what made the 18th year different from the previous one. And I suppose I should be writing about what’s different now that I just turned 19, at the cusp of leaving the emotionally-taxing, spirited teenager years with one last half-baked, semi-adult year. But I realized that I can’t actually write about a life I haven’t lived yet, so I thought this would go better if it were about what it’s like to be 18 and newly-integrated into the “adult” side of the dinner table.

A decade ago, I was just eight years old and turning 18 seemed like the biggest possible highlight in all of my youthfully naive hopes and dreams. It felt like once I crossed the 18th mark, everything about adults would finally make sense and that I would basically know everything. My 8-year-old self would have been disappointed to discover how un-glamorous it was to turn 18. But ten years ago, I was also hoping for all the wrong things. We all realize how painfully (sweetly) gullible we were as kids only when we’ve become jaded adults, and sometimes it’s tempting to wish that we could travel back in time to just give our younger selves a heads up on the terrible things that could or will happen.

Even I am not immune to occasional wishful thinking.

So, I compiled this list of eight things I wanted my eight-year-old self to have known, from my never-the-wiser eighteen-year-old self. I know that as adults, we all have those moments where we wished to take our younger selves aside and tell them, “Girl, you ain’t usin’ that brain of yours for nothing just so you could sabotage your adult life.”

Anyway, here goes my little “cheat sheet”/”advice column” to my sweet little young self. ❤

Continue reading “the enormity of adulthood”