A Boring Love

One of my favorite scenes from “That Thing Called Tadhana” (That Thing Called Meant to Be), a Filipino indie film written and directed by Antoinette Jadaone


The world keeps telling me, enticing me, to have the reckless-abandon-kind-of-love. And it excites me. It really makes me want it. But then I see people who are happy with a different kind of love – the God-kind-of-love – that goes more than the excitement and euphoria. That goes beyond the looks and the appeal. The kind of love that dwells in people who might not always be exciting, but who would always take the time to say a nice word or two. The kind who would be generous even in lack. The kind who would be kind to anyone or everyone, regardless of the situation.

The world is offering me a lot of options and it tempts me to settle for a love that would be fire, but might burn me down eventually. But I know I’m made for a love that would be a light, shedding sunshine on my darkest days. A love that would help me grow. A love, a light, that would never burn me. But instead, would illuminate and enlighten me. A love that would warm my heart when it is cold.

Sappy as it is, this is the kind of love that is worth waiting and fighting for. And I’m willing to wait and fight for it.

I’ve known this a long time but I realized just now – or as a matter of fact, deeply felt – that being with God is not necessarily being inside the edifice-church. God is in everything. Even the littlest of things. The blue skies and the cumulus clouds; birds chirping in the morning; the feel of the breeze in the afternoon; even the soft patter of drizzle on the skin.

He’s there even in the dark, sweat-soaked bar when I danced the night away and sang my lungs out. He’s there in my room, whenever I wait for the night sky turn to pale blue then golden yellow. God is there in my quiet musings, my constant questioning if there really is an earthly love that lasts. Even in my doubting and fear, He is there. God is present even when I was absent.

And I realized – or as a matter of fact, deeply felt – that it would always be the case.

Glass, Walls, and Doors.

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All of us are glass.
We choose what people wants to see.
And we become what others would want us to be.
But sometimes, these glasses are made to be shattered —
just like how norms, constructs, and biases should.
Why did we start embracing the word of the world?
When was it ever wrong to be yourself?
So go get a hammer, break down the glass.
Break it and watch the glittering shards amass.
Blood will flow, skin will break
For you to stand tall, this is what it takes.

All of us are walls.
Brick by brick we pile it high
making sure no one can climb
We build a seperate life on the outside
and all the darkness we try to hide
But people will be people
They will try to put down what you put up
They will try to pry with that glint in their eye
And you can choose to give up your bricks
or you can choose to throw it at them
Because there is nothing more off-putting
than people throwing rocks at other people
And they would either back away
or bring a ladder to climb up
to sate their curiousity
to break you
to change you
to tell you that your secret’s safe with them
and they can push and push themselves to you
but you’re the only one who can let them

All of us are doors.
Some open, some closed, some left slightly ajar.
Some locked by knobs, some by heavy-duty padlocks.
Some have peepholes and some have old souls
that have never shaken out their ghosts and their ghouls.
Some might have wrapped their doors in thick and heavy chains
Trying to conceal their guilt, pain, and shame
But there would be a time that they will get tired
of the old musty smell
and the darkness that feels like hell.
And they’ll long for the open skies,
the sound of the waves
the touch of sun on their skin
Long for the bittersweet taste of what used to be
What should you do?
Either open up your door
and come on your own
or give the spare key
for your heart made of stone.

Written last December 11, 2015

Bomb Shelter


I’m getting bombed.

Thoughts and ideas. Words and actions. Texts and calls. Daily battlesSome are good, some are bad. And it’s hard to keep my emotions in check when every single one of them are moving like fast cars in my head. I try to hold on, as much as  I can. I try to fight, as hard as I could. When the noise is the only thing I hear, I tune it out and play a louder sound.

I know this battle has been won. I know I hold the victor’s crown. I chose to succumb before because I cannot see nor understand, what I was fighting for. But now, I know the purpose. Now I know for Who’s purpose.

I am troubled, afflicted, hard pressed on every side; but I am not crushed. Perplexed, but not in despair. I am persecuted but I know I’m not alone, not abandoned, and will never be forsaken. I am pushed, struck down, and thrown hard to the ground; But I am not broken.

I’m getting bombed.

But for sure, I’m never gonna get bombed out.

(he)Art Attack!

As I go on this detour, I can’t help but have these small anxiety attacks. What if I can’t go back? What if I’m going the wrong track? Paano ba bumalik sa 24th?

My interviewer told me to take my lunch first and so I did. But I decided to look around BGC as well. Lo and behold, I found myself lost in this concrete jungle. But thankfully, I brought my wits with me and I got back in time for the next part of the interview. This is what I found when I got lost:


Yeeeey I passed that interview! Still, I had to go back for one final interview. And though I was in BGC for weeks already, this is the first time I explored routes that I would (hopefully) take if I get the job. This would be my landmark for daily commutes, just across my bus stop:

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I’m literally having small heart attacks, waiting for that phone call. I always have my phone on silent mode, but now, I have my volume up so that I would hear every ring and notification. There is this part of me that is still anxious and is still in doubt even though everyone told me I did a good job. This waiting game is killing me!

I hope to take in more art within the hustle and bustle of the city. I will, God-willing.