2016: In photos

Maganda pa rin ang taon na ito.

Cheers, 2016! ⭐️

2016: An uphill battle

It was as if all paths were going uphill. And when I asked God to deliver me, he did not heed. He did answer my plea; he said, "No." It was pure silence amid the chaos. Winds blew violently over steep slopes. On the yellow brick road, I saw two sets of footprints. 

He was there all along. 

"Carry your cross, and follow me." 

2016 taught me to stay still and just keep on keeping on. Think long-term. All will be well -- especially when you have your family by your side. And never forget that when your knees hit the ground, you touch the sky. 

Thank you, 2016 and everyone who became a part of it. Maraming salamat, Panginoon. On to another year of sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Unti-unti

Unti-unting nauupos.

Unti-unting napupudpod.

Unti-unting napapaos.

Unti-unting napapagod.

Unti-unting humihiyaw.

Unti-unting umiiyak.

Unti-unting nasasabaw.

Unti-unting pumapatak.

Mga bituing nawawalan ng ningning.

Bawat kisap ng mga mata.

Lumalayo sa piling.

Isa-isang nawawala.

Unti-unti.

My piece of cake

You better do your job well.

That's what I told that piece of cake as my friend and I sat down in a coffee shop on a Friday night. Overall, the day went well. But as I wrapped up this day, I felt a pang in my heart that made me feel uneasy and irritated. I could not exactly pinpoint what that was or what caused it, although I think that irritable feeling emanated from anxious thoughts that have been lording over my subconsciousness for months now. 

Or maybe another round of anxiety attack. 

I read on my news feed yesterday a quote that said something along the lines of "it is not reality that makes you feel bad, but the image of what-should-be in your mind" (of course the exact quote was way way better). True enough. That applies most when you set the standard too high and imagine yourself with your ideal picture of what life should be, yet end up doing and achieving less of all. Adding insult to injury are truly success stories of people your age or younger -- of those who have done and achieved more than you do. Worse, they look happy and fulfilled, Call it the pang of envy or the shadow of frustration. Combine both, and you end up feeling tragic about your life. 

Sometimes, I think there is something wrong with how I communicate with people or maybe I am not just good at building rapport with others. I am really not a social person, yet I am in an industry where connecting with people is both a must and a plus. There are moments when I think I should adjust and change -- which I try to do -- but I also ask myself: why should I dare to change when I can just maximize my strengths instead of always, always looking at my downsides and flaws? Either way, there are pros and cons.

Back to that piece of cake. Well, I think it did its job just fine. I felt better -- at least after devouring it. But many questions linger, and I ought to answer them. 

I also owe myself kindness, decisiveness, and peace. Is there any other cake out there that can help me get all these?

That is why

It's early dawn of Thursday. I am in the car - parked in front of the market. My father is buying food stock for the coming days. He is pissed off because a huge trailer truck is blocking the road. 

That is why he just parked the car here - right in front of the market.

We've been from the Baclaran church. For three weeks now, my father has been going there on Wednesdays to pray for a particular intention. I do not know what exactly that is, but I believe it has something to do with opportunities and finances. Our family is weathering a storm at the moment. 

That is why my father is going to the Baclaran church every week to pray for better days ahead.

I almost became an only child 19 years ago, if not for Mama and Papa's faithful devotion to Our Mother of Perpetual Help and the Child Jesus at the Baclaran Church. They uttered a prayer and knocked on the image of Sto. Niño for nine consecutive Wednesdays for a second baby. Not long after, my mother bore my now teenage brother.

That is why my father is back to where he  used to be.

I believe God finds ways to draw you close to Him when you're going too far away and bring you down to your knees to talk to Him. But really, how does He talk to so many people telling different stories, asking for countless things all at once? Nobody can tell.

That is why He is God.

"Lola, hindi po ba Siya nalilito?"

                                               - Tanging Yaman

Angelo

On late night Tuesday, I met a 12-year old boy named Angelo.

We were going out of the office building when we noticed him wandering aimlessly on the corridor. A security guard called his attention, but he did not mind. He exited the building, walked to the ATM and pressed some buttons, and walked some more. He climbed down the stairs and entered a fast food chain. Another security guard escorted him out.

He looked presentable enough not to be mistaken as a beggar, but his actions say otherwise. I approached him and asked him if he's hungry. "Oo, he said." I handed him my friend's sandwich. "San ka nakatira?" He said he lives in Alabang. I asked him where he had been. "Sa Starmall," he answered. The mall is right across our office building. I asked how he would go home. "Sasakay ng bus na hindi aircon. Baka nga lakarin ko na lang kasi kulang na pamasahe ko." He said his name is Angelo. "Eh ikaw anong pangalan mo?" He called me Ate Jam. Then I bade him goodbye.

I walked back to my friend and told her my short chit-chat with Angelo. Little did I know that he was actually following us as we crossed the street. My friend saw him walking behind me and motioned to act like nothing was happening because he would surprise me. Then I saw him.

We walked together with him to the bus stop. We asked him about his family. He said he left home at noontime. "Umalis ako ng bahay. Pinalayas nila ako kasi bakla ako." He was referring to his parents. But he said he is going home to his lola. "Oo, alam niya. Tanggap niya ako," he said.

He said he is celebrating his birthday next week. He jokingly asked what we would give him as a birthday present. "Ito lang ibibigay niyo sa'kin?" he said while holding the sandwich we gave him moments ago. We laughed. "Sige nga titikiman ko nga to kung masarap." He said he will also make one when he gets home. 

We arrived at the bus stop. An Alabang-bound bus loaded some passengers a few meters away. "Ayan na Alabang na bus oh," my friend said. Angelo refused to leave. "Dadaan yan ng Sucat eh," he said. My friend and I waited until another non-airconditioned bus made a stop. "Bye! Ingat kayo!" he said as he sat down  on the bus.

When he left, my friend and I regretted not giving even an additional penny for his fare. He did not beg. He did not ask for anything. He only wanted to talk. And he called me Ate Jam like we had known each other for years.

He left home because he is gay. He is only 12-years old. An adolescent who is just starting to discover himself. 

He left home because he told his parents the truth. He left because he was not accepted in his own home.

May our paths cross again, Angelo. Ate Erika and Ate Jam are praying for you.

Over Milktea

Have you made up your mind?

Yes.

Have you talked about it?

Yes.

To the right people?

Yes.

To the one who will make it happen?

Not yet.

What is keeping you from doing so?

I don't know how to start it. As in a book, the first words are crucial. I don't want to spoil myself.

When will you take action?

Tomorrow.

Are you sure?

I must be.

Meanwhile, here I am, sipping milktea.

Talking to myself.

Either there is still milktea or there's only little left.

Blabbers

They say write down what stresses you out.

The other day, I read on Time that one good way to cope with stress is to write it down. The article cited a study wherein a group of students were asked to keep a journal of what stressed them out at school. After a few weeks, those who did had a higher average compared with those who did not.

Probably that explains why I had better grades when I was in college. Or not.

Either way, I no longer care about college. I used to think that when you're good at school, success is guaranteed. But the world is an entirely new animal. The real world, I mean. It is not school -- or a class -- wherein you study well, ace the exam, impress in recitation, and get a recognition. It does not work that way in the real world.

In the real world, you work hard, wait for two weeks, check out the payroll, pay the bills. Repeat. 

Or so it happens to adults stuck in a day-long job that is sometimes meaningful, oftentimes gratifying, always stressful, everyday repetitive.

Routine. Yes, that's how you call it.

For the past weeks, I've been having anxiety attacks -- or so I thought. I haven't googled yet what having 'anxiety attack' means clinically. But I have diagnosed myself as having such: worrying about the next months, imagining your fears happening in reality, asking why you are not getting what you want, questioning why it seems very easy for others to get what they want, feeling your dreams are too impossible to achieve. And so on and so forth.

Quite tired of it. In my emotion graph, the line is currently going up -- signalling a budding hope amid hopelessness. Probably I managed to convince myself to love my life a little more -- or try once again, at the very least -- because if I don't embrace it, nobody else will.

And yes, relax. The days go on. Life goes on.

And make a decision to never tire trying.

Blabbers

They say write down what stresses you out.

The other day, I read on Time that one good way to cope with stress is to write it down. The article cited a study wherein a group of students were asked to keep a journal of what stressed them out at school. After a few weeks, those who did had a higher average compared with those who did not.

Probably that explains why I had better grades when I was in college. Or not.

Either way, I no longer care about college. I used to think that when you're good at school, success is guaranteed. But the world is an entirely new animal. The real world, I mean. It is not school -- or a class -- wherein you study well, ace the exam, impress in recitation, and get a recognition. It does not work that way in the real world.

In the real world, you work hard, wait for two weeks, check out the payroll, pay the bills. Repeat. 

Or so it happens to adults stuck in a day-long job that is sometimes meaningful, oftentimes gratifying, always stressful, everyday repetitive.

Routine. Yes, that's how you call it.

For the past weeks, I've been having anxiety attacks -- or so I thought. I haven't googled yet what having 'anxiety attack' means clinically. But I have diagnosed myself as having such: worrying about the next months, imagining your fears happening in reality, asking why you are not getting what you want, questioning why it seems very easy for others to get what they want, feeling your dreams are too impossible to achieve. And so on and so forth.

Quite tired of it. In my emotion graph, the line is currently going up -- signalling a budding hope amid hopelessness. Probably I managed to convince myself to love my life a little more -- or try once again, at the very least -- because if I don't embrace it, nobody else will.

And yes, relax. The days go on. Life goes on.

And make a decision to never tire trying.

Ikaw, sinong iboboto mo?

Ang daming nagtatanong sa akin niyan.

I think no one among the candidates has the noblest of intentions to serve you and me. 

Yung isa nag-give way nung 2010 sa presidente natin ngayon. So he's now pursuing his dream because he believes gunning for the presidency is his birthright (*cue tear*).

Yung isa, nung 2010 pa lang din nag-declare na, gusto niya daw baguhin ang bansa. Kasi ganito kami sa... Ayala Avenue at parking building two.

Yung isa gustong ipagpatuloy yung sinimulan nung tatay niya. Natalo kasi yung tatay niya nung 2004 in the same fight she's fighting now, kasi dinaya daw ng bongga.

Yung isa ayaw manalo si atey na flying with colors na sa mga survey bago pa man magdeclare ng candidacy. Ayaw niya daw manalo ang isang Amerikano, kaya sige na nga, go na daw siya para may kalaban (kahit mga 100 times niya sinabing ayaw niya kesyo matanda na daw siya at doon na lang siya sa lugar niya, pero mga 25 times na sinabing pwede din naman pero kakausapin niya daw muna niya pamilya niya).

Yung isa siguro, pwedeng noble yung intention niya. What else will you do after battling (and surviving?) the big C diba? Lalo pa't you've spent your whole life in government. E di make a grand comeback! Pero kasi, baka mag-ala Pope Benedict siya, na sa kalagitnaan ng term, biglang sabihin niyang ayaw na niya. E hindi naman 'to tulad ng conclave na malinis at tahimik ang proseso ng pagpili ng kapalit, diba?

Ikaw, sinong pipiliin mo? Maiging balikan natin kung bakit ba sila nagkukumahog na makuha ang boto mo. Beyond the platforms, look up what lit the fire in their ass kasi it will speak a lot about what they might and may do once they get the most coveted post of the land (na hindi naman bongga ang sweldo pero ang dami-daming gagawin at sangkatutak ang problema, di ba?)

Choose the lesser evil. And vote for the character, not just the promises. Because you can rarely change a character. And well, promises can be broken.

P.S. Sila na lang lima choices natin eh, disqualified kasi si Intergalactic. Sayang.

Halu-halo: Ignoring my feelings

It's Maundy Thursday.

Lent is ending in 3 days. For this year, I vowed to fast from desserts, Facebook and Instagram. For the Holy Week, I eat one full meal a day and just have quick bites thereafter. I've been winning, so far.

And today, it's Maundy Thursday. We're out and about for our yearly Visita Iglesia. We're on our last stop: Chowking. Currently, I'm eating my feelings.

My parents and my brother are eating halu-halo. I'm fixing my gaze on my soup and ignoring my feelings. I'm trying to forget the cold and tangy taste of cold milk mixed with ube ice cream on a very hot night. 

I'm happy with my noodle soup.

Ooops. It's 12:00 mn. That means, it's now Good Friday.

Have a blessed Holy Week everyone!

Stained by Pulag

"May lupa pa yung sapatos mo. Akala ko ba nilabhan mo na yun?" said my mom. 

Before I went to bed Saturday morning, I made sure I washed every little thing I could -- pairs of socks, gloves, leg warmers, bonnets, towels, handkerchiefs. I didn't wash my hiking shoes thoroughly. I learned from newly found mountaineer friends that you shouldn't wash your shoes with detergent, only with shampoo. So I willingly yielded and removed the earth-stains on the sides and the sole. I thought no stain was left. 

Until I saw the marks. I intended to leave them like that.

I want to keep a memory of Mount Pulag in my shoes. It's like a battle scar. A memento of places you've conquered. 

Our view of the summit from the saddle camp after we hiked to see the sea of clouds.

This mountain was no joke: a trek of roughly eight kilometers with steep ascents for five straight hours. The journey was grueling; nonetheless, fulfilling. I remember cursing (in my mind) every step halfway through the hike. We would ask our guide how long it would still take for us to get to the saddle camp -- which was only 30 minutes away from the summit -- and she would say three hours, two hours, one hour. 30 minutes. 15 minutes. Probably the longest quarter of an hour of my life.

After all, Mt. Pulag is proudly standing at 2,922 meters above sea level. The third highest in the Philippines.

The obligatory visitor pose

My acid attack made this climb more difficult. I barely ate dinner during our night at the camp, because all I wanted to do was to vomit. My stomach was churning badly -- similar to how I felt when I was rushed to hospital and found out I had gastritis. The cold wasn't helping either. Our fellow campers from the other group said the temperature even dropped to -4 degrees Celsius through the night. I was chilling. I vomited thrice before I slept. I drank all the antacid tablets I had in my bag and lathered ointment on my stomach. 

But every step, every chill, everything was worth it. Especially when we ascended to the summit and saw the majestic sea of clouds as the sun was rising. It was the most beautiful dawn of my life.

The sun at dawn parting the Earth and the sky as the world eases into another day

Shout out to my friend, Darcey, who took care of me when my acid attack got the best of me. Also, for always bringing extra everything -- sleeping mat, blanket, utensils, etc. She helped me descend the mountain alive and kicking.

Congratulations to Rikki and Nikki for their romantic Pulag engagement. The heaven witnessed your love, and it would surely bless your marriage for life.

Good times with new friends. 'Til the next climb!


Note to climbers: 

• Leave no trace. 
• Follow ALL the rules.
• Stay on the trail -- don't stray.
• Don't make noise on the mountain.
• Respect the mountain as you would your parents, partner, self.