A Life Update (just in case you care)

I have no idea where to start. Should I bore you with specifics? Should I strain myself to interest you? In all seriousness, each time I write something I get this faint fear of being unheard. This will probably get two or three views by the time I publish this. A part of me says it’s due to how clumsy of a storyteller I am, and another part tells me that most people don’t really care about what I write. It’s unfortunate that these two parts are true. Yet here I am, giving lesser fucks to people who don’t give any. That sounds impossible considering that a person can’t have lesser apples than a person that has none. I’m rambling again. Here’s my laundry list of thoughts with no restriction nor refinement.

  • I got a job as a teacher. I’ve been teaching for 10 months. It’s pretty uneventful. Kids these days aren’t so keen to break collective thinking. They’re either too engrossed in it or they don’t care. Getting kids interested is the most difficult thing I’ve done in teaching. I’m not good enough as my professors. Maybe I will be one day if I continue teaching.
  • I passed the civil service exam. Hooray, I guess. I over-prepared myself, and now the company I work for gives me professional level subjects to teach. It’s a double-edged sword. I get paid more, but there’s less demand.
  • I just took a graduate studies exam at DLSU. If I pass, I’ll be taking Political Science come January. I’ll be shifting to Asian Studies as soon as I can. I honestly have no interest in local politics. I couldn’t choose Asian Studies from the get-go because they only offer it on the 1st and 3rd term. January is the 2nd term.
  • I also applied for the scholarship program. Hopefully, I get in that too.
  • DLSU has a double degree program tied with Osaka School of International Public Policy where students can earn an MA in International Public Policy. It’s been one of my short terms goals to study abroad for grad school. My mother felt undetermined about my decision and asked that I get my MA here in the Philippines. DLSU answered my prayers.
  • I still have plans to go abroad. Whether for work or for study, the Philippines has nothing for me. It’s too small for the Clan (I mean that in a negative way). Australia or New Zealand is still an attractive option, although I’ve been leaning towards north-east Asian countries lately. The Asian cultural diversity and liveliness is intoxicating. Manila doesn’t have that. It’s too westernised.
  • I decided to study for the GRE and/or the GMAT. It’ll be useful to have since I’ll be attending grad school. Also, bragging rights. I looked into tutorial rates and holy shit are they expensive. $1,500??? Are you kidding me? That’s a term’s worth of tuition!

Now the acads stuff are out-of-the-way.

  • I’m a pretty outspoken sexual person. I have no shame in talking about the partners I’ve had or even the time I was raped (never wrote about that. I’ll keep a mental note). All my friends know that I’m pansexual. What’s that you say? According to Oxford, “Pansexual |panˈsɛksjʊəl, -ʃʊəl| adjective, not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity.” Still don’t get it? My attraction towards people, whether sexual or not, is bound by nothing except for one–their personality. If a person’s personality clicks with mine, I wouldn’t care if that man or woman’s straight, lesbian, gay, or transsexual. Why should I be put off by a person’s dangly bits if we can satisfy each other fully? It just doesn’t make sense but oh well.
  • I know my sexuality, but I’m still confused with my gender identity. My pansexuality has little to do with my gender. At least I think it does. Think of a tomboy lesbian with female tendencies in a male body, that’s what I think I am.
  • I had a thought a few months back. If my future kids were straight, I’d be disappointed. Weird huh? I want gay kids. It’s still discrimination, and it’s something I have to learn how to get rid of.
  • I told my father that I’m going to grad school in Osaka in the near future. The Japanese embassy asks for a bank certificate, showing that I can financially support myself. When I was on the line with my father, I told him how much it was. He laughed. That really pissed me off. He just laughed when I was talking about funding for my education. I kept my head. He is the only large source of income for me and my mother. Again, this shows that we are in his clutch.

That’s it for now?

Winning Another Battle isn’t Usually Good

Tomorrow marks the third week of being clean. This is also my third, and hopefully succesful, attempt in quitting cigarettes. I can’t tell you how fucking difficult the first week was. Winning another battle isn’t usually good. Why? Fighting again means that I made a choice to put myself in that low position.

I fucking hope this fucking cycle stops. It’s seriously depressing.

Giving in to Social Pressure

A few weeks ago, my mother and I decided to visit this new supermarket 15 minutes from where we lived. I have a thing for groceries. There’s a certain way how products are placed. Each display entices the customer to buy something that they don’t need. It’s this placement of products that interests me.

Our original plan was to go food tripping in UP Town Center, the new place for food, fashion, and other things. Katipunan is known for its variety of restos and cafés. It’s literally a university town, and most of the students are from wealthy families looking for a dish or cup to satisfy their taste buds.

We crossed to St. Marc Café to get some appetisers. I suggest you order their matcha latte and the matcha Daifuku Chococro. Those were AMAZING.

We walked in and out of shops, looking at stuff we would never buy. I saw a Fujifilm X-T10, and the price made me realise that it almost costs as much as my mother’s surgery.

I mentioned earlier that a lot of the students come from well-off families. Classes were canceled that day (I think) and a number of them went to UP Town. I dressed pretty normally and pretty decently, decent enough to blend in I suppose.

The only thing I ignored were my shoes. I wore Crocs that day, not the obviously hideous ones that everyone hates (I own a pair and still use them btw) just a different type.

I don’t know why but I was overly conscious of my feet. Was it because it had holes on the sides to allow easy breathing? No. I hate closing off my feet to the air, so having my trotters tread true was the least of my worries. What was it then? Was it the shoes themselves?

I caught myself looking at these students’ shoes. Adidas, Nike, Reebok, New Balance, Puma, Onitsuka. Canvas, synthetic, leather. High-top, low-top, slip-on. Red, white, blue, yellow. As I saw more and more of these amazing shoes, my feet felt more and more naked.

I knew no one cared about what shoes I was wearing. I knew no one was looking at my feet. No one was telling me that I had terrible taste in casual fashion. Yet the sensation ate me away. Invisible eyes were ridiculing me of how stupid I looked. It felt like I was transported back to when I first arrived in the Philippines, a person who chose to be different then outcasted and judged.

We walked into a sneaker store with shelves on shelves of NBs that I’ve never seen. One pair caught my eye. It was simple, comfortable, and not that heavy on the wallet. I love NB; I think NB makes the best-looking sneakers. I’ve always wanted to buy a pair, but stores never had my size. This store did. So I bought them.

I love the style, they were fairly “cheap,” they were simple and unobtrusive (which I look for in a shoe), and super comfortable. But I felt guilty. I felt guilty buying these shoes even though the only con was that I spent money. I bought them because I wanted to feel good. A social anxiety coupled with nakedness fueled by a materialistic solution gave birth to this guilt.

I took a picture of the shoes I bought. I don’t know why I did it. Probably because I felt so good. I felt so great that I didn’t realise I had created an emotional crutch. I wish I had bought these shoes under better circumstances. I feel guilty yet safe each time I wear them. It’s like alcohol really. It comforts you and kills you.


My Old School

I’m not sure how many of you here are new readers, but let’s just say you all are new. A bit of personal backstory again (lol since this is a blog and I’ve probably written this a dozen times), I am a full-blood* Filipino and a Filipino in citizenship. If you’re not from the Philippines you’d think it’d be strange if someone tells you that having those two traits is a curse. Well, it kinda is. I say kinda only because there are Filipinos that are proud to be Filipinos or Pinoy as they call themselves. I am not that, in fact, I don’t know what I am.

I do love my country, but I hate the people that run it. I do love my friends (who are incidentally mostly half-bloods) but I hate a lot of the locals. I consider most of the local popular culture jologs (dirty, cheap, corny) so I stay away from it.

My professors would tell me that I’m a total prick for labeling things that are an essential part of the Pinoy identity. But I’m not Pinoy. I don’t keep smiling when hardships come. I don’t commit to Bahala na si Batman (which is kinda the equivalent of que sera sera). I don’t find Piolo Pascual and Marian Rivera attractive. I don’t use colloquial slang because it feels like I gargled mouthwash that’s made of acid.

Now you’re wondering, “Where the hell is he going with this? I thought this was about his old school!” We’re getting to that part. Be patient, young grasshopper. Below is a new video that ACS Cobham uploaded to YouTube showing the campus.

That’s my old school. The White House was where I first got my taste of real quality education. It housed us Kindergarten kids until we got to 1st grade in the brown buildings you saw in the video.

The White House now known as Heywood House

Now why the strong negative emotions towards Filipino culture and whatnot? Culture shock. At ACS, we were taught at a very early age that being different was normal. We had different skin colours, accents, languages, religions, and even food. The kids who were left out were the normal white kids. Talk about irony.

We knew we were all different, but we were kids so we didn’t give a shit. We’d sing songs, hold hands, throw toys, build toys, run around etc. because having fun was more interesting than looking at each other’s differences. I had so much fun learning while just being myself. Being different. I loved it. Then my father made a stupid life choice.

The culture shock I got from Filipinos when we returned was immense. I hated every local to their core until I reached uni. I brought my idea of being different was normal and severely paid the price. The normal I saw was conformity. Everyone acted the same, looked the same, thought the same, believed in the same religion, ate the same food, and I was the precious little blue flower in the garden of weeds.

I studied first at OB Montessori. I thought I was in a zoo. I literally thought I was because I’ve never seen that tone of skin colour. I’ve had African classmates and teachers back in ACS, but I never saw a dark-skinned Austronesian. In fact, I never saw a dark-skinned Asian. Which is why I thought that I was Chinese and that the Philippines was a province of China (but that’s for another blog post.)

Now the racist thought of being in a zoo was spawned from mistreatment not only from my classmates but also from my teachers and the staff. They hated that I was so outgoing, so disconnected from the system, a loose cannon in their highly militarised institution of good students. I transferred schools until I ended up in a homeschooling program.**

HSP was where I finally felt I was among people who understood what it meant to be different from the flock, to be a wolf in field complying sheep. Unfortunately, wolves are threats to sheep so we huddle as a pack to protect each other. Then uni snapped me out of it. I’m not a wolf. I’m a human being.

ACS wasn’t just an international school whose facilities were amazing. It creates beautiful human beings, sometimes too beautiful that people get scared. I don’t know what I am but somewhere along the way maybe the beautiful child from my past can show me. Maybe.

*There’s no such thing as a pure-blood Filipino. What I meant by full-blood was the typical Chinese-Spanish-Filipino blood.
**It was called HSP but we still reported to a school to take tests.


I watched a BuzzFeed video about four people TRYING to do long division, and wow are they dumb. Well, three of them were anyway. One them even said that she didn’t have to do division since middle school? Which is strange since there is division in algebra.

Anyway, then a thought popped in, “Why don’t they practice multiplication like I do? Holy shit.” A fucking realisation happened.

Ever since I first learned multiplication, I’ve been subconsciously practising it. Just to give you an idea I would sometimes multiply numbers while listening to classical music (how stereotypically Asian) or while cooking.

When I do something that’s second nature I do multiplication to keep myself awake or aware that I’m doing something.

It’s so weird finding something out about myself after doing it for 17 years.

Fightnight in My Mind Only with More Music

I had a dream about two people fighting. It sounds boring but this dream was a musical. It began with an actor getting ready for a piece entitled White Bird.

The White Bird was omniscient and experienced all the emotions humans have in one instance. So the actor’s performance would be something in the line of many personalities with different emotions merged into one. The White Bird was an old monologue/solo piece that many actors have performed.

The newest actor named Young One practiced his lines backstage. He already had his costume of what looked like Icarus only with more feathers. An older actor named the Old One passed by to see how the actors were doing.

The Old One noticed the Young One and laughed. “You’re doing it wrong,” the Old One said.

“You’re not the one performing,” the Young One got pissed as his concentration broke. An exchange of dialogue of how it should be done happens.

Then the Old One couldn’t take it any longer and put on a similar looking costume only the white of the feathers were fading. The Old One sang the first stanza of the song while creeping up to the Young One. The Young One sensed that his spotlight was being stolen and replied with the second stanza but with his own style.

The two circled each other as the chorus bursted into a climax then, in a style of Defying Gravity, ended with the two belting at each other’s throats. The audience roared into an applause jolting the two birds. The two birds had not noticed that they were on stage, and they knew that they couldn’t get the same result if they performed solo.

That’s when the dream ends. The Fight of the Two White Birds is my first musical dream that I remember because of how the audience reacted. Simply, the audience was entertained by two people’s struggle. The Old One, who wanted to be at the limelight again and the Young One, who was brave to try anything.

Also, a play within a play! That some The Producers shit right there.

The Last Day of Summer

The last shot of the gang under the tree

I don’t know if anyone in my age group can relate to this. I don’t think anyone in my age group even watches this. Phineas and Ferb (P&F for short) is the best cartoon for kids that I have ever seen! Why you ask? 1) It’s never missed a single beat in its seven years and ten months of broadcasting unlike Spongebob Squarepants (how the mighty have fallen.) 2) Although P&F’s art direction was simple compared to the extremely colourful and creative cartoons like Adventure Time and The Amazing World of Gumball, P&F’s idea of “attacking” the viewer’s mind was through active imagination. P&F makes kids ask, “What CAN I do today?” 3) I know that P&F doesn’t exactly have one solid plotline like Gravity Falls (each episode is different yet the overlaying plot is obvious) but P&F depicts the everyday lives of kids, so random is good. 4) Sooooo much musical numbers! And of course, 5) P&F is the ONLY cartoon that has made me stop what I was doing, sit down, and watch it till the end even if they were reruns. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen them build a rollercoaster in the backyard.

When Disney released that Act Your Age was gonna be set ten years into the future, I was sooooo giddy! Then I read that it was the second-to-last episode before the series “finale” (there’s still The O.W.C.A. Files coming later this year.) IT DESTROYED ME. “Phineas and Ferb is going end. They won’t be making more.” I told my mother the terrible news. “What! Why?! It’s so good!” She replied. I thought the series would continue forever like The Simpsons.

I got myself a copy of Last Day of Summer, took a deep breath, braced myself, controlled my emotions, and pressed play. When it ended, when it was starting to sink in that I would never see the gang again, I stared at my screen for a good 30 minutes. It was all over.

P&F is probably the only cartoon that I religiously watched through my different “life” stages: 2007 when my family was still whole but crumbling; 2008 when I had enough of life but then rekindled through a certain person; 2009 when my father left leaving my mother in depression and me in rage; 2010 when I finally sorted my life after I got accepted in DLSU; 2011 when I realised that Buddhism was my key to finding the right questions to happiness; 2012 when I dated an amazing girl; 2013 when I started making friends in my degree program; 2014 when I had the best summer in a long time; now when I’m thinking of what comes next.

I may have changed a lot in the past almost 8 years but P&F was consistently giving me happiness. You may not have a cult fandom like Adventure Time and Gravity Falls or unique animation techniques like The Amazing World of Gumball or be a channel mascot like Spongebob Squarepants, but you definitely know how to awaken my inner kid. That kid will always be there.

I’ll miss you Phineas and Ferb!

Phineas’ goodbye to the viewers as he closes the door for the final time


The world lost a great artist five years ago but we will never forget what his music has done for us, for me. He’s has gotten me through a lot of tough shit in the past, an injection to stream which calmed the beast that riles within. I love you and your music. It reminds me that I am capable of love. Happy death anniversary.

Gotta finish what we started, so I cut this tape
As our records will stay on rotate

Touched by Religion

I meant to write about this priest I saw about a week ago (ABOUT A AGOOO!) and with him someone interesting. Her snow powder skin and ivory smile caught me, and I wanted to catch her like a firefly in a bottle. What drew me to her more was her uniform. You may think it’s strange that I comment on this but it’s because I once studied in her school so I know the uniforms well. The conservative deep-sea skirt had transformed into a pencil skirt that ended three inches above her knees, which rode up her legs each time she took a longer stride. The sailor top that was meant to be loose was now skin-tight showing her developing breasts. The sleeves were shortened baring her arms even more. She was not a Filipino. She wasn’t even Asian. This Caucasian girl with her hazelnut bob cut and blue eyes was a toy for this fat white priest. They got in a cab and as they were about to depart, the priest’s hand slid up her 12-year-old inner-thigh.

A Vision of a Cleaner Future

I’ve had this idea of how the human race could cut its dependency on oil. It all started with a man named Elon Musk and his company, Tesla. Electricity is the future. It ain’t nuclear, and it’s definitely not shale. The only problem I have with Tesla is its battery. It takes too long to charge, and it has a limited lifespan of five years. Although the lifespan may not be such a big thing since it could be recycled to an extent. Of course there are some people, like TIME, that think that an eco-friendly battery isn’t enough. This is where my idea (that combines other ideas and is technically not even a new idea) comes in.

Have you heard of solar freakin’ roadways? Well now’s your chance:

Solar roadways would be the first big step into a cleaner future. This will drastically cut our dependence on fossil fuel or any form of consumable energy (not to be confused with the laws of conservation). For those that didn’t watch the video, solar roadways replace your run-of-the-mill asphalt roads which do nothing with smarter roads. Theoretically, it can boost the economy with the jobs it generates needed to construct these roads. It can potentially give a state an excess of power if all the roads were replaced. Imagine, a city with an excess of clean power.

Last year, a company called WiTricity came into the limelight. They’ve invented a safe way to transfer electricity from one device to another.

If WiTricty, Solar Roadways, and electric car manufacturers team up, we could see the largest scale bumper cars in the world. Cars could charge and source their energy from the roads leaving charging for long-distance travelling almost obsolete. Hopefully I’ll be alive when I see this happen.