Apparently, I used to write multiple times a day

I found my old journals last night. It was unintentional. I was cleaning a shelf and opened boxes I had ignored for years, when I stumbled across a couple of my old journal notebooks with loose pages. Some of them still had dates written carefully on the first page. Others were covered in stickers. One of them even had names of people I randomly met or no longer talk to.

Since it's almost midnight, I told myself I would read only a few entries. But instead, I spent hours sitting on the floor turning page after page. I was completely absorbed in a version of myself I had almost forgotten.

I laughed and laughed as I read my entries. I never realized I wrote cringey things back then, mostly about how much I hated doing the laundry and about my favorite TV drama. I wrote mostly about my crushes, mentioning how I am falling in love with them in multiple entries. Heck, teenagers really write about predictable things. But what surprised me wasn't the content. It was my consistency. I wrote regularly back then, like multiple times a day. I filled entire notebooks without thinking twice.

But damn, now I struggle to finish even two pages. 

At some point over the years, writing became harder for me, even though life itself became fuller. I have more experiences now, more stories and complicated emotions, and more understanding of the world. By all reason, I should have more to write about. But I often find myself staring at blank pages with nothing to say. Or worse, too much to say all at once.

Maybe writing was easier when I was younger because I had not yet learned how to hold back.

Back then, I wrote everything down without shame. I wrote unapologetically every minor disappointment, every single interaction with someone I admire, and every fleeting thought I had. I was never worried whether my writing sounded intelligent or meaningful. The act itself was enough. The younger me thinks writing wasn't a performance. But now I edit myself before I even begin.

I think adulthood does that to people. You become more aware of how you sound. You become more careful, and your thoughts compete with responsibilities, distractions, plus the constant pressure to stay functional. There is less silence now. Less boredom, less time spent sitting alone with your own mind long enough to hear what it is trying to say. Reading my old journals made me realize how attentive I used to be to my own life. I noticed things back then. I wrote about ordinary afternoons, the weather, conversations with my siblings, songs playing in the background, and even wrote about the feeling of walking towards the bus stop after school. Nothing was too small to document. But I stopped paying that kind of attention and convinced myself that ordinary moments no longer deserved to be remembered.

Lately, my life feels less documented. It's been more than a month since my last journal entry, and days blur together quickly now. Sometimes I wonder how many memories I have already lost simply because I never wrote them down. Maybe that is why finding these old journals of mine affected me so much. They felt like proof that there was once a version of me who moved through life more slowly.

I am too broke to attend a wedding

Ella, a very dear friend of mine is getting married. I’m one of the few people who witnessed and stood by her through both the happiest and darkest parts of her life. I was there when she had to run to the hospital after her former partner made her a punching bag. I was there during the confusing in-between of a situationship with someone we worked with. And I was there when she met Philip, the man she would eventually marry and someone who slowly became my friend too. Philip is a kind person, with a positive outlook and a clear sense of where he wants to go in life. Those were the things that made Ella fall in love with him.

That was ten years ago. Since then, life has moved in different directions. We changed jobs, chased different careers, and our circles grew bigger. But somehow, we always found our way back to each other, even just once a year over drinks, over stories, over laughter that felt familiar no matter how much time had passed.

And now, she’s getting married and it feels right. It feels like something she has long deserved. I am so proud of her, of them, of the life they are building together.

Fast forward to January 2026, Ella finally sent us the wedding invitation along with the RSVP in our group chat. Everyone was excited, with conversations about the dress code, hotel bookings, and all that jazz. The wedding will be held in the province, far from the city, and far from where I live (I live in the north while most of my friends live south). But that’s okay. That should be okay, right?

But the truth is, I’ve been struggling financially for years and at some point, reality became impossible to ignore. I can’t afford the trip. I can’t afford a dress. I can’t afford a place to stay. I spent weeks going back and forth in my mind, trying to find a way, any way, to make it work. Because this is not just any event. This is my friend’s wedding, one of the very few people I keep close to my heart. And I want to be there. But I’m just not in a position to spend money on something I simply can’t afford.

And so after three days I finally declined the RSVP. I sent her a message telling her I couldn’t come and that I am happy and proud of her, that I love them both. I didn’t explain why. Pride told me to keep things to yourself, even when the truth is simple. I know Ella and Phil will understand. At least, I hope Ella will.

UPDATE: Ella has seen it, but hasn’t replied yet. I imagine she’s busy, caught up in all the details that come with building a wedding and a future. The group chat is still alive. Everyone is still excited. And me? I am cheering for her quietly, from a distance.

Happy birthday, Papa.

Happy birthday, Papa. I love you so much. I’ve always said I’m your carbon copy, the ultimate Papa’s girl.

When I was little, I would cry every time you leave for Baguio to work. I always needed to see you leave. Even if it was very early in the morning, no matter what day it was, I would make sure I’m awake just to watch you get on the bus. Sometimes, you don’t say that you’re about to leave, but there are signs. You’d start folding your clothes and put them in your duffel bag. By then, I knew you were leaving, so I wouldn’t sleep at all so I could wake up the moment you step out of the house. Even when Lola scolded me, I didn’t care.

Because if I didn’t see you leave, I would feel awful. My whole week would be terrible. I would cry and cry.

Papa, someone else inherited that habit of mine—your eldest grandchild, my nephew. Every time his mother leaves, he would always wake up and cry. He doesn’t want her to go. But when there’s nothing he can do, he makes sure he sees his mom walk out of the house and get on the bus.

I always smile when I see him like that. Then I would tell him the story, that I was just like him when I was a child.

22-15-20-1

Since I was a child, I never won games or raffles. Unlike my mom and my sibling, who often brought home prizes, I always went home with nothing after parties. That’s why I was so happy yesterday when I won four times at our class reunion raffle. The first, I won in a game, then won again in the raffle—second, third, and fourth prizes. Of course, I was happy. In my whole existence, this was the first time I ever got lucky in these kinds of games. But I didn’t just win prizes; I also got to see my old classmates. It was really heartwarming to see them again after decades.

So much has changed, and our batch has come a long way. Some of them already have children who have graduated, while others have firstborns who are still in kindergarten. Some have given up on having children and instead focused on making money (mentioning our classmate who sponsored an 18,000-peso lechon and reserved the entire resort). It was fun to look back on our foolishness and innocence when we were young.

In a way, the reunion lifted my spirits. I had doubts about going because I didn’t have much money and only contributed 1,000 pesos. Still, I really wanted to see them, so I made sure to be there whatever happens. And seeing them again and seeing what we’ve all become, I felt genuinely happy. I wish everyone the best and more blessings for our batch. Of course, I wish we’ll have another reunion in the future.

Good riddance

 

Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?

Ever since I turned forty, I find myself reminiscing about the past more often. From time to time, little memories of my childhood would invade my thoughts and make me smile. Maybe it’s a subtle coincidence, because grade school my classmates are planning a reunion this coming December, something I might not be able to attend since I’ll be flying to Malaysia again soon.

But if I could re-live any year of my life, I’d go back to my grade school days, when I was around seven to eleven years old. Those were the years when life felt endlessly full. Full of laughter, little adventures, and the kind of joy that didn’t need a reason. Life was simple. The world was small, yet it felt so big, and every kid like me couldn’t wait to be an adult. Every day seemed to hold something worth remembering.

Back in the 90s, my friends and I would visit each other’s houses after class. We’d hunt for spiders hiding up the ceiling, behind old flowerpots or under tree branches, proudly showing off our “finds” like trophies. We’d keep them in match boxes and bring them to school the next day and letting them fight against each other. Other times we’d play paper games, like Hangaroo-style word games, or even Battleship. Once in a while, we’d have silly “beef” with the other class, accusing them of different things. It was childish of course, but that’s what made it beautiful.

But my favorite memories were always the ones I shared with my siblings. One summer afternoon, we built what we proudly called “the greatest barbecue grill”. Inspired by a barbecue grill we saw on HSN, we made our own out of an old Marie Biscuit tin can stuffed with dried leaves and twigs. Then we snuck into the fridge when no one was looking and stole a slice of meat just to test it out. It never really cooked properly and actually tasted like those dried leaves. But we felt like geniuses. On other days, we’d play basketball until mosquitoes start to bite us or ride the bicycle our father had built from junk parts. It wobbled and squeaked, but to us, it was freedom on two wheels.

Those years were full of innocence and imagination. We didn’t need much to be happy. Just a little sunlight, some space to run around, and each other. Growing up has its own joys, but I often miss how easy it was to live back then. And so if I could re-live that time, I would slow down and pay more attention. I’d savor the smell of textbooks and the laughter of my friends, the taste of those terrible “barbecue” experiments, the feeling of excitement as I rode that rickety bike. I would definitely hold on to those moments longer.

Because somewhere along the way, life got louder and more complicated. And sometimes, I wish I could go back to that time, not to escape the present, but to remember the version of myself who found happiness in the simplest things.

A memory with my Lola (part 1)

I grew up under my grandmother’s care. From the day I was born, it was Lola Flor who slept beside me every night, because both my parents were working. She became my mother in every sense of the word, and our relatives used to joke that I was her youngest child. When I started going to school, it was my Lola Flor who took care of everything for me. Every morning, she would walk me to school, wait for me until dismissal, then we would go home to eat lunch and take a nap together. But one afternoon in kindergarten, we didn’t take our nap, and I ended up doing something terrible.

It must have been around two or three in the afternoon. Lola Flor stayed awake because she was winnowing rice, while I was playing with a marble. I couldn’t remember where I got that marble or who gave it to me. I was squatting on the ground, rolling it back and forth, while behind me, she was busy with her rice. I think that was the first time in my life that I ever had an intrusive thought.

I stared at the marble for a long time and wondered what would happen if I threw it at her. So I stood up, faced her while she was still focused on cleaning the grains, and then I threw it. The marble hit the left lens of her glasses. It cracked.

I just stood there, frozen, while she hurriedly took off her glasses. It was only then that it sank in. What if a shard of glass got into her eye? What if my Lola went blind because of me? I didn’t cry, but fear spread through me. Lola didn’t get angry, and thank God, her eyes were safe. Although she had to use her spare pair of glasses tucked away somewhere.

I can’t remember what happened after that. I don’t recall being scolded. I don’t know what became of that marble. We still ate dinner that night as if nothing had happened. I still spent the evening cutting bits of paper for my crafts. And when I fell asleep on the sofa, Lola Flor still carried me to bed.

We had joy, we had fun

Back in high school, I was one of the few students in our batch who had a cellphone, but I couldn’t really relate to the others. They all had Nokia 5110, while I owned a Trium Astral. I used to watch them gather around, composing ringtones together. Still, I was considered one of the “cool kids” simply because I had a phone. Sometimes I’d bring my yellow Gameboy Color to school so me and my classmates could play Zelda or Furby. That made me look even cooler in my class, even if I didn’t have a Nokia.

During our third-year summer break, I joined the CAT training. Every day for a month, we’d go to school early for exercises and drills. By senior year, I had become a platoon leader with the rank of Captain. It felt amazing to be seen by other students everyday commanding and leading drill sessions, looking sharp during rifle practice. That was another “cool kid” point for me.

One time, during our Speech class, our teacher told us to prepare an English song to sing in the next session. The following day, one of my classmates brought a guitar, and when it was my turn, I borrowed it and sang “What’s Forever For?” My female classmates were amazed. There were only two of us who sang with instruments: me and the guitar owner.

That earned me another “cool kid” point.

Now, I’m no longer that “cool kid.” I’m forty years old, struggling and surviving day by day. But whenever I look back, I can’t help but smile. I remember those moments when my friends and I would sneak out during Intramurals to rent BMX bikes at the PICC and roam around the grounds for as long as we wanted. I remember the time I went to a classmate’s house to watch the first Resident Evil movie on a pirated VCD. And my very first taste of gin… High school really was the best phase for most students, wasn’t it? Truly core memory-worthy.

And even though I’ve long outgrown being a “cool kid,” these days I aspire to be a cool auntie to my niblings.

What would you talk about if someone were actually listening to you?

Honestly, I grew up not telling or sharing stories about my life with others. That’s because I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I was raised well; my grandmother and parents took good care of me. But I didn’t grow up in an environment where I was encouraged to share or open up about my feelings. So, I’ve carried this with me until now.

I didn’t have any real friends in elementary or high school. Sure, I had people to hang out with, but I saw them as just ordinary friends or acquaintances. There was no deep understanding between us that would allow us to share our thoughts and feelings with each other. Even now, when I have what I can consider my circle of friends, I still find it hard to open up to them. I don’t even know why. I guess I’m just not used to it.

If someone were truly listening to me right now, I would tell them that I am sad. I’m sad because I feel like i have no direction in life. That I’m almost forty years old and still have nothing to be proud of. That I’m sad because even though I want to break free from this situation, it feels like I’m stuck here. That I’m sad because I still don’t know what I really want in life.

My family and friends think I’m okay. They think that I have a decent job, that I’m happy even though I’m single, that I’m content even if I don’t go out of the house often… but that’s not true. When I’m alone, I’m always worried. I stay up until the early hours of the morning because I don’t want to feel the anxiety hit me once I lie down and start thinking about my personal issues. I spend my time watching random videos to distract myself from my worries. I let my imagination wander until I get tired and fall asleep. At least, that way, I don’t have to think anymore.

Sometimes I think about just disappearing. That I wish I hadn’t been born, so there would be one less person feeling this way.

So, if there’s someone who genuinely wants to listen to me, I hope they won’t get tired of it. I hope they won’t judge me and say, “You’re just sad” or “You’re just lazy.” I hope they won’t interrupt me while I’m sharing. I’m not asking them for advice or anything. I just really want someone to listen.

Note: I wrote this a year ago. I am now forty, and everything is still the same. The only difference is now, I don’t think about disappearing. I try to live every day, find things to be happy and stay positive. That’s a good thing, right?

I feel like I don’t belong to anyone’s memories (a.k.a Geloy Concepcion’s words that resonate with me as the ‘background friend’)

I feel like I don’t belong in anyone’s memories.

I’m such a bland person. So generic, just someone on the sides during get-togethers. A filler when someone’s needed. The last option when there’s really no one else. I don’t even know why I see myself this way.

I feel like I don’t contribute anything to the things happening around me. When I’m at gatherings with people whom I consider friends, I try to join in, start conversations, laugh with them. But eventually, I end up in the background again, just smiling and nodding along to their stories. And even though I remember a lot of memories with my friends during those moments, sometimes I wonder… do they remember anything about me? Do I matter to them at all?

Sometimes I blame myself, because I’ve always been like this. I wish that even just once; I could’ve stood out a bit. Maybe then they’d remember me. But maybe they will, in a way. “Oh, that one who’s always smiling, the one who just nods, always in the back, that person…” At least they’ll remember me, right? Better than nothing. Hahaha, what an annoying thought.

Anyway, I don’t want to self-pity. Sometimes I just wonder what I really am in the eyes of the people around me.

So you want to be the cool aunt

 

So you want to be the cool aunt. That’s cool. Being an aunt myself can be fun and rewarding. But being a cool aunt can sometimes feel stressful. I have to walk a tightrope between being funny, calm, sensible, and responsible. I certainly hope they can come to me, but I also want to give them the best advice—the kind of good advice my aunt gave me.

Being a cool aunt is like being a part-time parent — you can only give back when you’re tired of parenting. I like to think of it as an exercise in parenting myself. I’ve been close to my twin nephews since birth, and sometimes I (like their parents) have a hard time seeing them grow. But I would love to be their go-to resource, no matter the situation, and I love that their parents trust me to guide them in the right direction.

I want to be the cool aunt that my niece or nephew can talk to about anything. In an ideal world, being an aunt would be easy. But it’s not always that simple. You want to be the best aunt your niece or nephew could ask for, but maybe you don’t have kids of your own or your relationship with their parents isn’t the best. The good news is that even if you don’t have little ones at home, you can still be a kick-ass aunt by following these tips.

Help with homework. It’s your nephew’s birthday tomorrow and he needs help with his homework. What do you do? First, take a deep breath and try not to panic: It’s only homework! 

1) Find out what he needs help with. 
2) Listen carefully as he explains his assignment. 
3) Ask him if he knows how to do it, or has any ideas of his own. 
4) Explain how you would do it if you were him.

Take them out for ice cream. The best way you can show your niblings that they are important to you is by spending time with them. While not all kids want to go out for ice cream, it is a great way for them to get a little treat and spend time with their favorite auntie. I also recommend that, when you take your nieces or nephews out for ice cream, you ask them about their day and what they’re up to.

Play video games with them. One of the things my brothers used to do with our aunt is play video games together. It gave me a very happy and memorable childhood growing up and I can definitely vouch for this tip. It’s a good way for us all to have some quality time together, but it can also provide an opportunity for them to learn some new skills. If they’re playing on their own consoles, I might jump into a game with them so we can play cooperatively or compete against each other.

Never ever pressure them. Don’t forget that they’re still kids. Not adults. Don’t try to turn them into your friends, and avoid pressuring them into doing things you want them to do but not what they want. Be a good listener and offer advice when asked for it! You can’t force your niece or nephew, or anyone else for that matter, to live their lives exactly as you would like. Putting them under pressure doesn’t make you a cool aunt. Not cool.

Now that you know how to really make your niece or nephew feel special, it’s time for you to get out there and show them! Make sure you send us pictures when they’re all grown up — we can’t wait to see what you’ve accomplished!

I am living the single life

“When are you going to get married?” is the question I always get from my relatives. It was uncomfortable at first, especially when you hear it every single time you attend family gatherings. But as time goes, I got used to it and would smirk or joke about it whenever they ask.

Being single is always stereotyped as living a lonely life. Being married and having kids is usually considered a happy one. This is also our society’s standard- men and women should get married, start a family, and lead a happy, healthy, and fruitful life. But, some go against this standard. I know some folks, people from my workplace who dream of having kids while remaining single. Some are single parents, raising their children while rejecting the possibility of getting a partner. Most of these single parents are women. They think that having a partner is a headache and that they should focus their energy on raising and loving their kids. Lastly, some people chose not to be in a relationship, like me.

People would assume that I’ve been in a horrible relationship in the past and that I don’t want to have another one. This assumption is wrong and this is not always the case. I can relate my single life to my living alone. I started living alone after my partner and I broke up. We are both fine and remain friends up until today. And as I mentioned in my previous post, it’s hard. It’s hard when you’re with your friends, and they talk about their boyfriends and girlfriends and you don’t have one. It’s hard when your uncles and aunts press you about getting married and having kids. That’s the part that I don’t like.

Looking back as someone in her 30s, being single is not bad at all. It is fulfilling. The first thing that I loved the most is the solitude and its rewards. It gives me time to be creative without having someone distract me. It keeps me refreshed and energized. Most of all, it gives me time to think, reflect, and re-evaluate my life choices. In essence, you have plenty of time for yourself. When you get married and have kids, your focus would shift to your family and how to take care of them. It will give you little time for yourself. You’ll only have the time once your kids have grown up and had their own families. But how old do you think you’d be when that time comes? People say that you become more integrated with society when you’re married. This is not true. How can you meet other people and integrate into society, when you devote the majority of your time to your family? When you are single, you have the time to embrace and interact with other people, whether it’s for pleasure or network/business-related.

Now, living a single life may not be for anyone. I have some friends whom I’ve talked to before, and although they have little regrets about marrying early, they are happy with their current life with their spouses and kids. Of course, I am happy for them. I can feel their happiness whenever they talk about how their babies are starting to walk and how they learned their first words. I also know people from work who prefer being single because of economic concerns, saying spending money for their survival is already hard, what more if they have a family. I understand these views because we have our own definitions of happiness. At the moment, I am enjoying the single life and its rewards; it has made me more relaxed, collected, and open to different perspectives. I am intending to keep my lifestyle this way, although who knows what would happen in the future, right?

The unconventional guide to living alone

 

What are some of your ‘unconventional’ guides to living alone? This was a question I posted on Quora a few days ago. There have been different misconceptions about this kind of lifestyle. Some say living alone is lonely and that the longer you live this way, the more you become miserable. Some say it’s fun and exciting and even intend to do it long-term.

According to an article by Claire Lower, living alone can be awkward at first. This is true, especially when you’re so used to having people around you. For younger folks, it could be when they are moving away to go to college. For adults, when they’re calling a long-term relationship quits. For older people, it could be when their life partner passes away. But it could the best thing after giving yourself time to adjust.

I started living alone in 2016 after breaking up with my partner. I have to admit that it was hard that I almost regretted my decision and move back to my brother’s apartment. I had no one to talk to, my routine is always work-home-work. I stayed in the office after working hours to talk to my colleagues, because I dreaded the feeling of going home. I even asked a co-worker to move in and become roommates with me.

That didn’t happen, of course. But to my surprise, after almost a year, I began to appreciate the solitude.

I began to enjoy the silence around me. No one would always ask and nag me about my whereabouts. I began to appreciate the art of ‘masturdating’ (it is so, so good and worth trying). Sleeping, although challenging at first, became much more comfortable. I don’t have to share my bed with someone. The best thing is that I have the freedom to do my favorite things and bring out my creative side.

So, as someone who is living alone, here’s my list of ‘unconventional’ guides to enjoy living by oneself:

1. Decorate your place. It doesn’t have to be expensive.

This is where you can unleash your creative power. Looking for inspiration from Pinterest or magazines is a good start. Plus with the convenience of online shopping, you can have the materials delivered to you. But as I’ve said, decorating doesn’t have to be expensive. Anything you have, whether old fabrics, tin cans, or even beer bottles is good to use.

Lately, I realized that I needed to have a pinboard to put all the small notes I used from my meetings. And so I decided to go online to shop. But I found the pinboards online to be expensive. The 20 x 30cm already costs almost P200, so I ditched the plan and asked for help from my landlord. He was kind enough to give me a carton box. I cut it to my preferred size and painted it black. I attached strings and made my own pinboard of my preferred size.

2. Create a schedule for your chores.

If you live in a small space, say a dorm, you don’t have to do a lot of chores. Cleaning, laundry, cooking, doing the dishes, and throwing out the trash are the basics. You can definitely create a schedule for these. My schedule includes the following:

Cleaning: Wednesday & Saturday

Laundry: Thursday & Sunday

Trash: Everyday

I cook every other 2 days. I cook meals that are good for 2-days and store them in the ref. It saves you time and gas. When you schedule your chores, you’ll be able to plan your week better.

3. Get a dog or cat. If not, a plant.

A Quora member who posted their answer to my question even suggested a stuffed toy because it’s less work. That will do as well because the goal is to have someone (or something) to talk to. Because let’s be real, living alone can also be boring at times. It doesn’t mean we don’t yearn for some solo TED Talk. So having any of these three I mentioned would be superb.

Pets are not allowed in our building, so I got myself a small succulent plant that I named Amanda. She doesn’t mind me talking (sometimes shouting) to her when I’m stressed or bored. She’s a good listener and she doesn’t mind a little neglect too.

4. Learn how to cook.

A basic skill all humans should have. Living alone doesn’t mean you can indulge in delivery foods every day. It’s a waste of money and it’s not healthy. Learning how to make at least 1–2 decent recipes for yourself is a great help. Cooking is a relaxing task. Who knows? You might find yourself a new hobby.

5. Store foods and basic essentials (including liquor).

Make sure your pantry is full. You will never know what will happen. One time I caught the flu and wasn’t able to go out. Luckily, I have enough food in my cabinet and on my fridge and they kept me alive for 4 days. I also make sure I have enough medicine to take whenever I’m not well. I live alone, so I have to take care of myself. If it’s Friday night and you want to chill without going out, having an ice-cold beer or vodka will be an awesome add-on. This is of course, optional.

6. Have an extra pillow.

Did you know that hugging a pillow while sleeping has benefits? This is true, especially if you are a troubled sleeper like me. It lessens your tossing and turning and also adds warmth. Plus, it also comes in handy if in any case, someone is coming for a sleepover.

So far, I only have a few people who answered my question on Quora. If you are a member, you may post your ‘unconventional’ guides (link at the start of this post), or you can share them here. I would love to read all your tips and maybe will learn a thing or two from you all, who knows?