to be happy

what horror came to me when i finally had the guts to look at myself in the mirror before i going to bed at 1 or 2 am. i’ve never looked so hungry and old and sad and tired my life! and i didn’t really even do much lately—

the week had been 1 dream-come-true, actually. the days are lazy and i woke up late and only prayed a little, found nothing good to eat, made myself hot chocolate, returned to my room with my power drink, played new music, read or listened to an audiobook or watched a film, fell asleep again, woke up to take a long and nice bath, and returned to my books or movies...

—my eyes, when i studied them, looked like those of the beggars’ who’d knock on your car window in traffic. in the mirror, mine looked back at me, but past me. and they seemed big and blank and lacking in depth. while they were also hanging like droopy things, they were wide, almost surprised or something like that.



there was a hardness in my face, too, and i don’t think i’d be able to describe it in words (so i painted it). how i appeared just scared and worried me. even the permanent stoniness of my lips scared and worried me... the whole time, i knew in my gut that something is still not right. in me.

painting helped me reflect. i know that, for now, i’m still moderately miserable. but i’m willing to have my entire being reprogrammed so i can truly be happy after months through depression. i’m working hard to be happy, studying the happiness book mom gave me for christmas and practicing what i learned... baby steps, you know...

soon, i hope the hardness in my face will disappear as i give forgiveness and seeing things in a more optimistic way a shot. if you desperately wanna be happy, you’re willing to try anything and everything.



a lighter face is what i want to see in the mirror next time.

*~*~*~*

happy new year, everybody!

while feeling friendless

and i didn’t even dream of discovering nice notes in my little christmas sleeve at the study hall when i checked before christmas break.

after deciding to step down as secretary last october and earning back a regular student’s freedom when i was finally replaced last november, i felt and noticed some friends draw away from me. it made me feel out of place in school...

but collecting these notes—some of them very thoughtful... it surprised me.



though i didn’t get as much notes as those who wrote everybody, these (along with several small, unexpected presents) are enough to remind me that there are a few people who haven’t really forgotten about me... which is really sweet!

happy birthday, jesus...

a meaningful and merry christmas to you, dear blogging buddies (and mysterious phantom readers)!

a lesson on expressing love

the person i had closest to a father—my abuelo/lolo, my mother’s father—passed away last night. when i found out, i was half-busy adding subtitles to our thesis group’s video documentary.

at 1st, i really didn’t know how to be happy because he’s finally free from his personal suffering and from the world, or to be sad because his last days and months and years were spent in self-imposed solitude and far from most of the people who silently care for him.

i wondered how many family members let him know he’s loved with a love as deep as the red in the blood in our veins. lolo was such a loner, being aroud him always made me ask myself if the gloomy light in his small blue-gray eyes meant he felt unloved, unnoticed. as much as i wanted to tell him i love him at times, this very filipino fear of not being taken seriously held me back. it holds everybody back.

when mom visited lolo a few nights ago, i asked her through text to tell him he’s missed and that i wanted to be with them. but when mom read my message, lolo was already asleep on his bed. that night, i knew my “i love you” was already too late.

though life should hold no room for regrets, i won’t lie about regretting not ever telling my grandfater that i love him, in his lifetime.




the house was still when i arrived last night. my siblings didn’t play any music. our parents and faithful amah were in their rooms... everybody was home by 9 and wished to be left alone. i wanted to be alone, too, and retreated to the room i used to share with 1 of my sisters.

since i was thinking about lolo along so many other people and things, it took me a while to notice the package on top of the stumpy stool i keep next to 1 of my bedside tables. i knew where it came from right away.

suddenly my eyes won’t let me stop drying them. ****’s package reminded me of how he shows and tells me he truly cares about me. i thought about lolo and every1 i love. i learned that an “i love you” is extremely valuable and could (figuratively and literally!) make or break lives.

i learned that we ought to let the people we love know, or at least feel, our love even if our culture makes things rather difficult for us to express that love before we run out of ocassions and time.

in a card hidden under layers of books in the box **** sent, he wrote: every day is a reason to say i love you (with an exclamation point). i can’t stop thinking about those words. they cling to me like lolo’s loneliness.

p.s.: please help me pray for my abu and for my family. thank you very much.

big brother for half of a day

some1 i still don't know included me in the list of volunteers for an early christmas outreach program. but now i'm glad i didn't have any chance to say no. kids and helping are big things to me, so i grab every chance to help i get.

the task was to be a big sister (although name tags sadly labeled me "big brother" instead! haha!), for half of a day, to kids from underprivileged communities.

assigned to me were 2 incredibly well-behaved little girls: camille, 10, and natalie, 5. while other big sibs were running after or carrying kids on their backs, both camille and natalie were nice to me and never gave me a hard time. (well, except, maybe, for that part where we had to help carry their early christmas loot which included a big bag filled with stuff for school, new toys, a big box filled with presents from kids from america, and bags of grocery items which were really heeeeaaavy).

there was music and dancing and singing and games and food. there were clowns, magicians, mimes, puppets and some guys dressed up as santa claus. jollibee, who is just the cutest dancing mascot, was even there.

it was great to see some 300 kids smile and laugh. i'm glad there are big companies who still have special spots in their hearts for children and helping poor communities.

buried alive

the topic about burying pain in our women formation class led my new seatmate—a pretty mom in her early 30s—to open up to me (for the 1st time and about anything) about how burying pain just caused her more pain.

she said that when she was younger, she thought forcing herself to forget the depressing experiences she went through would help drive out hurt from her life. for years, she intentionally erased from her world the memories that made her miserable.

1 day she found out that she was developing this thing called selective memory loss (or something like that). and while burying pain by means of forced forgetfulness did her good at times, she said that her condition also caused her to forget some of her happiest, happiest memories.

an old painting to match the mood?

everyday, i thank god for ****, who doesn’t tell me things i want to hear, but things i need to hear. in our chat yesterday, he said:

“i’m sending you a book, love. it’s in my package... so many strong female characters in that novel. i want you to read it and realize how strong you really are and how you’ve never even tested yourself. or how you’ve overdramatized that which you thought was a test...

you’ve never had to do without creature comforts, you’ve always had a safety net. your family and cultural tradition supports and buoys you. someday, of course, you will be tested...

i’m not discounting your experience, love. please don’t get me wrong... i’m just saying that from what you DON’T say to me (the stuff i’m not allowed to hear) is that you are feeling let down by other people, over and over again... and it’s causing you to lose hope and faith in others. and it seems you want to question yourself for depending on them, when you really never did, nor never will have to...

i feel you are amazing, strong, resilient, sensitive and clever... i have faith in you, ace. a lot of faith. you don’t need anyone, and that's precisely why i love you. you don’t need me, you only choose me. i love that.”

to tell you the truth, i’m not sure about me being amazing and all that. i don’t even know how to believe i’m all those things. but i will be strong. for him.

*~*~*~*

the painting, i think, i made last year for the school literary publication (which owns it now). for some reason, though, it’s with me this week... i included the painting (it’s watercolor in paper) in here because the girl with semi-sad eyes kind of reminds me of me at the moment. spooky how the work of our hands reflect us sometimes, ne?