The Curse of Living

There’s so much to live for but sometimes, when things just keep going downhill, you just want to throw in the towel and quit fulfilling the many roles you play in this world. But even though you really want to, you can’t. No, you’re inner self won’t let you and it just becomes a pain for the mind. A constant battle within yourself: your emotional side saying to quit and your rational self saying not to quit. Will a decision ever be made? There should be but you’re tired. Your heart is tired. Your mind is tired. Tired of constantly having to do everything. Tired of constantly having to endure. Tired of constantly having to rationalize and ignore the self’s plea to be selfish. Let others be. Let them deal with their own challenges. Stop helping. Stop enduring. But no, you can’t. There’s just no way you can be too tired to be selfless, to endure, to fulfill your roles, to live. Then you realize it’s a curse. Living is a curse. And you can’t wait for death to come and take you at the right moment, when no one else needs you and everything is set for everyone you care about. Even if you have to wait until you’re old and wrinkly, or you’re in a hospital bed slowly dying of some stage 4 cancer.


Fear of losing baby duck

Ever since I became a full fledged mom, I haven’t been having regular dreams. Well, primarily because I’m awake most of the time. But in times when I do get some sleep, I have these weird nightmarish and disturbing dreams. As far as I can remember, I’ve had two of these and both all involved my baby duck.

The first one was set at home. It wasn’t physically similar to the place that I call home right now, but it felt like it in the dream world. Anyway, some high school batchmates came and visited wanting to take a look at my baby. They played with him for a while and when I saw that they weren’t handling him well, I took my baby duck and proceeded to give them a tour around the house. We then came upon a pathway. We then came upon a newly constructed room. We looked inside and it was a shower room, similar to those in public pools. The ceiling was particularly high and everything smelled new. We went on and the pathway led to a church. Again, the ceiling was high and the church appeared narrow. There were large wooden statues of saints which were all dark brown in color. At the end of the church was a large black bible which lay open on a stand. Behind it was a long table covered with white cloth similar to those in churches. An old looking chandelier hanged from the ceiling. I felt spooked when I saw the church. I can’t quite recall what we did in the church but it sure made an old woman in a black dress get mad. The scene changed and it showed my baby in a classic stroller at the side of the pathwalk. The scene changed again and the old lady was in front of the church. I was in a panic and sensed that she was going to go after my baby duck. I ran. My boyfriend ran. We ran. We ran and ran until we became frantic. We searched for the old lady and then saw her walking towards an open sewer with our baby in her arms. The water from the sewer rose and engulfed her and our baby. I was crying, screaming, and panicking so much the veins in my neck were about to burst. And then a large head appeared and talked to us about something I can’t quite remember. And then she made us choose between the past and the future. We chose the future. Our baby then emerged from the water safe and sound.

My second and latest dream also involved me being frantic. I needed to get to my baby duck because it was time to feed him but the roads were under construction. And so no one wants to drive me to where he was because the other way was too far. I desperately ask help from people and again, become frantic. After a while, someone finally decides to help me. I ride this person’s car and the dream ends.

These dreams are odd. I’ve never had such painful and depressing dreams before. In both instances I felt so much despair, desperation, and all things one could possibly feel when separated from their child. These feelings speak so much of my feeling of incompetence as a parent. I feel I haven’t been performing well enough and that someday something might happen to my baby duck because of my mishaps. I know I’m just digging my own grave by having these feelings but there are times when my positive feelings die out and my fears sink in. I’m doing all I can to become a great parent but when frustrations pile up, I lose myself and for that short silent moment, I feel like a hen cackling in panic as she loses sight of her chick.


Bloated lifeless humans floating in the darkness of the ocean. Fishes nibbling on the cold carcass’s hand. An eyeball is carried by the waves and floats astray unto a fish’s nest. Eye darting at every single life around it. Death, about the nest, mother fish tends to the eye like it were it’s own. Death as we know it is right under our nose.
Paddle, kick, stroke, breathe, confidence is in the swimmer’s every single movement practiced to perfection. Dive, water, bubbles, shark. Panic. Struggle. Water rushes into the swimmer’s lungs, she chokes gasping for air. A silent scream escapes from her now salty throat and slowly, death bites into her flesh. Vision blurs and a certain numbness envelopes her, gripping her heart until it beat no more. Humans are such frail little creatures.


I wanted to write a story but I had no pen and paper at the time. I had my phone, but I guessed it’d be too long for my phone, so I didn’t type a thing. I figured my ideas would stay intact. I figured that this time, maybe my thoughts would stay in place and not float away along with that beautiful scenery before my eyes. But it did. The ideas are still fresh in my mind, yes, but the words. Oh the beautiful perfect words I had so carefully chosen to describe every inch of that scene, every single detail narrated to perfection. They’ve all gone and escaped me. They’ve all gone to dust, blown along with the wind fighting against the jeepney full of people from different classes, of different ages, of different meaning but of the same purpose. The perfect scene of life at it’s simplest and most basic. Each passenger had a story in my mind and they all had endings. My imagination rooted out of my mind and I could see the characters of my story come to life. But now, all I have are little patches of that reality, some in technicolor and some just plain scribbles and objects moving back and forth. I feel like a failure. I feel empty. I feel sad. A good story has fled me once again and all because I didn’t have a pen in hand, nor had the initiative to type it in my phone.

A story should be written. It should not just stay in one’s mind. Else it will fade and crumble and if reconstructed will never be the same technicolor again.


Alone in a room for four. Rain madly pouring at the earth.
The wind blowing tiny droplets of rain inside the tiny
room. Floor wet and stricken cold.
Leaves dance. A soft wind blows from the north. A war in
the heavens has broken yet again. Tears of sorrow and
pain tear through the clouds and unto earth.
Riverbanks once dry come to life. The spoils of war
brings life to the human puppets. Rejoice! Rejoice! Their
sadness is ours to claim.
Note: Harvested from multiply.

To Manila and back

A few days ago, I went to Manila to attend the 24th Annual PAPJA (Psychological Association of the Philippines Junior Affiliates) Convention at DLSU – Dasmarinas. It was my first time in Manila and the trip was filled with other first times as well. Each day we spent in Luzon was full of funny and interesting experiences.

My first night in Manila wasn’t that interesting except that it was probably the best plane ride I’ve ever had. Yes, it was my first and I can’t really say it’s the best since there is nothing to compare the experience to but the view was just magnificent. We rode on a smaller plane than expected. It was run by turbines and was supposedly scarier than the conventional jet. Anyway, the pilot was kind enough to turn off the lights inside so we could enjoy the view. The clouds were awesome and the city lights were cool. I wish I could’ve taken pictures but since I stuck to the protocol of turning off my cellphone, I was not able to get any. If you’ve seen Avatar: The Last Airbender, there was an episode there where they traveled during the night and the clouds at that scene was similar to what I saw at that first flight. The scenery was just made even more beautiful by the perfect lighting of the moon. The clouds seemed so soft and I almost wanted to jump out and bounce on them. That scenery was just precious.

The second thing that really stuck to me when we went there was when we chanced upon a beggar slash thief on one of our jeep rides to DLSU. She was seated just behind the driver and she pocketed our fare. The driver noticed our money never got to him and so he asked the old woman to give him what’s his but she didn’t and instead argued that the money was hers. Later, she begged the driver to just give her the money since it was just a little amount compared to what he gets at the end of the day. To avoid any more squabble we decided to just pay the driver another round of fare and this time, we handed it to him personally.

The trip to Manila Ocean Park was of course something to remember. My favorite part there was the room full of jelly fish. And it would’ve been very epic if not for the smelly children running around screaming and scaring each other.

And who could forget the ice skating experience. It looked so easy but it was so difficult to balance the damned skates. I fell on my butt when the photo op manong forced us to huddle together and smile for the camera. I was too afraid to try and learn the balancing act so I stuck to the wall and dragged myself around the rink. By the time I got to the other end, I was freezing cold and decided to get myself a hot cup of chocolate which made me shiver even more.

It was a short visit to Manila but it was full of fun memories.

Note: written november 30, 2010…finished: october 13, 2011

Boy Bands and Fan Girling

There was a time in the past when I became addicted to boy bands and when I say addicted, I mean fan girl type of addiction. You know, the whole scream your lungs out when you see or hear the voice of your favorite personality. I think the only time I really became a fan girl was when F4 came along. I’d already become a fan of Backstreet Boys, N’Sync, Boyzone, Westlife and Blue but it was never as crazy as F4. I liked the western boy bands because their songs were catchy and pleasant to the ears. But F4 was a different story. I liked them first for their characters in Meteor Garden and then later I became a fan of their songs. After the F4 fever died out, I came to like NEWS, a Japanese boy band under Johnny’s Entertainment. Now there’s a boy band I seriously fan girled for. I went all over the internet just so I could get a hold of their videos, songs, and photos. I read fan fictions about them being paired with each other. I made wallpapers of them. I memorized their songs, which were in Japanese. Heck, if I knew how to dance, I probably would’ve memorized their dance moves too.

There’s really something about Asian boy bands that just captures the hearts of girls and maybe even some men out there. So what’s to like?

  • Well, first of all, they are usually cute, charming, and have oh so perfect bodies!
  • They can dance.  Every song must have a specific dance move or a hand gesture that fans can follow during concerts.
  • They look good in suits and in whatever clothing they are in, even the weirdest most ridiculous outfits. The outfits, or shall we say costumes, are more present in Japanese boy bands. And these costumes are usually in loud colors and are filled with glitters and some eye catching material.
  • And the best thing of all, they have this boy love aura about them. I’m not certain if that’s present in Korean boy bands, but for Japanese boy bands, there’s usually a closeness about them and so fans can’t help but pair them with each other. This little boy love thing they have just makes them more worthy to fan girl.