I feel melancholic these days

I know I haven’t written in a while…

Mostly because I feel melancholic. Not sad, just — I don’t know. I wish I’m not so far away from my best friends. I mean, yes, I love my Cebu friends, but there are some people, you know, who were with me during my most troubled times and I wish I can just poke them awake or go up to their rooms, or call them for breakfast or lunch or take them out for a long walk — those days were the ones when I felt most centered.

I am spinning.

I’m not sure what’s happening. I mean, salary aside (HA!) I am pretty content with my life. I like being able to do what I want, I like having time to explore other things. (I mean, this year, I already went to more yoga classes than I did in the last three years!)

But for most of the time, I feel melancholic and I just wish my best friends are here. A tirade of why I feel the world is on my shoulders just don’t make for good conversation when we’re all trying to find ways to get our life on track and when we’re all just trying to keep going.

I am in free fall.

Sometimes I just want to escape — things can’t be too bad in other patches of the same Earth, right? This isn’t my rock-bottom, it’s just that I am no longer emotionally charged. I am too tired to care about everything else. I want to jump to free fall and feel my body crash in the ocean. That would be exhilarating if I were’t so scared of heights.


Or maybe I’ve been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy.

Too much dark and twisty there.

The Lost Art of Letter Writing


(c) Tumblr

As part of my freshman English course, I had to write to a pen pal — this is in the early 2000s, so even then letter writing was a slowly dying form. I absolutely love writing, but when you’re twelve and a freshman in high school, writing to a random person is all sorts of awkward.

So in my letter, I explained in great lengths that I had to write to a pen pal as part of a class requirement, and not that I’m a stalker or anything of the sort. The letter was then sent to my mom’s friend’s daughter halfway around the world, who, as it turned out, was only a few months younger than I.

I don’t know how seriously my classmates took that assignment, but I was relieved, nonetheless, when I got a reply (although I suspected that her mother forced her to write back). Leia and I continued writing each other for a year, I think, way past the requirement for class.

But like I mentioned, this was in the early 2000s, which means that the art of letter-writing was already dying, so eventually, we went on to email each other instead of write pen-on-paper — and pretty soon, by the time I got to college, we’ve been communicating through social media, like everyone else on the planet.

However, my friends in college are amazing, and are pretty sold on the handwritten notes and letters front. It’s not unusual for me to receive “Have a good day” notes from my friends, random doodles, and even origami left on my desk.

Nothing beats getting actual mail though. Especially mail in the form of letters — no other material things, just letters about the goings-on in someone’s life, and musings asking how you are, too.

I have been wondering how humans forgot the art of letter writing, but as it turns out, not only is a text or email faster in getting messages across the seas, it’s also economical. Apparently, today, it costs a lot to send a postcard to another country, at least, from here in the Philippines.

Okay, not that expensive, but for 120PhP for a postcard, it’s not actually reasonable, considering you get the length of a tweet on one of those things.




Photo: phlpost.gov

Costs aside, I do want to bring back the art of letter writing. Maybe one postcard a month somewhere around the globe?

An Appeal To My Filipino Readers

Hi Everyone,

It’s been a while since I posted about suicide prevention, but last night, a video has been going around showing a person who fell from the third floor of a building.

When asked, the person who posted the video said that she will not take it down because she had every right to post it, and that it’s making rounds in the media anyway. She even LAUGHED at the person who tried to kill himself.

I appeal to you — if you’re here, you know that suicide is a big deal, not a laughing matter. If you’re here, you know that this is against all that we stand for as warriors who are trying to fight against suicide — so please, please, please if you come across the video, please don’t watch it, don’t react, don’t comment.



Hopeline, Philippines’ Suicide Prevention Hotline, may be reached at (02) 804-4637; 0917-5584673; and 2919 for Globe and TM subscribers

Turns Out, Music One IT Park May Have A Modus

Long story short, we went in a room in Music One IT Park with a damaged wall, did not report it because the waiter already saw it there anyway and we thought it was an old one and that they already knew about it. They called us after we paid and made us pay for damages. We argued it was an old one, and voices got raised. I think they kept touching and moving the wall so the damage got bigger somehow. Then the manager started acting like we spat on him or punched him or something (we didn’t) and called the police.

We explained to the police about the situation. None of us were drunk, none of us brawled, and none of us were happy about the situation because we don’t like being accused of something we didn’t do.

Follow up:

We are starting to suspect a Modus. There had been a few reactions regarding my post about almost getting arrested due to a “damage” that was already there by the time we entered the karaoke room. However, there are reactions that made me believe more and more that they’ve done this before and will do this again.

Someone told me about the same thing happening — they were also accused of damages and Music One “settled” for less than the “actual costs”/

By the way, they made us pay P2,000 for the damage. When we negotiated because of the “lapses” for both parts, they told us it was already a negotiation because the damages would have cost us P5,000.

While I could pass that off as a coincidence, I got this comment on the previous post tonight:


So, I don’t know, you guys, this could be an actual modus, and I am seriously regretting that we paid them the amount they asked for. Maybe we could ask for a refund, but I doubt it.

I could chalk this up as an experience, but just in case: Check the rooms in Music One IT Park before signing the damned “waiver”.

One Step at a Time

So someone finally went to step two. I know it took much too long, but some things are too important to rush in to. It got delayed so often and so much, but finally, I took another step, and I couldn’t be any happier.

Oh, I meant step two to my happy ever after, in case you’re all confused.

1920221_10201574508299730_1034305270_nYes, I finally took the time to take the French classes that I should have taken last year. And I couldn’t be happier.

Well, I could be, but this is making me happy in so many levels, and if you’re one of my more consistent readers, you know I could use every ounce of happiness that I could.

I just started my first class, and three full hours of learning a new language at my age is not as easy as it could have been if I took classes when I was younger. But my school did not offer language courses, so that’s a big limitation. Whatever. What matters is that for now, I have started, and getting started means that I’m somehow getting somewhere.

Oh, here’s how the school looks like (I should probably take my own pic, but the internet image I have will have to do for now.)

Yes, it’s a very pink house, but then again, that’s why the restaurant inside is called La Maison Rose.

My classes start early on Saturday morning, so I guess Fridays can’t be nights that turn into mornings any more. Which is fine by me. I mean, this is step two to happy ever after, and have you seen any princess story with only two or three steps up the grand staircase? No. This means that I still have a long way to go.

But I’m going to get there.