I haven’t written for quite sometime. I guess it was almost a year and a half. I must admit I have lost interest in this blog, in this whole thing because…. guess what….. I fucked it up big time.

But I guess my journey to better myself is my only fuel to move forward. To start again. Tabula rasa.

So, I am 23 now. The last time I wrote about my age is when I was about to turn 20. In the past three years, things happened as they are. Life continually schools me on how to live. The past 3 years gave me the gift of independence, of living freely. The past 3 years also gave me introspective insights, of discovering me, of discovering who I am and what I want.

Well you know this is just a mere blabber, some loud thinking. I just need to get back to this because there are many stories to tell. Especially recently, when I noticed my metabolism is slowing down, my back is aching more frequently than that shluld be experienced of someone my age, my commitment in maintaining my weight and minimizing my disturbing waist line. And lastly and sadly, of a friendship that was recently lost, to whatever reason she has.

There are stories to tell. I must tell them.

Book Log: John Green is an asshole

John Green is an asshole. Not the bad kind of asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.

For two books he gave me the bliss the romantic-comedy-fan in me craves for. In fact, he generously indulged me with Alaska‘s pure wit and Hazel and Gus’s okay flirting. Then all of a sudden, true to being an asshole, he dumped me into oblivion by giving me tragedies that it took me several days to recover to. Green is an asshole, he is.


I just finished reading The Fault in our Stars and I found myself dreaming of Augustus Waters , the kind of lover I know I would want but I would not be able to get. Hot and attractive yet he is philosophical and witty.  This is the perfect guy I would want to have and Green had generously indulged me with Gus and then all of a sudden, he dropped the bomb and took him away! Just as how Mags’ image lingered in my head, Augustus haunted me in my sleep.

Masochism– that is what it is to describe reading John Green. By the time Gus fell very very sick, I found it hard to move forward with the book. It pains me to vividly picture this very hot attractive boy dying every second, every word. It pains me to see this guy who I have flirted to fading into nothingness. Imagine a dagger slashing my chest every time Green describes how cancer gnaws every part of Gus. And then finally he died, Hazel found that letter and the book ended. The pain the last five chapters had given me is a joy to read, I must admit– and that is where the masochism comes to play. I am tempted to read the book all over again yet I am afraid of another series of pain that I might experience.

I am hating him for abruptly killing characters, but I cannot hate him for his genius. I really don’t know, but I think Green has awakened my latent masochistic self.

But nonetheless, John Green is an asshole and is book is not for the weak of heart.

Is Santa Real: A Christmas Eve spent with a 5-year-old kid

Fact: Santa is not real.

Fact: I do not believe in Santa. But I used to, when I was really really young.

Last night was the first Christmas Eve I spent with my 5-year-old cousin Ram. Ram is your ordinary boy– loud, funny, yet sometimes mischievous. The thing is, he gets to be really really inquisitive and that is what tested my patience last night. While everybody else is sleeping, being ready to wake up near-midnight (we finished preparing our Christmas dinner early), Ram stayed up, playing with his tablet and from time to time peering over my laptop to see what I was doing.

The whole time between 8 o’ clock and near-midnight,  I was barraged with series of questions regarding Santa Claus. Ram asked if he can put up to socks for Santa’s presents. I said yes he can. Then come the questions on how far Santa was, where he was at that time, etc. In order to satisfy his curiosity, I told him Santa was off first to Tacloban to give gifts to the children there. It surprised me! This child is not selfish! For he said that it was okay Santa did not go to Bulacan first but instead went directly to Tacloban to give joy to the typhoon victims. He was determined though that he will stay up late just to catch Santa put treats on his socks.

I knew I will ran out of excuses and yet the questions kept on coming. Where was Santa’s reindeer? How can Santa come in if the door is locked? (Magic, I said) Will Santa come if he sings loudly? Does Santa have children? (My answer: None. That’s why he likes to give presents to children because somehow he longs to have a child of his own– that took me several uhms to carefully weave the story). But sleep comes faster than Santa so Ram had to retreat to bed after midnight, satisfied with the promise that he will find his socks full of treats in the morning.

Today Ram found his socks full of candies and with 50 pesos tucked in one of them. He was kind of disappointed though that Santa did not give him toys; but he said the children in Tacloban deserves the toys more than him. He was happy to see the treats and I knew for him, Santa is real and he gives lots of candies.

He is such a darling and he tested my imagination and creativity. But somehow, creating the story comes the apprehension that this little kid– who by the way is a really intelligent boy– will see through the lies fabricated in the exchanges we had. And it took me a little time to consider telling him that Santa is not real. But I realized, real or not real, the Santa-belief is just a phase. I used to believe in Santa but I realized that he was not real when I grew up. The realization, then, I thought, is a right of passage– a thing that I had encountered, and Ram will soon encountered.

Was I devastated when I realized Santa is not real? No, I was not. Will Ram be devastated when the realization comes to him? Maybe. Or maybe not. Who knows? But what the hell! Today, Ram deserves to enjoy Christmas. He deserves to believe that Santa is real and he gives candies (or toys , if lucky) to good children. And today, Santa is real and Christmas is a day to look forward to every year.