The honest truth is I welcomed 2019 in my mismatched pajamas, a bare face (literally, without a gloss on my lip, not even moisturizer), and sprawled on the couch. My new year came through the door quietly, and I let it in calmly with no fuss. I think this is the first time that I consciously greeted the new year like this. I used to always dress my best and get so upbeat. I’d make a lot of noise, jump and run around the house in my polka dot outfit with coins bouncing in my pocket for good luck throughout the year. This time around, I felt the adult me take over. To welcome the new year in a formal business fashion. That ‘let’s make a deal if you treat me right’ statement. I just wanted peace and quiet and a really good sleep.

Every time a year starts, I always try to get a general vibe of how the year will transpire. For 2019, I see an exciting, record-breaking, successful yet challenging year. In 2018, I definitely pushed the envelope, taking more risks and thus meeting the side of myself that I didn’t realize existed. I finally met her — the strong-willed and courageous one — and I think in 2019, she will unleash her beast full-fold. In 2019, she will be bold and audacious. She will be brave enough to show the world who she really is and what she is about. It’s her show now.

Well, my first week of January has been pretty low key and uneventful. Just about right and what I deserve, since the last three months of 2018 I have been a hot mess. So I had a painful breakup. I came to face the fact that dealing with heartbreak really ruins your orientation in life. You get confused about yourself, your doubts and insecurities start creeping in, and you feel lost and blindsided. It really throws you off. That’s exactly what happened to me. I thought the bullet missed me. I thought, ‘I’m a strong girl, I don’t get hurt’. I thought the breakup left me unscathed. The truth is, it was just a ruse. I was just ignoring the blistering wound festering in me that one day started hurting so much. And when I saw it, I started pushing on it, so more blood, self-loathing, and anger came out. Pain changes a person. It even turns some into monsters. I became a self-destructing monster. But enough about that. I think that I am over it — mostly.

The intention this year is to focus on what matters, which is my well-being and what needs to be done for my career. I think coming into the year, I’m bringing a new sense of maturity. I’m not as anxious as I used to be about where my life is going. Whenever I feel down, I always go back to 5 years ago in my life when I started from nothing — with zero idea of who I am, a transplant from the Philippines not knowing what career I can have here in the U.S. But fast forward to today, I’m still here, working and figuring it out. It doesn’t mean that everything is clear and certain now. The secret is finding the will to live — hoping that tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe tomorrow brings more inspiration. Maybe tomorrow I’m luckier. Maybe tomorrow I find more motivation. As long as that hope is alive, I just keep on going. I don’t think it really matters if everything makes sense or not yet, but if I ask myself am I happy? Yes should be my answer. And if I am not, how can I be happy? Happiness is what we should aim for. I stopped making excuses years ago and that change of perspective really did good to my life. When we stop playing victim in our own stories, when we stop blaming the world for our circumstances, and start acknowledging the fact that we can actively turn things around to our favor, achieving little successes that may not be exactly what we want but something close, it is considered a win. Let’s take control of what we can in life and run with it.

Bottom line is, my 2019 carries a lot of hope. I believe them when they say it’s a year of MANIFESTATION. I’m excited for the coming months! A lot of work to do and boxes to tick. Also, here’s to writing more. Truthfully and organically, as they would say. Let’s get on it. ­čÖé

Too butterflied to make a proper title

Looking at the mirror, my face has lost its edges. It has become rounder, just like my belly which day by day continues to protrude even more from under my rib cage. The vacation has grown comfortably on me. As a matter of fact, too comfortable that I need to end it soon or else I’d wake up looking like the present Kim Kardashian and sit on myself while I’m at it. It’s not funny.

Lately, I’ve been sleeping really late. Late in the form of six in the morning because I am getting addicted to reading contemporary young adult fiction I found on Goodreads (Slammed by Colleen Hoover is good! But if you want more lust, there is On Dublin Street by Samantha Young). I’ve been gobbling up books like I haven’t read in a decade, because that is actually how I feel. Staying up late, reading young adult romance novels while Mumford & Sons sing on the background, and eating Twix and Haribo non-stop, it only explains the zits on my face the next day.┬áDid I just get dumped by a non-existent boyfriend? No! But my current lifestyle feels like I’ve been. Today, I┬áate two plates of spicy tuna spaghetti for lunch and minutes later opened a bag of fried onion rings and ate it all. Mind you, I’m not even on that time of the month.┬áSeriously, I’m getting scared I might be reaching rock bottom.

This is the problem when you have so much time in your hands, in my case too much reminders of the future which I try to evade, you tend to fall back on unhealthy distractions. You fall in a rut and you don’t notice it until you turn into an elephant or someone who gets sick when he sees sunlight.

My dad is sending me constant e-mails on where to find a job. My mom is already warning me of the chores waiting for me at home. Even if I’m on a vacation, I feel that they’re already trapping me with a life that I am not yet ready to swim into. So what do I do? I let myself drag my ass into a rut. Now I’m an elephant and I can’t stand the sunlight.

Oh it gets harder everyday because I know that I have to be responsible soon and I’m scared of things that I can’t control, of rejections, of failures, of not being good enough, of being too young, of being too inexperienced. There is so much to fear about the future and I know it’s going to kiss me in my face soon. But I’m still here, sitting ugly in my rut even if I don’t like what I see in the mirror.

But don’t you worry, child. I’m getting out of it soon.



After I finish this bag of Doritos.

I want to go home.

The traveling I have done in the past month has been an amazing gift. It has given me so much ecstasy and joy. But as I move to the second month of my vacation, things are taking a turn. Seriously, I am so tired of moving. I just want to lay my luggages down, take all my clothes out and finally put it in a closet that I call mine. I just want to lie in a bed which is not suit for a guest, but a bed that is mine. I want to drink morning coffee from my own cup. I want to sit on the sofa, in front of the TV, and stay there the whole day without thinking about the time I’m wasting, time that could have been spent better outside sitting on London’s beautiful parks. Why am I having a difficult time liking it here? I try so hard to appreciate all the beautiful landscapes, buildings, streets that I feel bad because London is such a lovely city. Maybe the timing isn’t right. I’m just so tired from all the traveling. Seeing new places has bored me, that I just want to go home.

But where is home?