I am the Resurrection

I have been listening to The Stone Roses today, hence the title. But now I miss my man and in these rainy nights, I usually turn to our songs to go back to certain places that keep me warm and fuzzy.

I am currently listening to Calypso Blues. It reminds me of July 2014. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

I don’t know how long since I have written in this journal. It was meant to chronicle my very mundane life. I want to start that again.

Man so much has happened. I don’t even know where to start. But yes I will tell you my story. I am a twenty-something weirdo traveling the world while  earning bucks on the side. I live and learn through it all, all the aches, pains and joys of being uprooted. I am a girlfriend to a very strong man who makes me a better person by being an example for me to follow. I am a daughter consciously trying to make her parents proud all the time. I am a sister  who answers her brother’s messages after two days. A co-worker who likes to laugh on the job. A friend who doesn’t show up during events. I’m pretty sure you can relate.

Anyway, I will try to post as much as I can to chronicle my adventures, my thoughts and ideas for me to read ten years down the line and smile.

Writing this in Tangerang, Indonesia while studying wordpress. I am currently making up  a new site that would hopefully turn into something substantial. I won’t quit this.

Maybe I will write about my 2014 as a start. But that will be for later.

I want to share this with you by the way. Calypso Blues.

Sittin’ by de ocean
Me heart, she feel so sad,
Sittin’ by de ocean,
Me heart, she feel so sad…
Don’t got de money
To take me back to Trinidad.

Fine calypso woman,
She cook me shrimp and rice,
Fine calypso woman,
She cook me shrimp and rice…
Dese yankee hot dogs
Don’t treat me stomach very nice.

In Trinidad, one dollar buy
Papaya juice, banana pie,
Six coconut, one female goat,
An’ plenty fish to fill de boat.

One bushel bread, one barrel wine,
An’ all de town, she come to dine.
But here is bad, one dollar buy
Cup of coffee, ham on rye.

Me throat she sick from necktie,
Me feet hurt from shoes.
Me pocket full of empty,
I got Calypso blues.

Dese yankee girl give me big scare,
Is black de root, is blonde de hair.
Her eyelash false, her face is paint,
And pads are where de girl she ain’t!

She jitterbug when she should waltz,
I even think her name is false.
But calypso girl is good a lot,
Is what you see, is what she got.

Sittin’ by de ocean
Me heart, she feel so sad,
Sittin’ by de ocean,
Me heart, she feel so sad…
Don’t got de money
To take me back to Trinidad.

I am the Resurrection

An Idiot Abroad

I wrote this post last night when I was feeling a bit meh.


Okay, 7 months into living abroad and a little drained, let’s see what my thoughts are.

That’s my disclaimer btw, this post will be major mind farts of my experience (so far).

First off, I’m not a fan of money. Maybe it’s the romantic in me. I do recognize the fact that money makes the world go round though, and that’s sad but recognizing that, I suppose, makes you know where you want to go. Direction. Sure, there’s that part of me that says, go ride the wave and hakuna matata no worries kinda thing but then again, I’m not a warthog with a meerkat for a bestfriend. I don’t want to ride the wave and end up flailing because of the riptide. I’m a mapper kinda person. Does that make me anal? Maybe. Should I unlearn that trait? I don’t think so.

It is fun to live off your comfort zone. You get to know that you can live anywhere. Little things like communicating what you want/need in a language that’s foreign to you, from doing the laundry, opening a bank account and even requesting a mosquito coil in a mozzie-ridden bar – everything seems like an accomplishment.

Then again it gets a bit frustrating just at that point when you think you’ve pinned it all down, you realise you haven’t. For some time, you come to terms with the fact that you are trying to live with the expectations of what the locals think about you. It is unconscious until that point and when that point comes, it is humbling. You know you are not strong enough to keep yourself.

Then also at at point you make a decision to go back to you yourself, about how you know life was. Then comes the struggle to balance the comfort zone life and the Twilight Zone life. Where are you?

Oh well I guess I just miss home. Wait what is home?

That feeling of familiarity and belonging is home. When the day job drains you, even home feels strange. Here’s that point when you think: When will this stop? It robs you of you. And because of that you can’t give yourself to anyone. You become a robot. And you think you’re only doing it for existing. Sorry, people around me.

Now at times like these, I count the reasons why I’m lucky:

I am for living. I love hanging out with my boyfriend, who I admire because I get to appreciate life on a different level. He understands me unlike no one. He tells me I am so giving but it’s really him who gives a lot, lot more and I get to be spoiled of his love. He has a solid approach to life which I hope I imbibe the more we get to spend time with each other. He makes me grow by letting ourselves discover life together, may it be in diets, exercise, travel, etc. And he’s super guapo. (I know, I’m such a lucky biatch).

I have my family, thankfully they’re not very controlling and they help me a lot with direction. Like my boyfriend, they provide guidance and wisdom and I learn about it through them. They have lived life after all. And although they are still quite protective, they let me make mistakes because they know that’s the key to growth.

I have my old friends. Old friends remember you when you were young and full of beans. That’s who you want to be now that you’re older and cynical. I get that with children, that zest for life. I get to have that feeling again with old friends. They will still accept me even if I was acting like a 14 year old, because they will be accepted too.

I’m lucky to have myself. I know I am unique. Not the best person but trying. I have moments of failure, I recognise that, sorry for letting you down, but hey that’s life. In the end I just want to be a good person independent of everyone’s BS. I think you do too. It will take time to get there, there will be lots of growth, but I think I am on the right path.

An Idiot Abroad

Youth: Struggles, Insecurities and Everything in Between

Hi, Hello. I want to be back.

It’s hard to make promises to yourself as you know it’s okay to make excuses but really, I should learn not to shortchange myself by doing that.

The past few weeks, I know I have been a dull, boring person this… year. I don’t want to blame anything (routine job hrrrgh, empty place grraaaah) but I have been looking at my old pictures and realised wtf this is me, where’d that person go?

It’s September. 100 plus days to go it will be 2014. I want to be the person I want to meet. She doesn’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion, she is responsible, she’s an A-student, she travels, she likes nature and loves being under the sun.  Best of all, she’s cool because she’s gung ho for life;  no fear.

I miss that bring it attitude.

I hate it that I’m being too careful. It makes me less confident.

Youth: Struggles, Insecurities and Everything in Between


I just texted “I’m learning. Balance :)” to Penguin.

I have to admit, I suck at a lot of things. I know I am good at a lot of things but I know I am not good at a lot of things too. One of them, is when it’s about my emotions.

I think I have hid my heart behind too thick a wall for so long that I don’t know how to handle feelings when it comes full force, like you know, when you’re deeply in love.

To be fair, I am good in being unfeeling. I can be sensitive, yeah sure, but to an extent. I can turn it off, be distant and cold. I remember being one of the best students in dissecting a cadaver because I didn’t feel anything towards the dead. It was meat. No fear, disgust or pity can stop me from slicing the layers of its skin with my trusty scalpel.

It’s easier when you don’t feel. Everything is easier. When I am cold, it means that I’m being a coward to experience pain. I am hiding behind the wall. But it is scary. You can’t feel happiness too. You can’t appreciate happiness without pain, which is tragic.

Apparently, once you make a crack on that wall, feelings become overwhelming. Every small detail is magnified. Subtle moves, unspoken words, silences… Everything has meanings and a magnitude of feelings! I don’t seem to know how to… My IQ points drop. I over think. Wrong.

I discovered that I am a very, very passionate person.

Sometimes it gets too Jubilee (from X-men). I can choke because of my emotions. Too strong. I need to mellow. Is that what growing up is about? No growing up is about being sensitive by mixing and having the right amounts all the time. You have to know what the right amount is.

Back to my strengths, I know I’m not dumb. My IQ points may have dropped but I’m still on the top 15% of the world’s population – at least I have to give that justice. I know what to do when forced by over thinking and over feeling. I need to learn:


Meditate. Do what you love doing. Giving more. Growing up. That is the goal. I know I am doing well.

I don’t know what I fear. I don’t like fear. It cripples you. It poisons your mind into thinking you can’t do what you can do. It is life’s ultimate cock blocker.

then again you only fear when you have something to lose. For the same number of letters and first letter, I will replace fear with faith. Because, ask yourself Ella, are you going to lose something?

I think I regained my IQ points back.


Personal Jesus

I can’t sleep. It’s 3:20 am. I have already told Penguin almost 2 hours  ago that I will sleep but can’t. I tried watching March of the Penguins but it’s too interesting, it wouldn’t put me to sleep.

I can’t sing myself to sleep either as it would disturb the whole house. Street, even, as I am a very, very bad singer.

I am a frustrated singer. I want to sing, you know? But my voice fails me. I think I am tone deaf as well, I fall flat all the time and it sucks. I know that even if I learn things technically, the barangay version of The Voice would still not accept me, because… something’s just not there.

My brother can sing. All of my cousins can sing. All of them have, or in my brother’s case – has had – a band. Hell, I even have a cousin on Broadway – you know that person who everybody looks for and asks about when that annual family reunion happens? That’s her. We are not close though. I had to Google “Filipina actor Broadway South Pacific” because I forgot her name, but I know she exists because of those “How is (thank you, Google) Emily doing?” questions.

So anyway, yeah. I Googled her out of memory loss issues and learned that she’s married and… cute. First thought was: Holy smokes, how did Uncle Jesus have a daughter like her? SERIOUSLY?!

Don’t get me wrong, I love my Uncle Jesus. He is cool. He works at the control tower of the world’s tiniest airport. I used to hangout there in the control tower and when there were no trips in the airport, I played with the runway lights because he’d let me. He also has five binoculars to check planes or whatever but we’d use them to watch people on the other building. Perks!

Jesus is a jolly man with a beer belly. Like a true singer, he has karaoke in his office. And a portable sauna. And an entertainment system. When I get bored pretending to be the control tower guy, I go down to his office and watch a movie from his DVD collection and make a sandwich as he also had a mini-kitchen/bar.

I remember one afternoon, I was there, nibbling on a cheese sandwich when he turned on his karaoke. He wanted to sing so he did. I tried to escape by telling him I needed to buy bottled water from the cafeteria but, no. He told me I should sing first. Shit. Crap. Fuck.

That was the day he knew that their genes weren’t strong enough. For the love of God, it was terrible. No planes crashed, thank you.

In spite of my negativity and self flagellation, he smiles. Even if we both knew it was horrible, he supported my singing. Even if it was painful, he wanted me to finish the song (finish what you started!). He is patient.  And he takes things in a stride. So there I was, wailing what seems to be a song, and he laughs his head off saying, “Ha, you can’t be copied! That’s the most original style of singing I’ve ever heard in my entire life – take note I’m old!”

I know it’s sarcastic but man, it’s funny as hell when he delivers it. I just laughed as well and rode on the wave of his positivity. How he perceives my “fault” as a gift, as a quirk. That’s when he said that he has one rule in his office: Have Fun.

I think it’s the weirdest yet best office in the world. Ever.

And that’s the most fun I had in the karaoke as a sober person. And I think it’s one of the best lessons in life too: Have fun. Even if it’s an office, you can have a sauna too. When you think you’re ugly, just think you’re unique – because you are! Chill, relax. Don’t worry. Be happy.

I don’t know what lessons in life Uncle Jesus has had to learn those stuff, but I’m glad I met him and had that experience. Because sometimes when I find myself lost, I go back to the airport tower in my mind, and control my thoughts, Jesus-style.

Personal Jesus

Great Expectations

Some say that it takes 90 days for a person to develop new habits. Three months. So theoretically, in a span of a season, you can be a different person.

Wow, that rhymes.

Anyway, man, I think I am Estella. Great Expectations Estella. Or, well, I want to be. I know she’s tragic but she still ended up with Pip, right? It’s not the easiest thing nor the picture perfect thing but shit happens, and you come out of it alive.


Three months and you change; you just need to be motivated enough to steer your life in a direction. Like, I don’t know, making a fatal mistake.

I am not here to tell you how life sucks by the way.

I am here to tell you that you will change. It may be for the good, I don’t know. I don’t care, really, but you will.

You will find the courage to quit smoking.

You will find another love.

You will learn to bake soufflés.

You will lose your wallet.

Your cat will walk out on you.

Shit like that happens and the only thing you can do is adapt; bend and flow. I know I am rambling but I just want to convince myself, really.

And I am hungry. I want coconut juice. I am so pathetic.

Oh Estella Ella.

Great Expectations


Pooh, bless that toy bear, is smart.

Last night (or early this morning – can’t remember – depends on the time zone), I decided to deactivate my Facebook. Mainly because I just wanted to be alone.

WRONG MOVE. I can’t play my games and apps the whole day! So think. Think. Think. Remember the teachings of Pooh.

Or if you’re a Buddhist: Meditate. Meditate. Meditate.

Or if you’re my friend: Chill. Chill. Chill.

Or if you’re my cousin: Don’t be stupid.

Totally useless deactivation. Well not really. Knowing I did not have my Facebook helped me practiced my piano. It’s just that the realisation of Facebook ruling my life is a bit… sad.

Eff “Sign in with Facebook”. You know?


Manila, My Manila


I was talking to Mandy last Saturday, just hanging out really, like what we used to do as eight year olds. She was telling me how this boy is making her life hell. I was there to listen to her but somehow, the conversation turned to Manila.

“I always go home to my hometown to chill with my friends; it’s just… not good here,” she said.

“Yeah, Manila can be a very lonely place.”

Manila is a lonely place. Any big city, I think is. The irony of having millions in it yet feeling alone is a bit daunting if you’re new. I like it sometimes, I thrive being alone, but as time goes, I get cranky. It’s shitty. I GET CRANKY!

You know how nature affects your overall aura or whatever? I believe that. I seek nice environs and unfortunately (or fortunately), Manila is not my thing. I need to escape. You know how Scarlett copes in Lost in Translation? Yeah. That. Tsk, I know.

Smog is pretty at sundown though.

Manila, My Manila

Easter Post (or an open letter to myself)

You know easter is all about bunnies, right? Hell no. Last year I remember sitting in an assembly (or they call it worship back in Brent) that talked about easter. For the first time, it made sense to me. I know I’m a bit of a retard: 23 (back then) and she doesn’t know what easter stood for.

Change. Resurrection. Molting. Whatever nature calls it, I call it waking up.

Past days, weeks were too… manic. Too tight. I blame it on Manila, mainly because it’s not the best place to be (more on this later), but who the hell am I kidding? I can be in Subic and still be like… Okay, no. It’s the place. If I were on the beach, or near the sea, it would differ. But really? Am I that shallow?

I refuse to believe so.

I am a control freak, sure, maybe we’re alike. If I don’t get the things the way I like it, I get disappointed, which is pointless, really. It’s like arguing with reality. Imagine getting mad at the sun because it’s too hot. That’s crazy. The sun is just doing its job.

Me getting mad or paranoid about small things – pointless. I wasn’t like this before. But I know I have it in me, the glint of positivity. Actually, today, I know I’m bringing me back. The normal, logical, happy me. Thanks to these guys here:



Yup. Acrobats. There was this kid there, probably 8 years old. Frail. Stick thin. He’s working on his summer holiday instead of playing; working for kids like him, doing death-defying stunts to keep other 8 year olds happy. Measly pay too. Is he happy? Yeah. I can see it in his face. Perfect.
Me? I have my own space, get paid decently, a stable job, a decent internet connection;

A loving boyfriend, a supportive family, crazy friends — all of them putting up with my shit. Bless them.


If you don’t need it, man, chuck it. I don’t need this negative shit. I want to be awesome.

Today, April 17, is my Easter Wednesday. I’m baaaaaaack.

Theme song: Let Go

Word of the day: Chill.

I love you guys. Signing out.


Easter Post (or an open letter to myself)