Happiness or sorrow — whatever befalls you, Walk on. Untouched, unattached. -Buddha

Four decades later, she is still a work in progress. With heart (mostly) in her sleeves, fire in her soul and a massive mouth she cannot control. She is unapologetic of her existence. Fearlessly loyal, yet effortlessly let go of anyone and anything that weighs her down. She believes she deserves more what the universe thinks she deserves. To move, cross oceans, see places and meet people. The best, the most honest, the purest of love. Not only to be loved by others, but to be loved by herself. 



precious Pinocchio

she is a rock salt dressed as sugar

gleefully dishonest

superficial charm her armour

she parades in fake cries

spewing lies as she breathes

constantly complaining she is tired

exhausted from her own concoction of lies

so habitual she is lost

and started believing her own twisted truth

creating drama is her sport

playing victim is her ploy

the un-favoured, the overworked

an “angel” always craving chaos

her importunate ways will drive you cray

(forced to) give her the right hand she demands

she will bite it as she feeds

and if your lucky, her ingratitude

will drain your spirit till it no longer bleed

she is a clumsy manipulator

wearing a see-through layered mask

leaving evidence in her tracks

but she has the effrontery to continue her act

showing up as she fraudulently scheme

dragging the innocent bun

so sickening

how do you manage to sleep

oh sweet mistress of lies and deceit


B for Betrayal


“the soul usually knows what to do to heal itself. the challenge is to silence the mind.”


She shared deepest parts of herself to his magic mirror.

He knew her well, what she was, why she does.

They were less of a lover and almost brothers.

When the going got rough, he offered no shoulder.

And rather fled than rally to defend.

Once long time mate, was, a part time chum.

Time has passed, wound somewhat healed.

They are no longer friends, nor are they enemies.

They became strangers, with tainted memories.



taking off



My current state of heart (inspired by the empowering text written and published by the great Portuguese Author, José Micard Teixeira)

I’ve never been someone who puts other people’s perception of me above my own or my family’s. I do not breathe to please.

I noticed I have simply lost the patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature.

I no longer waste time on anything that irritates me, or simply anything that connotes negativity.

And though I was never a crowd pleaser, I found no desire to be liked by those who do not like me, loved by those who does not love me, nor smile to those who do not want to smile at me.

I shy away from people who lie or want to manipulate and people with inflexible personalities. I do not want to be in the same room with, nor even wants to hear anything that plays pretense, embodies hypocrisy, and dishonesty.

I find it harder to stand pedantry nor any form of arrogance and most certainly uncomfortable with any kind of gossiping, coercion and comparisons.

To me there is no thin line between loyalty and betrayal.

And though I get along with people who know how to give compliments and word of encouragement, exaggerations give me the creeps.

I do things for my own pleasure with absolutely no regard to cheap praise. I have not become arrogant (I do not have a reason to be). I just simply found a new freedom. Freedom to anything that waste my time and does not deserve my patience.

who I am and why I’m here

i’ve decided i have no bloody clue.

All I know I stumbled upon this side of cyberspace because of my love for reading. Then the raw emotions got me hooked and eventually found myself narrating my own.

I do not want to admit that I am writing to escape, but I do find myself here whenever I am jubilant or experiencing inner havoc. Maybe it is an escape. Or an expression. Or just plain boredom.

Thus my “what is this about” reads:

the metamorphosis of every experience into literature.
my haven when life gives me the middle finger.
the chronicles of simple cosmic events.
a witness to every orgasm.

for all intent and purposes, this is a story of my life
this is what will bring me back and somehow will remember me by.

this is where i will bleed and heal. 
it will be manic and depression evil twins combine.
i have labile spontaneous erratic thoughts and emotions.
i have occasional thought salad.
it will be i, me and myself.
so consider yourself warned.

future ex



they spent days holding hands

exchanging naughty smiles in public places

he would whisper swiftly into her ears,

a soft voice that makes her heart ring 

his slightest touch in her skin, 

a silent scream for yearning

it seemed like there were no days, and time stood still

everything was wondrous, too good to be true

she was broken, he was beyond repair

they were happy together, together they only long to be

on the day she had to leave

he texted her while they were in the car

“will you come back”

“yes” she replied

by then they had fallen,

and knew instantaneously that yes this is a future heartbreak 

my other home


you go to a place and they take you in.

you wandered through till you found yourself and suddenly you’re home.

that realisation that home is not a place but a feeling.

*** Beehive is the popular name for the Executive Wing of the New Zealand Parliament Buildings located in the capital, Wellington. An iconic building for Wellingtonians.

tomorrow i will grieve for you


i woke up to a very heartbreaking news, a friend’s sudden passing, gone too soon. 

for a moment i was staring at the message, feeling vulnerable, on the verge of weeping

but i was hours away presenting a case study, i’m an anxious public speaker you see

it was a dilemma my hypothalamus had to take charge with

i switch off, and carried on with the day as planned

i am scared of myself whenever that has to happen

i feel detached, i feel like i have a heart of stone

but i am a nurse you see

i’ve seen death, like death was like a box of chocolate (forrest gump, 1994)

and often i’m too swamped with work that i do not have time to process my emotions

its sad i know, but often i have to compartmentalise my feelings

too often i fear i mastered it like its an art

reality tales



I grew up with fairy tales.  and yes that lead me to believing that love at first sight exist. that true loves kiss awakens the damned. that happily ever after is definite after wedding bells and fireworks displays. simply put i was one of the girls who were set to future disappointments.

no i don’t think chivalry is dead. i am in fact a hopeless romantic. but this is not actually about me.

i am thrilled of how the stories i have founded my romantic bubbles have now been told differently. or at least been told from a different perspective. my favourite as of late is how in Maleficent the prince whom only saw Aurora once could have impossibly developed real love in the shortest impossible time. It is just unrealistic, to me its a case of “like” mistaken as “love.” I am also loving how our perception of good and bad has been played in the story. A reminder that someone so bad was also once good. And what looks scary as a horned villainy is capable of something as good as true love. And did you notice that in Frozen, heroines Elsa and Anna had no need for a prince charming to come to their rescue? if i am not mistaken, they’re the first disney women who did not have the damsel in distress syndrome.

I’m ecstatic with these near to life tales. Makes me wonder how this will shape a girl’s propensity.


two homes

Flashback Saturday: DIY Obsession.

reading through my sissy’s blog brought back tidal waves of emotions.  I remember what transpired this night as i spent my last day at home, that whole day i had that lump in the throat feeling as i was constantly holding back tears while i was savouring every interaction i had with each of them. I was memorizing each smile, the hum of their voices and the warmth of their embraces.

being away from the people you love is not the hardest… leaving is.

it always cuts way too deep and linger way too long till you are left with no choice but to be brave and make yourself believe “its ok, they are just FaceTime away.”

in my perfect world, my family is here with me in kiwi land. but the world is not mine and more so nowhere near perfect. i have come into terms that this is the choice i made and that i cannot have the best of both worlds.

for the interim, i move on in spite of our physical separation and take solace in knowing i have a family that i love and loves me the same, forever.


the past and the future


if back to the future was possible, i’d like to relive every Christmas.

back when santa claus exist.

with that child on Christmas morning. who’s joys were still naive.

when celebrations meant going to church and countless food feast with friends and family.

a time every year where different colours meet and bright lights flicker endlessly while merry carols fill the air sang by young and oldies alike.

where giving also meant forgiving. somehow hearts are softer. smiles are sincere. love truly tangible.

if you were to view my last most treasured memory from a penseive it’ll be all about the Christmas i’ve spent with my love ones.

this is what brings me back, and what keeps me looking forward.

from a clownfish’s perspective


taken from one of the garden collection in Hamilton’s botanical garden, New Zealand

i am not a public figure, but i do get days when i feel the world is one big fishbowl. that feeling you are in the middle of everywhere but absobloodylutely nowhere. and that every turn you make someone will witness,  anyone will know, anybody will pass judgement…


although you will catch me acting on a ploy, throwing punch line in a whim, utter rather revolting comments, or just ridiculously caught in a spot. i do not purposely allow myself to become the sort of amusement. or at least i do not see it that way. the truth is, inside my fragile-privy-little-fishbowl, i am enjoying watching the missmash of life as one by one they unravel their real colour as the universe conspire.

the name, the date, and the birthday

naming your child after one of the calendar month ain’t new. though i’d say customarily parents would opt for the likes of April and May, they sound more normal for a namesake.

and hurrah! my parents went for JANUARY.

my name is somehow unique and trite all in one (or so i think). when you have such a tag, it is almost like an obligation to clarify when you are filling an info sheet that yes i know that today is September, yup that is my name and yes that is not my birthday.

you see, the trivialities does not end with my name. my birth month is December. No, i did not pop-out of this world too early nor my parents had miscalculated my expected date of arrival. It was just simply because of a movie titled “once is not enough” that happened to be my parents’ fave movie while i was being conceived. In the movie, the heroine was named January while her birthday was on December.

growing up i did not exactly like my name. i kind of feel weird and wanted a girly girl name like Samantha, Dorothy, Barbie (maybe not) or Alice. i did not particularly enjoyed the attention i was getting with my name. as a kid i did not find being easily remembered by the teachers as one of the perks of having a handle that simply stands out effortlessly (ahem) and when you are in grade school you do not exactly want to be different, you kind of want to be the same with everybody (how sad tsk tsk).

i did easily outgrown the indifference i felt towards my name. i could not exactly remember when and how, but i simply just became my name. i learned to love it to the point i would rather be known by full name rather than the short of it. for one, i find the “story behind” a good conversation starter. normally when i tell a person my name they just kind of lighten up, perhaps because by nature we are constantly curious? works particularly well when i am introducing myself to my patients. even made a seemingly grumpy looking immigration officer smile.

though it seemed uncommonly used as a name, i have known 2 other January in this lifetime, both from my hometown (what a coincidence), a girl and a boy, then we have January Jones the actress, though all three were born on the month they were named after.

when fear becomes real

I live in a city that has forever been preparing for disasters. Just this year the entire country had the first nationwide earthquake drill.  I remember, as part of new employees orientation was a whole day activity on emergency management. That was when i realise i live in a city that “lies within the earthquake-generating collision zone between two of the Earth’s great tectonic plates, and sits on top of one of the zone’s most active geological faults – the Wellington Fault.” Back then the danger was not real to me. 2 years ago when Christchurch earthquake happened that was when i started to entertain thoughts of “what ifs.” 3 days ago i was woken up by a nasty shake that seemed to have lasted for 15-forever-seconds and an even greater magnitude later on that day while i was at work on a hospital that was built to sway along with the earth’s movement. That was when the thoughts shifted to “when it happens.”

Originally the plan was just to find my way to the hospital where i would be of use. I guess it is the most logical since apart from i am a nurse, i do not have my family whom i have to stay behind with. Then it hit me i also need to do my part for the preparation. With the countless reminders and disaster planning tips from different New Zealand agency I was able to gather my kit to make me self-sufficient for at least 3 days.


this is my emergency backpack


these comprises my emergency backpack plus a 1 liter bottle of drinking water (i would probably not eat and drink much as i would hate to keep on going to a non-functional toilet anyway)


a portable butane cooker and a collapsable 20 liters water container (we had this water hidden on different parts of the house)

At the moment i can say i am calmer as compared to the last 5 days of being edgy. I still feel my heart skip a beat even from a minor jolt and though sometimes i wonder if i am just imagining. I have become accepting that this is happening and i am surrendering it all to Him. I have a clear plan mapped out in my brain what and where to go when it happens. And it eases my heart knowing that at least my family does not have to go through this as well (the only time i am happy they are not here).

daddy’s girl


I remember one afternoon during my Uni days in Ateneo de Cagayan, I went home to my boarding house and as soon as I closed the door i cried. I vaguely remember what brought upon the tears apart from it was Father’s Day and I just missed him. Back then even with the 4 hours distance I go home almost every weekend, I have always hated being the only one away from the family. We do not have an extra ordinary relationship but we are far far far from estranged. It is just simply father-daughter friendship.

He was the one who taught me how to drive, I will always keep a fond memory of that. Learning from experience it is not easy to stay patient supervising a newbie driver, much more if the newbie driver was me!  I remember pointing out to him “that boy is my crush” one afternoon when he fetch me during high school, he just gave a soft laugh. I remember speaking to him on the phone and told him I have a boyfriend, I was already working then and all he said was “you’re old enough.” I used to rest my head on his used-to-be-big-tummy. On my high school days, I have legally gone to disco pubs, given I tell my parents what time I am going home and on the dot of the hour I have said I will go home, my papa will be there right behind me in the dance floor!

I used to resent not inheriting papa’s nose (no offence to mama) and papa’s brown eyes. I realised though that in so many ways I am really my papa’s daughter.  For one we both have the ability to become indifferent to people whom we have loved or cared for but has hurt us badly (i know i know not exactly the best example). He can be sweet, bungisngis and child like at times but he can also be scary when pushed far enough. I guess what I am trying to say is he is not perfect. Like mama he is also flawed. And together they are perfectly flawed. Ahem.

I can’t wait to be back home this year. For it is only in the arms of my father that again I can play one of my most favorite role in this world, that being a child… a daughter.

35 and counting

35 years. you would have thought you are by now armed with wisdom. that you’ve been there and done that. that you should know better.
unsurprisingly I have proven my self the opposite. I have actually, i hate to admit, lost my mojo.
for example. i used to think i have a good judgement of character, as it turned out this couple of months i have read and re-read people wrong. trusting may be a positive quality, but i have somehow found myself overdoing to the point of being complacent. i have not been careful in choosing who can hurt me. in short my guard were down way too long and wide.
but then i guess that is the beauty of life. everyday is not the same day. not even an eternity will make you experience everything twice the same. not even you know your self in absolute certainty.
but there is no reason to dwell on things sad and painful. let us only cherish happy memories. learn from every experience. stand up from every fall. move on from every heartache. remove yourself from the cause of adversity. or like in my case,  develop indifference if you must. cause tomorrow is another chance. another venture. another drama. perhaps.



I was going through some post in facebook and I saw this. Nice outsmarted Honey (not that one is smarter than the other). Suddenly I missed having my sisters around. Flashback of laughters shared with my sibs that normally ends with one asking for an explanation of a joke or worst a replay just brought that niggling homesickness right “in-your-face” kind of way.

Sisters. You’re the only ones who can get away with my pet peeves and the ones who will never pass judgement even when I go ballistic over “nothing.” I miss living with yous. I miss sharing a room with yous. and oh, did I mention I miss youz???

a new light


today i shed tears of joy when i saw a patient who received a second chance to life… to pee (lame attempt to be funny).

i used to unable to stomach the sneering wit of this patient. at some point i secretly avoid taking him in as he just annoys me with his every mockery of the (free) service/treatment he is receiving, from the “cheap” chairs, brand of tea, to just about anything. on a side note, and in my defence, i am not solo in this repugnance. he is just that kind who gets under everyones skin. took almost a year to get used to.

then today i heard he got the “call” days ago and is doing well after a transplant. i was not instantaneously ecstatic but i was happy. sadly, work does not give you enough time to linger on an emotion and so i thought i had no time to celebrate the good news. but when he dropped by at the middle of our shift i jump out of my chair, gave him a hug and we both were teary eyed while he told me how everything is still like a blur to him up until now.

my own reaction surprised me, this is not my “pet” patient and i am surely not his. maybe it is just without doubt i love what i do and moments like this helps me thrive after such an annus horribilis at work. otherwise it will be easy for me to just turn my back and find something else or go somewhere else. allow me to moan and you’ll find yourself innately screaming “enough already” as i can give you a litany of the painstakingly stressful ordeal a nurse, like me, deal with on a daily basis. but it only takes one good news. or just one nice patient (the kind who will literally unwrap and fed you a lolly after you have declined more than twice to eat what she is offering because you have your dirty hands full and that stopping even for a second seems impossible).

i love as much as i hate. same as i delight as much as i mourn. but this is why i am still here. this is who i am. and this is what makes me feel alive.

karmic partners

karmic partners

It is without doubt you ain’t good for me as I for you. That together we make Love The Way You Lie our creed, our anthem, we heed. You asked me why I chose you, and I could not give you a single answer.
Words failed me then as it still does now. All I know there was that burst of passion when we begun our liaison. Like we have once crossed path and made a pact to once again experience earth together. Like ethereal souls drawn to each other by love just to wreak inner havoc.

baby steps

so many books to read. so many movies to watch. so many dramas to shoot. so many thoughts to transcribe. so many places to go. so many sleep to catch up.

there is a lot to learn and unlearn.

yet so little time.

if only life has a restart button.

i want to go back to when life was not as complicated.