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Why God says not yet

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I started this blog back in 2022, mostly out of boredom. At the time, I was a second-year psychology student, still unsure about what I wanted to do with my life. My fashion sense hadn’t quite moved on from the “pandemic era”—think joggers, oversized tees, and anything that screamed comfort over style. Fast forward to 2025, and I’m now in my fourth and final year of the program. Life feels like a juggling act: I’m an HR intern by day, a call center agent by night, and a student in between. It’s chaotic, exhausting, and strangely fulfilling. Some days, the moment I turn on my mobile data after a long shift on the production floor, my inbox floods with notifications. A few messages are urgent, some even insensitive, demanding immediate replies. Others are just friends wanting to share their day. Lately, I’ve found myself lacking the mental space to absorb their stories, their drama, their energy. Still, I try to be present. I respond. I listen. I show up, even when I feel like I’m runnin...
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Savoring my comfort dessert

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Back in 2022, ice cream was my essential countermeasure whenever life got overwhelming. It wasn’t just a treat; it was a ritual of grounding. Every morning, before I stepped into the office, I made sure to buy one. This wasn't because I hated my job, but because I needed that small, sweet moment of preparation, a mental suit of armor before transforming into my "corporate self." I'd completely forgotten about this distinct habit until years later, when my best friend brought it up. Her effortless recall of that seemingly minor routine made me laugh, highlighting how easily I tend to overlook the happy, simple constants of my life while getting lost in the nonsensical noise. In recent entries, I’ve mentioned dealing with back-to-back failures and rejections. But just like back then, I'm reminded that sometimes, the best remedy for the chaos of adult life isn't a grand solution, but the simple, undeniable comfort of an ice cream. It’s a small pause button, prov...
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Lampanag Ridge x Tugisan Falls: The Transcendence and the Anchor

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It wasn't just a hike; it was a reset button and full of powerful firsts, and honestly, a bit of a miracle. I can still see it—that sea of clouds when I woke up. It felt like I'd climbed right out of my ordinary life and landed on a celestial deck, looking down on the world's worries. That view didn't just wow me; it humbled me, reminding me how big and beautiful things are beyond the city noise. And the sleep! Getting a full night's sleep out there was a victory I didn't see coming. It wasn't just the cozy setup; it was the quiet that finally let my mind settle down. (a huge thanks to the insulator!) I felt truly rested, the kind of rest that cleanses your perspective and heart.  We had our first real socials, too, the kind where the conversation and laughter lasted all night (11 PM!). It was the most potent fuel for my soul was the laughter and connection we found. Those weren't just "socials"; they were those deep, all-night conversations ...
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When Resilience Wears Thin

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This year is filled with setbacks after setbacks, rejections after rejections, and disappointments after disappointments.  I've been resilient enough not to break whenever I see another rejection email or feedback for me.  But during my shift today, I lost it. I broke down and cried because I fought hard just to get my application screened and to get an interview. Despite of people stopping me from doing so, I persisted and insisted to get a chance in that seat.  Unfortunately, as much as I want to plan and control everything, I don't have the final decision -- with politics and favoritism present, I have little to no chance of winning. It's a demoralizing and unfair blow. I actually don't know what's God 's plan for me. I'm not sure where to tread and what to work on anymore -- with so many doors, so many possibilities, so many roles that I see myself in, so many figs to pick and choose from.  And I need to choose one among all the figs in the tree.  I kno...
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For One More Day: a book review

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My 7th read for the year started with confusion because I couldn't focus on what I'm reading, and ended the book with a heavy heart. For One More Day by Mitch Albom is supposedly my 8th read for the year but I guess Crime and Punishment will really take a while. I couldn't express my feelings and my thoughts about this book unlike the books I've read previously. It's like being stuck in the between again. Let me tell you more about the book for you to understand where I'm coming from. We follow Charley "Chick" Benetto. He spiraled to depression when his mother died and he was away with his father. His parents were divorced when he was a kid and he was having a rough time accepting the fact that his father left them with no explanation or whatsoever. As a kid who adored his father the most, Chick put all the blame on his mother. He resented the way his mother dressed and all the things about her.  Chick attempted to commit suicide one day and he was sud...
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Losing ourselves in the mirror: A moral dilemma on plastic surgery and authenticity

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Recently, I asked myself how should I ask this question without being offensive? How should I construct my thoughts about altering one's physical features, in other words,  plastic surgery. I've been seeing more and more famous personalities getting it done: people who can afford it, and those who simply want to enhance their beauty. I'm not against it, in fact, some of my favorite artists had their lips, eyes, nose, and most of their body done. However, one thing I can't unsee now is that they look the same. They all share similar features when viewed through the lens of social media. I couldn't shake the thought of, "Where did all the variety go?". I shrugged my thoughts back to where they belonged at first, back to the abyss. I was scared of voicing this thought because I know it will hurt a lot of people, and I don't want that. But I just can't keep it all in my journal anymore, so I asked Pat, my ever-patient man, "Mahal, what do you thi...
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Nostalgia through my eyes

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I always have this feeling of melancholy and magic whenever I watch movies from the 80s, 90s, and the early 2000s. I love how the people at the time were not hung up and addicted to their mobile phones like I am. I love how they don't have social media and mobile phones.  I think this roots in my childhood in Iligan. I grew up with my grandmothers. We lived a frugal life. We were happy and content. I remember reading books all day, and my Nanay would reprimand me all the time. She said I'll ruin my vision because of non-stop reading. And she's right, I did ruin my eyesight. I have astigmatism now, and I also ruined my reproductive health. After dinner, I would listen to the radio, waiting for the lottery results. My Mommy would wash us up and change our clothes for bed. I remember sleeping in our living room because it was comfortable than sleeping in our room. Life was forgiving at the time. It was simple and quiet.  I figured that old movies make the memory of my childhoo...
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