The Benefits of Oregano

Oregano (Scientific name: Origanum vulgare) is also known as Wild Marjoram, Mountain Mint, Origanum, Wintersweet and Winter Marjoram.

Hand of Hope: Samuel Alexander Armas

A picture began circulating in November. It should be "The Picture of the Year," or perhaps, "Picture of the Decade." It won't be. In fact, unless you obtained a copy of the paper, you probably will never see it.

Tracey Connelley, Baby P's Evil Mom, Shows NO Remorse

I have never been affected by any story as much as Baby P's story has affected me. Yesterday evening, I found myself sobbing twice! I just can't get over the sheer horror of the story.

Baby P's Murderers -- Why Are They Being Protected?

In my country, it has never happened before that the media and the people have been forbidden to actually reveal the names and faces of TC and SB, the murderers of Baby P.

That Winter The Wind Blows Finale: Did Oh Soo Die?

Over the holy week break, I spent the entire four days just watching the 15 episodes of this Korean show. Yes, I am a self-confessed Korean drama addict. I already have my favorite actors and actresses; albeit, I don’t know their names.

Mar 28, 2017

March 9

My father passed away last March 9.

It was weird how they told me. They asked me to come over to my parents house, deliberately failing to inform me that he was already gone.

I felt weird though, like I knew that Daddy going to the hospital was a very bad sign. After all, if they had to call an ambulance, it didn't bode well for him.  And how many times can a person escape death really. Daddy had escaped death three times. And I was afraid his luck was all spent up.

When I got there everyone was waiting for me outside the house. And then I knew it was bad. Really bad when I saw the ambulance parked there. I knew what happened, but I needed to hear.

They couldn't finish the sentence. They just kept saying, "Si Daddy mo..."

And I kept saying, "No."

It was a denial. I couldn't accept it. I still can't.

For days, I refused to even take a peek at him inside that blasted coffin. I wanted to remember him alive, so I didn't want to look at him lying there.

19 days after that fateful evening, I still can't bring myself to go back to my parents' house. I can't accept the fact that he is no longer there.

Sometimes, I act like I'm okay. I feel okay. And it scares me.

I scare myself. I cannot possibly be okay. My brain is still protecting me from the truth.

Sometimes, the truth takes a hold of me, and I break down. Grief overwhelms me and I sob. The pain is debilitating. And then it passes, and I'll be laughing again like nothing happened.

I cannot accept the fact that he's gone. I refuse to go back to that house and see the changes. His clothes are gone. My mother has gotten rid of his things. He no longer lives there. His clothes aren't there. His perfume..his favorite blanket and pillows.. they're all gone, and I don't want to see all these changes that mean only one thing - we no longer have him.

I don't know what's the right way to grieve. I don't know if I'm grieving. Do you grieve when you can't accept the fact that there's something that you have to grieve about?

My father wasn't perfect, but he was stable. The one sure thing in my life. The one person that I can depend on and rely upon. The one person who never left, who was with me all these years. My father was the one person I can go to when I need things fixed. He never fails to fix things for me - whatever they may be. He was my source of comfort - the one person I know who would fight for me, would protect me. I no longer have that - and it's difficult to accept that.

I can't. Not now. I don't know when. But until then, I refuse to go back to that house.

Jul 20, 2016

I Read Your Flickr Comment 10 Years Later

I just read a comment on a Flickr photo which someone left 10 years ago. It was filled with  hatred and vitriolic language. The person who left the comment really hated me - and of course, I know only one person who feels or felt like that. I also know I never did this person wrong. I just had - and still have - what this person desperately wanted.

The one who left the comment probably didn't realize that what she said wouldn't hurt because first off, none of it was true. Secondly, her opinion - especially when stated "anonymously" - doesn't have any weight at all.

Here's a fun fact for you guys - I've always believed that you can't please everyone. So, you need to choose the people whose opinion matters to you. Generally, this should be people who love you or want what's best for you. That's how I've always lived my life. So, if you're leaving me an anonymous comment that is meant to rile me up - you need to love me first for me to give a flying f*ck. :)

It was a sad comment though - full of insults, bitterness and hatred. This person actually made an effort to create an account just to stalk me and leave the comment. I'm so sorry I didn't read it at that time. All her efforts were in vain.

The person also mentioned my blog in her comment, so apparently, she also followed my posts back then (which I know for a fact she did.) Someone mentioned to me that she even had my blog bookmarked. Sad, huh? It was almost pathetic, truth be told.  I wonder what happened to her now. It must not have been that easy to live with that much hatred or bitterness. I hope she's moved on by now though. Jesus Christ, it has been a decade already, and she's pushing...what? 50? 60?

Anyway, if you're still reading my blog. You finally got your response to your comment. You're welcome. :)

And if you're not the one who actually left the comment, and it was somebody else on your behalf, you're still welcome.

Now, stop reading my blog posts and get on with your life. Gahd.

Aug 14, 2015

Musings at 6 am

I miss writing.

Oh, I write. I do. I do. I get paid for every word that I type, every sentence that I create. I suppose that counts, but I don't write from the heart. I get paid for writing about things I hardly care about.

I miss writing. 

Sep 18, 2014

My Life


4:27 am

It's raining really hard.
I opened up the window to greet the rain and fallen leaves came blowing in.

I don't know why that makes me happy.
I don't know why rain makes me happy.

But it does.

I found a word to describe me - a pluviophile.

Pluviophile. (n) a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

Apparently, there are a lot of people like me out there.

Well, isn't that nice? 😊