Showing posts with label Confessions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confessions. Show all posts
But the devil had nothing to do with it.

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I remember reading a friend's post on Facebook that said he will never ride the jeepney ever again. Another also shared about his first jeepney ride after so many years like it's a lifetime achievement or something. Knowing that they're not even someone you can consider rich, I was so quick to silently judge them for being maarte and hambog

You see, I grew up riding the public transpo. I have been commuting daily since I started kindergarten and I am well-aware how poor the public transportation system in our country is. DIRTY. CROWDED. HOT. Not to mention, it can also be DANGEROUS knowing how public transpo drivers can be ruthless and aggressive. You have to watch out for perverts and pickpockets, too. 

But as dreadful as it may sound, such things never really bothered me. 

Well, I didn't have a choice.

Until I first started driving our own car more than three years ago. I instantly fell in love with the lifestyle. How some people are nicer to you and sometimes treat you like a VIP despite dressing casually in a posh establishment. How you suddenly exude confidence to carry yourself well every where you go. Or how people become interested and strike up a conversation about your brand new car and you take pride talking about it. 

Or how you can get from point A to point B with any outfit, or lack thereof, and not be judged about it. 

But for the most part, I love how travel time is reduced significantly. For someone who is always running late, this is a life saver. I can reach my destination in 30 minutes that would take me an hour or two on a bus or a jeep (we don't have an MRT here and the poorita in me doesn't include the taxi as an option). I can go home earlier and still have a little energy left to be productive or perhaps craft pretty useless things like a butt cover for my cats. 


The security, comfort, and convenience during rain, heavy traffic, errand runs, and emergencies just shifted my standpoint regarding public transpo, specifically jeepneys. 

I do not want to ride one ever again.

I wondered if Jan feels the same. Between the two of us, he is more experienced to the torments of riding a jeepney. People can easily give up their seats for me or I simply get lucky to fit just one butt when no one else can, while he has to fight his way in, boxing out hundreds of people who were also after that most-coveted, one and only available seat in the jeepney that comes once in a while, then only to be seated next to a stranger that reeks of booze, cigarette, and sweat. 🤮

I asked if he will still ride a jeepney again. His reply was a quick, resounding NOPE. It sounds arrogant and condescending, honestly. Especially if you hear that straight from someone who is coming from the middle class and whose car is not even a luxury. Nagkakotse lang akala mo na kung sino.

This is Bill, our 2018 Suzuki Ertiga GL (MPV).

But I understand him. I understand my friends now. And today, another friend posted about the same sentiment. She got her first car just a few months ago, said she can no longer imagine herself commuting ever again. I do not know what it's like to be riding a public transpo this time during the pandemic. But I do understand where that kaartehan is coming from.

Some time three years ago, I already gave up the idea of riding a jeepney. I mean, I still CAN but I would rather not for the reasons I mentioned above and most especially for this:


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Warning: Too much information. Skip if you're easily offended or grossed out.


When Jan and I married, we had everything planned out. Since we’re not getting any younger, we wanted to get pregnant immediately. Oh how naive we were despite being in our mid-30s.

We had sex. Lots of it. We did it every day, every other day, in different positions, name it. We followed a strict schedule. And would you believe that I even did all sorts of ridiculous acrobatics that would increase my chance of getting a positive like raising my legs and hips after love making? Yes, it's as if I haven't studied Nursing.

It was also then when I regularly tracked my cycle. We bought a lot of pregnancy tests (PT). The good news is, we had sex all the time. The bad news, I wasn't getting pregnant. I even tested on days when I see a pre-menstrual spotting in hopes that it was just an implantation bleeding. It was downright frustrating. The disappointment of negative test after another is something I never thought would be so crushing.

I did it ten years ago. So I thought that it is going to be easy for me to get pregnant again. My periods came regularly. Jan and I are neither malnourished nor overweight. We had no reason to think it would not work right off the bat.

We were already five months into the journey when we both started to feel something wasn't right. I was secretly jealous of people who made conceiving look easy. And even without telling me, I knew Jan was having doubts about his manhood. It did not help that people are constantly asking when are we going to have a baby. Kesyo sayang ang mga lahi namin. Di na kami bata. Malapit na kami umabot sa finish line. Stop! Just stop. We know that. We are desperately trying, but you don't know that.

Then it started to wear on us. To save our sex life from becoming a chore, we decided to simply just stop trying so hard. So eff it! We'll make love when we want to. Doesn't matter now if we get pregnant or not. Good if we do, we'll travel the world if we don't.


So things went back to normal. Sex became more enjoyable again. But we haven't totally given up on the journey yet. I continued taking folic acid. We both slept well, gave up on caffeine (yes, no coke and milk tea for me), took vitamins, ate the right food, and became physically active again.

I felt good about myself. I did not mind any question asking for any bun-in-the-oven updates.

I believe the drastic change in our lifestyle helped in this journey a lot. I know a lot of people who had been blessed with a little miracle after trying to conceive for years when they started not just a healthy diet but also an active lifestyle. I'm no expert at this, but for those who have no issues and have been and are still trying, you might want to give working out a try.


Since our goals shifted from trying to conceive to just enjoying what we currently have, I did things that would make the endorphins and adrenaline regularly kick in. I ran miles, danced my heart out, and plotted itineraries for our incoming travels.

Then I started to feel unusually tired. I'd take 2-hour naps twice in a day even when I had a full 8-hour sleep at night. And as cliche as it sounds, I was terribly craving for green mangoes. That's when I had a hunch. I wasn't too hopeful but tested anyway since I still have one remaining pregnancy test lying around. And with wide, unbelieving eyes, I ran to Jan and showed him the stick with two fat lines.

We were overjoyed. And that is an understatement.


I know every trying-to-conceive story is different. Ours still fall on the average but even so, it was already frustrating and painful that I would not wish it to my worst enemy. I could not imagine the struggle and pain of those who have been trying for years! That's why I want share our trying-to-conceive journey because it is something we avoid talking about. But I hope this post finds its way to more people and would stop being insensitive about it.

So please, stop asking when are we going to have a baby because we are sick of telling you well-rehearsed lies like we have other priorities when deep inside we badly want to.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because even when your concerns mean well, it makes us feel inadequate and it inevitably makes us feel less of a person.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because you have no idea how physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting the journey is.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because you have to understand that not everyone can do it. And popping that question is akin to stepping on an emotional landmine. You just don't know how much it hurts when we think—much more when we talk—about it.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because it is none of your business anyway.

So if you have the urge to pop that question, JUST DON'T ASK. Period.

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"Have you had your dinner already?" Mama asked.

"Yes," Red replied.

"Was it delicious?"

"Yes! Where did you buy it?"

That would have been an insult. It certainly is my son's indirect way of saying that I cannot make something appetizing. I couldn't blame him though. For ten years he tolerated my awful concoctions. But! Being introduced to bad food early on is one of the reasons why he is not a picky eater, or so I would like to believe. Motherhood did not really put my mediocre cooking skills into practice. Give my son some green, leafy salad with bagoong (kangkong, squash leaves, or kamote, topped with tomato and onions) and he will eat it right away. So why bother with a complicated recipe?
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"How does it feel like?"

"Nothing has really changed," I said flatly.

"Wait until the honeymoon phase is over."

I have been asked this question over and over again for weeks now and I have been repeating my answer with the same flat face. And it is not because I am less enthusiastic about it. It is just that, I do not want to engage in a conversation and delve into details about the brutal truths I wished somebody told me about before getting married.

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One of the reasons why I never wore a ring or a nail polish is because I do not want to draw attention to my ugly man hands. I never really liked my hands.

I've got big knuckles, probably from the knuckle-popping which I am so fond of since fourth grade. I've got big veins that can give any nurse an orgasm, and it sure does make my hands look masculine. I've got wrinkly hands that look ten years older than I really am to which no amount of lotion or moisturizer can help.

Believe it or not, my childhood friend used to envy my thin and lovely fingers; she'd call it kandilaon. And perhaps you are wondering how did they get this way.
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It's 2017.

Remember when I said I've never had any Starbucks before? Well, just recently, I've had one when Renz and I decided to do our planning at Starbucks for our second public speaking stint. That was my first time to hang out at Starbucks.

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I've had three boyfriends in my life and not one of them has ever courted me.

I don't play hard to get. If I like I guy who likes me too, it wouldn't take long before I commit.

I was 14 when I had my first boyfriend. He was my close friend and our relationship was born out of a deal. "Let's play a game. Kapag nanalo ako, tayo na". Parang ganun. It was nothing really serious. We were still too young and scared. Konting kilig dito, holding hands doon. Ganun lang.
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I don't remember the last time I binge-watched over a tv series because I have never really watched anything since Burn Notice ended.

Call me a loser. I've never seen The Walking Dead, I couldn't even get past episode 1 of the Game of Thrones, I don't know what's strange about Stranger Things, and not even a single thought of jumping into the Korean drama bandwagon crossed my mind - which is probably a good thing.

But I ended up giving Riverdale a try. Seriously? I probably deserve a good punch in the face for missing on the good shows and giving this a second look, not to mention, time to blog about this. I'm not even into highschool-centric dramas (Mean Girls is an exception). But since I was a big Archie comics fan back then, I decided to watch the pilot episode after the teasers gave me a hunch that they got the characters wrong. And I was right.
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I want to get inked.

I have always wanted one ever since I was in college. But I had to wait. I had to make sure it wasn't just a teenager's act of rebellion against the parents, the self, or the world. Then I had to wait more to make sure that I am not running right into a tattoo salon just because everyone is doing it. I had to wait a little more to make sure that this isn't just a phase and I might get over the tattoo-lust somehow. And I had to wait a little bit more because I know this is not something that has to be taken lightly.

If I had to get my first ink done, I always remind myself that it has to be significant to me. When I turned 18, I wanted to have a butterfly tattooed on my shoulder blade because they were fad and looked cool back then. Too glad I didn't because I'd be mortified to see a cute butterfly drawn permanently on my skin today. No offense meant here, but it's just so not me. The last thing I would want is to find myself biting my lips, cringing, and asking myself  "OH GAWD, WHY?" a few years later.
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If it wasn't for the review I made, I would not have blogged anything for almost two weeks. And so I start to think, in the name off all that is holy, haven't you done anything that is interesting, Sarah?

Actually, a lot happened. But I can only think of it as something worth shrugging or eye-rolling. Or something that's only twitter-worthy for it can only be summed up into less than 160 characters like, "Yay! It's the first time I voted. Just look at my blue fiiiiiinger!" or "Just saw someone took a Bacardi 151 shot. Reaction? Priceless. And now I'm curious because it feels like I missed something surreal", or "Ian Somerhalder just replied to my tweet! Best day ever!"

Okay, I made the last one up. Although I would have loved being that fangirl, but my twitter account is pathetic and I could not even remember the password. But anyway, on a Saturday when all the chores are done and my cat refuses to bath, I decided to take a trip down memory lane and might as well humiliate myself just to stir something interesting. Or not. Please don't judge.
When I was 5 or 6 and some time when I was 18 - 20
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Look what came into the mail today! Meet my new slaves of creative expression. After hoarding almost all ball point sizes of Uni Pin pigment ink pens, and now this, I don't want to think things are just starting to get out of hand. Who can resist them, Sharpies?
Sharpie 80's Glam

I am addicted. But I'm not on crack. If I am, then I would say the office supply stores are my drug dealer. I don't know what's with these bookstores and office depots that they always render me powerless. They are evil and I'm vulnerable. There's a force that drags me right into it, put me on a trance as I pass from one aisle to another, and I never leave without clutching a thing or two.
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Jan came over yesterday because it's my nephew's first birthday. We decided to watch a movie after stuffing our tummies with the yummies. I wanted to watch something light, so he recommended Easy A. I thought it was just another sloppy teen comedy but the nonstop wisecracks kept me absorbed that even my chick-flick-hating self absolutely loved it. And yes, not only because it is Emma Stone, but it is funny and smart as well.

Just so you know, I am not really into movies. I'm not the type who likes to just sit still and watch passively. So if you're one of my friends who's been to the movies with me, then perhaps you're one of those who got annoyed with my incessant blabbing of movie flaws, logic, and inconsistencies because unfortunately I have the ability not to ignore small things that don't make sense. No wonder I get constantly told, "pagtan-aw na lang gud dira!" (Shut up and just watch the goddamn movie!)

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Yesterday, Jan and I watched Schindler's List. It reminded me of my obsession with the Nazis which started back when I saw one of my classmates in Fifth grade drew a swastika symbol (actually it was doodled all over his notebook). I asked him what it was and he started telling me with great enthusiasm about Hitler, the killing of the Jews, and how great of a leader he was. I was fascinated. In fact, too fascinated that I came to the point of always putting a swastika symbol next to my name. Excuse the ignorance, at that very young age, we really did not know what we were so fascinated about. And we had no idea about the darkest days that ever happened in human history. All we knew back then was that it looked cool bearing that swastika.

Since then, I've shown interest about the Nazi - from the documentaries, to books, to everything about Hitler. I've read Mein Kampf, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, a few other books with titles that I could no longer recall, and some fiction/non-fics that I have on my shelf that have eventually opened my eyes and led me to disgust Hitler and his mustache. And it's such a shame that I've been claiming to be obsessed with such yet I haven't watched Schindler's List until yesterday. I'm more devoted in books than on movies though. Well, what can I say? Schindler's List is one of the most powerful films I've ever seen. Even more powerful than the neo-Nazi setting film, American History X.
My Books about Holocaust/Nazi
Some of the most compelling Nazi/Holocaust books that I have.
I am still fascinated with anything related to the Nazi regime. But my interest is fueled not on the ideologies of Hitler and the monstrosities brought about by his equally evil followers. The Nazis embody nothing but pure evil. Everything under the regime is downright despicable. And I don't want to think I'm exaggerating. However, I admit that at a certain level, I have admired Hitler's reign. I do give credit how great Hitler was. I mean, I think it's worth understanding how humans fell under the influence of one person who motivated a nation to such an ideological level, isn't it? It is undeniably amazing. Really.
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I still refuse to believe I am fangirling and actually writing about my teenage fascination to boybands. For holy molly macaroni's sake, I am twenty-freakin-nine! 98 Degrees, The Moffatts, Westlife, Boyzone, Hanson, N'Sync, and last but not the least, Backstreet Boys.

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Everyone of us has this awkward or maybe undesirable habit, but since we're already living in a society where the not-so-normal is more than welcome, let's just say such habit can add up to the personality which makes one even more interesting. We always have a thing or two in us that sets us apart from the norm. What's normal for us could be something others often dismiss as odd, weird, awkward or sometimes annoying. Everyone has quirks. Every. Freakin. One. And I believe no one is an exception to this rule.

Today I was told I am weird for dipping my instant pancit canton in a Pinakurat vinegar before eating it. Well, that's just one of the many things that make me weird, or I should say, unique. So today, I'd like to share with you a bunch of things that are perfectly normal for me which you may find pretty different, not normal, weird, or whatever you call it. And maybe uninteresting. And some items could strip off any respect you have for me. Haha. But for the sake of fun and telling the truth, I'll share it anyway. Here goes...
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I arrived home sleepy and my mind drifting. Went straight to a familiar door, turned the knob, put my bag down, removed my clothes and threw it carelessly on the bed, then I changed to my usual pambahay. I was about to throw myself to bed when I realized that I am not in my room.
Here's a glimpse of my room now.
And I'm not sorry for the mess that I have just made.

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Whenever I tell people that I have never been to Starbucks, I always get that expression of disbelief. Now, that makes me feel like I am such a loser and I think the world thinks it's a crime or something. Hmmm.

Never been there nor tasted anything they have to offer. Okay, I'm not a coffee person to begin with, that's one. Two, I don't feel like I belong there. So why bother? And three, I can already buy at least three pre-loved books at BookSale for a price of one coffee.

I don't remember how long it has been since the first Starbucks in Davao opened. But I do remember the incredulous number of people on queue waiting for their turn to order on the first week of opening. Why?
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