I thought I would have a long, uninterrupted sleep last night because for the first time in almost two years, I let our toddler sleep with my mom. 

But that much needed rest never happened. I was so uncomfortable with this belly that could pop anytime, the perpetual back pain, the need to pee every fifteen minutes, and the unbearable heat.

Us exactly. Image via Pinterest.

I often find myself reminiscing about the old days.

Those days when we get to eat out and go on spontaneous road trips every week. The time when we don't celebrate special occasions over food deliveries. The time when we conveniently fake fever to have an excuse for skipping work. Or those days when I can just hug and kiss my husband every time he comes home. Sigh.

I can't believe the Pre-covid Era was already 400 years ago.

A lot of things evolved since then—including my tolerance for things that make me cringe. Of course, when you are isolated, it's no longer a surprise how one soul can be engulfed into this strangely gratifying dark side of the internet even if it offers a ton of cringefest. 

Apparently, my time for the internet ballooned and this is how I see social media platforms in 2021:

Facebook: A place for everything. News, memes, marketplace, motivational quotes, horoscope that justify toxic behavior, flexing, and so on. But best of all, it brings out the inner Aling Marites in me. It is a place for parinigs to good-for-nothing spouses, keeping tabs of your friends' love lives (from dating to breakup), and for calling out cheating partners, kabits, and palautangs. Trust me, it has all the drama you will ever need.  

Instagram: For flexing, flexing, and did I say flexing?

Twitter: I don't use this app but I would visit it once in a while when an issue—mostly political—goes trending. If you are easily-offended or like to bath in toxicity, this platform's perfect for you.

YouTube: Our torture chamber. This is where Jan and I listen to songs that get perpetually stuck in our heads such as, "I like to ate ate ate ay-ples and ba-nay-nays." We also binge-watch mouthwatering vlogs of Mark Wiens, Mike Chen, Sonny Side, and anyone who travels for food that leave us hungry afterwards. Other than that, it has a lot of tutorials, parodies, conspiracies, gaming streams, and screaming goats that you would probably enjoy. Or not.

TikTok: I have installed this when it exploded during the height of corona. But I only got to use it a few days ago—only to have it uninstalled a few hours later. I have seen some creative videos that I did enjoy. But I would say it's a platform mostly for people who want a brief shot at fame, doing dumb and stupid challenges for the likes, and letting out the inner slut. It's just sad to see content creators (real talented ones) who don't get the recognition they deserve here.

I do not know how many times I have said this before, but I really wish this pandemic is over. I'd really like to get out and take a breather. It's only a matter of time before you see me upload those heavily-filtered selfie videos just so I can validate my self-worth because I am running out of valuable content to share. 

Hahahahaha. Syet.

Also, those surgical face masks don't really fit me well. (T⌓T)

I might need a kiddie mask.

I was mindlessly scrolling Facebook, when this appeared on my feed:

Doesn't it creep you out when Facebook is making weird and sometimes disturbing assumptions about you? It's as if Facebook is telling me, "Hey, here's some beautiful shit we thought you would like."

Two things.

One. I am addicted to rolled oats soaked in plain Greek yogurt and cinnamon.

I prepared one for the bunso but he doesn't seem to show interest in it. It was so good that I had to ask the husband to buy more for my own consumption. Whatever I eat, the baby eats anyway. 

Two. I am on a diet.

And by that I mean, I am eating three times more than the usual serving and added two more meals in between the five meals I have in a day. This breastfeeding journey is making me lose weight but I don't want to lose weight. You know how many friends envy me for being blessed by the seven gods because I can eat whatever I want and still not worry about putting a pair of pants one size up? What they do not know is that I envy them. My metabolism rivals the speed of light. It is a curse.

Earlier today, I asked Jan to take my photo for a Birch Tree promotion. But more than a hundred photos later, not one is good enough for posting. Okay, I lie. It ONLY took 30 shots. 

Thirty. Shots. That's a lot. Dati, 5 shots lang, okay na. May ma-ipost na. But now? All you can hear from me is, "Payata nako diri ui","Eeew payat", "Ugh, payatot kaayo ko tan-awon". 

8 months postpartum. 5'3" at 47kg. Meh 😑I want to be STRONG and fit, not magaan.

I give up fitness. I am thinking of ways on how to hit the fridge without moving a muscle. I now count calories and make sure that I don't burn any.  

P.S. Cerelac Nutripuffs is so damn good. I should stop eating my son's food.

Sometimes, I amaze myself with my adulting, considering that my hormones are still on overdrive. You see, I have written a complaint—after making countless of calls and follow-ups on not having an internet connection for almost two months—in the most diplomatic way. For someone whose life depends heavily on memes and cat videos, I would have gone batshit. (Who wouldn't?) 

But there are far more upsetting things than that. Like how the baby can sleep through a thunderstorm but awakens the moment I tiptoe my way out of the room or the husband's utterly useless nipples.

Also, I am too tired to give a crap.

But I will. When the internet will not be fixed this week as promised. Until then, all feelings of resentment will be directed toward the husband.

Welcome to my new normal.

7:00 am. As much as I want to sleep in during weekend, my body refuses to wake up at the alarm that is set at 8. I automatically open Facebook and aimlessly scroll through the posts. As it inevitably explodes with posts from political analyst wannabes, I am starting to think that the outdoors I avoided like plague isn't all that bad. I suddenly miss driving though the traffic and mentally cursing idiots on the road, crowded malls, and long queues in public comfort rooms.

9:00 am. I have my breakfast. Mostly leftovers or something I don't really like eating for breakfast. Like a bowl of hot soup in the middle of a heatwave. But I force myself to eat. I can't be choosy at a time like this.

7:30 pm. And just like that, it's dinner time already.

It may seem like time is running fast but honestly, I am extremely bored with every minute that passes. I have been lazy my whole life. I have always believed that my lazy ass loves nothing more than lounging while watching my favorite series and getting up only when food is ready. But that was a lie. I already thought about a hundred non-work-related ways to be productive but when resources are limited and there's literally nothing else left to do, I find myself answering emoji quizzes, reacting to every cat video and funny meme I see on Facebook, listening to You Know I'll Go Get (that song makes me happy btw), and randomly giving Rhett a horrible haircut.

Yay! I'm 200 Pesos richer!

Yes, these have proven effective in distracting me from the horror the world is going through right now. I will be quitting my job soon. So that means everyday is going to be a weekend for me. Not to mention, being halfway through pregnancy limits the physical activities I can do at home. I really appreciate that these distractions keep on coming or else I might find myself separating the ingredients in a 3-in-1 coffee.

And oh, before I forget...

12:00 mn. Snacking on whatever I can find in the kitchen.

It's been what? day 14? 15? of community quarantine and at this point, even those who are so used to staying at home or maybe even the introverts who have been trained for this their entire life already feel uneasy. I thought the quarantine would be no different for me, but honestly, it is.

First, my all-expense paid trip to Vietnam was cancelled. Second, I just had a haircut and I will never get the chance to show off my Dora the Explorer fringe in public. So before this gets long enough for me to cut again, I'll share this now while I still don't look like Spock.

Now tell me what are the odds of getting stung by a honeybee inside our home while lounging on our bed? 

I never really liked fishes as pet. They are high maintenance, boring, and incapable of human interaction (duh). Not to mention, I can barely keep one alive for more than three days. But here I am, mindlessly watching our fishes swim for hours.

These were actually my uncle's gift for Rhett. But I was the one who got too excited to decorate the aquarium. After coming home from Gen San with our new fishes and live aquatic plants in tow, we immediately bought a 14-gallon fish tank, accessories, and dechlorinator. And voila! A new stress reliever.

We got swordtails, angelfish, and guppies. That's about everything I know for now. But I'm browsing the internet for care sheets because I don't want to see one go belly up too soon.

I couldn’t think of a better title but after posting my skincare routine, I was asked to try a line of whitening products in exchange for a promotion or a review. I politely declined. For the record, I have nothing against whitening products and people who want to whiten their skin. Do whatever makes you happy.

As for me, I've already seen myself in my ghostly form. All thanks to my mom's phone that seem to shoot photos with a hundred layers of filters on by default.


But nah.

I still prefer my brown skin color over white for 2 reasons:

I just wish I have the makeup artist skills so I can transform my face into something better and more tolerable to look at every time I get fed up with my face that's as bland as the miso soup I made so I can leave my hair alone. Because, well, haircuts cannot be undone.

You know how I get perpetually bored with my looks that I would cut my hair on my own from time to time.

The last time my name was printed on a local newspaper was in high school (about 16 years ago) when my football team won against a college team and the two scorers' names were mentioned. That was a huge deal back then.

I got hives and the itch is really killing me. But I'd take the hives any day than spend 15 minutes in Facebook where my blood pressure can shoot up to an alarming level from all those political posts on my feed today.

But before the hypertension turns into brain cancer because I can't seem to get myself off Facebook, I'll share with you the weekend that has really been crazy.

I was invited to a La Germania roadshow last Saturday and in the middle of our activity, a 6.4 magnitude earthquake shook our city. The event had to be discontinued and we were all asked to evacuate the mall.

Hello everyone! I haven’t updated in two weeks, which is not very like me. I've attempted to write sensible and relevant entries twice and on both times, I didn't get to hit the Publish button. None of it was good enough. I try to balance my entries between relevant and nonsensical, but regardless, I'm on a writing slump.

So maybe today, I'll just talk about my short hair because blogging about things that do not help the society in any way sure as hell beats scrolling down Facebook aimlessly for hours (I'll leave Facebook one day and move to Reddit, I promise).

I was born with a naturally straight, super fine, no volume hair. And for three years, I've been cutting my own hair because it didn't matter if I looked shaggy or not. Sometimes, I wish I had that grunge hair or I can pull off that messy bun. But my hair simply just untangles and tames itself before I could even say "comb".

I never really had a bad hair day until I saw this:

One thing I hate about driving is getting through traffic. So I rely on music to stretch my patience and keep my cool. Right now, if there's one thing I get excited about driving, it's going to be this:
 

90s boy bands on my playlist FTW!

I'm afraid the regulars that have been on my playlist since forever  - you know, Queen, Keane, Air Supply, Mr. Big, Better Than Ezra, Blind Melon, Gin Blossoms, Tonic, even Jack Johnson, and all other bands that are "cool" ('cause I'm pa-cool like that) - will have to take the backseat until I get over this recurring jologs phase. And I say that with no shame. But until then, Jan will have to survive the torment of being ear-raped every time my jams come on. Haha!

My 3rd year high school Math teacher forced me to join our school's Math Olympics for two reasons:

1. I detest Math and/because I'm bad at it.
2. And he knows it.

Right after the competition, when I went up the stage, the faculty head who pinned the gold medal on me uttered, "Congratulations, future Engineer!"

Found this little devil while cleaning earlier.

I gave a wide grin like I really am going to be a future Engineer and replied, "Thank you". Well, after the competition and all the pressure I had to go through, I concluded that Math is evil and I'm never going to be an engineer.

But I'm not going to talk to you about my glorious days in high school because I only had one - and this was it (I was better with the extra-curricular activities). But what I'm trying to say is (even though I'm also subtly bragging para ingnon brayt), I can put my heart and soul into something and pretend to be really good at it. For a moment there, everybody thought I was really into Math.

But I'll never be into Math. I'll never be good at Math. But I love counting money.

You know what's funny?

It's when you know you can write a 2-page, single-spaced in-depth analysis of the space-time continuum with your eyes closed but you have to turn to Google to help you compose a single line on how to accept an invitation.

This is not my first time to be invited to such events.

I know it's totally against my character to watch sloppy action-fantasy shows but I can't believe I have finished two seasons of Shadowhunters in two days which just shows what a big loser I am. I know it's quite a bummer but at least it frees up some of - what I'd like to believe - my unproductive time.

Well, I am never really a TV or movie person. So you could easily say that I don’t have the best taste when it comes to motion picture or anything in general. In fact, my preferences go from being too cliche to too corny to too mainstream. My all-time favorite movie? Mean Girls. My all-time favorite band? Backstreet Boys. My all-time favorite series? Riverdale.

Yesterday, I took Bill to the casa* for a PMS and I remember having this kind of conversation with a friend:




For the benefit of my non-Bisaya friends/readers, here's how the conversation goes:

Her: Have you left Meek? I'm PMSing.
Me: I'll leave in a few. Is the casa still open at this time?
Her: Wait, I'll be back. Casa? What casa?
Me: What PMS? I thought you were referring to PMS, like, in a car. Preventive Maintenance Schedule? Or is that a girl thing?
Her: Hahaha. I'm on my period.

And that, my friend, is the 87th reason why I really think I'm not a woman.

Bill getting ready for new adventures!

*casa - where car dealers actually make more money than selling cars. Also a "talyer", but five times more costly.


Anyway, if you're in Davao and looking for a space to work or study, you can never go wrong with Meek Coworking Cafe.

How many hair disasters will it take for me to stop messing with my hair?
This is Bogart. She's a terrier mix. And yes, Bogart's a she. Her hair is all over and it covers her eyes. If her hooman, Jan, does not cut the hair around her eyes, she cannot see. Or at least, that's what we think.