Just because I’m all grown up doesn’t mean I’m all grown up inside.

Despite being a senior in the Ateneo, I actually have plenty of free time on my hands. Most time I would have my two youngest siblings come barging in through the door asking to do this and that and I oblige, just because I believe that at their age they should develop their creative minds. When they’re old enough, I don’t want them to look back through their childhood with boredom. I want them to remember that they were able to do plenty of things, even if it isn’t outside in the backyard having adventures, at least they are able to have a little excitement at home. Most times we do artsy stuff. This was a few days ago when we discovered the boxes of unused clay in the attic and decided to make our own stories on paper. A couple days ago we also made a paper machete and painted it red. Up till now it’s unfinished.

As a child I don’t have a lot of memories that particularly stand out and I used to think it was sad. I wish I could relive my childhood and do more things. And then I realized that I could actually pick some memories out if I tried hard enough and focused on them; like they’re just stored somewhere deep inside my brain but they’re there.

Childhood is precious. I don’t want my siblings to throw it away by not having enough fun. And I certainly don’t want them stopping themselves from doing things just because their big sister has grown up.

Why I look the way I do (& being damn proud of it!)

When I was a little girl, when I was out holding my daddy’s hand my friends would immediately comment “Alexis you look like your dad!”. And then I was with mom in school and in the mall and everywhere else and the rest of the people who haven’t seen my dad exclaimed “ohmygosh you look like your mom!” As a child, this made me wonder for a while because I couldn’t figure out which was the authentic truth and for some reason it mattered a great deal to me, knowing who I looked like most. And then came the golden time when I was smudged between both mommy & daddy holding both their hands and skipping along the pavement. This was when I got my answer: “oh I see now, you are a mix between your mom AND dad!” For some reason this made me proud. I’m not going to lie: it still makes me happy to hear until this day that I am still a complete mix; that I neither look like one or the other but both in such beautiful proportions. I always thought how wonderful it would be to have traces of your parents traits in the way you are, and I feel blessed to be one of those girls who people can truly say, “you look like your dad” & “you look like your mom” at the same time. Because their external traits are so in me, they’ll never really be gone. Every time I look myself in the mirror I am going to see traces of them. Best part is I’m going to carry them around IN ME wherever I go! Nobody can take that way. This is enough to make me smile the rest of my life. 

I got a baby sister three years ago and this initially came as an adjustment because I was used to being the only girl. She is an exact carbon copy of mom and I can’t help but feel jealous sometimes when people say they look exactly alike, especially since they’re both beautiful. And then somebody comments towards me that I look like a mixture of both my mom and dad too and this makes me feel ultimately better thinking, “I look like my mom too!” only mixed in with dad’s! Ha, I get the best of both worlds.

It shouldn’t come as a shock though because even in sole body parts I see the mix: my dad’s hands and my mom’s fingernails as well as my dad’s feet and my mom’s bunyon. I think it’s really weird how genes come together and form into an entirely new thing but still composed of the same trait of parts. Like my face I guess, and the rest of me. I got to maximize both genetic traits more than the rest of my siblings hahaha! Well, except my sister– she has my dad’s hands and legs too so she’ll end up like me, only more with my mom’s face! But still.

So lucky I am indeed. 🙂 [though you must know this is my way of making myself feel better with my body and my insecurities– NOPE, scratch that off your mind. You needn’t really know!]

P.S. my parents aren’t the kind that look like each other either! (because there are parents who do which is cool but odd at the same time).

Happy Sunday!

I awoke today with my yaya knocking loudly on my door, urging me to wake up. For some reason every time I have a dream that merits longer sleep, my yaya comes rumbling in with heavy knocks that seep into the dream. While asleep I begin to think ‘oh it’s an earthquake’ then my eyes open a little and I hear the knocks but I’m still dreaming so in the dream I’m experiencing a wild tremor until the knocks get louder and finally my yaya barges in and wakes me up for good. Mom and Pop had a little visit to my room too while I slept and I swear I did hear them but I was still in the dream. I think it’s quite interesting how dreams work and how they line up with reality. I wonder if dreams have any true meaning at all.

We traveled towards the cemetery today to visit my Lola. My first-level relatives from my dad’s side were all there too and every time we come across each other I can’t help but feel insecure. I’m the short, weighty, awkward girl. No matter I try, I cannot conform. This will be my body forever and this will always be me. We went to Bonifacio High Street afterwards to have lunch in Cav, a high-end restaurant that focuses on wines. When we first entered, a minty scent pierced our senses. It was different alright. Their tables were also mapped with papers as placemats so the first thing we did was take out our pens and draw on them. Later on, we formally asked for crayons. The food was ultra expensive; their glass of sangria was P270 which I ordered to remind me of Spain. I got dizzy after three sips but it was good. Then we went to buy Sonja’s cupcakes! My favorites are the vanilla variety which are totally better than Marta’s. I’m never settling for anything less now. We then went to Fully Booked afterwards & went home.

Mass was at 6:30 in Hillsborough and we met up with my mom’s side of the family next and had them over for dinner! Plenty of laughs and good times and we saw old family albums! I was such a fat & dark baby! Eew. Hahaha. While at the dinner table I realized that I like who I am when I’m with my family. That my family will be the people closest to ever finding about who I really am. I then imagined about that boy– any boy, who I can be myself with like I am with them. It’s hard to picture because I’m usually shy and reserved and so insecure but I hope one day, without even thinking, I am able to be myself around people and they wouldn’t mind all my quirks and flaws and body movements and still want me too. No bolting because of me. I want people to be brave enough to stay. I want to be loved when I’m not holding back.


Sundays are my most favorite days of the week!