Past 4 months, in Photographs

11921943_883830851706789_809265774_n

Sanctuary | an exhbit by Raffy Napay | Ateneo Art Gallery

11948000_883831108373430_682881419_n

I was drowning in my own bed and I never wanted to get up | Thames River | May 2015

11994493_883831008373440_696410622_n

Death by Ice Cream | Scrolling through some photography books

11997140_883831098373431_1667636677_n

Bye London, you’re starting to fade from my memory now | May 201511949675_883831015040106_1722305701_n

Back to school | Alien Hands for Science class

All The Ways I Promise To Love You

Thought Catalog

stefiaktistefiakti

I actually can’t make you any promises. Promises, I’ve learned, are not things of substance. They are not these shiny guarantees we’ve convinced ourselves they are. They are flowery words, glittery ideas, hopes stenciled on notebooks and blank pages that we cling to when things start to feel bleak. They sound pretty, something to put atop a melodic tune, call it a lullaby.

Call it whatever you want. But promises are not concrete. Promises are just words.

And I know what you’re thinking, “You’re a writer! All you do is regurgitate words.”

And you’d be right.

I am constantly dissecting my own inane thoughts and stories, putting memories permanently to paper. But my words are not actions. My words are not being in the thick of it. Being in the trenches with you, gaining the strength to somehow shovel our way back home. My words are just that —…

View original post 690 more words

NEW SEMESTER

IMG_9148

A new semester is coming. I am not ready.

I use to think that since this summer is my LAST summer as a teenager, I should really relish ever single sweet moment of dependence I can.

Adulthood is basically aunts/uncles/grandparents/other relatives asking you:

1. When are you getting a job?

2. When are you getting a boyfriend?

3. When are you buying a “proper” house?

4. Babies.

5. Taxes

6. Career.

7. Babies.

And yet. I took the “I-am-running-out-of-time” mask and decided to hoard everything I could this summer:

1. I got a job job. I mean. NOT internship but a job. Job. With okay pay.

2. I went abroad?? That counts for something right?

3. I’m working on my thesis. It’s group thesis. But still. Thesis.

4. I’m a fourth year student; I don’t need a boyfriend.

Jesus, I don’t even have notebooks yet. Or proper pens (I have 8 pens inside my pencil case but those don’t count okay because that was LAST year.)

This semester is going to kill me.

Grapes,anyone?

Confession #1

Dear MovieG,

I’ve always the biggest crush on you– and the fact that you were able to follow your dreams of going to Film school, despite the criticisms and oppositions of your family made me admire you so much. Sometimes, I’d look at your Instagram feed and think, “This could have been my experiences.” I wonder how happy I would have been.

Most of the time, I’d just play some of your short videos playing the ukulele or guitar and damn you have changed so much.

I wish I had more time to get to know you. The last conversation we ever had face to face was in 6th grade. I can’t even remember what we talked about. These days, I’d get a blast invite from you to see a film from UP. Sometimes I’d go, sometimes I won’t.

Can’t help but feel a bit mellow about this missed chances in life. Hope we’ll be friends again one day.

Writing short stories; Tiny Wings

11815965_866010240155517_103324904_n

I haven’t written a short story in a while. The last one I wrote was sooo meh but I thought posting it here might help me motivate myself to write more!

Tiny Wings

The mere act of seeing you carry your groceries makes me glad that I exist in this world.

The way your elbows bend to support the weight of meat, greens and a carton of milk. Your palms supporting the bottom of the paper bags. You try to balance the two in one palm, your left, it’s always the left, to free your right palm and it begins its quest of finding the keys to the front door. Right palm is successful but your left palm fails you and yolks gather on a pool along with some lettuce on the pavement of the street.

Your mouth opens to a wide gap and a supply of carbon dioxide exits. I can see the change of colors in your eyes (in their natural state they are goldish- brown. A box of Crayola doesn’t have the color available) from the peaceful steady blue to the upsetting molten red.

Later, you’d tell me it’s because you feel bad about the crushed eggs; not necessarily because it was a waste of money. You can’t help but think about the tiny wings that never got the chance to test the wind, the baby beaks that never made a sound, not even a silent protest as they landed.

“Twelve chicks didn’t see the world in order to make me happy. They gave up their lives to be fried on a pan on a cold Monday morning. And I failed them of their mission. They are now rotting on the hard cold pavement. They should have been buried between toasted bread.”

We’d laugh but then I’d stop and ponder those words.

I looked at the time and realized it’s going to be Monday morning in a couple of minutes. I guess it’s time for me to leave.

The ruthless cycle doesn’t end, doesn’t it?

Life; 2015

11802038_866007086822499_1656810632_n

This year has been filled with wonderful opportunities for me. Most of the time, my year would be filled with school works (summer classes), reading books that I’ve been dying to read but couldn’t because of school work and of course, just sleeping around in my bedroom province in Calamba, Laguna.

Continue reading

I’m a Batgirl

This must be my 6th “first blog entry” and I must say that I really don’t know why I started another one again.

I have always loved the idea of blogging. To express oneself freely to a bunch of strangers or friends. If we’re talking about body parts, eyes are definitely the windows to the soul. And I see blogs that way; we see the soul of the person hiding behind these words and at the same time, we get to see how they see the world through their own eyes.

Which is why I felt the need to start a new blog. This blog is about 20 years old me. Forget 19 years old or 12 years old Ella. It’s 2015 and a fresh new leaf (or blog, hehe) is exactly what I need.

So, if my some weird coincidence you have stumble upon this baby, this is basically what you can expect to read/learn from it:

1. Psychology related readings: If you’re interested to become a psych student, then you should probably stick around. I’m already in my senior year (and hopefully, my mates and I finish our undergrad thesis on time to graduate on May 2016) so you can expect a lot of things psych related here. I also have to review for the Psychometrician Board Exam here in the Philippines. I even have my reviewers ready they are currently gathering dust because..

2. I am a bookworm. I have a short attention span so I tend to neglect the textbooks/ related literature and just read my sorrows away. Fiction was meant to be an escape and I totally live up to that saying.

3. Debate. I will not lie, after 3 years of joining debate competitions and even reaching the octos/quarters/semis/ and even FINALS once, I am still not happy with my debate skills because I am still learning.

4. Learning. I love learning. Expect this blog to contain posts about the most random things I find on the internet and would like to share with my (future) self.

5. Photo album. I will treat this blog like a photo album of my 20s. I really do think keeping memories tuck away in the internet is comforting. You know that they are always there.

There you go! Some things to expect (and what not to expect) about this blog.) Hopefully, I’ll be able to blog every day but that’s a bit ambitious, ain’t it?

Cheers!

Batman & Ella

I am a batgirl!!!