I am a huge fan of Japanese culture, especially the incredible work of Studio Ghibli. The minute I hear those two words, I'm taken back to a rainy day in my childhood memories; with my feet kicked back on a sofa and a steaming bowl of champorado (chocolate pudding; a Filipino delicacy) ready for me to devour.… Continue reading studio ghibli
Last year, I embarked on a project that focused on making night-themed artwork. While so much work compelled me to do otherwise, I was able to allot a few minutes into combining both traditional and digital media. It's nothing special and I know the night is a cliche prompt for artwork, but I never get… Continue reading of the night and starlight
I've recently read about the KonMari method of organizing and decided to apply that to my social media accounts. One of the key concepts in the said method was holding your possessions in one hand, caressing it with your fingers and spirit, then asking yourself: does this spark joy? Does it make you happy? Confident?… Continue reading Using the KonMari Method in Social Media
you bleed like a fountain when the tides aim for saltwater sky & all you want to do is drown- i wonder how long it'll take for you to stop writing like that. once upon a time, you were blue train tracks rolling down cigarette addiction and soft metaphors. your mother had no way of… Continue reading sludge
My good friend recently won a creative writing medal in school for writing this short yet insightful piece. And as she beams in pride, I wave my banner of friendship and support through profuse cheering and posting her wonderful work in this blog post. A lot has happened in this country. A man who believes… Continue reading my good friend’s essay
It's raw enough for you to feel the cultural atmosphere. You can smell the cigarettes. You can feel the grime. You can feel the growing tension of prison conflict in your spine. It's all just dirt and broken glass and suspense all wrapped up in one beautiful piece of fiction.
I know not many of you will agree with me, but I am strongly against the burying of a dictator in a place reserved for those who have served the country well. But I'm sitting here in front a desktop monitor typing my thoughts. I'm not outside. I'm not screaming at the top of my lungs and holding a placard that expresses my disgust toward this secretive funeral in one witty phrase. But I wish to be. Why can't I do it?