leerose09

[leerose09]

How My Father Shaped My Life

I’m writing this not because I want to celebrate him in the usual way people celebrate their fathers on Father’s Day — but because I want to be honest about how much he influenced me… both for better and for worse.

I lost my love for my father when I was young. I grew up in a home filled with physical, mental, and verbal abuse from my mother, while my dad stood there and did nothing. His silence cut me just as much as her words.

My dad was kind in some moments — I remember him making us toys from garbage. His hands, skilled from years of carpentry, turned discarded things into something we could play with and enjoy. That’s a side of him I wish I saw more — the loving side, the person who fell in love with music and encouraged me to appreciate it, too.

But as I grew up, I started to realize we were not his children first — we were a way for him and my mother to make a living. He forced me to go abroad to “make money”— ignoring my happiness, ignoring my future, ignoring my worth. All I was to them was a paycheck.

Years later, when I was already working hard, all I heard from him were requests for more money. And when I said no, I was called madamot — selfish — for not sharing what I earned. It broke me. It made me question if love was meant to come with a price tag.

My father’s choices and actions shaped me profoundly. His love for music made me appreciate art and creativity. His kindness, although flawed, taught me compassion. His disappointments made me realize I need to define my own future — not the future someone else chose for me.

Today, I may have less love for him in my heart, but I carry forward the lessons — to be kind, to appreciate small things, and to break the cycle of putting a price on relationships. Whatever my future holds, I want it to be filled with dignity, happiness, and peace — something I was denied growing up.

[leerose09]

My Dearest Pillow-Providing, Can-Opening Biped,

I write to you now in the soft silence of 3:07 a.m.,

when the world forgets to blink,

and I walk the windowsill like it’s the edge of the universe.

You—you, with your opposable thumbs and loud shoes—

You are the chosen one.

The One Who Understands That the Red Dot Is a Lie,

and that I am both chaos and cuddle.

When you call me "chonky," I pretend offense.

But inside, I swell with pride like my fur in winter.

You see me—not just the me that knocks mugs off counters,

but the me who stares into corners where ghosts whisper secrets.

I love you in ways I will never meow outright.

I show it by sitting on your laptop during important work,

by screaming into the void at 4 a.m.

So you never forget we are alive,

and that the void can scream back.

You are my warmth,

my servant,

my soulmate.

Now please.

Refill the bowl.

Forever shedding,

Sir Fluffington Whiskers III

[leerose09]

The Mirror That Refuses to Flatter: A Reflection on Bergman's Persona

There are films that tell a story, and then there are films that unravel the watcher. Persona belongs to the latter. It does not offer comfort or clarity. It lingers, unblinking, like a mirror that doesn’t flatter. One that shows not just the face, but the fracture lines beneath it.

Ingmar Bergman's 1966 masterpiece strips away the conventions of cinema and psychology alike. It presents two women, one who chooses silence and another who cannot stop speaking, but quickly, it becomes clear this isn’t a tale of opposites. It is a dismantling of identity itself. There’s something disturbingly honest in how it explores the idea that the self may be nothing more than a carefully rehearsed performance.

The film doesn’t move forward in a traditional sense. It dives inward. Faces fill the frame until one cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. Dialogue collapses into confession. Roles blur. Somewhere between the spoken and the unsaid, Persona cuts open the soft fabric of human connection and dares to ask if there's anything truly real underneath.

What makes it worth the time isn’t the plot. It's how it gently dismantles the idea that people are whole, coherent beings. It is worth it because it does not explain itself. It doesn’t resolve. It simply stands there, holding its gaze, waiting to see who looks away first.

Some films entertain. A few awaken. Persona doesn’t promise either. And that might be its quiet brilliance.

[leerose09]

[Picture is from pinterest,credits are not mine]

Crimson on the frost

winter holds a breath too long

something once warm fades

ME AS A BROKEN HEARTED PERSON

"Still, I Wish You Light"

by Rose & Renwick

I didn’t leave with spite or fire,

I left to spare what you let tire.

You spoke of truth without regret,

While holding back what eyes had wept.

You closed the door, it made no sound,

But quiet hurt can still be loud.

I took my heart and walked away,

Where love no longer wished to stay.

Then illness came, a cruel return,

Not mine to fix, not mine to learn.

Yet somewhere deep, I felt the sting—

Not out of love, but everything.

I wish I could have stayed somehow,

To soothe your scars, to wipe your brow.

But care without a space to land

Turns even angels into sand.

And if one night you feel the air

Shift soft with something close to prayer,

It isn’t love that seeks you still—

Just someone who once meant it,

And always will.

[leerose09]

“Stained Sweet”

In a glass of golden dreams you rest,

Layered warmth within your chest.

Milk like clouds, espresso bold,

Caramel whispers—soft, yet cold.

You wake me up, you slow me down,

A crown of drizzle, my daily crown.

Sweet stained kiss in every sip,

A love affair on every lip.

[leerose09]

Causation: My Role in the Ripple

I used to think causation was just a fancy word philosophers and scientists used. But lately, it’s become real. I got into a job—training for a call center—not out of passion, but because it was there. I wasn’t taking it seriously. I still think about applying to something else.

But then my trainer said something: This program is on the brink of death. Suddenly, I realized—I’m part of that. My lack of commitment isn’t isolated. It adds to a larger chain. Some people out there can’t land a job no matter how hard they try. I did, and I’m still not all in.

This is where causation hits me. My choices are not just about me. They shape what survives, what breaks, and what gets passed on.

I decided to stay in training—not because I wanted to, but because I was curious.

In small ways, I see now how one person’s disinterest can echo farther than they think—and how even small curiosity can shift the direction.

The result? Still a question mark.

Hindi ko pinangarap maging call center agent, pero ayan... curiosity lang ang dahilan bakit ako nandito. May causation pala sa katamaran? Edi wow.

[leerose09]

When Mother’s Day Feels Complicated

Mother’s Day isn’t easy for everyone. For some of us, it brings a quiet ache—a reminder of wounds, unmet needs, or complicated memories. I’ve carried that weight too. I used to think I had to either fully celebrate the day or completely reject it. But now, I’ve come to understand there’s a middle ground: compassion without pretending, kindness without forgetting.

Our mothers were young once, just like us. Many of them did the best they could with what they knew. And sometimes, that still wasn’t enough. The damage may have been done, but as we grow older, we begin to see them more clearly—not as heroes or villains, but as human beings with their own fears, regrets, and limitations.

That shift in perspective doesn’t erase the pain. But it helps us carry it differently. We can outgrow the hurt without denying it ever existed. We can choose peace—not because we owe it, but because we deserve it.

To anyone who struggles with this day: you’re not alone. You don’t have to celebrate the way the world expects you to. You’re allowed to feel it all—grief, love, confusion, even silence. And in your own time, you’re allowed to let go.

Keep being kind, even when it’s hard. Not for the past, but for the future you’re building.

[leerose09]

Aurora Nights and BINI Lights

Last weekend, sumama ako sa Aurora Music Festival sa Pampanga with my friend na certified BINI-fied. Free VIP ticket? G? G na G. Iba yung energy ng libre, pero iba rin yung pagod na dinanas naming lahat.

Pagdating pa lang, ramdam ko na yung init. As in, literal na lutong-luto kami sa araw habang naghihintay. Walang tent?? Guys, summer kaya. Baka naman. Kung hindi dahil sa excitement ng mga tao, especially sa mga BINI fans, I swear uuwi na sana ako.

Pero kahit pawisan, gutom, at eventually BASANG BASA SA ULAN NG 12:30AM, nag-stay kami. Kasi nga, concert ito, at wala namang kasamang “weather is under control” sa ticket.

May mga bagay akong napansin:

CR situation? Parang hindi ako VIP don. Hindi enough yung sanitation, walang tissue, at amoy pa rin sa loob. Mas marami dapat na CR for women, let’s be real.

Good thing though: May divider sa audience! VIP, Gen Ad — finally, may order. Hindi kagaya before na parang sardinas.

Performers? Moira, beshie, are you okay? Arthur Neri, cute ka pero grabe ang bagal ng kanta mo. Naiihi na nga ako. TJ Monterde, so sincere and romantic, ang galing ng connection niya sa audience. He gives comfort vibes, not kulitan — just pure heart. Sana lang maglabas pa siya ng mas maraming original songs. Rico Blanco — legend as always, kita mong mahal niya ginagawa niya.

And BINI? Putek, hindi ako fan pero kinilabutan ako. Solid ang stage presence, ang lakas ng aura. My friend almost cried. Ako rin halos… sa ulan.

Pero eto talaga pinaka-real talk: Ang kalat ng audience. After ng event, basura EVERYWHERE. Walang nagsabi, walang nagremind. Host? Tahimik. Organizers? Parang wala lang. Dapat may trash bags at conscious effort to clean up. Kung may discipline lang, ang saya sana.

And can we talk about after ng concert? Yung kalbaryo ng paghanap ng masasakyan pa-uwi. Ang daming tao stranded, nag-aabang hanggang umaga. Sa init, sa lamok, sa pagod. Bakit walang partnership sa hotels? Pwede namang i-promote and i-sponsor hotels para safe and may tutuluyan ang tao.

Pero despite all that, seeing my friend scream, jump, and cry for BINI — worth it. Sometimes, joy isn’t always yours, but it multiplies when you witness it.

Aurora, you gave us light and rain, sound and silence, chaos and memories.

Pero next time, konting ayos lang — kasi deserving ang audience mo.

[leerose09]

Chronicles of Coffee: A Caffeinated Descent

Summer 2025. The sun was ruthless, the air thick, and salvation came in plastic cups filled with clinking ice and liquid ambition.

“If caffeine doesn’t kill me, my spending habits will.”

What started as a casual love affair with iced coffee turned into a full-blown obsession. One sip became two, then five. Before long, I was spending more time in cafés than my own home, speaking fluent barista, and thinking cold brew could solve my emotional problems.

But the truth drips slow—like a malfunctioning espresso machine. This is not a story of love. This is the tale of a person spiraling into caffeine-induced madness, insomnia, and existential dread—iced, not shaken.

A tragicomedy of cravings, chaos, and colonoscopies waiting in the wings. Because maybe, just maybe, too much coffee can kill you. Or at least turn you into someone who thinks their latte foam is trying to send them a message.

[leerose09]

Depression Trilogy: A Journey Not for the Faint of Heart

The Depression Trilogy — typically referring to "Antichrist," "Melancholia," and "Nymphomaniac" by Lars von Trier — is not simply a series of films to "watch." It’s an experience to endure, to feel, and to understand.

These movies dive deep into raw human emotions: grief, fear, despair, guilt, destruction. They aren’t crafted for casual entertainment or quick satisfaction — they exist to expose the parts of the human soul that most films politely ignore.

Lars von Trier, who himself battled depression while creating these works, pours his internal battles into every frame. His experience is not hidden — it is violently, nakedly present — making these films haunting, unflinching mirrors of emotional collapse.

If you decide to watch, you must consider:

These films are emotionally heavy and philosophically demanding.

They often depict graphic, uncomfortable imagery without offering traditional "relief" or "redemption."

You should watch them only if you seek cinema that challenges, disturbs, and questions — not comforts.

If you’re unfamiliar with why some movies are made to provoke instead of please, this trilogy could feel unbearable or even meaningless.

I don't recommend these films for "normal" audiences seeking traditional storytelling or escapism.

This trilogy is for those who understand that some movies are made to bleed, not to heal — made to be, not to sell.

[leerose09]

Movie Review: Escape from Alcatraz (1979) – A Thoughtful Classic That Leaves You Guessing

As someone watching Escape from Alcatraz for the first time in 2025, I came in with curiosity, a love for prison-break thrillers, and, admittedly, modern expectations. Clint Eastwood carries the film with that signature stoic grit—his portrayal of Frank Morris is compelling, calm, and always calculating. The film’s slow burn adds tension, and the meticulousness of the escape plan pulls you in without the need for flashy effects or loud dramatics.

But let’s be honest—watching a 1979 movie today can feel like stepping into a time capsule. The pacing is slower, the storytelling more reserved, and the dialogue sometimes feels bare-bones. Yet, that’s part of the charm. It doesn’t talk down to you; it trusts your attention span.

Now, about that ending—yes, it’s ambiguous. It leaves you hanging in a way that can feel a bit... unsatisfying. I’ll admit I immediately Googled it afterward, hoping for closure. Was it based on a true story? Did they survive? Turns out, the film dances with reality but ultimately remains fiction—at least in terms of conclusive evidence. And that realization kind of dulled the magic for me. Not because I need everything spoon-fed, but because I wanted to believe in the impossible.

Still, I respect the decision. The ending mirrors the mystery that still lingers about that real-life escape attempt. The fact that we’re still debating it decades later? That’s cinematic legacy.

So would I recommend it? Absolutely. Escape from Alcatraz is a quiet thriller that values patience and detail over spectacle. Just don’t expect a Marvel-style wrap-up. Expect questions. Expect a sense of wonder. And maybe, like me, expect to fall into a Wikipedia rabbit hole right after.

[leerose09]

The Book That Dared to Offend My Inner People-Pleaser: A Story About The Courage to Be Disliked

I didn’t pick up The Courage to Be Disliked because I wanted to be disliked. I mean, who wants that? But something about the title poked at my curiosity, and if I’m honest, my pride. So, I cracked it open, half expecting a cliché self-help pep talk. What I got instead was a punch to the ego, a challenge to everything I thought I knew about happiness, and a strangely addictive conversation between a very calm philosopher and a very frustrated young man.

Yes, the whole book is a dialogue. No chapters titled “Step 1: Be Confident” or “Step 2: Love Yourself.” Just two people debating life, trauma, relationships, and freedom. And somehow, it works. In fact, it works really well.

The core message? Your past doesn’t define you. Trauma is not destiny. You are free to choose who you want to be, starting right now.

Now, I know. That probably triggered something in you. It did in me too. My inner voice screamed, But what about childhood wounds? What about unfair bosses and heartbreaks and years of self-doubt?

And the philosopher, with unnerving calmness, says: “None of that determines your life.”

Excuse me, sir?

This is where the book shines. It challenges the status quo. It questions the very foundations of how we understand ourselves. Unlike Freud or mainstream psychology that often ties your present behavior to your past trauma, this book, grounded in Adlerian psychology, suggests that we use our past as an excuse to avoid change. That we aren’t broken, we’re just scared.

Honestly? That stung a little. But in the best way.

The idea that all problems are interpersonal relationship problems really hit home for me. How many times have I adjusted who I am, filtered my words, or overthought a decision just to avoid being disliked? This book didn’t tell me to stop caring. It told me to start choosing whose opinion actually matters.

It wasn’t all sunshine, though. The young man in the book can be a bit whiny, and sometimes the philosopher feels like a Google search come to life. But even in those moments, I found myself relating. I am the young man. I have a million reasons for why I’m stuck. And this book doesn’t argue with me. It invites me to look deeper.

By the time I closed the book, I didn’t feel cured or transformed. I felt uncomfortable. And that, to me, is the mark of something powerful. Because growth doesn’t happen when you’re cozy. It happens when you’re called out with kindness.

So no, I didn’t learn how to be disliked. But I did learn how to stop living for likes. And in a world obsessed with approval, that might be the bravest thing we can do.

[leerose09]

I almost died when I was 5. I swallowed a coin. After that, I just went back to playing like a regular kid.

I almost died when I was 7. I drank gasoline from a Coke bottle because I thought it was real Coke. After that, I played like nothing had happened.

I almost died when I was 10. I drowned in a 7-foot pool. After that, I ate a free Jollibee meal like I had just woken up from a long nap.

I almost died when I was 24. I was in a bus accident. After that, I laughed while everyone else on the bus was crying.

I almost died when I was 26 because of starvation. It was a suicide attempt. I was depressed from the struggles of adulthood; life felt too complicated. After that, four of my siblings got sick with tuberculosis, and I took care of them.

I almost died when I was 34. I was infected with COVID. After that, I drank Yakult.

"Sometimes being alive is an accident."

[leerose09]

I'm drawing again.

[leerose09]

"The moment you stabbed me in the back, fed me lies, wore a mask in front of me, and twisted my sincerity for your own satisfaction—that was the moment I decided you no longer deserved a place in my life. Don’t be shocked by my kindness even in the end. That wasn’t weakness. That was strength. I’m not you—and I never will be."

[leerose09]

You Are the Spark

You wake with the quiet power of sunrise,

carrying dreams like wildflowers in your pocket.

The world waits, unaware of the way your light

softens edges,

frees voices,

plants hope.

Even on the days you doubt yourself,

you still rise—

and that’s where greatness begins.

[leerose09]

My Thoughts on The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

I was immediately drawn to The Midnight Library because of its premise—being able to explore different versions of your life based on the choices you didn’t make. That idea alone hooked me. Like many of us, I’ve often wondered how things might have turned out if I’d made different decisions, and the thought of a library full of those alternate lives felt magical.

The library setting was beautiful in its symbolism—quiet, infinite, full of possibility. And I liked how Nora, the main character, gradually comes to terms with her regrets and learns to value her current life more. That part felt honest and heartfelt.

But where the book fell short for me was in its attempt to be philosophical. It brings up some big ideas—about the meaning of life, regrets, choice, and purpose—but I didn’t feel like it truly explored them. The references to philosophy felt more like quotes dropped in rather than integrated insights. I didn’t get the sense that the author really engaged with the depth of the questions he was raising.

That said, the story is comforting. It’s a gentle reminder that we don’t need to live a perfect life to live a meaningful one. But for someone who loves both fiction and philosophy, I hoped for more depth and nuance.

Still, I don’t regret reading it. It’s an easy, emotionally honest book that might hit the right spot for someone going through a hard time. Just maybe not for readers who want to wrestle with the big questions on a deeper level.