ysapawithfeelings - Tumblr blog

[ysapawithfeelings]

Something sweet from something sour

I remember a certain incident every now and then, but I thought it’d be best to share it today—on Grandparents Day.

My paternal grandmother, my Lola Nene, passed away in 2014. I really can’t believe it’s been a decade. There are times I still talk to her, usually while I’m praying. I know she’s happy, healthy, and Parkinson’s-free in heaven. Plus she’s with the love of her life, my Lolo Vic. That always consoles me.

——

When I was four years old, she asked me to accompany her one afternoon to Eunilaine. It was a small grocery store along Kalayaan Avenue. I was still an only child then, and my parents were relatively new medical doctors, so most of the time I’d spend time with my Lola.

So anyway, my Lola had a grocery list, and while she attended to that, for some bizarre reason, I started dancing to whatever 90s music was playing in the store. Been clumsy since I was born, so naturally, it wasn’t very surprising that when I twirled and raised my hands to the air, somehow I ended up breaking bottles of vinegar. And not just a handful. We’re talking rows and rows of extremely sour liquid, all escaping their bottles, as the bottles themselves shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor. (Ewan ko ba kung bakit noong unang panahon, nasa babasaging bote ang sukà.)

Of course store attendants rushed to the aisle where I was. Maybe there was a little bit of commotion because that also got my Lola’s attention. I don’t remember her even asking me what happened; she just told the personnel that she’ll “take care of it”. She looked at me and gave a little smile. No trace of anger nor disappointment—just a little smile. She probably saw how pale, fearful, and sorry I felt because she slyly told me, “Secret lang natin ito. Hindi na natin sasabihin sa mommy at daddy mo, para hindi ka na pagalitan! Basta mag-iingat ka at huwag na masyadong makulit sa susunod.” (“We’ll keep this a secret. We won’t have to tell your parents, so they won’t reprimand you! Just be more careful next time.”)

I couldn’t believe how kind she was! I knew she was a good Lola, but it was at that exact moment I knew she was THE BEST. She quietly settled the bill. She did not even try to reason nor negotiate with any of the staff. I have no idea how much she had to pay for the vinegar. I was so young then, and I remember worrying that the accident might have costed her one hundred thousand pesos. Hahaha!

We walked back to the house, holding hands. And all my four-year-old brain could think of was, SHE’S MY HERO. It didn’t take that long before that thought found its way to my heart. And stayed there forever.

The secret stayed a secret between us—up until I told my parents a few years ago during a random conversation about things from the past. They were both in awe. My dad may have been a little teary-eyed, but he did a good job of hiding it.

Happy grandparents day to all the grandparents, to those who have passed and to those who are still here. But most especially to my Lola Nene, who had the biggest heart filled with love, kindness, and grace. So much grace.

I miss her so much.

[ysapawithfeelings]

Never Not Thinking of Nyhavn

There are so many beautiful cities in the world, but Copenhagen currently sits on top of my list. I was in CPH early this year, and I honestly found it so difficult to go back home.

There are so many famous spots that captured my heart, but for now, let me share some photos I took of Nyhavn. Nyhavn is a famous canal dating back to the 17th century, where you'll find brightly colored houses, restaurants, coffee shops, souvenir stalls, bars, and old buildings. It's easy to let yourself get lost and just basically bask in admiring every single thing around–it's truly a feast for the eyes! You can also find a lot of historical wooden ships that have existed for hundreds of years, evoking feelings of joy and wistfulness at the same time.

I could sit and gaze at this wonderland forever. If a cup of coffee wasn't so expensive, I would've kept buying so I'd have something to drink while staring. Isn't it nice to slow down once in a while and just take it all in: the place, the weather, the people, and the lightness of being? 

I hope you all have been to a place that makes time stand still, where you feel nothing but awe and gratitude for simply being there. A place that you would go back to in a heartbeat.

A place you'd always yearn for.

[ysapawithfeelings]

Adieu and merci, August! <3

[ysapawithfeelings]

A House Called Tomorrow By Alberto Ríos

You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen— You are a hundred wild centuries And fifteen, bringing with you In every breath and in every step Everyone who has come before you, All the yous that you have been, The mothers of your mother, The fathers of your father.

If someone in your family tree was trouble, A hundred were not: The bad do not win—not finally, No matter how loud they are. We simply would not be here If that were so. You are made, fundamentally, from the good. With this knowledge, you never march alone. You are the breaking news of the century. You are the good who has come forward Through it all, even if so many days Feel otherwise. But think:

When you as a child learned to speak, It’s not that you didn’t know words— It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many, And it’s hard to choose the words that will be your own. From those centuries we human beings bring with us The simple solutions and songs, The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies All in service to a simple idea: That we can make a house called tomorrow.

What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day, Is ourselves. And that’s all we need To start. That’s everything we require to keep going. Look back only for as long as you must, Then go forward into the history you will make. Be good, then better. Write books. Cure disease. Make us proud. Make yourself proud. And those who came before you? When you hear thunder, Hear it as their applause.

[ysapawithfeelings]

You can have your cake, and eat it too.

The journey from 2020 to present time wasn’t very demure, but it was very mindful.

I remember there were so many days I was confused if what I was tasting was sweat or tears or both. So go ahead and eat some cake, self. Heck, grab a hefty slice. You earned it. :)

[ysapawithfeelings]

You can never go home again.

Last night, because it was raining somewhat hard, I dropped off a close friend (who was also a former work colleague of mine for over a decade) at the lobby of where I used to be employed. Just to set the context: we had dinner; it rained; she had no umbrella. Naturally, I suggested to just drive by ABS-CBN's main building's lobby, so she wouldn't get soaked. I wasn't even going out of my way, so it was truly okay.

Upon entering the gate of the compound, I felt giddy with excitement, and my heart filled with longing. After all, this was my playground for more than 11 years. I invested a lot of hard work and creativity here, not to mention, forged long-lasting friendships as well.

But then to my surprise, the excitement was quickly replaced by some other combination of complex emotions. It honestly felt like going somewhere familiar that’s deeply filled with memories, and good times, and nostalgia, but at the same time, it also felt like that very old life quote rings true:

You can never go home again.

And because I cannot seem to articulately explain what that means, I googled it: “Whether or not you want it to, time marches on. Even if you want things to stay the same, people change; your circumstances change; and you can't ever recreate the memories of your past—so best to accept it and move forward.”

And I have.

God, it took me so long, and there were many times I felt I wouldn't make it, but by some miracle, I did.

And I say all these reflections with grace, humility, gratitude, and love. Always with love.

[ysapawithfeelings]

In Memoriam to the Queen of Sweet Valley

Francine Pascal passed away five days ago, and I just can’t let this week end without paying tribute to my first favorite author, who not only crafted amazing stories I can always fondly associate my childhood and adolescence with, but who also made me fall in love with the world of writing.

I especially loved how the twins were so different, but then I could see my personality as a combination of theirs: wild, bold, reckless, fun-loving, Jessica; serious, conscientious, bookworm Elizabeth. As a little girl, I loved getting lost in those books. I felt like I was part of their world, and their world was my safe space. Kept reading until the publishing stopped, and then started reading again when Sweet Valley Confidential was created—you know, where the controversial affair of Jessica Wakefield and Todd Wilkins happened, which was needless to say, the greatest betrayal one can ever do behind your own sister’s back.

I honestly can’t believe I have in my possession the very first and the 100th Sweet Valley Twins books. I’m such a lucky girl. Special shout-out to my parents who never deprived me of buying these books, even if we did not really have much back then. 

Anyway…I have so much more to say as a huge fan, but it all really boils down to how thankful I am for Francine Pascal’s talent and how generous she was to share it with little girls like me, who dreamt of becoming a writer one day. 

Just a side trivia: two years after I started reading SVT, I actually became the grade school newspaper’s editor-in-chief. And all through high school, I kept writing for the school paper. Got a writing degree in college, and yep, you’ve guessed it—ended up making a living out of it. Writing’s deeply ingrained in my DNA. And reading Francine Pascal’s books as a child was definitely what set the stage for that.

Thank you, and I truly salute you, ma’am. You are forever immortalized in your books and forever remembered in your stories. I will cherish them always and always. 

[ysapawithfeelings]

Teleporting back to 2018

Dear 2018 self,

I can’t deny I miss you sometimes and the kind of life you were leaning to back then, but I also can’t deny how thankful I am for how far you’ve come. Is it possible to feel proud and humbled at the same time? I think there are very rare intersection points in one’s life when that can happen.

I look back and I can still feel the pain and anguish of dealing with polycystic ovaries: the obesity, the hairy arms, the falling hair, the persistent acne, the severe bleeding that lasted weeks-on-end, the anemia and fluctuating blood sugar, the constant struggle of enduring dysmenorrhea, the medicines (oh God, the medicines); the self-worth questioning, the self-loathing, the horrible days you just didn’t want to be around people, but you really had no choice. Hey, the list can go on all day.

I feel like hugging you and assuring you everything will turn out okay. That you will go through hell and back and back again, but you will make it. That the quest of rediscovering yourself and the lengths of what you can do to fulfill THAT is amazing; and that starting over from scratch at 30+ years of age is not only possible—it’s doable. Gasgas na itong linyang ‘to, but it only gets even truer with time: what a journey it has been.

To everyone suffering from PCOS and obesity, I see you. You’re not alone. The fight against it will, unfortunately, last forever—because it can come back. Every now and then, I feel paralyzing fear that it will come back, especially when I know I’ve gained weight. Still, there are days I refuse to move at all because exercise is not only exhausting; it can get pretty boring. Aminin na natin. :p

But that’s why it’s so important to look back. I think that’s the secret weapon. The secret ingredient. The secret that’s not really a secret because everyone has known it all along. Lumingon para maalalang malayo pa, pero malayo na.

Mahigpit na yakap sa lahat ng mga may problema sa matres, sa timbang, sa mga kamag-anak o kakilala nating mahilig pumuna ng mali o kulang sa’yo (kahit wala namang silang kahit anong ambag sa buhay mo), at higit sa lahat: sa pagiging babae. Womanhood is A LOT of things; being easy will never be one of them.

I write this letter with love and forgiveness for my 2018 self. I may weigh some kilos less now, but I will keep on looking back and loving you more each time that I do. And I write this letter with love for all the women battling against this f*cking ugly disease. We can fight it together. Let’s root for each other.

Love,

2024 me

[ysapawithfeelings]

The Seventh Friend

I know a lot of people consider 2020 as one of the worst years to ever exist. It’s no different for me. Siguro ang OA—because I was never really one to be nonchalant—but there were some very distinctive days and nights of 2020 when things felt so unbearable for me that I just wished for the earth to open and devour me alive. To be fair, I really lost a lot of things I deeply valued for so long. I lost some people too, people I thought I would grow old with, friends I thought would never betray me.

Don’t even get me started with the countless ‘pity parties’, moments of struggling with impostor syndrome, and bursting into tears that just basically struck any time and any where. It stayed that way until probably first half of 2021. One of the things that brought me joy was Friends.

I first watched Friends back in grade school and high school. While I always admired the spectacular humor of the sitcom, let me tell you something: it’s different to watch it as a full-grown adult—and a miserable, petrified adult at that. I was going through hell, and in the midst of it, I rediscovered Friends (thanks, Netflix!) and found comfort in THE SIX. I would watch maybe 5 or 6 episodes a day, and before I knew it, I was done with all the 10 seasons.

It’s no secret that when Matthew Perry died last year, I cried like I knew him—because it honestly felt that way. I just finished reading his memoir few months before his untimely death. It still breaks my heart every time it dawns on me I will NEVER see the core cast complete again. I always had a sinking feeling about their reunion in 2021 being the last one, and true enough, it would be.

Anyway, ang dami ko nang sinabi. Gusto ko lang naman i-share yung galak ko for these Friends merch. :p

Thank you, 2020. You gifted me with a lot of fuckery. Iba ka. Mahirap kang pantayan.

And thank you, FRIENDS. You were my friends at a time when seeing, hugging, and laughing with my real-life friends were forbidden. Thanks for ‘being there’ for me. I’m keeping you in my heart’s treasure box forever. :)

[ysapawithfeelings]

Flashback Friday to Four Years Ago

I remember how intense my emotions were while writing the text (poem?) below: sadness, rage, impending grief (because we all knew what was to come), and immeasurable fear. I just couldn’t see how I could ever start my life from scratch at 30+ years of age.

Jump cut to now: I’m happy that you’re doing well as I am. Thriving, innovating, embracing change. I may not be in the compound anymore, but I remain thankful and always rooting for you—even from a distance. <3

-----

An Ode to the Tower

A life-changing break up.

A family problem that almost did not get resolved.

A verbal warning. A memorandum.

Losing faith and finding it again.

Drunk-driving after Homer’s, Gerry’s or anywhere near the compound.

A death in the family.

Two deaths of beloved pets.

Births of new beloved pets.

Several car troubles.

A thousand crying bouts. Sometimes, a friend’s. Sometimes my own.

A secret stairwell bearing witness to agony.

Sleeping at the editing bay. Sleeping at my desk. Sleeping on a mattress that nobody owned.

Cigarettes at the third floor.

Losing my wallet at the ground floor.

Coffee jelly at 9501.

A hundred thousand rants but never leaving.

Starbucks that blew up my weight—with my permission.

Getting promoted.

Pork steak at the Loop.

Seeing the far ends of the country.

Travelling to other countries, but always looking forward to coming home.

(Re)discovering the kind of love I actually need and deserve.

Knowing the worst people. Knowing the best people. Knowing my own self’s worsts and bests.

Telling the Filipino’s real life story.

Avoiding to cry while telling their story.

Writing, writing, writing.

Previewing, monitoring, keeping things in check.

Getting polycystic ovaries. Getting sick.

Twelve shows. Twelve opportunities to serve the people.

Empathizing with colleagues.

Loving colleagues that turned out to be true friends, true friends that turned out to be family.

A home away from home.

A family that wasn’t given. A family that you chose.

And for the past eleven years and counting, I have no memories without you.

I hope I never will.

Written by yours truly, 12 July 2020

[ysapawithfeelings]

Intersection Point

Catching up with your parents after being away for some time hits different.

So glad and grateful we’re in this era where we discuss issues—sensitive or not—like we’re the closest of friends. I really cherish these ‘adult’ conversations because the nuggets of wisdom you get from your folks are truly underrated. I gotta tell you, there would be precious intersection points where you’d all see eye-to-eye. And it’s one of the best feelings ever.

Also, there are very special instances where they would even acknowledge that they learned something new from you, or that you made them change their minds about something they’ve believed in for so long—humbly and thankfully admitting that times have immensely changed and that there are certain beliefs they should be open to dismantle, disagree with, or even change as well.

All these to say that my parents are also my best friends. We protect each other through and through. <3

What a gift.

[ysapawithfeelings]

I keep an eye out.

Sometimes, I keep an eye out: in the middle of blinding traffic, in maybe about 10 seconds when the blur has lifted, when there’s a car as silver as a spoon, when there’s someone who drives like you would. Safely. Carefully.

Sometimes, I keep an eye out: in the old, familiar mall where we used to meet; in its old, familiar corners where we probably stole a kiss or two, and held hands like the lovers we once were, and believed we’d forever be.

Sometimes, I keep an eye out: in pathways where you used to jog, in restaurants we used to love or hate; along the roads and alleys leading to your house. Where you used to work, where I used to work, where you would fetch me after a long hard day, and it just meant the world.

Sometimes, I keep an eye out: for hands that may look familiar–veins and lines and slender fingers, for distinctive collarbones, for arms, for napes, for skin, for hair, for a piercing glance, or a pair of specs; for a lingering scent, for the sound of a laugh I’m not even sure I could still accurately remember.

And sometimes I catch myself when I keep an eye out; I reprimand my silly heart and my even sillier brain. Hand-in-hand, they sometimes plunge too deeply into the past, into the driveways of long ago, a web of many special places that only crumple into a ball of yearning, a place in time, a place one couldn't–and shouldn’t go back to.

Oh yes, I keep an eye out. And sometimes, I hold myself back before I even do. Sometimes, I succeed; and the day thankfully carries on as it should. But at times, I can only punish myself– once the memory is done inducing all kinds of feelings, leaving me unforgivably vulnerable and bone-weary spent.

And while my eyes are reckless and restless, they never play tricks on me. I see the world as it is: a world full of uncertainties, but certainly a world without you. Even at times when I would suddenly (sinfully?) wish to see you. Hard as I might to will it. I just never do.

Do you keep an eye out for me sometimes too?

[ysapawithfeelings]

YSA PA, with feelings turned 2 today!

[ysapawithfeelings]

Just snaps of me being a happy tourist =)

Sometimes, I still can’t believe I was in Europe when this year began. So grateful I was able to do this in my ‘30s. TYL! You truly make the seemingly impossible, possible. <3

[ysapawithfeelings]

Three Years of Befriending Change

Three years. Wow, let that sink in. The journey has been so fast and so slow at the same time, and what a ride it truly has been. Sometimes, I feel I changed so much; other times, I feel like I am more me than I’ve ever been. Confusing, right? That’s what massive chunks of adjustment would do to you, I guess.

Before 2020, I think I had my life pretty much figured out. It wasn’t perfect, but I knew what I wanted. I knew where I was headed. And cocky as it sounds, I was quite sure on how it was all going to end. But when the pandemic made its grand entrance—plus some other external factors—all my plans were shattered. Just like that. Life’s funny that way. From being so used to having things within my control, everything was suddenly stripped out of my hands. I got robbed of a life I carefully built myself around.

Tabula rasa. A clean slate. So clean and so spotless that it was insanely scary. Change is, more often than not, scary. That phase of my life was so dark, that truth be told, I wouldn’t wish it even on my worst enemy. However, I eventually realized in hindsight, that the fear of the unknown can be leveraged as a fuel to befriend change. It’s a tedious process to get there though. First, you have to hate it, then grieve for it, sit beside its discomfort, listen to it, take its hand, and finally, embrace it. There’s just no other way. Believe me, being stubborn led me absolutely nowhere.

Traveling was also one of the things I loved doing that was put on hold for three years due to the pandemic. Even when the lockdowns stopped and the restrictions loosened, I felt this lingering fear to put myself on a plane. But last year, I took a leap of faith and went somewhere nice for my birthday. It felt so good; it’s like finally exhaling after holding my breath for so long. I happily welcomed the parts of myself back that I set aside for a while.

I know you’re probably wondering why I’m jumping from embracing change to traveling. I’m not sure too, hahaha! But maybe the snapshots below can do the explaining for me. These are a couple of random photos of me at Accenture offices abroad. Somehow, while I was wandering in Fukuoka and Copenhagen, I ended up passing by these offices—both by chance, in different seasons. It’s like the Cosmos was ridiculously reminding me that work was waiting for me back home.

AND that change, although inevitable, can surprise you with its generosity. How? It actually allows you to keep some parts of yourself the same, while giving you more room to grow and more space to thrive in. It’s still you, but a rebranded version of you, with an upgraded life. And it’s all because of the overwhelming process, all the new things you learned (willingly and/or begrudgingly), all the experiences, all the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows stitched together.

While I’m still afraid of change, I no longer see it as an enemy. I see it as a necessity. And if it takes my hand, I will let it. Hopefully, with less doubt and more graciousness. <3

[ysapawithfeelings]

Marvelous Malmö

Perhaps when we think of Sweden, Stockholm's always the first city we associate with it. Malmö is not so bad, if you give it a chance. In fact, just a short walk away from the Malmö Central Station, two art installations captured my attention, and well, my heart.

The first is The Knotted Gun. Definitely not what a normal gun looks like, The Knotted Gun’s end of barrel twists into a giant knot. Created by Swedish artist Carl Fredrik Reuterswärd, this giant bronze depiction of a Colt Python .357 magnum revolver is both a symbol of peace and a call for non-violence. ☮️ The artwork stemmed from an immense inspiration, following the tragic murder of John Lennon in 1980. Lennon always had a vision of a peaceful world. 🕊️ As I kept gazing at it, I couldn't help but have his song Imagine play in my head, with these lyrics in particular:

Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people Living life in peace

Meanwhile, just a few steps away from The Knotted Gun is the Spectral Self Container. Crafted back in 2012 with die-cast aluminum and varnished in multiple colors to withstand adverse weather conditions, this installation symbolizes youthfulness, joy, and creativity. 🎨 Props to artist and designer Matti Kallioinen, this sculpture has given more life to Anna Lindhs plats, where different business establishments are located . 

PS: Please don't mind my outfit. The weather was unforgiving that day at -6 degrees, paired with the biting wind that wouldn't stop howling all around me—hence the crazy layers. 

[ysapawithfeelings]

You say Dubai, and I say hello.

I spent the recent holidays (post Christmas and New Year's) in Copenhagen, and on the way back to Manila, I had a 13-hour layover in Dubai. I knew beforehand that waiting that long in the airport would drive me nuts, so I secured a temporary visa a little less than three weeks before my flight. But here's the catch: my layover began after midnight. A lot of shops were, of course, closed. This, however, did not stop me from exiting DXB and doing a little bit of exploring on my own. 

While everyone was sound asleep, I was busy gallivanting. Right away I knew the city was more than just a layover. Grateful some establishments remained open late at night and at the wee hours of the morning. Even more grateful I got to see the tallest structure in the world—THE Burj Khalifa. It truly was larger than life. It made me feel so small, but in a good way, if that even makes sense.

I also passed by the Museum of the Future, but unfortunately, I was only able to see the exterior. It was already 2AM by then, and the museum was already closed by 8PM. People say it looks even more spectacular inside, as it showcases how society could possibly evolve in the next decade or so. Meanwhile, the doughnut-like exterior contains Arabic calligraphy designed by Emirati artist Mattar Bin Lahej. One of the writings say, "The future belongs to those who can imagine it, design it, and execute it."

It almost felt like a sin to feel sleepy, when the city felt so alive. If and when I come back, I’ll make sure it won’t be just a pit stop. Shukran, Dubai! شكراً