Giving in to Social Pressure

A few weeks ago, my mother and I decided to visit this new supermarket 15 minutes from where we lived. I have a thing for groceries. There’s a certain way how products are placed. Each display entices the customer to buy something that they don’t need. It’s this placement of products that interests me.

Our original plan was to go food tripping in UP Town Center, the new place for food, fashion, and other things. Katipunan is known for its variety of restos and cafés. It’s literally a university town, and most of the students are from wealthy families looking for a dish or cup to satisfy their taste buds.

We crossed to St. Marc Café to get some appetisers. I suggest you order their matcha latte and the matcha Daifuku Chococro. Those were AMAZING.

We walked in and out of shops, looking at stuff we would never buy. I saw a Fujifilm X-T10, and the price made me realise that it almost costs as much as my mother’s surgery.

I mentioned earlier that a lot of the students come from well-off families. Classes were canceled that day (I think) and a number of them went to UP Town. I dressed pretty normally and pretty decently, decent enough to blend in I suppose.

The only thing I ignored were my shoes. I wore Crocs that day, not the obviously hideous ones that everyone hates (I own a pair and still use them btw) just a different type.

I don’t know why but I was overly conscious of my feet. Was it because it had holes on the sides to allow easy breathing? No. I hate closing off my feet to the air, so having my trotters tread true was the least of my worries. What was it then? Was it the shoes themselves?

I caught myself looking at these students’ shoes. Adidas, Nike, Reebok, New Balance, Puma, Onitsuka. Canvas, synthetic, leather. High-top, low-top, slip-on. Red, white, blue, yellow. As I saw more and more of these amazing shoes, my feet felt more and more naked.

I knew no one cared about what shoes I was wearing. I knew no one was looking at my feet. No one was telling me that I had terrible taste in casual fashion. Yet the sensation ate me away. Invisible eyes were ridiculing me of how stupid I looked. It felt like I was transported back to when I first arrived in the Philippines, a person who chose to be different then outcasted and judged.

We walked into a sneaker store with shelves on shelves of NBs that I’ve never seen. One pair caught my eye. It was simple, comfortable, and not that heavy on the wallet. I love NB; I think NB makes the best-looking sneakers. I’ve always wanted to buy a pair, but stores never had my size. This store did. So I bought them.

I love the style, they were fairly “cheap,” they were simple and unobtrusive (which I look for in a shoe), and super comfortable. But I felt guilty. I felt guilty buying these shoes even though the only con was that I spent money. I bought them because I wanted to feel good. A social anxiety coupled with nakedness fueled by a materialistic solution gave birth to this guilt.

I took a picture of the shoes I bought. I don’t know why I did it. Probably because I felt so good. I felt so great that I didn’t realise I had created an emotional crutch. I wish I had bought these shoes under better circumstances. I feel guilty yet safe each time I wear them. It’s like alcohol really. It comforts you and kills you.

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I Was Doing Well Until You Came Along

Remember the girl I had a dream about, the one with the cherry blossoms and stuff? I kinda have this problem with her. Ever since that dream, my mind has been filling up with her likeness, and I honestly can’t stop thinking about her. For a while it seemed that I finally found THE person. I was a bit happy whenever I thought about it. Then, it just got out of hand.

It (not she, because she didn’t directly cause this) was beginning to negatively affect my performance at uni. I had a long ass time to think on how I was going to deal with this. It was difficult since she doesn’t know how I think about her, nor does she know that she’s causing all these internal aggravations. One night, I texted this to her (parentheses notes are not included in the text):

I need you to stay away from me for a while. I’ve started doing this (the staying away part) all ready. You’re literally on my mind 24/7, and I seriously cannot handle it. It’s all ready beginning to negatively affect me in my academics and my workload in the BSG (batch student government) doesn’t help either. It obviously isn’t your fault since you did nothing, ‘though that is the pleasant irony of it all. I’m not sure if I do want to tell you the specific reason as to why I’m doing this. If you really wanna know, I can give you two options: a) buy load (since she never has any credits in her phone) and ask me, “Why?” In which I would gladly reply, or b) ask (insert name here), he probably still remembers what I told him. Continue reading “I Was Doing Well Until You Came Along”

God is not a Good Excuse


I’m a Buddhist, and many people know this. Even my father knows this. He seems to have a habit of making arguments that just sound really stupid. I’ll talk about that soon, and I promise to keep this post on topic as much as I possibly can, since I have a tendency to deviate.

A few days ago, I had a talk with my tall-hairy-Italian friend (you know who you are) about my father. And I shall now tell you what I told my friend. As I said from the start, I am a Buddhist, and I have a very open mind to many things (as should everybody else). I have no qualms about any religion. Although, when the people who practice it step over the line, well…

I’m not sure if I wrote this in my blog; my father is now a Born Again Christian. He told me this when I had to pay my respects to a relative who passed away this year. So, anyway. For some reason, he is now much more eager to convert me back to Christianity. Oh, the things we discussed that day. He was so silly and fallacious, quite funny even when you dissect the structures of his arguments. Oops, off topic again. Continue reading “God is not a Good Excuse”

There is no Gold at the end of the Rainbow


I’ve been at breaking point for the past two weeks. Around eight days ago, I called Ateneo de Manila University to see if my application for transferee was granted. I woke up as early as I could, because I knew that there would be a long line of people trying to get in touch with their admissions office. I redialed and redialed. They picked up the phone.

“May I please know the status of transferee for [insert name here], please?”
“Please hold, sir.”
“Okay.”
A few seconds pass
“Hello, sir?”
“Yes.” I answered.
“I’m sorry, you were not accepted.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Thank you for calling, sir.”
“Thank you.” I put the phone down.

I sat quietly for a couple of minutes, staring at the phone. I couldn’t believe what I heard. The only thing that was going through my head was, how could this happen? I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t accepted. It caught me so much in disbelief that I actually sat in silence. Continue reading “There is no Gold at the end of the Rainbow”

When The Conditions Are Too Perfect

Written on March 24

Today was a rainy day. I love the rain. It makes everything nice and cool to the skin; it’s quite relaxing. The sound of the raindrops on the leaves are so therapeutic. So how did I respond to this? I popped the kettle on the stove and made myself a cuppa tea, and warmed up some sweet ensaymada that my mom brought with her from Cebu. I switched on my laptop, threw my headphones on and worked on my final papers for my classes.

Everything was going swimmingly until my iTunes chose to play ART-SCHOOL. For you to understand what I’m going to share to you, you have to listen to one of their songs. It’s a Japanese band by the way.

Continue reading “When The Conditions Are Too Perfect”