[SandilearnstoBlog.]

Ask.   Nope. Not a minimalist.
i'm a messy lass.
in a very awesome way.

The Sampaloc Chronicles
Life is bittersweet, they say. It never is the same flavor all the time. Funny how I am able to write sober thoughts in my most drunk moments. And believe me, I’ve been trying real hard to search Sampaloc’s english name only to figure out (drumroll) it’s tamarind.
This we begin by defining where I’m coming from. I am in a much hurry to grow up. I guess we all are. We began by wearing lipstick when we were 5 for girls, or maybe boys too. Then fitting the ever ill-fitted garments of our parents which are our today’s precious inheritance. Then rushed into relationships, rushed into things that seemed new to us, rushed into instances that our parents ever diligently reminded us to avoid. But that is part of growing up. We rush then we slow down, then we stop.
Sampaloc is, well, sour.
We suck it, then spit.
It’s got a crusty shell.
We crack it, then lick it.
So many ways of eating it, combining it with our favorite dishes. But the truth is, we never eat it as is. Its too sour. we put salt, sugar, etc.
We crave for it, yet we don’t want it naked.
Point is, we might be missing a lot. Girls, we put too much make-up. We want beauty, no matter how futile it is, but we never wanted beauty as is. We never want our face bare. You see, we will soon grow old and no amount of make up can cover up our wrinkles, our midlife crises, our longing, regrets, chances and opportunities we missed, the love we let go, the one that got away, the fear, and all the curses brought about by old age. No matter how sour our faces look like, no matter how sour we taste like, it is us.
no need for sugar-coating.
Yes some may suck us, then spit us afterwards,
some would crack our shells but may not be interested with what’s inside.
Some would never want us alone, they want us combined with others.
They enjoy us while enjoying another.
But when they realize that the sourness is gone, they will look for it, hungry, mad. For the sweet alone will never satisfy they clamor for sting, for kilig. 

But one last note, let us wait to be ripe. Cheers to a bittersweet life.

The Sampaloc Chronicles

Life is bittersweet, they say. It never is the same flavor all the time. Funny how I am able to write sober thoughts in my most drunk moments. And believe me, I’ve been trying real hard to search Sampaloc’s english name only to figure out (drumroll) it’s tamarind.

This we begin by defining where I’m coming from. I am in a much hurry to grow up. I guess we all are. We began by wearing lipstick when we were 5 for girls, or maybe boys too. Then fitting the ever ill-fitted garments of our parents which are our today’s precious inheritance. Then rushed into relationships, rushed into things that seemed new to us, rushed into instances that our parents ever diligently reminded us to avoid. But that is part of growing up. We rush then we slow down, then we stop.

Sampaloc is, well, sour.

We suck it, then spit.

It’s got a crusty shell.

We crack it, then lick it.

So many ways of eating it, combining it with our favorite dishes. But the truth is, we never eat it as is. Its too sour. we put salt, sugar, etc.

We crave for it, yet we don’t want it naked.


Point is, we might be missing a lot. Girls, we put too much make-up. We want beauty, no matter how futile it is, but we never wanted beauty as is. We never want our face bare. You see, we will soon grow old and no amount of make up can cover up our wrinkles, our midlife crises, our longing, regrets, chances and opportunities we missed, the love we let go, the one that got away, the fear, and all the curses brought about by old age. No matter how sour our faces look like, no matter how sour we taste like, it is us.

no need for sugar-coating.

Yes some may suck us, then spit us afterwards,

some would crack our shells but may not be interested with what’s inside.

Some would never want us alone, they want us combined with others.

They enjoy us while enjoying another.

But when they realize that the sourness is gone, they will look for it, hungry, mad. For the sweet alone will never satisfy they clamor for sting, for kilig. 


But one last note, let us wait to be ripe. Cheers to a bittersweet life.

— 1 year ago
#sampaloc  #asim  #sour  #food  #life  #beauty  #relationships  #growing up  #tamarind 
How I fell in love with FOOD.

i am born with big-bones (arab genes usually carry them). Since kinder, I would always be at the very end of the line during flag ceremonies, arranged by height. My classmates, all skinny and averagely tall would tease me, well a little more than teasing but I don’t consider it bullying. i was different. in a very good way.

THEN ATE VERON STARTED IT ALL.

We had this teen kasam-bahay who cooks really well, and really often. We almost always eat rice during snack time! (yeah,yeah, a mortal sin for dietetics but saying NO ain’t really an option) she knew almost all recipes.

and that kept on happening for YEARS.

long story short——>me got fat. but not that fat. JUST FAT.

but i cant blame ate Veron for her astounding cooking skills. i just allowed myself to dig in almost every chance there is, well, food.

Then my friend JOYCE  started a fashion blog. i had lot’s of free time i swear. i wanted to spend my time on something i love, just like how joyce found hers-FASHION. 

Right now i have no idea where to start, but as long as i carry my cam, there’s always a story to tell. i believe that food is company and comfort to emotions, and that is exactly what i want to prove.

Sooo. recent news about me:

1. recently had a break up

2. passionately winning a break up.

3. keeping myself busy to forget about break up

4. i eat to love ( i dunno how the hell i came up with that)

5. well, its obvious, this is about FOOD and relationships, and love, and bullshits, and parents, and school, and deadlines, and PMS cramps, and sex, and pets, and everything. Because food is the only thing we can’t break up with. All those “DONT LEAVE ME! I CANT LIVE WITHOUT YOU!” whiners, learn. Eat up.

— 1 year ago with 3 notes
#food  #foodology  #stories  #relationships  #getting fat  #love  #food lovers 
I Once Dated A Writer and

ofheightsandhollows:

Writers are forgetful,
but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date…
They remember every story you’ve ever told them -
like ever,
but forget what you’ve just said.
They don’t remember to water the plants
or take out the trash,
but they don’t forget how
to make you laugh.
.
Writers are forgetful
because
they’re busy
remembering
the important things.

(via heyfadi)

— 1 year ago with 397446 notes

these are barely 19-year old photos i found from my photo albums. i wonder where my baby stuffs are.

— 2 years ago with 4 notes
#baby  #photography  #antiques  #youth  #family  #low key  #high key 

this is my first time to witness the civic parade here in Naga. i always thought that the event would cause me enormous trouble and traffic, however, i ended up enjoying all the colors and friendly people who assumed i was tourist! haha.. 

— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#photography  #colors  #fiesta  #food  #smile  #photowalk  #streets  #parade 

6 in the morning. no make-up, no fancy wraps, just the sunrise on my skin.

— 2 years ago