Fragments of the Quiet Mind

I never realized how deeply clothes could carry judgment until the moment I wore someone else’s story — not my own. Garments are not mere fabric; they are the silent language of power and belonging. To wear something is to submit, willingly or not, to the narratives others assign you. The politics of clothing is a quiet violence — a coercion that shapes not just appearance, but identity itself. We blame the wearer, as if the thread is woven with guilt, as if the choice to dress is a confession of allegiance or defiance. Yet the fabric never lies; it only reflects the invisible hands that weave society’s rules. Judging fabric is easier than unraveling the threads of power. We dress each morning not just for weather or work — but for safety, for translation, for code-switching. Clothes are the unspoken treaties between self and society, signed in silence. And still, no matter how carefully you dress, you cannot undress someone else's assumptions. Clothes do not clothe us. They dre...

1.  Hindi ang pagsisimba kada Linggo o ang pagdarasal kada oras ang basehan ng pagiging mabuting tao kundi kung papaano ang aplikasyon ng pananalig at pananampalataya ng tao sa kanyang pamumuhay. Ang pananalig ay di nakikita kung gaano kalaki ang loyalty mo sa religion mo kundi kung gaano kalalim ang connection mo sa pinaniniwalaan mo . Hindi lamang sa simbahan maaring makita ang Maykapal kundi ito’y makikita rin sa atin kalooban. Minsan kailangan lang nating manahimik saglit at makinig, eventually, mararamdaman din natin yung connection. 2. " The universe is not made up of atoms, it is made up of tiny stories " ika nga ni Joseph Gordon-Levitt  sa kanyang children's book na the Tiny book of Tiny Stories, sabayan pa natin ng "The world is made up of facts, not of things" na sinabi ng pilosopong si Wittgenstein sa kanyang Tractatus. Napaka radikal na sabihing ang pisikal na anyo ng mundo ay walang katotohanan, di naman yan ang punto. Maganda ding pagisipan na s...

Ang hirap magpakabait, o magkunwaring mabait.  Pero bago humusga, di ko naman sinasabing saksakan ako ng sama.  Tao din naman ako, may pakiramdam at sa pakikiramdam, dito ko nararanasang mairita paminsan minsan sa mga taong pilit nangingialam sa mga bagay bagay na di naman dapat pinakikialaman.  Ang husay at talento ng isang tao ay nakikita sa kanyang gawa at hindi sa salita – at more than this, di dapat ipagpilitan ang kaalaman sa isang taong di pa nalalaman ang syang bagay o ideyang alam mo na. Dapat ganito – di dapat ganyan… ano nga ba ang nararapat? Di bat may kanya kanyang paraan ang mga tao sa paggawa ng isang bagay?  E ano kung mas gusto kong unahing hugasan ang pinggan kesa sa baso? Kanya kanyang trip lang yan at sa bawat trip ay merong rason na sila lamang ang nakakaalam kung bakit.  E ano kung jacket ang tawag ko sa ‘bolero’ o kaya anong pakialam mo kung ‘tights’ ang tawag ko sa compression pants?  Ang pakikisama sa ibang tao ay isang art – at...

The self-righteous-religious-fanatic who keeps on using the name of God in almost all her sentences and yet gossips about the life of others. A preacher who keeps on telling us about a merciful God and yet talks about punishment and how souls are hell-bound if ‘donations’ for the church are not made. (which gives me two points for reconsideration:  First, it’s an implicit way of saying that you must join their religion if you want to be saved,  and secondly, donations are defined with a specific percentage of your income.) ok, I don’t intend to wage a war against beliefs here, all I am trying to imply is that donations should be done wholeheartedly. Some does that, but I doubt if everyone really gives the ‘real’ percentage of their income.  Incidentally, faith without reason breeds mediocrity, and religions nowadays are doing the exact opposite of what Jesus preached. (or what they are really meant to do.) Quoting the song Holy Wars by Megadeth: Brothers will kill brot...

There are people who don’t look at you — they watch you. And there’s a difference. Looking is human. Watching is something else. It’s that strange hunger that lingers in the shadows of civility — quiet, but not kind. You can feel it in the silence between “how are yous” and the hollow click of a like that doesn’t mean I see you , but rather I’m keeping count. Watching, always watching — not out of care or curiosity, but calculation. They say envy is a mirror held by the weak. But no one warns you what it’s like to live under its gaze. There’s something profoundly unnerving about being perceived through someone else’s unfinished wounds. You become a reflection of everything they buried — their doubts, their failed chances, the versions of themselves they gave up on. And still, they watch. Not because they care who you are, but because they cannot bear that you’ve become something they didn’t have the courage to imagine for themselves. It’s not hatred, exactly. It’s fascin...

I'm really not into waiting... in fact, i detest it. At this moment, i am waiting for the rain to stop (because i'm too vain to bring my umbrella when i left the house this morning. I kinda thought that my my prophetic prowess can control the weather.) As I gaze at unfamiliar faces, it's kinda silly how they attempt to run through the rain when in fact, it's futile to brave this kind of weather. People rushing to go home, all too busy with their matters-of-consequences...  Pitying these people as i try to Justify the Cartesian idea that these people are engrossed with nothing but metaphysical illusions of reality. Do their matters of consequences really matter? The heck...agawid ak ketdin.