Fragments of the Quiet Mind

  I once drafted a three-paragraph reply to a message that only said “cool.” Then I deleted it and sent a thumbs-up. Not because the longer version was wrong—but because it felt too much . Too honest, too layered, too likely to be misunderstood in a world that measures meaning by brevity and speed. That blinking “typing…” bubble is its own kind of limbo. A space where we practice vulnerability without risk. A modern confessional booth with no priest on the other side—just the fear of being “seen” the wrong way. It’s easier to live in the anticipation of a message than to deal with its consequences. We’ve mastered the art of holding back. You draft a message to clarify your tone, to explain your silence, to ask a question that matters—and then you close the app. Not because you changed your mind, but because you started imagining the worst possible reply. Or no reply at all. So you send a meme instead. Something safe. Something that doesn’t require anyone to actually respond —ju...

I don't believe in the 5 second rule. I’m anal about germs and bacteria and I fear what could happen to me if I were to pick up a food that fell on the ground and eat it. Most people usually say that it’s okay as long as you do it within 5 seconds (hence the 5 seconds rule.)  People have always bugged and nagged me about it. They usually make fun of my OCD-ish attitude regarding germs. I really dunno if they're just being practical, they want to mess up with me or they're just plain scavenger (slapsoils) ps. pun intended Anyway, this morning, I opened the fridge and saw the box of choco-truffles that my sister sent me and oh boy! CHOCOLATES are my addiction (besides nicotine and caffeine). When I opened the box there were 2 pieces left. Personally, I always save the best for last and so I ate the smaller truffle first. It was heavenly and I was savoring the taste as I closed my eyes and tried to sense the dark chocolate slowly melting inside my mouth as my tongue was savor...

Ang karakter ng isang tao ay di nabubuo in an instant, kundi ito’y nakakamit sa pamamagitan ng mahabang proseso at mas mahaba habang pasensya.  Sa pagbuo ng isang matatag na karakter, kalakip nito ang kawalan, heartaches na nakakapang-emo, masasakit na aral at syempre sandamakmak na kamalian.  Mangilan ngilan lamang ang mga taong kilala kong may malakas na karakter dahil di lahat ay nagnanais makaramdam ng sakit. Ang pinakamagandang istorya ay isinilang mula sa  hindi maipintang dusa at ang pinaka appreciated na pagkapanalo ay yung mga winning moments mo na iniluwal mula sa pasakit. Kanina habang nagkakape, meron akong isang former student na isa na ding instructor ngayon (yehey so proud of her!). Nakiupo sya sa pwesto ko at sabing: “Sir, ibang iba kasi karakter mo kapag nagtuturo ka. Gusto kong gayahin estilo mo.” Bigla kong namiss ang pagtuturo. Mag iisang taon na din pala akong atrophic and I am struggling to make sense of this fudging world.  Habang nag iisip, ...

Today, I learned that … In the company of fools and in trying to make your point be understood by them is as futile as forcing a pig to fly. Never underestimate the ingenuity of fools, or you’ll end up sounding like a total moron. Helping colleagues with their messes will only make your boss call you in her office and give you an hour sermon about responsibility, indifference and how altruism is in fact defined as stupidity. Overthinking is the universe's way of saying “Have a coffee with a friend.” a simple thank you from your colleagues whose asses you just saved despite being scolded by your blood thirsty boss is somewhat soothing. in the silence of the remaining hour at work, uttering a short grateful prayer brings back an equal amount of pain and bliss. a stick on pad with a sunflower and a sun god drawing on it can make a downhearted soul be hopeful. life is full of surprises, the person you don’t expect to be there when you need someone to talk to happens to be the perso...

Is there really a problem? Or am I creating illusions of my problems? My problem – or perhaps, our problem is that we senselessly overthink about matters. We over think and we can’t stop rambling about these things. It’s better if people were like gadgets, just press the power button and we can make everything stop, reboot ourselves and reset buggy programs. We have sharp memories, like a knife that slices up peaceful realities. Sometimes, we act like scalpels that cut up the skin to release festering matter. But most of the times, we are idiots. We cut the flesh just for the sake of cutting it, and to see if we still have the ability to feel. And this is the most punishing moment, when you can no longer see the main reason why we got the knife in the first place. We are like a melodic silent song, one so silent that only us can hear, we move with the imperceptible tune and we sway with the beat. A lovely harmony of natural sounds where our brain willfully harmonizes the notes to craf...

The world is loud.  Deafening, actually.  It’s as if every corner of existence conspires to shatter the eardrums, pushing us to the brink of sensory overload. The noise isn’t just external—it worms its way into the cracks of your thoughts, twisting what should be moments of creativity into something dull, something restless. The kind of noise that fills the spaces where silence should live, leaving you tangled in distractions that don’t really matter. Some people deal with it by posing for the camera, posting selfies, or lying down, scrolling through meaningless quotes on Facebook and Twitter—lines they probably don’t even fully grasp. And then, there are those who let the noise in until it swallows them whole, becoming the very thing that keeps the rest of us awake at night. But honestly, that clamor pales in comparison to the one inside my head. I’ve always been a reflective thinker, maybe even too reflective, lost in ideas that don’t quite make sense even to me. (Okay, I’ll...

I find myself caught in a web of overthinking, a habit that seems ingrained in my logical mind. Perhaps there's really nothing to worry about, just a phantom of paranoia that I've conjured up in my head. It's a maddening cycle, where simple truths get tangled in complex thoughts. But isn't the essence of philosophy—the love of wisdom—to distill the complex into something simple? I can't help but recall *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy* and Deep Thought's cryptic answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything: “Life is paradoxically coincidental to the ironical tyranny applicable to the unparalleled definition of reverse entropy.” I've spent years trying to unpack that phrase, memorizing it, turning it over in my mind as if the key to understanding the cosmos lay hidden within its twisted logic. But what does it really mean? Life, in all its chaotic and spontaneous nature, seems to mock our attempts to impose order and definiti...