The Life of Kye

My last log was in December 2021. Ang dami nang nangyari. (A lot has happened.) Part of me wants to write religiously. But knowing I can't even stick to developing an exercise or a skincare routine makes this goal close to impossible. Here I am gathering my thoughts again while facing the screen, trying to recall the past events since 2022 started.

It's been more than a year since I posted. I feel really strange writing this now. This may be more "brain dump" or rant than article. I've forgotten how therapeutic writing is. It's a coping mechanism to what has been going on. Please bear with me. You'll never really know how people will respond until after you've said what needs to be said. It's difficult to be open about problems and struggles when there is little trust and a large possibility of judgment. This year, we had a very enlightening discussion about respecting other people's boundaries. Walls, windows and doors symbolize the level of privacy or openness when this topic was discussed. The time it was presented the ladies in our group were kind enough to share their own experiences which led to better understanding on how we can build each other up instead of unknowingly discouraging others with our words. As a person, you can't help but build up walls and it's clear people sho

Between self-harm and having a haircut, which would you prefer? I believe that our actions and our appearances are only manifestations of what is going on within us. I have sported many looks over the years, most of them classified under the "pretty", "glamorous", or "safe" category. I have had my hair straightened, curled, but never colored. I've experimented with cutting my own bangs too. The shortest haircut I've had is an asymmetrical bob. It's unusual to have hair that's short on one side and long on the other but I think it worked. It's really hard to pinpoint the reason for having to transition to a new look. Sometimes it's just a spontaneous thing. Upon observation, the more stressed I am, the more tempted I am to cut my hair. My hair receives the punishment, it seems. This idea of going pixie is always dismissed because of, you know, the usual reasons: the Bible wanting women to have long hair, the church, my husband not al

Have you ever made tough decision? I’m writing this not to talk ill of or shame a person. I will not mention names. I believe there’s a moral to this story. And through experience, writing has helped me cope with overwhelming thoughts. To me, clearing my mind is like cleaning out a bag when stuff has accumulated inside. That’s what I’m about to do in this blog post - basically a brain dump. Photo by Joaquin Paz y Miño on Unsplash If you are currently a tenant of a space, or a landlord or landlady, you may very well relate to this post. If you aren’t any of the two, what follows may not interest you as much.

"You teach what you know, but you reproduce what you are." Howard G. Hendricks Photo by Mark Rabe on Unsplash Two years, four semesters. It's quite an experience. I spent a good hour facing the monitor with nothing to write in the draft. How do I describe being in the academe?

Maybe I don’t need to tell you about Hope, my fourth child. You’re thinking. No, not again. Not another miscarriage story. Same thought. I wish this didn’t happen. This is the time to stop reading. Baka ‘di mo kayanin. Close this window now. Read about something else. It’s okay. Hope’s story isn’t for everyone.