A Flicker


It was the second time that I’ve laid my eyes on you, yet it still feels like the first.
You were across the room, almost blocked by the crowd. But you stood out. Your eyes always do. They are perfect almonds with a little pull at the tail.

It’s mesmerizing.

Just like the first time, I know you noticed me.
Just like the first time, I know you were chancing glances at me.


I know. Because I do, too.


I wanted to gaze. I wanted to stop this glancing game and gawk at you. Whether to fully give you the acknowledgement that your glances were too obvious or just to give you a hint that I notice you too, I haven’t deciphered which one. I guess, I haven’t worked up the courage for both so it doesn’t matter. Either way, I know our eyes would lock. I just know it. You’ve made that too obvious by not looking away when I caught your eye.

And it’s silly. It’s silly how I get to be the one to look away when I was the one who caught you. And right after that, I could see with my peripheral vision, the slight tugging of your lips which are forming into a crooked smile.

Or maybe it wasn’t so silly after all.
Because I know exactly why I look away.
Staring games are much more awkward when we don’t even know each other’s names.

And I don’t want us to be awkward. At least, not yet.
I want to know you more first..

Blessed hope: A Work In Progress


I’d like to begin this tale by stating the obvious: I was depressed. Sadness has been puncturing holes in my chest for some time now. The more my mind dwells in it, the more it stabs against the edge of each wound; making the holes grow even larger. As a follower of Christ, I was barren – unable to bear fruit. I felt like a living dead, stuck and stagnant.

I go to school but I don’t study.
I exist in our house but not with my family.
I sing songs of praise but I don’t worship.
I’m alive but I don’t live.

Before, I thought depression was just the absence of a purpose. For some people, this is quite true. But more often than not, losing your so-called purpose can be the side effect of depression; which is a side effect of dying, according to John Green. I guess the soul of my heart had acquired a chronic disease – a cancer, perhaps; rationally speaking, since my heart was turning into a black hole each passing day.

Having said that, depression can be caused by a lot of things, just like mine.
I’ve already laid out one of these in my last post which takes a big portion of why I was depressed. Considering that this month is the universal UP hell month, swimming in a pool of school requirements while trying to cope with my emotions was one hell of a roller coaster ride. I barely even pass. But that’s not the worst news I can deliver. The worst is that I haven’t talked to God during this hardship. And by that, I mean a ‘heart-to-heart’ talk where you meditate in His word and pray. All I do is acknowledge Him in simple pleas like, “Lord, help me. I’m dying.”

And that, my friends, is not enough. I could feel my relationship with Him getting rotten. I was losing it. But the thing is, I was not losing Him. He was not the one slipping away but me. I was running away subtly by avoiding Him. But He’s still there. Waiting for me. Trying to reach me out in every circumstance I’m in which brings me to another series of short stories.

Last week, I went from being “hissailingvessel” to “craftedrestoration.” First of all, I believe that I am still His vessel. But stagnant as I am, I don’t think I’m serving that purpose anymore. I was going through tidal waves of my past that blurs God from my sight. I felt stained and tainted but God spoke to me through Isaiah 61:3. It says, “To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.”
Around this time, a song from my playlist entitled “Bitter/Sweet” by Bethel music starts playing.
YOU MAKE ALL THINGS NEW
YOU TURN THE BITTER INTO SWEET
YOU TURN THE WINTER INTO SPRING
I know what I need – healing and restoration which only God can “craft.” But then I realized, God already knows what’s ahead of my story. He knows my ending. This restoration which I ask has already been “crafted” even before I was born. Hence, “craftedrestoration.

Sometimes, when depression is eating us up, it may feel like nothing is left for us to live. In my case, even though I feel like my relationship with Him is rotten, I know that there’s still this hope inside of me that never lets me go. It’s making me hold on. No matter how pained and miserable I was, there’s still something in my heart that keeps me breathing.

It’s Jesus.

He is actually what I think of when I sing “Last hope” by Paramore. I know it’s not a Christian song, but what matters is the intention of who sings it.
IT’S JUST A SPARK
BUT IT’S ENOUGH TO KEEP ME GOING
AND WHEN IT’S DARK OUT, NO ONE’S AROUND
IT KEEPS GLOWING
When I read “My Heart and Other Black Holes” by Jasmine Warga, I realized that the only thing which fights off depression and death is hope. Hope is what sustains suicidal people.

As you can observe, my username has been changed again. This time, it’s blessed hope. I’m not referring to myself as THE blessed hope which the verse Titus 2:13 is referring to. It’s literally blessed me. For further understanding, let me disclose a revelation I had during a discussion in my Fil 40 class. I was at the back of the room, not entirely listening to the professor’s lecture about the culture of words. One thing struck me at that time though. It was about word play. My mind wandered off.. to some things I don’t recall now and then to my name – Hannah Eunice P. Obrique. Somehow, I’ve managed to associate the topic with my initials = H.E.P.O.

I hated my initials before. It sounded weird when read straight. But at that moment, I was so thankful for it. I was so thankful because, my gally, I found out that reversing the last three initials of my name while leaving the letter H at the front will give me the word H.O.P.E.

It’s amazing. It’s really amazing how God can work wonders in any way possible. Can you imagine? I literally found hope, even in my name. This is a proof that there is no such thing as a bigger miracle than other miracles for everything is a miracle in itself, waiting to be revealed. You just have to look for it. Just like the word “hope” in the initials of my name, the literal “hope” can be always hard to find. But really, when we feel like hope is not there, it actually is.
Because Jesus is our hope.

Take my initials as a constant reminder for that.

My miracle doesn’t end there, however, for God has another revelation for me. It happened yesterday while I was reviewing the answers of the transferees from other schools (non-UPCAT passers who transferred) that I interviewed for my research paper. Their answers amazed me because even though they’re having a harder time here surviving in the university than me, they still bask in happiness and thank God for all the blessings.

I realized how ungrateful I am for focusing on the bad sides (not much friends, hot weather) that I forgot to thank God for what He has done for me. It was as if a bucket of ice water was splashed on me when I realized this. It was even more refreshing (and heart wrenching) when right after that, I attended the Youth Service and the message was all about #blessed which confirms every realization I had. I was reminded of His love, His promise and our covenant. Ahh! Hebrews 13:5 says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

How amazing can this get?!

Grabe lang talaga, I have no words! You Lord, are so amazing! Miracles upon miracles. Whew! For a span 14 days, these phenomenal things have taken place. My heart have shed buckets of tears containing every different emotion my hypothalamus can rack. Right now, I can’t say that I’m totally okay. I know I’m not.. completely. Because healing is a process which includes a lot of pain. But I’m recuperating! The best part is, I’m not crawling unlike before. Now, I’m standing. Because, finally, I’ve recognized the hope who is sustaining me all along. And mind you, it’s easier to fight in this battlefield when you’re standing hand in hand with your Maker.

So yes, I refer to myself as the blessed one – a reminder that I am indeed, blessed. And H.ope – a reminder for myself that there is hope in everything. I might not see it right away, just like with my name which I only realized after 18 years, but it’s there.

This is not actually a victory story. My story doesn’t end here. This is only a chapter of the book God has authored.

A chapter filled with His assurance and sustenance in my life.

Great Love


While I was surfing the internet, I came across this piece – a mother’s love expressed through words and phrases.
Please take time to read this beautifully-written poem and feel the echoes of a mother’s love seep from between the lines and through you.
Just a quick background, the child has a disability. Most probably, autism. 
UNTITLED BY AMANDA POST


MY LITTLE BOY, THIS LOVE OF MINE,
DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO SAY;
PLEASE GIVE ME ROOM FOR EVERY TIME,
HIS WORDS GET IN THE WAY.
YOU WOULD NOT KNOW BY PASSING BY,
THE STRUGGLES EVERYDAY:
BUT TRY TO LOOK HIM IN THE EYE,
YOU’LL SEE IT IN HIS FACE.
YOU MAY NOT UNDERSTAND HOW HARD,
SMALL TASKS IN LIFE CAN BE;
HOW DIFFICULT TO SPEAK ALOUD,
OR LEARN YOUR ABC’S.
AND JUST BECAUSE HE DOESN’T HUG YOU,
OR KISS YOU HI AND BYE;
DOESN’T MEAN HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU,
PLEASE JUST GIVE HIM TIME!
THROUGH ALL THE TANTRUMS, FIGHTS AND TEARS,
I LOOK AT HIM AND SEE;
A LITTLE BOY WITH TONS OF FEARS,
WHO STRIVES FOR NORMALCY.
OF COURSE HE SEES HE’S DIFFERENT,
BUT HE JUST CAN’T SEE WHY;
EVERYBODY’S TIME IS SPENT,
TRYING TO MAKE HIM ‘RIGHT’.
OPEN UP YOUR HEART AND MIND,
AND JUST WATCH QUIETLY;
YOU’LL SEE A BOY WHO’S REALLY TRYING,
JUST WANTS TO BE HAPPY.
HE’S JUST A SCARED LITTLE BOY,
WITH EVERY SIGHT AND SOUND;
I KNOW HE PLAYS WITH JUST ONE TOY,
AND SPINS AROUND AND ROUND.
I KNOW SOMETIMES HE’LL YELL AND SCREAM,
HE SIMPLY CANNOT SAY;
HE IS NOT TRYING TO BE MEAN,
THINGS HAVE TO BE HIS WAY.
ALL HE CAN SAY IS 'IT’S NOT RIGHT’,
SOMETIMES IT SEEMS UNREAL;
HE CAN’T EXPRESS THOUGH TRY HE MIGHT,
TO TELL YOU HOW HE FEELS.
I KNOW THAT HE REPEATS HIMSELF,
AND SOMETIMES OTHERS TOO;
BELIEVE ME THAT DOES REALLY HELP,
ANXIETY TO BE REMOVED.
SO PLEASE BE PATIENT AND BE KIND,
LOVE HIM EVERYDAY;
I KNOW IN YOUR HEART YOU WILL FIND,
A PLACE FOR HIM ALWAYS.
HE IS MY SPECIAL, BEAUTIFUL BOY,
WHOM I LOVE ENDLESSLY;
HE IS MY GIFT, MY LOVE, AND MY JOY
HE’S EVERYTHING TO ME
Amazing, isn’t it? I think I shed a tear or two while reading this. It reminded me so much of myself, a very flawed and dirty person, explicitly loved by our Father. Despite my temporary “spiritual disorders,” His love for me never once wavered and continued to endure.
Wow! Thank you, Lord for using these little things as instruments to show me how much You love me. Truly, nothing will be able to separate me from Your great love!

Unfinished

I’m okay. I think I’m okay. I thought I was okay.
I’ve been trying to keep myself together for the past few days. I go out with good company, overwhelm my senses with an abundance of piled acads, roam around every social media hotel I signed up for, escape into almost every story I have in my bookshelf, stuff coffee and calories in my system.. the list is endless.

You may ask, are these distractions?
Maybe, maybe not. I never really thought of it as that. I do them because I enjoy doing them, not because I need remedy for sadness. And believe me, I do feel happy. (Except for the acads part, those are required)
I am happy. But nothing will take away the fact that I am miserable at the same time. I didn’t know it could be possible, but it is. I’m aware of this gaping hole in my chest, caused by unfinished stories and unanswered questions. I’m aware of how chained I still am to the life and accounts I left in that place. But I’m more aware of this barrier that keeps on hindering me from restoration.
Perhaps it’s for the reason that I’ve been avoiding God; trying to get Him out of the present picture as much as possible. It’s not due to the attitude that I wanted to handle things my way, but because I think I’m just going to waste His time for the millionth time now. I feel unworthy for how insincere my heart is so I’m keeping my distance; all the while, numbness consumes me.
When it does, I feel like I don’t care about the past, the stories and the people.
I feel like cutting all ties, leaving it all behind.
Never looking back, while keeping my head high.
But as soon as this numbness drops, it’s like a tidal wave crashing through me, hitting me face first. And it usually happens before I fall asleep, every single night.
It piles up. Each impact feels greater than the former. And these.. these welling emotions are drowning me inside. They are toxic. Just like poisoned food, I want it out of my system.
But how?

The Sunday Currently | 03


re – reading
“Maybe Someday” by Colleen Hoover. I’ve read this book countless times and each experience always feels like the first one.  

eating
Italian spaghetti! Yum yum

thinking
about a bunch of things I need to accomplish for school. I feel like I’m on an unreliable boat trying to navigate through the black ore of the night in a raging ocean – one wrong step taken and it will sink.

smelling
nothing. I’m just.. breathing – which for my part is already difficult given that I’m suspecting that I’m ill.

wishing
for time to fast-forward to my graduation day. On the other hand, half of myself is also wishing for it to slow down a bit because.. hello? I’m getting old here!

Hoping
that I’m healthy 

wearing
a decent version of Maria Mercedes’ red dress that I should’ve worn on Christmas day instead. Hehe.

loving
my height. Yup, I’m starting to accept its restrictions.

wanting
to travel the world, especially France. Cliché line but true. After reading “Anna and the French Kiss” by Stephanie Perkins, the urge to travel places upon places suddenly bloomed in my insides.

needing
to visit Baguio and get a whip of its fresh air again. I just miss the places I considered my home. #sepanx quota na ko

feeling
physically tired. With all of the things I need to finish, I’m shocked to even find time typing this on tumblr. Ha ha ha

I Choose To Be Truly Human


I sat perplexed as I try to adjoin the words coming out of the teacher’s mouth in order to get a sum of sense from the content of the lecture. A series of ‘what ifs,’ ‘buts’ and ‘maybes’ float around my head which were never realized due to the unrelenting doubt I possess with regards to my comprehension ability. Remembering the quiz regarding the day’s topic expected next meeting, I narrowed my eyes and puckered my brows at my pen. It was a battle with my grade as a price; and at that moment, I knew I lost. With no other choice left, I began to inscribe the transcript of the teacher’s speech on my notebook. Drowning at the sea of words being thrown at mid-air, I surrendered the purpose of learning and just continued to gather and weave letters into a bundle of mess for me to retain.

The teacher arrives. The teacher speaks. The teacher leaves. This is the unfaltering routine I have witnessed for seventeen years—an education of using one-way communication with students perfecting the role of being mere receivers.  For the sake of achieving high grades, I accepted it and even adapted to it. I am a product of oppression; taught to passively receive what was said, memorize what I write and repeat the existing knowledge. I was oblivious that I was being deprived of a clearer perspective on my own reality and engagement to the world; and restrained from flourishing to my fullest potential. I was unaware that little by little, I was processed to be dehumanized.

I was scared. I feared deviation thus I went through with the norm of how formal education is implemented. This instance has led me to behave and think accordingly; a subtle similarity of that of a puppet whose actions are dictated by the one in authority. The only difference is how it doesn’t possess a working mind that is made dysfunctional by the system. According to Feire, “By requiring a man to behave mechanically, mass production domesticates him. By separating his activity from the total project, requiring no total critical attitude toward production, it dehumanizes him. By excessively narrowing a man’s specialization, it constricts his horizons, making of him a passive, fearful, naïve being.”

Removing the freedom of a person to think critically is just the same as extracting his soul, his inner being. We become robots; merely pawns of those with great power to do this and that. In the end, we systematically go through the sequential education with no breakthrough for the reason that we use the same methods and focus on the same goals set by society. But we are not robots. Our motivation should not come beyond our own self. We should be taking control of our lives, becoming autonomous; mastering our craft, enjoying its “flow;” and gearing towards helping everyone work, making them a part of a higher purpose. This is the trend standing out above the lengthy educational timeline of mine; which is also the most important and crucial of all. The motivation should not be extrinsic by getting something from others in doing it.  It should be intrinsic, by getting something from ourselves in doing it (Pink, 2009). Doing is how “we organize,” “how we think,” and “how we do.”

I know there are a lot of anomalies in every aspect that comprises education—from lousy unprofessional teachers to neglected school facilities. However, these are common realities of every school and department which point to the usual cause—lack of funds. Now, what’s more crucial for me is the system itself resulting to absence or lack of critical perception of students; because this may or may not be caused by the lack of money but the lack of a flexible and conscious spirit.

The body of knowledge is evolving and ever-changing. It does not merely exist as what it is. It conforms. It incorporates. And, I believe, this can only be achieved through dialogue—a teacher learning from the students, the students learning from the teacher. One thing that I learned is to never stop wondering, to never stop questioning. That’s where critical consciousness is born and can be found.

We should wake up and arise from being a slave of the systematic thought. We should start to think and act like human, which we already are. To end, “We needed an education which would lead men to take a new stance toward their problems, one oriented toward research instead of repeating irrelevant principles. An education of “I wonder,” instead of merely, “I do.” (Freire, 1973)

Debut Update 101


Working on my LAST MINUTE INVITATION. Huhu. Cramming is not good. Cramming is bad. It makes you skip dinner. It makes you rant on tumblr. It makes you unable to watch a free movie. Happy birthday Cars i know yu wont see this hahaha

Anyway, here are some sneak peeks of what I’ve accomplished since 8PM this evening! So far, so good.




*Special thanks to my relatives who rushed me to the store today for the sake of finding special papers and envelopes

Edit: Finally, it is finished! And it’s not yet 12 AM yaaz