Where the hungry comes to feed.

“Welcome back Sir,” the strange woman said.

“You must be mistaken, I haven’t been here before,” I say in a confused tone.

“Sir, I never make mistakes,” she says sure of herself. “Come, please. Have a seat, and I’ll get you a cup of tea. No sugar and a lot of milk, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am. But how do you know?” I asked, again with a confused tone, borderline scared.

“Sir, I told you, I never make mistakes,” she says as she left me in what I assume the receiving room of the mansion.

“Your tea, Sir,” she says as she offered me a cup of tea brimming with milk. “I reckon you still don’t quite remember nor do you know what this place is?”

“It would be nice if you can tell me what this place actually is, Ma’am. Assuming you never do make any mistakes,” I say as cheeky as possible.

“Sir, this is where the hungry comes to feed, the angry comes to cool down, the defeated comes to practice, the helpless comes to train, the worried comes to be safe,” she says all the while looking directly into my eyes as she took a seat from me. “Now the question is, why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” I say, feeling unnerved by her intent gaze but not scared.

“Don’t be quick to say you don’t know. You always know. Everyone always know about something, they are sometime too lazy, too scared, too ignorant, or too angry to let themselves know about the things they thought they don’t know,” she says sure of herself, again. “So, let me ask you once again, why are you here?”

“I’m angry, but I feel helpless about the things that made me angry. I don’t feel defeated but I know if I fight for the things that made me angry, I will lose. It worries me,” I say it with as much conviction I can muster under her strong gaze as if she was judging me for something. “Did I give you the right answer?”

“There are no such thing as the right answers. Answers are just responses to questions. Come to the next room, you need to see something,” she took my cup as she motion me to follow her.

“And what exactly am I suppose to do here?” I asked, baffled that the room had one of those long sofa where a patient would lay down as they open up their innermost thoughts to their shrink, as the said shrink sat in an uncomfortable looking chair next to the patient. But what baffles me even more was the fact that there was a huge screen across from the long sofa and  a weird looking helmet-like device on the sofa. I sincerely hope that thing will not go on my head.

“If you’re wondering about the helmet, don’t worry, it’s there for decoration and to spook people off when they first entered this room,” she says as she motioned me to sit on the long sofa.

“I guess I’m now supposed to tell you about my problems?” I asked her, as I tried to make myself comfortable.

“Only of you want to. Remember Sir, this is where the hungry comes to feed, the angry comes to cool down, the defeated comes to practice, the helpless comes to train, the worried comes to be safe. Whatever you decides to do solely relies on your choice,” she sat on the sofa next to me, cross her legs, and clasped both her hand on top of her knee, as if waiting until I come to my senses.

But my senses never came. I kept to myself as I wait for the time to pass. I welcome the silence that envelopes us. It was comfortable. I haven’t quite felt like this in awhile.

“I still don’t quite understand why I am here, or what this place actually is, or what I am supposed to do or say to you, or to no one in particular. But, I like it here. I feel safe. It has been a long time since I feel safe. For quite some time, I felt like a part of me has gone missing and I’m always on the lookout for it. Do you mind if I come here again? Because lately I feel like I’ve been fearing for my life, like I am on a constant battle before someone seizes what is left of my true nature,” I sounded hopeful when I made the request.

“You are always welcome here, have a good rest now, Sir. The sun is up and surely you are not planning to go up in ashes now do you, Sir?”



things you may not want to know but i'm telling you anyway

Dear Elvis and Joplin..

Happy 10th birthday and 7th birthday, respectively. I wish I had more to say, but honestly I don’t. I can tell you that I miss you beyond any words I can say. I’ve been here for fifty days; or one month and 19 days; or seven weeks and one day. Do you know what that means? Seven weeks have passed without us hanging out together. Seven weeks have passed without me calling out to you both for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and some occasional treats here and there. Seven weeks without random photoshoots of you two.

I miss you both so much. I don’t even know if the word miss is sufficient enough to describe how I feel.

I just signed a contract to rent an apartment. It has huge ass window that I know for sure you both will like. I kept on looking at the window thinking how much you would enjoy to just sit in front of it and watch cars passing by; well I can at least picture Elvis doing that, I don’t know about Joplin though, you’ve always been a shy fat cat, aren’t you?

The apartment also has a big bookshelf  that I’m pretty sure if the both of you are here with me, you’ll occupy the bookshelf before I add any books on it. And that’s fine, anything to make you both happy.

Screen Shot 2017-09-23 at 10.17.17 AM

Happy birthday Elvis and Joplin. Hope you had a great day, and more to come. I’ll send you both some gifts from here. Please don’t ever forget about me, and incredibly sorry for the yearly vaccine, you guys. Well, at least Elvis is free from yearly vaccine next year, tough luck for you though, Joplin. Be strong, healthy, and happy, for we will be reunited sooner than we could have hoped for.

Gosh, I miss you so much, Elvis and Joplin.


Listening to Osaka Monoaurail’s Soulful Strut as I celebrate Elvis and Joplin’s birthday.

things you may not want to know but i'm telling you anyway

The quest for the perfect apartment

Gosh, turns out finding a place to stay is not easy, isn’t it? I thought it was going to be clickety clack and voila, here’s your new home in Bogota!

So not like that.

I’ve surfed the web trying to find a nice apartment to rent. I’m easy to please, I don’t want much. I just need a nice apartment, preferably one bedroom (as I hate cleaning), clean, safe, and fairly close to work. I did found quite a number of them, but there’s always that deal breaker thing. I’ve been in Bogota for close to two months, I really need to found a place, SOON!

First apartment, the cozy neighbourhood.

The first apartment was nice, cozy, and in a quiet neighbourhood that I like very much. The rent is affordable and although it has two bedrooms (one bedroom too many for someone who lives alone like me), it wasn’t a deal breaker as I could use the extra room to invite friends to stay over on the weekend. But, see, the apartment is dead far from work. And I mean, proper far. Even on the best of days, it’ll take me 30 minutes to work, imagine during rush hour!! I can’t.

Second apartment, the perfect apartment.

The second apartment was by far my favourite one. It’s affordable, it has one bedroom, but its living area is still big and it has this super nice nook that I already had in mind was going to be my reading nook. It was perfect. Might I say, it was the best I’ve ever seen. Problem is, the landlord ask for a three months deposit!! Get the fuck out! How am I suppose to make money that quickly?? Three months deposit?? Might as well buy the whole apartment, mate.

Third apartment, the nice and friendly owner.

The third apartment is quite alright. Pretty small but it has two bedrooms (well, technically one, because the other one is used as a working room) and has quite a nice view thanks to its big window. The dealbreaker? The owner wants me to rent the place along with her stuff, which is fine but then the rent became twice the asking price. And when I told her I won’t be renting the place with her stuff, she said she would need two weeks to empty the place, but I need the place by next week and it was non negotiable.

Fourth apartment, the very accommodating owner.

The fourth apartment was also nice. It has two bedrooms, and what I love the most was the vintage looking bathroom. The place is also well lit from the sun, so it was perfect. The owner was very accommodating, they were willing to renovate some areas if I need it be. So, what’s the deal breaker? The place is far from public services, like supermarket, drug store, and the whatnots.

Fifth apartment, the nice and cozy place.

The fifth apartment is by far one of my favourites too. It’s a one bedroom apartment but very well lit, and also very cheap as my friend knew the landlady. The deal breaker? It has this weird ass shape that looks extremely tacky and vintage (not the good ones) design on its ceiling, which are made by drywall (I’m guessing). I asked if that can be taken off, and the landlady said that it was impossible. WHYYYY?? I mean, this place was literally one of the best place I’ve seen. It has a gym and a sauna, all free for its tenants!!! Why must you have those tacky design on your ceiling??

Sixth apartment, the newly renovated one.

The sixth apartment was alright. I don’t really like it because the building is quite old, but the units that I was seeing was just freshly renovated, so it wasn’t a problem; besides it’s cheap af. Problem is, it has three bedrooms!! What the fuck am I suppose to do with the other two bedrooms? Rent it on Airbnb?? Get real! I don’t like living with strangers, why am I volunteering to take strangers in now?

Seventh apartment, the (also) newly renovated one.

The seventh apartment was literally next to sixth apartment. It’s a one bedroom apartment. Just freshly renovated too. Quite like it. Problem is, it only has one bathroom, which means guests will be using the same bathroom as me which I’m not very keen about. The second problem is it doesn’t use gas for its stove. I can’t imagine cooking with an electric stove, I’m already imagining my electric bill.

Eight apartment, the well lit one.

The eight apartment was just the next building to the building where the sixth and seventh in. It’s pretty old, and I mean old (not vintage old, or deliberately designed to look old, it’s just OLD) but I ain’t complaining because it has very nice natural light. Problem is? It wants me to have a guarantor. It’s not like no one is going to to guarantee for me, problem is I’m only here for three years and I don’t know Colombians who would be willing to be my guarantor. When I asked if my office can be my guarantor, the owner said it can’t be an office, it has to be a human being.

That being said, I will be seeing three more apartments tomorrow. Wish me luck!



The things I don’t understand about having a job.

One of the definition for job that I found in Merriam Webster was, a regular remunerative position, or a specific duty, role, or function. Whilst one of the definition for career that I found in Merriam Webster was, a field for or pursuit of consecutive progressive achievement especially in public, professional, or business life. That being said, is job and career one and the same? I genuinely think it’s not, but often times people use the words interchangeably. I am guilty of this mistake too, one too many times.

I have a job, but do I automatically have a career? I don’t know.

Flashback to several years ago, I said that I don’t want my job to define who I am. Who I am as a human being is not the same as who I am when I am doing my job, that much is the same for my career. Whatever career that I am building up right now shall not define who I am. But, sometimes it gets hard to distinguish who you are amongst the three.

I have a job because I oddly believes that it is what is expected of me, also I need to pay the bills.

I tried nailing the best job I could find. And by best, I meant the kind of job that requires less drama but pays quite nicely. I’m not sure if my job falls into that category, but after devoting six years of my life in that line of work, it’s kinda hard to want to play with fire and try to find another job. Call me a coward, but I ain’t playing with my bank account just for the sake of living outside of my comfort zones.

Do I have to change who I am, what I like, what I hate, the way I talk, the way I dress because of my job?

I certainly don’t think so, but somehow there are moments where I am not who I am and I pretend to be a completely different person, just so I can save my own ass, by extension saving my job so as not to get fired or be in some kind of pickle.


I don’t know. It was like an instinct. Like when your gut feeling is telling you to not walk alone in the dark. It’s an instant thing, I don’t even have a second to think about how hypocritical of me to fake niceties with people I couldn’t even stand given a different situation.

But most of all, what I don’t understand is, to what extent do I have to do something to be considered that it is a part of doing my job?

There are moments where I asked myself, am I doing my job when I’m doing this? Is this even part of my job description? And if it’s not, why the fuck am I doing this?

Oh right, because if I don’t do it, I’ll be taken as going against the boss’ order.

Why do I even have job if I’m so miserable? I don’t even care about career. I’m only doing this for the money, but how pathetic is it to be controlled by money that I sometimes am willing to be insulted and abused in the name of doing-my-job? Man, I wish I had answers to these questions, because then maybe I would be brave enough to say that enough is enough and walk away from it all without regrets.