the nth dimension

In All the Ways I Turned 25

Some women fear the fire, some women simply become it.


I turned 25 this year. The last few hours of my early 20s were spent covered in my Disney sheets, in my cartoon-poster-filled room. I didn’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to this inbetween-age as I purposely wore a red blouse on my birthday. I turned 25 on the 20th of August, and when I blew my candles. But also..

I turned 25 when I heard the words “when can you start” 3hours after an online interview I prayed so hard for. At the same time, I turned 25 when I cried in front of my old boss because I never really wanted to leave the place that has grown so much in me but it felt like I needed to do some growing up of my own, too.

I turned 25 when more and more people of my age group are getting married and are having children purely by choice.

I turned 25 when I got a one-way ticket. When I fought off the tears hugging my parents as my one-way flight was announced and I was carrying 25kg worth of baggage (emotions excluded). I turned 25 when the plane landed in the city everyone warned me about. And eventually it felt like home somehow.

I turned 25 when I finally saw my name and works on print. And it’s funny how I needed to achieve such only to realize a byline is not what makes me a writer.

I turned 25 when I began to embrace what the stars. I am born under the fire sign. A Leo–the mightiest and proudest of all zodiacs; Also, if you google my name it also actually means “the ruler of all.” I can’t help but think as to how it might mean I’m destined for something great – like powerful, YAAAS KWEEEN kind of great. Although I may not embody it, I guess having those altogether should mean something.

I turned 25 knowing that living the dream is also about keeping the dream alive.

I turned 25 when I bought my first tube of lipstick. Just three days before I wrote this to be exact. Ant it felt like the most mature thing.

I turned 25 when I realized not everything that happens to me is not always about me. That some people hurt you because they are what they are, and that the universe plays simply because you are a part in it. And so I turned 25 when I told my heart to stop investing too much in things I could not control.

I turned 25 when I’ve been wearing more dresses than pants on a regular basis. But I will always be a closed-shoes kind of girl.

I turned 25 when I decided to speak up about my worth (career-wise) I turned 25 when I realized working on my passions isn’t the route for me (at least not yet) and so I gave up the comforts of writing in exchange for a work that’s more demanding, people-facing, and everything I’m barely qualified for–all because I wanted to challenge my self.

I turned 25 when I checked off more than a few things from my 13 year-old self’s bucket list. Or when I fulfilled the hopes of this post.

I turned 25 when I was more thankful for the things that didn’t go my way.

Turning 25 finally felt like I no longer need to explain my self, yet here I am writing a blog post about it. 25 is when I’m at peace with my age and my self, perfectly in the inbetween.

Turning 25 felt calm. The only thing I’m unsure of if it’s the kind of calm before the storm, or after. Or that maybe I’m the storm.



Whenever I start to doubt about my successes and the long way I’ve come thru, I look at my graduation picture. As much as a cliche the ~symbol~ would be, I actually wanted to graduate because I really, really, wanted to have a pretty graduation picture. which is why 3 years later – I’m still actively sharing it on my social media. I miss college. It may not be able to give the education I wanted but it did give me the lessons I never knew I needed.

I dreaded most days but I enjoyed most nights huddled with the publications crew with only our office window to be the last one to remain lit on campus.

It was a room full of ideas, talent and humor. Calendars were filled with shoots, meetings, and proofreadings to squeeze in between the demanding school work. I was #blessed to be in that sphere.

College was more than just reading books, creating power points and making it to class. College for me was unknowingly finding my self and building what I hoped I become – online and off. Right after I graduated, I realized I got used to running around committing my self to many different projects, constantly squeezing every drop of creative juice, going to marketplaces to buy props and all those things. And that sitting behind the computer and moving pixels was more of a relief from the field work.

Everything was opposite til then. Doing non-computer related work is now a breather, I am constantly looking for the next thing to do — and finding my self was in the form of measuring it through other’s way of life – off and online. What happened.

New Year, New Cliche

Created a new blog that hopefully will be more organized, less mushier and altogether better.

I am not going to give you a blow by blow account of how much I’ve learned to dream again on the last few stretches of 2016 and that was pretty the highlight to it.

Here’s to hoping I get them realized by following my new blog?

the URL sucks, i know.

I wish you all a happy new year and I hope you give anyone or everyone an extra dose of love and appreciation for having made it through the rough year that was 2016.

A Millennial Monologue

Here I am struggling whether I should post this on tumblr or Medium. And should I start curating a personal instagram after this, and that’s already too millennial of a dilemma.

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I have always been a millennial in denial, thinking that millennials are the teeny-boppers from where my age stands. But was I wrong.

A solid Millennial definition: Those born on 1982–2004

Not so solid definitions:

We are the generation that was given the voice and be heard of, the generation that may one day confuse historians because we mostly lived not on facts, but we lived on opinions — lots of it, a hundred decibels of it and a thousand publishes to it. History may eventually give up and banish us out into existence thinking maybe we too are not as real. How do they explain that after Generation X was generation (wh)Y?

Generation WHY are these people what they are : narcissists, creatives, passive-aggressives, unique individuals trying to be everyone else.

We are the generation to have the broadest reach — to the ends of the earth and immense access to times past and present. But we also are the ones that cling on to the nearest thing we can grab hold of validation, affirmation and certainty.

This is why nostalgia marketing works like a charm — the ‘only 90s kids will understand’ stuff kind of stuff. It’s cause we want to be reminded of our selves and not the trying adults we are, it’s the most certain thing. We are just too young to talk of ‘the good old days’ and ‘too old’ to label the kids of today.

And that’s just the thing about us millennials — we are so labelled with many things and we are obsessed with the confusion about it. We let labels define and drive us. We let numbers become labels through Facebook likes and Instagram followers, Name labels e.g influencer, founder, blogger and every adjective turned noun.

Even THIS piece is a bunch of labels trying to define this generation that has yet no official defining moment.The 9/11 attacks? The first US president of color? The smart phone?

The Silent Generation lived through the Pearl Harbor; Baby Boomers the post-war, Generation X — the fall of Berlin wall. These Generations lived through World Wars and revolutionaries. We didn’t.

Is this why the world gave us crises bit by bit compared to world wars — middle eastern bombings, earthquakes, the great recession, the things we type #PrayFor hashtags for. Perhaps this why we create our own ‘millennial crisis’ — feminism, gender equality, which Kardashian lost her earring this time, the next iphone and so forth.

Is it our fault to be contained in such dilemmas being that we were born when the dust has settled, that we were just born into living on the unwired world with happy childhoods and grow up to not live without mobile devices. We are but inbetweeners and that is our crisis.

People are tired of listening to us. We are tired of ourselves. We pride our selves. We need to validate our selves. We are about our selves and that shouldn’t be so bad. The Generation ME-lennial.

Our boundaries are not set on stone, nor is it etched on parchment. We are given the freedom to write pieces of our history in our own voices. And isn’t this what the generations before us fought for? The freedom to be what we are and express it to the world.

And if freely being able to enjoy what we are meant being called a millennial, then please, by all means, call me one.

Beginnings and (p)Endings

On why I stopped to create.


I noticed that I stopped writing or pushing things out in the open. I gave up on skillsets that I never really thought of as skills in the first place — painting, drawing and writing.

I believe I am a creative. It is probably the only adjective I am sure of my self. In fact, as narcissistic as it may sound, I’d like to pride my self in being one. And by now I’ve believed that my pride in it has stopped me to create.

I want everything that I do to best present this ‘creative’ self — I’ve created some sort of attachment to every output thinking that it’s about me. When in fact, it isn’t, it isn’t always about me, it’s simply about what I do.

The desire to be creative in everything became a standard, and it became an excuse to pause, to think rather than to act, to plan rather than to simply create, to be a failure before even making a mistake.

Being in the generation exposed to a lot of information and talent(thanks, internet), and that being in the industry to be necessarily in one, wanting to ‘stand out’ in every content that I wish to publish became a struggle — such a millennial problem, I know.

So I paused in belief that thinking about things, rather than act on whatever is actionable was the best way to it. I’ve lost count to the emails and messages I’ve sent saying ‘I’ll go over it” or “I’ll come up with something to make it better.”

The voices in my head

I thought of my self as a failure when I drafted stories that never really had the impact I wanted. I was worried about wasting time. If it’s going to be half-assed, might as well not go for it is something I always tell my self.

And guess what, self, everything is bound to be half-assed; that every thing is always a potential to become better.

I thought I had more time for ideas to become perfect in a comeback.

No one is really expecting me to come up with something that can, say, boost sales up to a hundred, or change the world in a single blog post. It was when I stopped to create that did the failure for me.

I always thought I had more time. And this was the second greatest mistake next to not allowing my self to have an avenue for mistakes.

There are always going to be little voices in your head saying there are better ways to do it, there really are better ways to do it, but don’t lose its the potential for it to become better by wanting it to be perfect.

To be perfect is to keep everything in your head, cause it is the only place where perfect happens. To be perfect is to be mistake-free, to try to be perfect is to apologize for everything eventually.

Now, where’s the creative in that.

Creativity 2.0

There are always going to be reasons not to do it, and creativity is about looking for that one reason to simply do. It’s not about doing things recklessly, it’s about simply doing it and start to improve from there.

Creativity is about choosing not be stuck, for everyday of your life.
It’s about showing up, it’s about being unparalyzed.

As I look back into works that I’ve published, I noticed how I’ve come to appreciate them altogether — and they were all done in phases where I simply did not just think about getting things out there. To be honest, I am not proud of all the pieces, but I am truly proud of it as a whole. The thought of me having the ability to write/draw/paint astounds me.

And maybe that’s what we should try to create, not the single award winning piece, but parts to a whole body of works to look back to. To assess on, to learn from.

Don’t worry about failing or disappointing. Worry about not giving it the chance to become better by not getting it out of your head at all.

And I wish that I could end this with something inspirational or at least something to get you on your feet too.

But I don’t, not yet at least. I can only begin to create things again. I want this to be my last apology, and hopefully, this is finally the beginning to everything that was pending.

Spoken Poetry: My top 5

Maybe the reason I haven’t been into writing is because i have been into a lot of listening, absorbing everything til it is bound to come out again soon, hopefully through writing again and hopefully more beautiful this time.

I have also been into listening to spoken poetry for quite a while now, and I have never been in full equal envy and admiration – these people not only know how to write so well, but also are able to speak it out with their own voices, and it’s just the most beautiful thing. I’m sharing to you my 5 most admired spoken poetry entries in different targets and approaches so far.

Neil Hilborn – OCD

I have never given my most heartfelt aaaaawwwe in anything else other than this poem

Jim Dulin – Questioning God

Sometimes we all do, he just does it more beautifully than we do.

Rudy Francisco – A Poem for Ashley Francisco has been my first favorite spoken word artist, while most of his pieces funny and heartbreaking all at once, this one poem is simply tragic. but still beautiful.

Ari Eastman – I am Enough


Shay Stewart – Song of the Pretty bird

I am all hands down on its delivery and the metaphor and symbolisms.

I just also had to note on the sounds of appreciation by audiences made inbetween poem deliveries. If i were there, i would’ve too.

It would be nice to know which are your faves too!

I really should write again – and better.

Sometimes Most times when life hits me hard, it pushes me on the edge of my contentment. What is a 20-somethings girl like me doing alone in a place that’s too safe and too familiar.

This has led me to realize that the fact that I can have meaningful conversations with my self such as this is the reason why I’m here. Why I’m not too big planning on the next adventure or the next escapade. At least not yet.

is because I have nothing to escape from.

But I wouldn’t mind putting this conversation on cobble stoned streets with an unfamiliar language abuzz around me. Taking tea in a Victorian setting, unchanged, only more beautiful with time.

Why I Write About Sad Things

I’m fine, really.
I will have to let this piece from Lang Leav hang around


now stop labeling me as sad or broken.

Checkpoint II

I’m into my 2nd hour, my coffee has run out of steam and a playlist has finished a full cycle. I’ve been thinking about you and I never really actually wrote anything – and it’s scary because it doesn’t usually happen like this.

I have always been afraid of this, not of you leaving but of you leaving and I can no longer feel anything about it.

much more write about it.

I was good, he wanted perfect.

my six word story