Little did she know

Don't shy. Ask me anything.   "There is no such thing as a coincidence in your life, Pammu" -Jammi


If I were to be canonized for sainthood, I'd be Saint PJ, the patron saint of just being there.

twitter.com/MyPam:

    Spring. Wheeeeee.

    Me:hey, so how warm is it out there?
    Roommate:it's sooo nice!
    Me:it is?!?!
    Roommate:yeah! I had to come back because my jacket is too warm and I want to put on a skirt
    Me:You can wear a skirt?
    Roommate:you can put on a skirt!
    Me:I'm putting on a skirt and heading out!!!!
    — 3 weeks ago
    Assume what my name is and I ain’t got no time for you.

    Assume what my name is and I ain’t got no time for you.

    — 1 month ago
    Hard Like My City →

    New York is one major city that kept it real. Of all the major cities on the globe, New York is the one that was defined by its grit, dirt, and struggle. As the city is in a constant, grueling and convenient process of tidying up, the struggle is being glossed over, and the concept of earning is being taken for granted.

    The Real Sheba’s first single brings that all back. There’s no need for glamour, no need for manufactured production, no need for fake smiles pretending that we’re all okay. New York will always be gritty and dirty and beautiful.

    — 1 month ago
    Gold from the heartland. Thank you Herlyn!

    Gold from the heartland. Thank you Herlyn!

    — 1 month ago
    Love should not be a problem

    There is SO much to say about the week I just had. So much to say about love, and so much to say about challenge.

    It’s ridiculous how, at several points last week, I was made to defend my choices to love, and explain why I love. Three to twenty-four hours later, I was brushing my teeth in front of my bathroom mirror, and had an epiphany:

    God never had to defend his love for me. He just saved me. Neither did he have to explain why he loves me. He just loves me.

    If a situation arises and you find yourself feeling bad about whom you love, get out. It’s a waste of your time. Walking it hardly exerts any energy and talking it is exhausting.

    I met a new teacher this week. Initially, there was so much ambiguous fear surrounding this person, and whenever I’d ask other students about them, I’d get the same vague response. So I waited until they actually walked into the room.

    When they walked into the room, I recognized my dead voice teacher in this person. My voice teacher in Manila didn’t need to tell me how great it sounded. Instead, he read me. He told me that I had anger issues, that I should stop thinking like a teenager, that I have what it takes, that I have a right to show other people how I feel.

    This week, we were intimidated and afraid of what this new teacher might read off of us, but I leaned in in spite of that because I knew I could trust their guidance.

    Most of what the new teacher said of me was accurate. His first impression of me cut me to my marrow.

    It felt good to be found.

    — 1 month ago with 1 note
    So this happened. My Valentine’s Day date was a New York City institution.

    So this happened. My Valentine’s Day date was a New York City institution.

    — 2 months ago
    So this happened. My Valentine’s Day date was a New York City institution.

    So this happened. My Valentine’s Day date was a New York City institution.

    — 2 months ago
    This is our neighbor. As you can see, he is a beast.

    This is our neighbor. As you can see, he is a beast.

    — 2 months ago
    Never a Dull Sunday

    Today, I literally ran into someone at an intersection while questioning certain life choices. Also, a prayer was answered.

    My extended weekend was too lax. It was so lax that I thought my brain would explode. I was too bored for my own good, and could feel my existence rot as I scrolled down the unending ennui if my tumblr dash and my Facebook feed. I chalk this up to depression, but even my morale is fighting against that justification.

    Being Sunday, I originally, I wanted to be out of the house by 3 pm. But that wasn’t happening. I needed some work done and my old laptop wasn’t up to speed with email attachments, and my ipad wasn’t cooperating plus it doesn’t help that our Internet connection at home is as sluggish as a nap on a beach.

    Finally, I was able to get things done, heading out of the house in time to be at Irving Plaza by 5 pm.

    But I hated going to church alone. I was kind of getting sick of that sinking alone feeling. So I head out anyway, knowing that the questions I will get at resource will make my life. (Feel free to pm me about those…)

    But I needed to go the bathroom.

    But my roommate was cleaning.

    I didn’t want to ruin her cleaning by peeing onto her labor.

    Solution: hope for the Q60 bus to come and take me to the Sunnyside Starbucks.

    Yes! My hope was met! The Q60 was right at my corner, waiting for the light to go green. It lets out that hiss, opens its front door and I was bouncing.

    I get off at 48th street. I make my way to the Starbucks. I question my need for a Starbucks. I was thinking to myself “Am I really doing this? Is this smart? Am I really going to a Starbucks just to use their toilet? Haven’t I made enough questionable purchases already?”

    It was then that Melissa miraculously in front of me, arms wide open, happy to see me. She saw me from across the street but wasn’t sure if it was me. She also saw how my face was debating over Starbucks and ethical bathroom use. Turned out, she was debating whether she should come to church. She was asking herself “Do I really want to go to church in scrubs? Do I need a nap? Do I go to Irving with a whole thing of girls scout cookies that I bought from a friend at work?”

    It was inevitable that we’d run into each other. It was also inevitable that we found each other whilst questioning our life choices. And literally, in that moment, God didn’t have just my back, but hers as well. A gentle reminder that I am not alone.

    She said she was so happy to see me, now that she has no reason to say “I’m tired from work, I’ll pass this Sunday.” (My girl Melissa is a nurse.) We chit chat for two hot seconds and we end up going to her apartment so she can throw on normal people clothes while I can actually use her bathroom.

    After about ten minutes, we decided on taking a whole box of samoas, she treats me to Starbucks, and over conversations about yoga, cookies, and an impending sugar rush, I wasn’t alone on my commute to church.

    I lost Melissa not ten minutes after entering Irving Plaza. Social life is rapid at Hillsong. You see someone and you want to give them a hug. They’re a table away from you but on your way around this table, you see someone else and give them a hug.

    Once I made it to the resource table, my soul let out a sigh of relief. I made it. I’ll make it the rest of the week.

    Not to mention the shenanigans with a new found friend. I just love it knowing that Sunday never really ends.

    Oh and the tall, good looking Mormons who briefly sat in at the 7 pm, looking so fine in their so-called uniforms, their name tags so shiny and new. (They didn’t look like pen salesmen, no sir.)

    Nope. It never ends.

    — 2 months ago