From Katong to Patong.
Sawatdee Khrab. (:
Sometimes, we do not need to substantiate things so profoundly, with so much verbosity, and so much detail.
Sometimes, there is no need to tell and retell the whole story, no matter how splendid or spectacular it was.
Some things in life can be so sincerely unforgettable and worthwhile, one needs not to write everything down in words, because the memories, wonderful or heart-wrenching they may be, linger long enough to last a lifetime.
I thank the children for inspiring my life.
I thank the people who took care of us and treated us as part of their family.
And I thank two very good friends, John and Nalaka, for being there with me through thick and thin. We worked as a team, we did our best, and I’m proud we did it all by ourselves. (:
Due to our difficult circumstances, we may have not gone at all, but I am sincerely glad we did.





Recently turned 19, I am an International Baccalaureate slave, a Roman Catholic, now of legal age to vote, to drink alcohol, to drive, to marry, to smoke, and to f*** around. I am manufactured in the Philippines but currently utilized in Singapore. I am the thick-skinned, ingrate bastard who dumped the Government in exchange for a $100,000 two-year private scholarship. Most people in the Philippines call me Row, as a result of a passed down genetic trait that triggers laziness. Actually, my nickname is Anju, which I am really really not so fond of. But I am fortunate enough not to suffer from the ubiquitous Filipino frenzy of naming nicknames with letter 'h's sandwiched between other letters, e.g. Jhong, Jhing, Bhong, or Bhing, and from the usual repetition of the same syllables - usually created by the whole extended family giggling in delight as one utters his or her baby cry while shitting unconsciously and secretively on the lampin, inside the duyan - resulting in stuttering names like Ton-ton, Ping-Ping, Bam-bam, Ging-ging and Don-don.
I am currently having the time of my life.
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