Jegs Santos

It has dawned on me that I haven’t really addressed the biggest issue in this online journal of mine - its lack of updates. Truth be told, blogging is not some hobby anymore that you could carelessly jump into. Over the years, since its popularity, blogging has turned into a hyphenated art that doesn’t only require one skill, but a plethora of it. From photography, styling, writing, presentation, coding, etcetra etcetera, - all  are prerequisites for a wonderful, original, content-heavy blog. Without the harmonious relation of these technical skills, blogging can be ineffective. These skills makes a blogger, a blogger. But in not so recent but could still be relevant information acquisitions, bloggers now are not what they ought to be called anymore. The term “influencer” has been derived from actions that took place as bloggers gain traction within their websites and social media platforms. Simple changes from blogging to influencing generalize the category of somebody with or without a website, but has still the full power of traffic through Instagram, Twitter, or Snapchat. Among all, Instagram being the most dense. I believe this has been an adaptation for the constant demand of readers to see new content. Thirst for new imagery, articles, ootds, and alike challenges influencers to create content every single day through updates in every platform possible just to stay afloat. And now, that’s where I am failing - BIG TIME!

My inconsistency to present new materials every day or even just every other day for that matter, hinders growth for this little website. This incompetency declassifies me as neither a blogger nor an influencer, as both are totally different, but apparently similar, but still different. The latter now is not even used anymore. So where do I stand? If this new blossoming (fuck, this is already a flower) industry be a metaphor of the sea and I’m the lost man floating within it, I must have already drowned by now. Looking at my website and my social media, updates were from months ago.

And so it hit me.

Change, content awareness, and consistency are now the new skills to be acquired on top of the basics. Keeping up with the times, the trends, the ever evolving blogging industry is vital to any blogger’s/influencer’s success. Yet this continual longing for newness and currentness has fully depleted the creativity of some. Let’s no deviate too much, news of top designers leaving their houses may have been caused - partially - from the additional seasons that suddenly grew out of nowhere. It won’t surprise me if these seasons did drive these creatives nuts. Designing 6+ collections every year is a fit to not joke about. Each collection, as presumed by consumers, should offer something different from the last and so on. Creative exhaustion is real, it’s there, and it exists. And this dilemma not only concentrates in the fashion industry, but also filters down to other design fuelled industries.

Which brings me back to my incompetence. I guess the system on how I post is like a vessel that carries my ideas and visions to its physical stage. I meticulously think about my post, I curate my ideas, photos, clothes, and settings to tell a story or to feel like it’s part of a narrative. Because for me, blogging has been my way of visual communication through my photos, my writings, and my clothes. What I present is 100% of my vision, and I become picky with each post I do. I invest a lot of time and conceptualisation to bring them to life. It is as they say, gratifying to have a vision transpire to reality. And that’s what I love with my blog and how I blog. But the process I undergo is extremely unrealistic for the pace that influencers now are going by. Too much curation and editing leads to slow posts. And with the demand of readers today, it is impossible to keep up with how I post. Yet, the good side of my in depth and hands-on attitude is the quality I provide, and assumably the excitement I bestow my readers whenever I update. Slowly but surely. But clearly, doesn’t resolve my lacking nor my lofty process of blogging. Should I succumb to this new world or keep my feet steady and just continue on with what I do? 

Be my verdict.

Vintage Sunglasses | Walker Tank Top

For the past six months, I stayed quiet. I disconnected myself from my fantasy, from social media, from current happenings to fully isolate myself and focus on one goal -  a promise I set on to accomplish. It was for my parents, it was for God. It was within those months I saw reality. The simple truth of life in a third-world country. I saw how people live their lives on a daily basis. I saw homeless people feeding themselves with garbage leftovers, people seeking alms from passers-by, people sleeping in footbridges, kids begging in commuter vehicles for food or money, etcetera. Unspeakble, unbelievable, and simply nakakaawa, ika nga. I felt lucky enough to be dressed, to be well-fed, educated, to have a roof over my head, to have what I have now. I felt so thankful.

But as I felt grateful, I questioned myself, “why did I have to see all these in order for me to appreciate my life, why wasn’t I thankful before, why was I so blinded by shallow possessions, why do I complain so much about my life, why?”

We take so much things for granted. We don’t fully appreciate things and people in our lives until they’re all gone. We overlook the importance of what we have in comparison to what other people possess. We neglect our incapability of appreciation. We are never truly satisfied. We are never content. Fact. We are trapped in our materialistic obsession; blinded by objects of wants. We sometimes even forget the most vital of necessities and trade it over superficial items that are irrelevant and not needed. Typical human behavior. I understand that this knowledge is a confession of my own true self. I write this because I am this. Unappreciable. Ungrateful. Unsatisfied. It’s unacceptable.

And it was within those six months of untampered reality, unexpressed thoughts, and undisguised fears that I was able to redeem myself from depthless substance and found gratitude over my life. I sought purpose and meaning to my life, to my promise. My selfish pretenses and shallow reasonings disappeared, even for a while, as I set myself on foot for a challenge I started five years ago. In hopeful bliss, it bore good results. I am thankful to have been given this opportunity; which for the past five years found no truth of its necessity in my life. But, I’ve realized that I was rerouted to this path to ground me, humble me, appreciate the people who nurtured me, the friends who continually supported me, the instances of confusion, and the struggles of life. It was because of my disconnection from my fantasy and eye-opening vision of this reality we live in, that I found truths to reasons I questioned. I embraced my present, regretted nothing, and felt grateful for everything at the end.

I guess what I had to experience and see was what I needed. (I needed it.) Instantaneous gratification over wants do not satisfy the soul, it’s with contentment that we find ourselves seeking nothing else, but improvement of one’s self. We grow not to follow the world, we grow to help each other climb up and enhance life. We live because we have purpose; that is to instigate change in this world. What is life without content, without substantial reason to accommodate the time spent on earth. A life well-lived isn’t really found through accumulation of objects, but by change in other people’s lives that we find our relevance, and disrupt our own fear of oblivion.

Uniqlo T-Shirt & Jeans

To tell you the truth, I am in no well condition to properly write a meaningful article. I am cumbered under a rock of great depression and frustration, academically. Yet as a voice I think I am and/or have, I will push through talking about something, at least. I’ll make your stay worthwhile. *winks awkwardly

Let’s talk about relevance. In this age of Instagram stars, Mocha Uson, and hashtags, everyone seems to be relevant. Claiming power from senseless numbers that denotes the quantity of our self-entitled influence, because apparently, numbers now define our importance. We exploit ourselves to the two-dimensional world for our own self-gratification, selfish pretenses, et cetera et cetera. The rush of notifications, friend requests, and tags allow us to feel our own significance from other people tapping away for #likeforlike and/or #shareforshare. Which in turn, laminates our minds to think that we are rightful to be crowned relevant without pure basis. We confuse this with better intentions, redirecting our path to another, instead of going along the one of great potentiality. We’ve completely de-emphasized our voices to stuttering meaningless murmurs.

Maybe relevance isn’t even really the matter at hand here, but the waste of it. Pointlessness and senselessness dominate what we believe is fundamental. Making the world a seemingly better place by being pioneers of change and development is as important as our own aesthetics - having a recognizable mark in advancement of the human race. Incomparable, yes, but we must provoke our minds to think methodically, as intricate as our feed curating process, #feedgoals per se, to see through our own significance and viable presence. Our pointless actions are better put in place for something more worthwhile. It may seem too vague to absorb and unrelatable in some way, but what I am insisting is attaining respectable entitlement with real basis.

What we do in our lives should, at least, be an amalgamation of self and others - punctuating change singularly or massively. Because relevance isn’t defined by numbers, it is defined by usable impact that promotes change. Narrow minds do it all for self-gratification, but the opposite do it for meaningful noise that signifies our time to be noticeably relevant in history. We should proclaim our relevance and/or importance by actually proving our worth through substantial influence or simple influence with purpose - voicing out provocative thoughts about our state as an individual of this world - forever changing, forever progressing.

Yet who am I to tell you what to do? We are, all along, self-entitled to our own opinions and delusional relevance.

Zalora Blue Suede Jacket | Chancellor White Shirt | Attitudes Blue Striped Shirt | Mundo Pants | Thrifted Accessories

I completely programmed myself to expect nothing amazing during our San Francisco trip, but stepping foot on our hotel at 2 in the morning with wandering eyes - pleasuring the facade and digesting every Victorian detail wrapped around the lobby - made the 8 hour trip from Los Angeles all worth it. My set reasons for disappointments completely evaporated.

As I step foot outside in the 2 degree weather and explored the city that is San Francisco, I couldn’t help but feel the prominence of nostalgia all around. The city was a core of expanding thoughts - clouding disturbance; amplifying presence. There are no “what ifs” and “buts,” only the breeze of the winter air could be felt. It effuses the soul to explore and break free from comfort to completely experience the mysterious feeling that the city promulgates. The scenic views and man-made marvels only accelerated satisfaction and amused gratification I longed for in Los Angeles. Every second, every person, every building was an inspiration. A multitude of differences in cohesion.

Each block was an opportunity to know the locale, each doorstep was an invitation to a whole new experience and each end of the city was a majestic view impatient to be seen. I might be shooting too much nonsense right now, but the city was completely gratifying, exciting, nostalgic, … it felt like a lost love letter that reminds of wistful thoughts. Simply stunning.

Writing any further will only build too much emotions that I regretfully cannot fully express in words, but to conclude: San Francisco was a wholesome experience that left me swooning to go back and relive that 24 hours that left me dumbstruck, amazed, inspired and invigorated.

San Francisco you’ve been a dream!   

Ciao for now my dear, New York here I come.

Uniqlo T-Shirt and Jeans | Thrifted Necklaces | Vans Sneakers | Charles & Keith Bag

Entangled by the curse of 2016, I have come to realize that 2017 should be a year of no resolutions. My incompetence has always been an underlying reason to dismiss what I resolute to do at the beginning of every year. I don’t want to begin this renewed cycle day-dreaming of the impossible. I want to begin this year planning the possible - avoiding the reiterating end-year self-doubts. I simply don’t want to create false expectations of myself, the people around me, and other stuff.

Like L.A. - a city where dreams are the base of supposed reality and everyone is dressed like either Kim Kardashian or Kanye - I’ve never felt more weirdly disappointed. Going there I expected it to be this city of cultural aesthetics, a diverse playground of creatives, and source of raw inspiration for die-hard sartorial artists - which it is - but what it lacks is the sensation I was badly longing for. Movies where montages of L.A. are 3 minutes long highlighting recognizable spots that make the city so obvious gratifies and lures the audience, but looking beyond these curated scenes, we fail to consider the protagonist’s later realization that comfortably living in Los Angeles is not instantaneous. What I foresaw my experience would be is so life-changing, but I ended up looking for a missing feeling. I guess that is what Los Angeles is, a city of dreamers gratifying expectations lost in reality.

*sighs heavily…then breathes in and reads

YET, concluding the experience as drab and unhealthy would be a lie, because in contrary to my previous trivial opinions, I did enjoy our stay. A tourist in a seasonally crowded destination - wandering about a new city of diversity; experiencing the magic of the locale; digesting the culture; familiarizing the foreign - en route unparalleled memories that can never be stowed away as meaningless and unnecessary.

My Los Angeles was unexpectedly an unorthodox experience of dichotomy which favored the lacks, but was still a holistic expedition. It is remembered to educate myself from assumptions and expectations. I assumed L.A. as it is now, but maybe the L.A. I want to see exposes itself in a lengthier journey. Not a 48 hour trip. Hopefully in the near future, I can conclude L.A. as this imposed image of everything I see from glimpses of movie clips and Instagram stories of its populace.

Oh well, on to the next city I suppose…

Custom-made Denim Jacket | Uniqlo Jeans | Charles & Keith Bag | Vans Sneakers

So this post is a dilemma in itself. Doing self-portraits without a directional narrative is a crime for any avante garde Instagrammer out there. I have an inordinate amount of realizations that I fully want to disclose in this post, that 3 paragraphs of nonsensical blabbering won't cut it. Jolts of differing thoughts and scattered ideas are hazardous to my dense mind! I wanna talk about this, that, him, her, et cetera but the disconnection from each other forbids it to be compacted into one unrelated photoset. I don't want to post anything more about my current collegiate crisis and recent events of my life as it is an irrelevant read and a complete disassociation from my readers. And you guys probably had enough of my tertiary-education-related stress, it's like feeding a cat that already had 20 meals through out the day. (A disturbing simile no?)

Yet we are here...

*Continues...

I really just can't seem to collect my thoughts to one cohesive idea that could likely spark controversial comments and open barred minds. My self-proclaimed writing skills isn't helping either. I am practically drowning in my own hulabaloo! Hopefully this distraught brain of mind is only an active result of an examination spree that I have freshly stumbled out of a few days back. It's likely to be the coffee binge. I don't know. I hope it's not.

Custom-Made Top | Lee Jeans Khaki Pants | Vans Sneakers | Thrited Necklaces and Neckerchief

Living to expectations may have just begun, if you thought high-school was tough, college is much worst! The 20 something of the world are already categorized as adults who are currently in the developmental stage of actual "adulting." The first step being would be crawling out of college alive with a diploma in hand and second would be the agonizing task of findng a job while scoring majestically on all of the 1,526,437 interviews that come with it. Socio-expectations for our age group has been redefined as systematic, leaving our minds robotic and uninspired - Study + Job + Pay = Happy Life

One of my cousins told me that by 30 I should already be established in my career venture and consequently have a nice place to live in. Which is ultimately realistic, practical and truthful, but with that in mind I worry about my current standpoint. By 21 I should be an engineer, failure to do so will delay my timeline by a year - thus provoking frustration by the time I'm 27 and by then, I should already be a licensed interior designer. You could see my persistence for reliving another 4 years in another university, I tell you, if it wasn't necessary to go through it again I'd choose not to and stay put on my bum. The mountainous pressure that we experience as pre-adults are extremely stressful! Expectations, upon expectations, upon expectations have defined our lives. The act of letting loose and practicing self-care has been disrupted by work, work work and more work. Rihanna, please...don't...we know, work work work work WORK! Unless you're a certified workaholic who lives and breathes the "employee of the month" standard even at home.

The expected life that we've been designed to live in this world is directed by social culture, social norms and social standards. We forget to enjoy life, it is only once we live and survive reality. In the beginning, we weren't 20. We were happily a day old, enjoyably 5 years old, weirdly 10 years old, staggeringly 15 years old and exhaustingly 20. We haven't even started life, yet we already exhausted ourselves to actuality. I do believe in planning for the future, calculating and analyzing every step to conclude superiority in success dictated by our own standards. But in contrary to the elaboratively computed life I stand by at, I also believe in reality's serendipitous opportunities that lend itself at the most perfect time. Disagreeing with the formula of society for living is relatively fine, integrating it for your own is it's real purpose.

If you question yourself of your own existance, your job, your studies, your relationship, etc. do something about it. You still have time! Don't dry yourself doing something you dread, quit your job, shift your course, break up, if all these are necessary to endulge the great things in life and leave the toxic side you've been living, so be it! The underlying purpose of life is more than just making an enormous amount of money and gallavanting it, there's more to it. Have purpose, serve and create. Break barriers, challenge yourself, continue your faith and do what makes you get up in the morning with a smile on your face.

Surely, I've only started, my epiphany for my future is clear and so as the other 7 billion people in the world. I don't know what lies ahead, but I'm excited! My teen life has ended in good fruition, it has taught me well. So long teenager Jegs, Hello 20 year old version! Good luck to all of us babes!

I leave all of you with this verse

“When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned like a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.“

- 1 Corinthians 13:11  

CEO Striped Long-Sleeve Shirt | Mundo Pants | Personal Jewelry

The shift of my University's academic calendar has totally disrupted my mind and body habits for August. By now, we're already pulling our hairs out trying to figure out our midterms and consistently gagging over piles of this and that unconsciously assigned by my professors. Instead, I'm here procrastinating and denying the enormous amount of work load I have to literally cope with since every week has turned to hell week! Gosh! The reality of a graduating student is A) He/She will graduate in time come June  B) He/She gets left behind and graduate the following year. Imagine my stress... Just this week I literally spent the whole night til' morning drawing and designing air-conditioning ducts. The following day, my body almost gave up on me. I suppose being awake for 21 hours is suggestively unhealthy, for all obvious reasons. Duh. Well, my procrastinating wasn't all just a waste of time. I was able to make this faux amethyst topped box, shoot it, exercise, edit the photos, write this draft and hopefully read my handouts for my Vibration subject - which I'm still confused about. This DIY came about when I saw these decorative boxes from Moss Manila Home that I lusted over for 6-months. I've figured to eventually just DIY it since it's extremely out of my student budget and it's pretty easy to reinterpret. Plus I still got the same vibe I was going for - mid-century luxe. 

Materials:

Wooden Box | Spray Paint | Sand Paper | Rocks | Beads | Glue Gun | Glue Stick

Steps:

Take your box and sand the faces down. Spray paint it after with your desired color. Let it dry.

Take a small rock and cover it with beads, use glue gun. I suggest sticking to one color in different shades. As you cover the rock leave out one side of it uncovered, suggestively the most flat part.

Take your painted box and position your rocks on top of it. After finalizing the positions, apply glue to the uncovered part of the rock and place it where you wanted it to be on.

Pretty easy huh?! The finished product looks fantastic and it could easily be put anywhere around your house. It's a great decorative element! Aside from the faux-amethyst-rock, you could also do shells or corals, toys, knobs, etc. there's no limit to the possibilities. Personalize and be creative as I always say!

Redirecting to the earlier topic, I now have to get back on my work load, since I'll probably be eliminated from the candidates for graduation if I don't. Man college is tough! Good luck to me babes, I better get a move on! Hell begins again on Monday! Ciao!

I guess there is a certain elegance in writing at 2 in the morning, forging an article that cannot be slept on and reminding oneself that summer will officially be over in a few days. The past 4 months did not become the Phineas and Ferb show I have expected it to be - productive and exciting, but rather I was dungeoned with an 8 to 5 work schedule that has gotten me fat and sleep deprived. Well at least just for the first 2 months, the other 2 have been a whirlwind of “What to do?” and lazy days; mostly accumulated by decision making of whether or not going to the gym would be a good idea, my sloth ass always subsided.

Initially, as the weeks went by I thought my summer vacation was used inappropriately and obsoletely, it could have been better than just staying inside the house scrolling through my phone planning things, waiting and just drawing the whole concept of emerging from my bed and delivering the act of doing something without actually acting on it. I have become my dog, lazy and sleepy, the only compensation is her cuteness but I ain’t cute at all - I have no excuse. But I do beg to differ, my four long months of vacation has lead to realizations which made me become less of someone else and more of myself - I became an old soul.

When I think about it, my once invisible maturity have now appeared from the dead air without notice. The uncontrollable impractical impatience I once had lessened to a point of three decimal places.

My interior design dream has finally been recaptured because of a late night scroll in London Saint Martin’s website and an impulse search about the top interior design schools in the Philippines, or was it because we now have HGTV on cable?

The blog I started 5 years ago is now a .com and has been redesigned to cater my long senseless blabbing about this, that and more; with photos no less.

I was also able to read a psychology book which I think have addressed paramount of explanations and answers for my retained questions regarding myself on note of my weirdness and eccentricity.

I have become more motivated to walk the path I have been forced to take on knowing that I will eventually reach the end of my yellow brick road, because apparently I’m not in Kansas anymore. My mind has fully adapted and fulfilled obedience and acceptance of an opportunity I have always deemed irrelevant.

My moola perception has been reconstructed thoroughly. Money, as I have idiotically fully grasped on just now, is hard work plus more hard work. My appreciation for the jobholders has abruptly risen when I became part of the environment. Sacrifice and love are the driving stimulus. Yet it won’t stop me from accumulating more magazines in the future, September is next in line. I better save up!

Summer has not been wasted at all. The incoherent points I have made may seem vague, but the impact it has brought to me are eternal outcomes of constant pondering and understanding of the world I live in. The list, I suppose is incomplete because my mind this early in the morning, though seemingly works smoothly and articulately, gets flat and forgetful. Apologies my chaps, I just have to write off my unassumingness and modesty to leave my pretexts out and opaque - if there’s even any. It can’t wait really. I haven’t even included the places we went to, who knows how long my discussion about that would be. Probably moderately long, just check out my Instagram to see the summary of my now-finished-four-month-vacation journal. 

All in all it has been swell.

Code Blue Denim Pants | Folded & Hung Denim Jacket

Having to feel belittled by someone, something or a situation is one of the most off and degrading feeling ever. The acting out of the mind to think of compensations that would qualify for the lack-of is preposterously draining yet sometimes necessary. Recently, I have stumbled upon an open call for creatives in the Philippines for a French magazine - L'Officiel Manila, that would give them an ultimately rare opportunity to get featured in the publication or if not, be under the radar of Pam Quiñones herself. The promotion is open to ( though unconsciously specified ) creatives like photographers, writers, stylists, set designers, graphic designers, make-up artists and what have you, generally. I have thought abruptly for the rest of the day upon reading about the whole Open Call situation that I have sorted out as opportune and reveling at that moment, and have come to a rather sad and dismantling conclusion; my works as a blogger or rarely an influencer, do not put me as part of the creatives that the magazine is looking for.

The open call requested that the creatives submit their portfolios to them on their event #LODialogues so they could methodically examine each body of work. Then it hit me… Making a portfolio requires intense curation and immense editing to perfect one’s works in a bundle. But the dilemma lies on “What do I present?” I’m neither a photographer nor a writer, not even a stylist! I am no Margaret Zhang to be this and that and still be skillfully and aesthetically good at each one while juggling up law school. Where do I stand realistically? I’m JUST a blogger, truthfully. Am I even standing at all?

Over the past five years, my blog has evolved from something fatuous that does not offer any substance, but only the thrill of getting ahead with free stuff to something genuine and real that offers quality posts which in case are not for the narcissistic magniloquents. I am not here to question nor compare my works to other high-flung influencers, but take initiative in understanding their success. I always ask myself why I am not THERE yet. My only living motivation right now is the dream of a 15 year old province boy who wants to make it in a rigorous industry that only recognizes numbers without losing himself along the way and maintaining his crafts throughout the formidable journey. This is where my introduction comes in, do I lack talent, skill and creativity? How do I compensate for this? Am I not doing a good job with my posts? Are they not enough? If you’re reading this, congratulations you have gloriously come to this point of this article where you could conclude that my self pity and self doubt have already deceived my instincts.

I do admit, my posts do lack in terms of quantity compared to my co-bloggers who constantly update their social media accounts and blogs with engaging content that excite their audience to be like them, dream like them and ultimately be them in the not so far future. Let’s be realistic, if you have 1000+ followers on Instagram, you’re bound to get messages from prying eyes of local shops. I don’t have an enormous amount of followers, I do not, but I am content with what I have. I see newbies who have already come miles ahead of me with the titanic amount of success they’ve accumulated, and the mere fact that they’re only fresh in the game makes me question my sensibilities and taste and how I approach my craft, I’ve already been doing this for years and I’m still here. To study and educate myself with their methods may say that I am desperate and impatient, for who they are is not who I am, but I applaud them for their fresh approach to blogging or rather influencing. Yet uniqueness goes a long way in this industry as opposed to trend gaming and feed goal hoarding, though I am guilty for both acts, I do try. I guess I am no wanna be NOW, I march to the beat of my own drum, I walk on my own pace and I dance to my own tracks. Conclusively, I like to think of myself as a frayed blogger who needs stitching, but refuses to do so because what makes him unique are his impalpable imperfections and weirdness and by not doing so, he remains true to his savoir faire that could develop into recognition in the long run. I have come to realize that I am OK with what I have done and what I am doing, yet I am open to what I can become. It may be confusing at times, but adoringly accomplishing at the end of the day. I may not be a photographer, writer and stylist, but I am categorized as a jack of all trades - I am a blogger. This is life telling me to continue on and deliver majestic works through my medium without second-guessing and getting discouraged by anything nor anyone. I hold no insightful advice, my dear reader that is not apparent, but only common knowledge and mediocrity, just be you and move forth.

Custome Made Blazer Vest | Uniqlo T-Shirt | Mundo Pants | Adidas Neo Sneakers | Thrifted Rings

Costume jewelry was originally reserved for the lower class of society during the early 20th century, it was a deliberate attempt for them to mimic the finer jewelry of society's elite in order to satisfy their demand to have finer "looking" things. A rather good looking substitute for gold, diamonds, pearls, precious stones, etc. if it was only the appearance that was to be achieved, but the idea obviously didn’t catapult into the shores of society's richest as they could afford the real thing. Well, not until Gabrielle "Coco" Chanel revolutionized these women's thinking did fashion jewelry get their much needed attention. "What counts are not the carats, but the illusion" she said. Her idea of mixing fine jewelry with the cosmetic counterpart opened up an idea to explore and celebrate accessories without the hefty cost. Coco believed that it's better to have more fallalery than have one or two fine jewelry. The exact sole purpose - according to Mademoiselle Chanel - was to accessorize and complete one's outfit. She even quoted, "Costume jewelry is not made to give women an aura of wealth, but to make them beautiful."

Nowadays, women of the decade, the Titas of Manila and the millennials have reversed that thought about accessories, as I've observed. Investing solely on fine jewelry and devoting money to beautifully cut, well colored, good sized and internally flawless VVS1, VVS2, VS1, VS2, etc. diamonds. Noting their belief that buying fine jewelry and having them at a small quantity at first like any other collection and gradually growing them is entirely better than having an enormous amount of costume jewelry that do not appreciate over time - humorously regarded as worthless after much use. Arguably, not all costume jewelry are investments nor are “fine” jewelry, some are claimed to be less or more than what they seem to be. A keen eye is needed to identify these false pretenses, all under the hands of first impressions on appearances.

Yet it can be honestly told at the same time constantly discussed that some of the cosmetic sub-type do appreciate in value, the marked and the branded to be specific, as I have read from scrolling through Wikipedia under costume jewelry. So one should not be barred from options, discrimination is not the play here nor prohibition. Remember that the ravishing allure of diamonds and the electrifying thrill of fashion jewelry are feelings that should be treated as two separate entities. Metaphorically, these can be used to describe one's personality and taste regarding the subject and I'm not talking literal in interpretations. The choice of the demure, reserved and sagacious woman/man is entirely different from the fun, outgoing and unbridled woman/man, yet while some choose to be both, their choices are still dissimilar and completely individualistic from the two. From which a lot could be said about, taking account that jewelry have always been meant to represent (like any other article of clothing nowadays) style and personality. It was thoughtfully invented to highlight beauty and display individuality, among other things. To see jewelry as an opportunity to accentuate features and celebrate beauty is selfless, but one won't be able to avoid judgement from them. Regardless, every kind of jewelry will always have that certain uplifting attribute that is eternally stamped on, no matter the carat nor weight. The choice of having this or that is entirely up to one's purpose and agenda. Either way, nothing will EVER beat jewelry at giving a person enormous gratification and unparalleled happiness, especially if it comes in a Tiffany-blue or Cartier-red box. Right ladies and gents?

Let me begin by telling you frankly that I am no historic junkie. My credibility within those boundaries are disappointingly one to nothing. I have grown not fully learning our country's rich history which is irresponsible and savage in a way. The information during my high-school years comes in from one ear and comes out from the other. My minuscule knowledge on facts about the historical events that have changed the Philippines should not be tolerated nor exemplified by the incoming generation. Study my dear kids. I am not proud of my lack thereof, apologies are in order.

But with my lacking knowledge comes a full bloomed interest with relearning history now. My amusement with interior design and European homes has left me "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" over at Las Casas Filipinas De Acuzar. Every house was a restoration fit that was immaculately conquered. Each was inspiring and nostalgic. As we walked through the compound that was rich in history and charm, my euphoria could not be contained. I was simply struck, speechless, every corner was picture perfect.

Honestly, it is an inspiring place to rekindle and remember. Well, it is a reserve built for the succeeding generations to preserve history and memories in the first place. Las Casa did its job well - for me to say the least - I am reinvigorated and rejuvenated with more knowledge of the past after a day's worth of walking and strolling around. He disfrutado de mi estancia y se encontró historia en el camino.

Know more about the place here.

Tuesday may be the most odd day of the week, it is in between the Monday blues and the mid-week charge of Wednesday. A very peculiar day to be inclined with, especially if it becomes a favorite. Weirdly, Tuesday is my favorite day aside from Friday. Who doesn't love the end day of every week?! Coincidentally, the third day of the week is the only day without a hashtag that doesn't promote a throwback photo in a world run by #memorymonday, #waybackwednesday, #thowbackthursday and #flashbackfriday. Thank God the weekends were left alone from all these reminscing; How many throwback (memory, wayback, flashback) photos could you really post in a span of one week?!

A few Tuesdays back, my Fenty instincts ringed a bell to buy a slip on for everyday use. A black slip on was on my mind and a black slip on I bought, as could be seen. Sadly they weren't Fenty. Then another Tuesday back, my classmates and I finally organized the cute little swimming kiki we've been planning for 4 years, hoping that everyone would come in our whole section. There were 12 of us that day, not even half of the section count. Regardless, the day went by with us eating and splashing around in the pool like Gerald in Finding Dory while talking about past happenings. The swim was on a Thursday. No wonder! Quite splendid! This Tuesday, I was finally able to bring this outfit to life, grey socks and all with the black slip ons I instinctively bought. Yet another story to keep my blog alive and running! My vacations are well spent brainstorming posts and constantly fearing the next semester ahead.

All in all my June Tuesdays were pretty great. The month in whole was awesome. A vacation well spent in morning swims, relaxed afternoons and Game of Throne binge watching. The latter having no more bearing because the season has already ended, with Cersei on the iron throne in an all black gown and shoulder armor no less. Pretty great, I still have another month to go before the real bad ass grind begins. August I'll be coming for you!

For the meanwhile, on to the next Tuesday! #TakeMeBackTuesdays Oops...*insert smirky emoji here

A dilemma will always stay a dilemma unless acted upon. The conscious mind reacts to problems either in excessive anxiety or in nonchalance. The latter being the best manner of solving, consciously or unconsciously, if you know what I mean. Drunk "I still love you" texts are wonderful proofs of unconscious solutions to self-inflicted regrets. You know he/she was the one who got away, but I will not dig deep to that ubiquitous issue, rather I'll be showing you how to pamper your coarse hands. Yeah you read that right, our hands need some pampering too boo. My rough and dry hands have always been my frustrating dilemma. It took me enough years before I actually thought of unriddling it and getting a cheap (Yes, cheap!) long-use solution for the betterment of my empty wallet and lazy ass. It's quite tiring going to the nail salon every week. E V E R Y week! And who has the time, really?! All you need are three common household ingredients and you'll be able to make this "perfect" hand scrub that will leave your hands as soft as a baby's behind. The inner Martha Stewart in you will be released from its entrapment, the OC perfectionist will take over! Let's get started kids!

STEPS:

1. So here is the golden ratio, 2 is to 6 for the olive oil and sea salt  and 1 is to 6 for the fresh orange juice. In other words, 3 is to 6 for the wet and dry ingredients. (6 tbsp of sea salt, 2 tbsp of olive oil and 1 tbsp of fresh orange juice.) 2. Just mix the sea salt with the olive oil and fesh orange juice. Remember that the scrub should look damp and dry-ish instead of bathed and drenched. It's a salt scrub not an oil scrub! 3. Put it inside a jar or a small bowl and place it by your sink. Use as often as you like. After bathing or washing your hands. You could also use this for your feet!

Another alternative for the orange juice would be lemon juice. I've tried both, the orange smells better!

Another dilemma of mine are dry chapped lips. The dryness gets me all feeling dehydrated and arid. Cheap solution you ask? Just mix petroleum jelly and coffee powder in 5/2 ratio and place in a small container. Use as often as needed! The coffee powder is just for taste, also try coco powder.

Simple recipes like these can take your whole self-pampering experience to a whole new level. Self-spa-ing would be a ridiculous, but appropiate term. Scrub away and feel the smooth hands you'll eventually be coarsing out again after a day's work. Enjoy it while it lasts!

In a country where an Alden Richards, a James Reid, an Enrique Gil and a male group called Hashtags prominently define the typical beauty for men, it's not shocking to know that they all have one thing in common (aside from their good looks and talent) - white skin. The standards that people bring up to the table nowadays is fairly impossible. Pun intended. How would an ordinary person be that fair "white" looking commercial model that every brand insists of him becoming if it is technically impossible to achieve? Where have our standards reached? Why would we rather suggest having whiter skin? Are we not proud Filipinos of color?

Over the years, the real definition of beauty has long been overshadowed with skin color. It has been dumped in the garbage waiting to rot, like real talents who are shrouded by fairer looking, but talentless individuals who offer nothing else except their color and charm. What have our views in beauty become, Pilipinas kong mahal? Is it all about that pale white color?

During my occasional mall strolls, I noticed that fairer looking men get the most stares rather than moreno ones. I presume that they are snobbed because of their darker complexion, based from keen observation. Let's not go far, social media has monopolized white skin more than the darker counterpart. Their good looks don't shine because of "brighter" standards and I'm not only talking about the men, women are not exempted from this issue. We think that fairer skin is better than our naturally born moreno and morena skin. Caucasian skin in our country is the typical scale of beauty and the epitomical status symbol.The skin tone that is praised by all and envied by many leaving the brown skin-toned others insecure and ultimately shy. If we think it is what it is, why have the infamous phrase "maputi lang yan," despite the fact that "puti" is what we promote. Ano ba talaga? I’m not saying that mestizos and mestizas aren’t beautiful, I’m trying to express that there is more to beauty than white skin. We need to diversify our standards and not single out to one shade of brown.

Thankfully, the rise of the naturally born Filipino skin is slowly being accepted by the masses - which shouldn't really be accepted, but rather be the primary character of beauty in the first place. (Baby steps) Think Nadine Lustre, Rocco Nacino, Bianca Gonzales-Intal and Piolo Pascual to name a few, all gorgeous people with moreno and morena skin. Proof of talent and Filipino beauty all rolled into one without the pretentious attitude of being Belo-fied babies drenched in glutathione. A fit to be recognized for they broke through the industry in color. Their presence and actors like them in television keeps the gandang Pinoy alive!

We all need to take part of keeping this flame burning to become true Filipinos of color with standards that appreciate multiple shades in view of true Filipino beauty. Let us accept the skin we're in by enhancing and patronizing our moreno and morena skin with dignity and pride. Celebrate the kagandahang Pinoy and realize that the natural brown complexion of Filipinos is much more beautiful than we think it is. To cut it short, love your color, stay true to it and you will find the real essence of being beautiful with a heart. Take pride of what you have. Stay glowing, ladies and gentlemen!

Forver 21 Bomber Jacket

Many people have said that a picture is worth a thousand words and I could not agree more to that saying, regardless who "really" said it. A picture really is worth a thousand words, no matter how opaque it is. Take the infamous painting titled "The Mind of Kris Aquino," it is simply blank. Its humor is quite demeaning. It makes you think. Does she really have a mind as white as a blank canvas? Is her persona really that vague?

These set of photos that I have struggled shooting can make you think if I really am a sporty guy; Does he really pay attention to his health?; Does he really dress like a gym trainer in the 70′s?; Is it really sweat on his nose?; Is he just a poser, literally? What is true and what is not?

Just like Grace Coddington and her editorials built by narratives, I like to imagine the guy in the photo to be in his early 20′s, a young athlete struggling to break through barriers in the industry. Training night and day to achieve his dreams in life - to be a professional MMA Fighter. He has taken risks in attaining his dreams, he knows that all his hard work may lead to nothingness or something beautifully great. He works two jobs during weekdays and flutters around the gym on weekends, hoping that someday he'll sore out to the world in fame and glory. Determination and vigor drive him to be better, stronger and more powerful than who he was yesterday. Winning in life would be his ultimate goal!

It's a back story that I think could be a cool narrative. It gives you a fictious story that provides a different situation which is distant to reality, cause my aspirations are far from his. Believe me. The wholeness of it can make you understand and at the same time make you wonder. Questions on his future lingers like a mosquito to an arm. Will he succeed in his endeavors? Or will he miserably fail? His future lies in his spectators, proving that a picture can really be worth a thousand words. It is an open narrative waiting to be told by an ingenious mind.

Paint and be a Van Gogh!