walk.run.leap.fly

I started walking at 9 months. I have no memory of the sort for me to prove my parents claim. But they said so, better not question it. Hi up there in  heaven, Dad. And I haven't stopped walking since. What's immensely thrilling were the number of times I fell. Yes, I was a wiggly-wriggly-nosey-runabout type of babe back then and I have many scars to remind me. But no, I don't blame anybody. Not even my mom who fell asleep while breastfeeding me, only to find me on the floor when she woke up. Luckily, I wasn't abducted or kidnapped. None of those bullsh*t happened. I don't even blame my sister when I fell, head first, in my aunt's drainage system. I didn't find any gold or nickel. No luck at all. Just a bad slash on the forehead. Not as cool as Harry Potter's thunder scar though. Please don't take my humor for sour sarcasm. These memories are really funny when I reminisce. 

I used to think that I was one of the boys. My childhood neighbors' boy-girl ratio was, I think, approximately 7:4. So that explains it. I played "takyan" or what do we call it really? Was it "sipa"? Whatever. I'd go against 5 boys with that sort of game. And I won. Well, I'd like to think so. When they'd bully or should I say, more appropriately, TEASE me because adolescence was a b*tch and the word crush became a household phenomenon, I'd run after 'em. Yes, I run like a boy. Which came in handy when I worked for an airline. Made them question if I really was a boy trapped in a very maarte girl's body. If that's the case, my construction was undeniably impeccable. *wink wink*

What do you call those things athletes jump over during a marathon? Call me lazy. I have the internet connection but I won't bother researching. I am just amazed how speed and velocity can make you jump. Should I give credit to gravity, flexibility,strength or adrenaline? I hated physics back in college, so bite me. Here comes another quick stride on memory lane. Yes, before I was a flexi-bender, I was one of those who yearned to touch the sky. Yeah yeah, I hear ya, I look very mataray, but I'm really a wimp. Didn't had the guts to pass my papers and be a fly girl. I wished I was stronger than timid. So I worked on the ground for those who fly, flew and are flying. What made me change my mind? I'd tell you but then I'd kill you. NOT really. ;)

That introduction is a handful, I know. The only purpose of this literary ranting is to make myself feel good about this decision to take a leap again. This time, a big one. Thank you Mom for instilling in me the independence I shall ardently need. I have no idea what I ate for breakfast one morning, or what medications I took, what book I read (which I disgustingly confess, I haven't been doing lately) or what show I watched on TV, and there's absolutely no need to persecute social media... on why I'll be packing my bags, take an umbrella and do a Merry Poppins entrance to the Metro. I am a crybaby for crying out loud! I am clingy. I am the youngest. So why the f*ck will I be doing this? Simple. Not so simple. But close to non-complication, because I want to. Time to open these damn wings and soar. 

I have a particularly non-stressful environment in the Tuna Capital. No traffics. No shitty weather like Winterfell. No filthy stench like King's Landing. No hassles. No bustles. I must be out of my mind. Scattered wits all over the floor, I dare not sweep and piece them back together. I'm fine. Honestly, I have a wicked smile painted on my face as I write this. Its the taste of metal when your lips bleed and lick it over with your tongue. Its that sort of satisfaction. For now, it is. I'll make a new post after a few months and see if I have broken down or toughened up. Which is which, we shall find out. 

I started out late. Perhaps its the emotional attachment to the Mother Hen. or some other reason. A boy? Friends? The comfort? Fear? All of those and then some. You, dear reader, do you know that gut-wrenching feeling when you miss a step? Like your stomach falls a 50-foot drop and your heart skyrockets towards the cosmic heavens? That's how I feel. Two opposing directions pushing and pulling me on both ends. Sounds like the anatomical phenomenon of a Adho Mukha Svanasana (downward facing dog). 

Yoga won't come cheap! Holy cow! Now my heart is breaking. hahaha! Oh how will I ever survive. Self practice? What if I get too lazy? Dilemmas, dilemmas. 

But the city lights lure me like Icarus flying close to the sun. Everywhere I look, it's art in motion. The proper tagalog makes my ears bleed like hearing French for the first time. I'm in awe and I don't know why. It's intoxicating in the most euphoric way. And that sunset on the bay. *sigh*

Blah. Blah. Blah. 

To cut this short, Hello Independence. 

Please be good to me. 

Until I cry myself to sleep at night. 

xo

bipolar.

it is what it is. i made a perfect reality out of a single hallucination. i fed my brain well. it bought my own make believe stories. it got hungry for more. its persistence became my own weakness. serotonin and endorphins took each other the wrong way. 

i tried to separate the two. i told them not to mess with the other. but they freakin' did! they had a mind of their own. and alas i made my own bed. now i have to sleep in it. 

it wasn't really a stroke of bad luck. it was more of...wrong and poor decision making. 
if you were in my shoes? how many times could you possibly believe in the same promises? and no pure intentions of making these promises breathe, walk and talk?

we all made rules. rules for dating. rules of the heart. rules for relationships. rules for cooking spaghetti. but then, there's always the only exception. and that's the ultimate downfall. 

how do i overcome impending dooms of self-inflicted pain and fear? am i stupid because i overthink? some higher power tells me to slap myself and keep my shit together. i tried. it just aint happening. i need divine intervention perhaps?

i already lit several candle sticks. bent my knees. closed my eyes and prayed for inner peace. then again, prayers get rain-checked from time to time, don't they? i know! i am absolutely responsible for this entire thing. from overthinking, to having trust issues...the whole nine yards!

say i am a bird only learning to fly. i have no prior test flights. only theories from other birds to fill my bucket with false courage or high hopes that would eventually crash and burn. i expect nobody to break my fall. break my neck. and other fragile parts but my own. should i dust myself off and try again? or succumb to the sweet aroma of failure?  how intoxicating can it possibly be?

i'm sick of talking to myself in the mirror. i told you so has become mainstream. i do it over and over again anyway. so what's the point? moot. bleak. insensible even. its nobody's cup of tea, being a fool. the Lord gave you a brain for heaven's sake. why do i not have the audacity to use it purposely? 

if this were an ielts question. it would definitely warrant the answer, I HAVEN'T REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT. because i am not using the lobes of both my left and right cerebral hemispheres. frontal. temporal. occipital. parietal. i shut them all down. punk ass reasoning, i say!

imma cut the bullshit and decide on an effing verdict.  fight or flee?

if i fight. Ilyn Payne might behead me. flip side, you all get to say..again...I TOLD YOU SO. :)

if i flee. you are dumb ass woman! don't go complaining about all the what ifs you can come up with. 

ambivalence has a bitter taste in the mouth. it will take up residence in your entire being and without you knowing, Xanax is your new best friend. how apt. 

i have no plans of reaching that pedestal. 

so i'll keep my fingers crossed. 
if it won't work, i'll flip a coin.
 if the coin gets lost in the sewer, i'll consult the cards.
 if the cards lie, i'll burn them and look at the stars. 
if the night is dark, i'll make my own constellations.
if they choose to hide, i will close my eyes and pray.


i will try not to overdo my preconceived notions.
in the event that i wont be capable of doing so,
i said i will try. i didn't say i'd nail it right away.

right?

xoxo,

A.

changes.

its amazing how you go from big planes to small ones.

they say the inevitable comes inevitably.

its true.

dreams die sometimes.


its up to you how to resurrect them.


xoxo,


A.

bunso.

ngayon, pagdating ko sa bahay, puro katahimikan lang naririnig ko. dati kasi, tuwing Linggo pag-uwi ko, meron akong naabutang Nanay na nag-ma-magic sing sa sala. tapos pag nakita ako, ngingiti na syang nakatingin sa'kin habang kumakanta. maya-maya, tatawagin nya na ako, sabay halik sa pisngi ko, at pakakantahin din ako ng kantang gusto nya.

miss ko na yung Nanay ko. pati na rin yung Ate ko. Yung ingay, yung kulitan, yung konting tampuhan, tawanan pati na rin yung mga wala-lang moments.

miss ko sila, samantala nung andyan lang sila, madalas di ko naman sila nabibigyan ng panahon. kesho pagod ako galing trabaho, kesho inaantok nako kasi maaga akong nagigising sa umaga, kesho ganito, kasi ganyan. nagsisisi tuloy ako.

pabiro ko pang sinabe kay Mommy bago sya umalis, "Magha-house party ako dito my!" eh wala namang house party naganap. haha. pero pilit pa rin nilalabanan ang lungkot, at dinaraan na lang sa tawa.

buti na lang kahit papano merong facebook. atleast alam ko, masaya ang nanay ko dun kasama ni ate. para naman sa kanya yun because she rightfully deserves it. she deserves to be happy above all else.

kaya eto, nagba-blog na lang ako. para naman malabas yung tinatagong pagka-miss kay Naty at Amor.
hahaha!


mahal ko kayo,


bunso.

hate mail.

now and then I think of when we were together, 
like when you said you felt so happy you could die. 
told myself that you were right for me, but felt so lonely in your company. 
but that was love, and it's an ache I still remember...


you can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness,
like resignation to the end, always the end
so when we found out we could not make sense
well you said that we would still be friends
but I'll admit that I was glad that it was over.


but you didn't have to cut me off.
make it like it never happened at that we were nothing
I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger
and that feels so rough


no, you didn't have to stoop so low
have your friends collect your records and then change your number
guess that I don't need that though
now you're just somebody that I used to know.




the metallic taste of blood as it rids off the tongue, hate for one, rage and then some.
and what for? to re-live the numbing pain of betrayal? seriously? its said and done.

said.
done.
letting go.


let go.

bridges are burned. time wasted. but happy ever afters don't always exist for the weak and naive.
there's always a new leaf, a new page and its called moving on and moving forward.

ain't life grand? one moment you're in deep shit the next thing you know, you're dusting yourself off
and you find yourself trying again...

to get yourself in more deep shit. lol.

mistakes are a thing of the past. but it always lives with the present. the brain would seldom forget, but the memory seldom recalls, then somehow, it becomes real again. like a freshly scratched scar, a new wound.

all the planets would still move, earth would rotate, sun rises and still sets. apparently, stars would still fucking align to eventually lead you to another. bullshit! either way. its a slim to none chance that things would be the same.

but I'm not a full-pledge sinner, neither you, a saint.
no point counting sins if a line has already been drawn
there's an extension of heaven when it sees no hell.
though wishes are existent of your soul burning in one.

flames to dust.
all good things come to an end.

it was once a beginning, until it died a natural and DECEITFUL death.
gravity is not to blame if all we know has fallen.



already whistling a new tune
no more imprisoned thoughts.



only hate mails.



somebody that i used to know.














xoxo,


A.

linya.

i wish i knew then what i know now.

gravity hurts, you made it so sweet.

til i woke up on,

on the concrete.

my vintage camera.

shallow fascination was all it was. no deeper essence. no meaningful canvass. no extraordinary touch.
discoveries were yet to be made, and my craft yet to unfold.

one event that caused a transition from simple to perplexed.
from solitary confinement to freedom sanctuary.
a mind with creativity without measure.
a hand that can make photographic treasures.
a skill that can be perfected through time.
a talent that he rightfully calls MINE.

he sees beauty in the midst of chaos. art in the most unexpected places.
angles in unsuspecting finds. color ecstacy in classic lights.
different patterns, various hues, it all results to one exceptional work of ingenuity.

a change is inevitable.
from lost to inspired.
from a box of nothing to a crate of inspiration.
from humble beginnings to becoming inspirational.

--- i am proud of you and your work.
you know who you are and how my love for you is incomparable.
i love you and your art.
you inspire me always.


this is for you.



xoxo,



A.

that chiffon cake...

Whenever I'd think of him, I would always remember a chiffon cake. A chiffon cake for my birthday, a chiffon cake he would bring on my cousin's birthday, a chiffon cake for a Christmas Reunion, honestly, a chiffon cake for any occasion. That's how thoughtful my grandfather is. He never forgets, even though we sometimes do.

It's the littlest things we seldom forget, but it's the ones that always leave a mark.
I have millions of stories about him. Stories on how he was a Lolo to all of us. He was one warm gentleman who would always smile at you when he'd see you. He'd give you candy when you did good in school. He'd comfort you when you're crying. Provide the things you need however and whenever he can. He'd challenge you to be better and he'd give you a wet sloppy but sweetest kiss on your special day.

I feel bad that I wasn't able to care for him as much as I could. I was supposed to be his angel in the sickroom, and I wasn't there. I used to visit him in his bedroom and watch him just lying there, staring blankly at the ceiling. He'd look at me and try to talk even if he couldn't. He would stare at me and I'd hope that he remembers me. I saw his health depreciate. From a once health man, he became ill and skinny.

Twas Christmas of 2010 when he could still sit and talk for a while. I helped him drink his meds and he'd even choke. His eyes were that of a kid, who was asking me not to make him drink the bitter liquid anymore. I wish I could have done it for him, take it all for him so he wouldn't have too much of a hard time. It hurts to know that you are a nurse but you can't nurse your own grandfather back to health. I serve and assist other old people but I wasn't there beside him for the past months when he needed the utmost care.

I'm sorry Lolo. I couldn't even bring you your own chiffon cake on your last birthday. I wasn't even able to hug you and kiss your cheek then... I couldn't kiss or hug you now. :( . Will you still hear me if I said I love you? I know you said that to me a hundred times and I couldn't remember if I said I love you back... Am i too late Lolo?

I don't want to reminisce how you were because you're gone, but I want to relive how you are because I know you'll always be there, in our minds, in our hearts, always a part of us, always a part of me.

Thank you Lo because I am a Bautista and I'll always be proud to be one. Thank you for teaching me your ways. It's hard to let go but I'm beginning to accept it now. You're in a happier place.


and thank you for that chiffon cake on my birthday...


I'll cherish that photo of us, with you holding my plastic yellow tea set...


You sleep easy, you can now finally rest.
Hug and kiss Lola Pauline for me, tell her I miss her though I never met her.



I love you.



Xoxo,


Angel.

her name is...

i really don't have a name for my baby yet... i waited patiently to have her.
i imagined how she'd look like, how it would feel when i'm finally holding her with my own hands.
it gives me both fright and uttermost anticipation.

so many questions, i would immediately ask myself. would i be responsible enough to care for her? am i capable to doing measures that would keep her safe and completely unscathed? would i understand her? know her limitations and her frailties?

and i am completely sure that she won't be that easy to handle.
there might be days i might totally won't get her, and in frustration, i might let go of her.
if she falls, but i do hope she would never, i wont surely know what to do!

i wish there's an easier manual to know everything, and understand everything about her.
but no manual can ever determine or establish my own relationship with her.

so what am i to do now.
i chose to have this responsibility and i admit, its not easy.
im going out of my wits.


but i am not going to quit until i finally master this damn camera!


seriously...? what else would it be?


;)


xoxo,


A.

im doomed

happy new year and yeah, i suck at writing now. what is this colossal damage I have inflicted on my brain? too much air? or like im going crazy? too crazy that i dont even know how to make literary shit anymore?

to the greater power, i need major saving down here! is this the result of not blogging anymore? i swear ill blog everyday. what am i saying. i sound like a desperate bimbo. oh no, do i really sound desperate?!!?!?

somebody save me from myself. slap or like throw a glass of water over my face! i am not over reacting. i am just reacting too much. sigh. does it even make a difference?

im no longer fabulous! i used to be good at this. now im really not.
is this a nervous breakdown via cyberspace?

what do you do when your creative juice took a vacation without even giving you a heads up about it?
its like going on AWOL!

im scared and shitless. now that's a deadly combination.
talk about being on the brink of deliverance.

one two three four...
somebody help. :D

no fear of flying!

hello october!!!!

its been a dream to announce this
"this is not yet your boarding announcement....."
or this one
"we wish you a safe and enjoyable flight"

and its on its way to actualization.

so far so far.
so good. :D

gravity.

i remember the first time you looked at me, with that sly smile, yes it sent shivers down my spine and butterflies in my stomach. like a butter melting on toast, that warm feeling and my heart skipped a beat again. i was busy contemplating with the stars and you were there just watching me marvel over our mild existence.

i suddenly missed your hands. sturdy but gentle. the way you hold me and touch me, the warmth against my skin. never ever wanting you to let go.

i'd close my eyes and imagine the softness of your eyes, the way you look at me with such wonder and awe, as if you're looking at something so precious you dare not lose, you're favorite person in the world.

in my thoughts, i retrace the feeling of your sweet kiss, when your lips are in harmony with mine. a wordless expression that you are mine and i am yours.

i miss everything about you. when i think of you, my whole world stops. i think of you too much that sometimes it hurts knowing you're near but my arms can't reach you. but amidst all the longing and yearning, i find my happy place, nowhere else but beside you. right beside you, where i can feel the slow and calm beating of your heart, that it beats for me.

a day without you is almost bearable.

a week feels empty...

a month? i would detest the thought.

you and i, are a force of nature, cannot be tamed and cannot be controlled.

what we have is more than love itself, undefined and inevitable, but unique and eternal.

for some reason, i'll always love gravity.

i'd fall for you, over and over again.

je vous aime.




xoxo,




A.

my box of crayons

i picked up my crayon and colored my drawing yellow,

because the world is warm and fuzzy when we laugh together.

with bits of depth and blue serenity.

no hate or turning green with envy.

we both like red

because we exude strength, courage and confidence.

tough exterior but fun-loving women.

i colored my rainbow with indigo

to remind of me of dusk and we talk mellow.

i taught her how to love black

because i love it like i love pink.

orange is when we both need a perk-me-up,

a time away from rush and haste.

above all

she embodies white.

not for lies and disguise

but for purity and sincerity.

plain and simple white.

my box of crayons, yes i use with awe and glee

my box of crayons, i color life with delight.

my box of crayons, my mom taught me.

every color, every hue, is represented by me and you. :)

lost in translation

its been a long time since i came around
been a long time and im back in town

this time im not leaving without you.

you taste like whiskey when you kiss me  oh

ill give anything again to be your baby doll

this time im not leaving without you.

he said "sit down where you belong, 

in the corner of my bar with your high heels on"

sit back down on the couch where we

made love the first time and then you said to me.

                    something, something about this place 

something 'bout lonely nights

and my lipstick on your face.

something,something about my cool  Filipino guy

something 'bout baby,you and i.

its been two years since i let you go

i couldnt listen to a joke or rock n' roll

muscle cars drove a truck right through my heart

on my birthday you sang me A Heart of Gold

with a guitar humming and no clothes

this time in not leaving without YOU...

something, something about the chase.

im a Filipina woman born to run you down

so have my lipstick all over your face

something, something about just knowing when its right.

we got a whole lot of money but we still pay rent

coz you cant buy a house in heaven..

you and i.

you, you and i

baby id rather die without

YOU and I.

its been a long time since i came around

been a long time and im back in town

this time im not leaving without YOU...

millions of thanks to Paul Llanos Photography

for Danbo.

and to Lady Gaga for a millions worth of inspiration.

xoxo,

A.

the search for the perfect concealer.

I was three years old, four maybe, when I first learned to put lipstick on. Mind you, dark red lipstick and I'd wear my mom's shoes, don a crown and walk around the house pretending to be a beauty queen with my oh-so-famous white shirt and underwear. Adorable? Signs of early onset of narcissism if you ask me. :)


Little girls with pink frilly tutu skirts, hello kitty headbands, and a flowery handbag, yeah I was one of those little girls. I didn't turned out to be a rebellious tomboy, I turned out worse, more MAARTE than ever.


My younger cousins and I would even fight over who would be Pink Ranger in our own version of Power Ranger series. 3 pathetic little girls, me being the eldest and I would initiate the arguement! Perfect role model eh?! Then one of us ends up crying. Oh hurray!


I grew up, still growing up and so did my little sisters. Shame is a thing of the past between us. The barbie dolls and Hello Kitty, are now Mac, Stila and Shu Uemura. The platform Sketcher shoes are now 4-inch stilettos, well, for me they are. :) 


Its really sweet and funny how someone you used to play with, is all grown up and now asks you on where to find a trusty concealer, which nude lipstick color would look good on her, and what kinds of clothes are rad. I am not being emotional and be like "oh they're growing up so fast" and getting teary-eyed. LOL. 


What is with girls and make-up? Girls and bags? Girls and shoes? Girls and clothes? Men. They don't understand! If you feel me ladies HOLLER! :) Rebecca Bloomwood said "You know that thing when you see someone cute and he smiles and your heart kind of goes like warm butter sliding down hot toast? Well that's what it's like when I see a store. Only it's better. " 

That's how I feel, that's how girls feel. Like giggly and excited over a good pair of heels. animal printed heels. swarovski encrusted heels.shocking colored heels. flowery peep toes. shiny stilettos. Manolo Blahniks. Jimmy Choos. Christian Louboutins. ugh. the list goes on and on and on. then there goes the studded clutches. the Chanel purses. Louis Vuitton monograms. vintage glam. the 80s rock. sheer tops. the shorty shorts. corsets. they're all coming back. this is fashion invasion and i am gonna have a heart attack. in a good way. 


the search for the concealers. i still have to blame my cousin for this. I seriously don't need concealers so to say but it seemed like a cute title for a blog. haha. I dedicate this blog to little girls who grew up to be addicted to fashion like me. 


It is my little comfort zone. My happy place. To dress up and style myself and other girls. ladies. women. We run the world anyway, right? 


Hail to Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly. my icons of the past. Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Gwen Stefani, musicians and designers at the same time. B. and S. of Gossip Girl and the Ladies who brought back Sex to the City. and ofcourse my Mom, who taught me how to walk in heels though I basically learned on my own. My mom who was modelling still when she was pregnant with me. My mom who still buying clothes when she's almost about to pop! 


the search for the perfect concealer begins when you finally learn to see yourself. appreciate yourself and know your worth. :) the concealer need not be for the eyes. its to conceal the woes of the soul with happiness brought by the comfort of friends. to hide the dark spots of painful memories to be replaced with glowing smiles of promising tomorrows. concealers for the insecurities that makes you think you don't deserve to love and be loved. concealers that break down doubt and rebuild your self-confidence! 


those are the perfect concealers. there are days when I too have those dark circles, dark circles of downtime and insecurities. cheer up. you're not alone in the world. 


you buy your hair if it won't grow.
you can fix your nose if he says so.
you can buy all the make up that Mac can make
BUT IF
you can look inside you,
find out who are they to be in the position
to make you feel so damn unpretty?


...it should be,


i feel pretty, oh so pretty. 
i feel pretty, and witty and bright.




beauty from the inside radiates to the whole world. 




xoxo,




A.

eternal sunshines....

    












                       There’s a majestic feeling when the tides of the shore touch your feet for the first time again. You close your eyes and savor the experience of simple yet eternal bliss. It catches you off-guard, the colliding sounds of the sea and wind, synergistic in perfect harmony. More perfect than a quartet of strings that reverb inside a famous opera house.

Similar with the aftermath of solitude, you shall discover yourself in serenity. Like the stillness of a beating heart through a crowd that stands firm. The moment when the sound of silence envelopes in the dark and that whistle of the wind in the end of a long tunnel. It speaks to you in many ways but only you can decipher its true essence and its significance that will ultimately change your life.

            Aurora comes before sunset. Crimson and tangerine spreads its prowess across the sky, chasing the stars away and bestowing rest to the indigo fields. One big ball of fire ascends to take its rightful place allowing the flowers to open its buds to bloom and awaken everyone else from slumber.

            As I stand here, the sand on my feet, a combination of wet and dry, I thank God for another day. I feel the gentle wind caress the woes of my spirit and with clasped hands, I move forth. This morning shows a lot of promise; a beautiful portrait where the blues and greens meet, with a hint of red in the middle that adjoin the two. In the leisure of my walk, I noticed I am not alone. The eternity of this beach isn’t only composed of one wanderer but numerous hopefuls.

            Children are playing alongside the shore with kites and paper boats that they may soar high in dreams of becoming somebody in the future. I silently envy their limitless grasp of freedom. They contain the optimism that seems so fragile, so naïve, evident innocence beyond frailties and imagination. I chuckled with thoughts of creating one paper boat myself…. And I continue this morning walk. 


       A man in a chair caught my attention. Yes, a plastic chair situated not far from the shore but submerged in the water at some point. Coming to this beach was a part of his therapy because he recently experienced stroke. I admired life a little bit more. As the world turns round and round, just about everything falls to the ground, it picks you up, grants you new hope and makes you see things you’ve relentlessly neglected. Just like the sea, at different times and with different tides, its washes away things we value but it still manages to bring them back at the end of the day. This man, sitting in that very plastic chair, he comes in the morning with new found hope.

           




















        This park is not home only to those who seek refuge, ‘tis also for those who are in search for meaning and inspiration. Numerous are those who wish to muster the strength and put messages in bottles, pray for deliverance and wait for answers in painful silence. ‘tis a happy place to those who promised that friendships are forever 
with a click here, a click there, stolen memories to be kept for a lifetime.

        I always wondered what its like to conquer the savage waters. Then there are those who have the talent to do so. They marvel their skill of maneuvering through the current with ease evident upon their faces, not having to worry of mistakes and failures because passion is their foundation. I watched them exploit their capabilities and enhance their abilities. Like the rest of the audience, I was awed.

            






          






            Reaching the end of this walk, I    am surprised where my feet took me. Footprints are washed away not giving me a chance to retrace and linger on my tracks. I listened to the humming of the wind again and the sound of the sea. It gave me peace.

This place has witnessed the “comes and gone” of people…of life. May it be serenaded by happy notes, sad love songs or simple melodies, stories have put color to this park. Enthralled by the contagious laughter, deepened by silent tears, strengthened by working hands and made meaningful by the people who share an hour or two, with faith that this is a place where first and last times will always be written as a part of history.

As we move forward to a far more deliberate tomorrow, let us remember that once in a while, we can take off our shoes, dig our feet in the dirt, feel the sea, breathe and be one with the universe…like what I did one morning at Queen Tuna Park.

        much gratitude to Noel Nacion Photography 

xoxo,

             A.           

                                                                 

                                                                                                                                                                                     

i don't wanna wait.

i haven't blogged for a while. what's there to blog about? oh yeah. right here. its more on sweet shit. :)

the radio is playing a lot of retrograde songs. blast from the past so the dj said.
friday madness.
guess what radio station already?!

anyway, so to speak and relate. man, i am getting a bit older. to think, I used to sing these songs back in High School and trust me it is far far behind. reminds me of many thing. both bitter and sweet.

makes me laugh of how many times me and my bestfriends fought over stupid things. irrational things. funny stuff and kid-shit. that's high school. i miss them both. since technically and for how many years now, we don't live in the same city anymore.

then College came and went. graduated. became a Registered Nurse, then a bum. a few stint with Smart Communications then bumming again, TRAVELLED! and now, waiting for THE TEXT. the text that would steer my life to a new direction again.

why can't i just work in a hospital??! uhh, because i dont want to?! hahaha. yeah i hear you "why on earth did you take up nursing in the first place?" yada yada yada. il be a nurse, just wait for it,don't hold your breath long enough though.

seizing the moment.
i don't wanna wait for my life to be over before:
i sing.
i dance.
i do crazy stuff.
i believe.
i dream.
i love.

love is a battlefield.
life is a sandbox.
and i am a force of nature. ;)

xoxo,


A.

The Tooth Fairy

We all wish we're tough cookies. :) Rough exteriors with a bittersweet taste but we're all hard candies with a surprise center. 


His momma said to him once "Life is a box of chocolates, you'll never know what you're gonna get."


I never saw that movie til I was in College. I really didn't understood what the fuss was about and why people liked it, then I did. 


People experience all sorts of chocolate everyday.


Days like milk chocolate where everything seems so perfect. Nothing can go wrong.
Birds singing, flowers dancing and you, the happiest you.
Simple and classic.


Then there would be moments of candor.
Bright and ecstatic.
Just pure and innocent.
A space for peace, serenity and silence; a time for yourself.
A time for white chocolates.


Dubious scenes and mystery envelope your ray of sunshine because of deadlines,
falling from grace, love-hate relationships, apathy and confusion.
Like every dark chocolate, bitter at first but ends up sweet.


That is how we are. Living the life of candies in one big jar.
A variety of colors, different sizes and shapes, multiple textures and flavors.
Because after all, we are made unique, a cut apart the rest that distinguishes you from the other. 


Today you might be a gummy bear. Fun and easy.
Tomorrow a jawbreaker, callous but luscious.
Somedays easy going, light and fluffy like cotton candy,
and test your patience with rolls of taffy.


Sweet dreams. Sweet tooth. Sweetheart. 
That's how life is. sweet and sugary.
You would make it that way.
You can make it that way. 


Chocolates. Taffy. Caramel. Marshmallows. Gummy Bears. Jelly Beans. Cotton Candy. Licorice Wands. Cakes. Truffles. Brownie. Cookie. 


Which one are you?


Surprise me. Surprise yourself.




because life is sweet. :)




xoxo,




A.