what do you associate me with?

Fun question by Tumbler for its members to take part in. Since this is my official blog, I’m doing it here.

Lemme see… (I think) I associate myself with:

stormwinds that can sway the trees gracefully

beautiful sunsets, sunrise too after I’ve had a good night sleep; early morning fog, cool breezes

a starry night with the bright full moon; just the glorious moon could be enough most of the time

pretty cute writing notebooks and materials (I love buying them though many of them remain unwritten for years; I still like keeping them all)

lightning without the thunder; rains, rainy days on weekends

filtered

empty libraries, neat spaces, filtered sunshine through the trees or curtains, pretty beds and white blankets

delicious seafoods, hard-action films, pop songs

simple living, minimum possessions, spartan or monk-like existence

my awe for favorite (classical) authors so far: Thomas Hardy, George Eliot, Washington Irving, Victor Hugo, Albert Camus, the Bronte sisters, Hermann Hesse – after reading one or two of their works

colorful gardens, rooftops, view of bright city lights from someplace high, fireworks display

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Source:, Tumbler

 

images of faraway galaxies and the universe, rainbows near, beautiful places on earth

all versions of the sky – cloudy, deep blue, orange, overcast, sunny

long eyelashes – (I ain’t a beauty but) they’re the first thing people notice and compliment about my looks, fair skin, baby-fine hair

solitude, late-night ponderings, peace and quiet, and yeah — feelings…

tender hearts, romantic love forevermore; love that’s worth dying for (only found in books and movies, I know I know)

fancy and oftentimes flamboyant drop or dangling earrings, red lipstick, (often red) nailpolish, minimal makeup

high sensitivity, honesty, stubbornness (at times), silliness, passion

deep sympathy for animal suffering

misanthropic disposition, certain prejudices (oh please, those who deny having an ounce of bigotry are awfully phony)

sunlight

freedom from obligation

dramatic prose and poetry, words words words (according to an ex-blogpal)

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source: riggu, Tumbler

 

memory of a lover’s gaze penetrating into my soul

Anything that takes my breath away. Anything that inspires me. Thing is, I’m easy to please and inspire. 😉

Wohow. Answering that single question was fun indeed. There’s more but that’s it for the meantime. 

===

One of my all-time faves which I used to sing with a childhood sweetheart/playmate named Alvin Afable with his naturally light golden brown hair (owing to his blonde good-looking American dad).

Solitude On My Own Terms

Warm on the heels of famous women and their recent breakdowns, Demi  and Heather were the “It” girls of my generation who were both destined to become eternally cute and popular. Having been casualties of humiliating divorces, they’re also now both enduring the ruthless passage of time. Recently pegged as poor little rich women who’ve somehow lost their way, many have slammed them for being spoiled by their wealth and fame that they couldn’t deal with their current mid-life crisis like the rest of us.

How good can people get sometimes at creating a smokescreen that obscures their true feelings and plights?

The inclination of these hapless celebrities to succumb to drugs and alcohol has puzzled me for too long. What really drives them to give in to such pernicious temptations? Has their pain become unbearable, resulting to their inevitable free fall into the abyss that culminated in their self-destruction?

I’m in no position to cast stones at anyone this time as I have a gentle understanding of what these people have gone through. Melodramatic as it may sound, I too know what real pain feels like. The sickening ache that I’m sure can overwhelm even the strongest of hearts. How many times have I skirted on the very edges of despair when this soul of mine felt like crying out loud in the rain?

More than I’m willing to admit, I guess.

I don’t remember ever inviting drama into my life and yet it has come like a cat that has sprung unbidden onto my lap. Then there had been moments when certain kinds of melancholy or some sense of emptiness would creep in like a mysterious stranger in the middle of the night, and the only sensible way out was for me to relearn how to sail through the rough seas.

Growing up and even now that I’m an adult, I’ve always felt like an outcast. Exactly much the same as the eternal wallflower that prides itself on contemplating the paradigms of its existence, while possessing a pleasant awareness of an alternative route to an imagined realm at liberty from all things mundane.

Music, movies, literature, art, nature… They’re the outlines that characterize the wonderful breadth of my solitary world. The best friends I’ve had for so long. Even the stark beauty I find in the heart of loneliness has not shown any signs of fading.

Alone with my thoughts, I could conjure up happiness every now and then, muse on some lonesome episodes from my past, and in all its glory bring back the dead and gone..

Worlds might have come crashing down and prayers remained unanswered. I, who have gone off the deep end in certain unrelenting personal winters of my life, am still determined to tough it out.

As we’ve no choice but to soldier on.

I remember how my father, who had sensed my predicaments in his earlier ailing years, had told me these exact words with a smile, “Even if I want to, I can’t get too worried about you. You’re the true-blooded daughter of mine who can easily discern the correct path and decide on the right thing to do. You’ve always been strong.”

Oh dear father… if you only knew…

Out with the Old, In with the New – What 2012 Holds for Me (part 2)

And so 2011 is closing down as one of my loveliest years ever, a time span I consider both rough and smooth-sailing in most regards.

Once again, I might have earned a few emotional scars from certain heartbreaks, job missteps, and quite recently, a tragic loss I wish would leave my memory for good.

Yet it all comes down to the wonderful reality that I’m still around, hoping that 2012 can now welcome me with open arms..

This was exactly my parting missive on my FB wallpost on New Year’s Eve of last year. I consider it as my closure for the definitive year that has seen me through a series of ups and downs. I felt like there were events I could gladly take with me at the dawn of 2012, e.g., a certain Muse (whatever it is) that crawled its way to my writing has been delightful, as well as the rest of the swell stuff that have made my stay on this planet worthwhile and enjoyable. Yet there are also certain episodes of 2011 I want to get away from as far as I can. Specifically an unspeakable heartache caused by the unexpected loss of a beloved pet and the guilt I’ve felt for not having spent enough time with it before its demise, and all because I was absorbed in something or rather someone that was not even worth my attention. I wonder, how can someone get over an unfortunate circumstance such as this? Others might see me as being too sentimental. I don’t know.. Letting go has always been painful for me. I am really hurting..

I do hope 2012 is going to be another fabulous year as I’ve no plan of slowing down yet. Sometimes though, my body has a way of reminding me that things aren’t the same anymore. Ah aging, I didn’t know it would come so soon.

I often wonder if the gift of years which endowed me with colorful experiences has made me a better person at all. And the more important question, do I know myself much better now after everything I’ve been through? Honestly, I still can’t provide anyone, even myself with a categorical answer.

Just ruminating..

Well, there’s one thing I can say with certainty. I am earnestly shooting for another year of splendor which, they say, will be but a moment in the sun.

We’ll see..

What 2012 Holds For Me

According to my site stats, “What 2011 Holds For Me” was one of my most popular posts. I don’t exactly understand why because it simply stated my fresh hopes for that period and they are no different from the list of most people’s. So I’ll make a go of it again to see if I get lucky once more with this one.

To start things in jest, I’ll share with you my tentative New Year’s Resolutions I posted on my FB wall a couple of months ago. Most of my friends found it amusing and some even took it for real (Sheesh, where’s their sense of humor?.. ).

 Here they are:

  1.  lose weight and be as “body gorgeous” as Jennifer Aniston.
  2. remind myself over&over, “I ain’t a girl anymore.., I ain’t a girl anymore..” Well yeah, I sort of keep on forgetting that I’m not a teen-ager anymore. I still get crushes and blush like crazy. And I guess I better start dressing up like Susan Boyle or my great Aunt Ida. (Psst.. don’t tell, but yes I still dress young)
  3. stop writing cheesy love poems (erm..okay, so I do write them.. sometimes..).
  4. never EVER take a look at good-looking men again. They’re just “Trouble.”  Take note of the capital T (I can definitely blog about this one for hours.. tirelessly)
  5. start buying lottery tickets so if I won, I could date Chris Hemsworth, or Josh Duhamel (Damn, why are all the best-looking guys already married?).
  6. finally realize all of the above are IMPOSSIBLE to carry out so I’ll just DELETE this whole list and go buy myself some choco cookies and ice cream.

So you think that’s funny huh! No?

Anyway let’s get serious now. On to my real resolutions that I’m sure will bore you to tears. And they aren’t even different to my last year’s at all!

But I’m making a list still, hoping that this time I’ll be able to accomplish at least two-thirds of it. Here they are: 

1.   Eat less. I should! And I must!

2.   Exercise at least 30 minutes a day. I should! And I must!

3.  Be cold-hearted when it comes to the affairs of the, of course, heart. Oh men, what have you done to me?

4.  Be appreciative of the people and things I still have. My health, my son, my job, my family, my shelter, my ability to enjoy life, my love for reading, writing, and English. I guess I’m really one lucky gal.

5.  Write about anything at least once a week. Anything. Ideas often slip out of my mind too quickly so I’ll try to carry a small notebook along with me wherever I go.

6.  Read something at least once a day. Something worthwhile I hope.

See, my list is that simple. Before wrapping this up, I took a look at my last year’s entry with the same title. Yep, my resolutions are pretty much the same although my prose then was much better. Hmm, please don’t ask me why.

As time progresses, the more I realize how less of it is being allotted to me. I ain’t getting any younger. True. Which means I am running out of time. Fast. Therefore, I must double my efforts to make the most of my remaining years. So Heaven help me..

Happy New Year to all!

A Few More Verses From An Old Soul Like Me

I guess I’d better share some more of my short verses here. What am I gonna do with them anyway. Some aren’t about love, though I could write verses of that kind every minute of my day. But I didn’t want to nauseate my readers so I tried to come up with something else. They tend to be namby-pamby still. Hope you’ll like them as well.

 

      The hues that take on a magical glow

       dovetailing the surrender of dawn

       leaves me in a shadow of light

       that bends my way to the grandest day

                    -o-o-o-o-

        My real string of pearls

        are words printed down on paper

        either seeking my eyes’ perusal

        or inspiring me to write my own truth.

                    -o-o-o-o-

         She might have paid too heavy a price

         for the gray skies that drifted upon her.

         Yet she trudges further along..

         hoping that maybe, just maybe,      

         a little chocolate, some pasta and a kitten’s love

         are all waiting for her at the end of the rainbow.

                         -o-o-o-o- 

To Simplify A Life Like Mine

Long long ago, like any other twenty-something, I was trapped in the ethos of materialism. Accumulating unnecessary stuff which I had mistaken as a prerequisite for my own supposed state of euphoria got a little out of control. And even if I was already aware of my corporeal inclinations, I couldn’t stop collecting anything that caught my fancy at stores or from my relatives’ hand-me -downs. Notwithstanding my lack of funds, forbearance on shopping wasn’t one of my strong suits either. Eventually, all the stuff that piled up went on to clutter my already disorderly younger mind whilst gathering dust inside my house.

Learning my lesson well, becoming a dyed-in-the-wool minimalist has become a top priority for me which makes a whole world of difference now. The realization that I can be contented even without a car or a big home with fancy furnishings is quite liberating. I don’t know. If I were rich, would I be singing a different tune? One thing you should know about me, I’m not sure if I can handle the trappings of material wealth. I’ve never been comfortable dealing with any kind of complications in my life anyway.

A simple life isn’t for everyone. Most people might take a long while to come to the idea and it’s especially considered off the wall within the parameters of my society. Whenever I pass on this particular wisdom to people of this gen Y and even to some older folks here, they look at me as though I’ve just arrived from another dimension. I guess it is always pointless ramming a lifestyle down anyone’s throat.

Walk my talk. So if you peek inside my tiny apartment, you can find only the bare necessities. A refrigerator, a washing machine, two beds (I live with my son), a couple of cabinets and an oven. My dining table and chairs are even foldable so they won’t take considerable space. A television set? Sure I’ve got one (a very old model by the way). But it never gets turned on. And I’m not blowing smoke up anyone’s ass by saying that because my son and I are truly non-TV citizens around here. Owning expensive jewelry, clothes, accessories and whatnot was never my style. I’d rather spend my money inside a bookstore on reading materials that interest me. One thing I can’t live without though in these times is my netbook. Yep, I don’t wish for an Ipad or the latest in cell phones. What I simply need is just a portable computer for perusing internet materials, storing information and of course, writing (I could only work with the traditional keyboard, not the touchscreen kind).

I’m of the belief a Spartan life bears no relation to the richness of your mind or personality as long as you don’t lose that appetite for the sublime things in life. I say this out of my apprehension that I just might be accused of promoting a run of the mill existence. Guilty or not, rest assured, the greatest reward of downsizing is the liberty it will bestow upon you. Freedom from possessions and clutter to be able to focus on the things that really matter to you. Now if you’re gonna tell me that owning a lot of fancy things is your cup of tea, I can’t help you much and you should stop reading this at once.

When it comes to becoming an emotional minimalist, umm, that is another story. I’m at an age where melancholy and rapture can coexist peacefully inside of me. I may be a tough nut to crack and yet I’d be the first to run for cover when confronted with strong messy feelings. Attachment can likewise be my downfall anytime of the day. But as I told you, I’m a never ending work-in-progress so maybe there’s still hope for this old soul of mine.

This is gonna be controversial, but barring people from my life who make me miserable helps immensely. Sometimes, I’m left with no other choice. Sure I get lonely for doing that, although the painful process has somehow given me more clarity and purity on who I am and what I really want out of my existence.

Great people can change their lives at will so they can better make clear and rational choices about the substance and direction of their lives. It’s not like I’m a great person albeit I wish I were. So perhaps I’ll try to be one.

And you know what? Simplifying my life actually makes me feel like I’m bound for the stars. Can there be anything more awesome than that?

The Slings and Arrows of My Outrageous Life

For the first anniversary of my blog, please let me rant on some things you should know about the occasional scribbler that I am.

Once again I’ve got to point out that I’m simply a woman of average intelligence who nevertheless considers herself bohemian in a lot of ways.

A self-proclaimed reader, a minimalist in progress, a denizen of romantic exile, and a lady with never-ending thirst for compelling insight, that’s yours truly. Cynical at times, I’m beginning to feel regular apathy towards mundane matters. Or is it the advancing time turning against me now?

I’m at the right age to realize that money and stuff don’t make me happy after all. With a presently irrevocable commitment to downsizing and resolution to lead a simpler life, yup, I no longer am an ideal candidate for consumerism. I’ve been a mall zombie for the longest time. But nowadays I’m actually this close to renouncing materialism in its strictest sense. In my next life, I figured I’d definitely be a monk in some Zen Buddhist monastery.

What then are my passions in life these days? They are reading, traveling, splendid nature and English. Not necessarily in that order. And of course, let’s not forget writing, which currently makes enormous demands on my time and spirit.

 Don’t get me wrong though. I’ve been a woman of few words all my life. But I love surrounding myself with words. The printed ones to be exact. I’ve spent the last two years of my life being enamored with beautiful prose in various assortments that have abounded in wordpress posted by the most talented bloggers. To be able to perform alchemy with the right combination of words like them, that’s my goal for now. Hence, this blog.

Although ideas and topics of general interest may not turn up in anticipated profusion, allow me extra verbosity on the subjects of passion, emotions and men, occasionally punctuating them with high voltage metaphors. Why? Silly me, I’m the type of gal who could only live in the absolutes of undying love or complete closure. Never comfortable in emotional subtleties and ambiguity, it sometimes can lead me to the edge of ruin. Indeed the slender thread between sensibility and passion has bestowed upon me some unspeakable sorrows I won’t dare to admit how many times. That goes for ephemeral friendships as well which have done nothing other than short circuit my bubble.

It’s a fact that most of our adult turmoils are based on the syllabus of our youth, right? How else can it explain my own crippling, unfulfilled romantic dreams? Don’t we all girls, I mean women, suffer for love under the romantic veil of intoxication? Coz it certainly behooves me why I’m such a magnet to men who are, for the most part, unattainable, unsuitable, or worse, unworthy of my love in one way or another. I ain’t trying to set myself up as some great Oracle of Relationship Wisdom. Quite the contrary, I’ve been knocked down many times in the game of love enough to dash my hopes and crush my little spirits. I hate to generalize but in my experience this has proven so often the case that I’ve started taking it for an axiom. Shake a little sense into me, will you?

I believe my love is a very precious and special gift. It isn’t given freely to just anyone. And when it is given it deserves to be taken seriously.

Let me digress. Wanna know another interesting factoid about myself?       

I’m by nature a solitary soul. My penchant for being alone has mystified many people in my life. Okay, so I do like myself. A lot. For one reason or another, this brand of self-love has kept me alive and created a magnificent survivor out of me.

Though I’ve got grandiose notions that English will continue to serve me well, my mind sometimes gets messed up with excess literary clutter of an indefatigable reader. Yes, I used the word ‘indefatigable’ believing it does suit my old soul who’d rather read than watch TV. Yet I’m afraid this blog will merely be a spewing ground for my vagrant and disjointed thoughts. But don’t let them deceive you. I tend to be more emotional than necessary. Feeling is itself an adventure for me, a journey that can take me through unexpected places, complete with twists and turns; even risky, tight passages where I must decide whether to take a mystical side path or carry on. Exciting huh?

 Let me get this straight. I’ve no ambition to win a Pulitzer Prize, although I’ll have no problem becoming a rarefied essayist or blogger of the first order. And if I can’t achieve any literary recognition in the field of writing, I thereby assign this blog as my magnum opus-to-be, with an ethereal aim for iridescent self-expression. 

Or, it just may simply serve as a catharsis for my mental well-being. I can settle for that.

Well, what do you know?! I’m still flying high after all – as my very sanity hangs in the balance. I’m glad to have encaptured your attention for the time being.

Happy 1st Anniversary, dear blog of mine!