moonstruck for a while

A brief encounter with a Tumbler resident who fondly describes himself as “a librarian by day a poet by night” precipitated a jumpstart of my writing objectives the past week. Fully inspired, I went over the annals of this blog to polish a few stuff for the end purpose of entry redux. Boy, was it painful reviewing my prior scribblings. Was my writing that harrowing? No kidding, I wrote all that junk?

See, the mediocrity was staggering. There were numerous instances of an oversupply of conjunctions and adverbs, generous display of redundancy and corny perspectives, not to mention the manifestation of a below-average intellect. I wonder how could’ve those owners of avatars within those tiny boxes below permitted themselves to pop up beside the word Like. 🙂

To think I’ve been careful not to lose this site because it serves as key to my essence as a soulful being — housing, to boot, the entirety of my opus. (chuckle chuckle)

Anyway, while trying to get my bearings Mr. Dcootey and I reconciled, too, a few days ago when he reached out unexpectedly — resulting to us getting back in each other’s arms as FB pals. Sort of. I’m a forgiving gal, what can I say.

So I’d been somewhat smitten with the middle-aged poet-cum-librarian. Kind of gotten over it by now — as I’m determined these days to focus on refining my composition skills. Will be spending more time on Tumbler although WordPress remains to be my homeland.

Do wish me gargantuan luck. I need it oh so badly.

Image may contain: Marjorie de Leon Mamaradlo, smiling, standing, sky and outdoor
In captivating Vienna last December 2017. So so cold though….

recently more active on facebook

but the posts are largely not for public audience. They’re viewed by a select few — mostly by strangers from the west who I could relate to more or less. I mean, aside from them, the bulk of my FB pals are, you know, peeps I have very little in common with. Get what I mean? 🙂

Most Recent FB post:

Far from the real thing, I know. But I’m pathetic  . Anything here that smacks of the splendid ambience of Europe fascinates me. And the mall’s stylish floorings and glistening water were delightful. Plus that was indeed the full moon up there. Anyone has probably come to discern the Big U had placed me in the wrong terrain — which (again) renders this type of post unfit for public spectacle. 😎

Image may contain: 1 person, outdoor and water

At the Venice Grand Canal Mall, Taguig, Bonifacio Global City last weekend.


“Josie’s on a vacation far away…” The opening lyric had captured my whim enough for it to earn a spot on my list of favorite songs.

don’t take it seriously, honey

Watch my finger push a button. Click — oh, you’re there. Another push of the button. Click – hey, you’re gone. Just like magic. Now I see you, now I don’t. See, it’s quite easy.

My posts are rarely about anyone in particular. As I keep repeating, I basically write for myself. I’ve long stopped inviting readers and nobody needs to come here if they sometimes can’t stand the things I talk about.

To bid people online to refrain from dropping by your place is bootless as well. The only solution to that is to go hiding – just like what I do (turn my blog private) whenever I wish to become invisible across any radar.

What’s the big deal anyway if I take a peek at what you have to say? I do it, too, on other blogs. The problem is, they’ve all stopped blogging. And you’re the only one left. So have mercy and don’t shoo me off. 🙂

I also had religiously followed a former computer programmer’s assorted everyday thoughts for two straight years. As in I visited his site and ran through his blog index to reread and review his posts more than twice a day. It all ended when his bitterness and breakdown over Donald Trump’s success became unbearable to witness. But then, he had constantly been reminding his readers how much of an as$h*le he was. I didn’t mind that at the time actually – I simply wanted to digest his smart pieces and credentialed language skills. Same with a previous dear (black) chatmate whose daily hits would reach around 60 – nearly half of which could be attributed to me because I never use wordpress Follow. He said he was grateful. 🙂

That’s the kind of reader I am. I get attached to blogs I’ve come to like. Besides, let’s admit it, we’re always on the lookout for other writers’ style. And I do like learning from the finest ones. Feel happy instead that you’ve been inadvertently mentoring me because I’m one of your, ahem, admirers. If in the future I discover somebody new whose writing flair surpasses yours, hah, you’ll be totally replaced. Kaput. And you’ll probably miss me… 😉

In the meantime, it makes me glad to have you foremost in my heart in this realm in spite of not very pleasant words which had been hurled. I’d still willingly cheerily lovingly hug and squeeze you. Consider it a privilege, honey.

Peace… Ok, ok?



I Just Want to Read and Write (2)

Many a time I think I should hasten to deposit my narratives here. A bus might hit me tomorrow I want to make sure at least two-thirds of my life story in cohesion with the contents of my mind has already been unloaded; as proof that someone like me lugging a few bohemian sentiments once walked on this planet.

An arcadian repository of my experiences, perspectives, impressions is everything I intend to leave behind. That’s the reason I’ve put links connecting all my other blogs in case a future reader, if there’ll ever be one, gets wrapped up in my wholeness — my shallowness, silliness, oddity, and tiny misdemeanors. All that radiates out of my pages is all that comprises me. My unholy meditations and dusky history were barely cloaked. My intellect which is nothing to write home about can be easily detected. My looks hardly embodying that of Esmeralda are for everyone to see.

This writer has no delusion to become a total pro or a celebrated one. My imagination admittedly isn’t fecund. Vapors from within that might precipitate creative tales are non-existent. My mediocrity allows me to experiment and blunder repeatedly. Writing rules don’t apply much therefore. My incomprehensions have provided no terms to work against said freedoms.

So I’m wont to share my most favorite writing advice and this one I’ve yet to follow (Pardon me, I don’t know who dispensed it):

The most original modern authors are not so because they advance what is new but simply because they know how to put what they have to say, as if it had never been said before.


Intermittently I miss some of the bloggers I have loved from way back. But I’m reminded of my discomfort across the connotation most were endowed with the right amount of astuteness to decode my very core.

I squirm not so much for the pitiful endeavour on my part to write poetry (forgive my penchant to be venturesome) as for the fondness I fostered around those ex-Romeos. Nah, no way could I have felt that way toward such a prick. Although the inspiration that had been afforded me was worth it. I guess. Still, the mark of shame has made me want to occasionally sob over my instant noodles at breakfast time.

The politics of “I read you, you read me” repels me. I confess to having developed certain conceptions for blogs that have supposedly amassed scores of viewers. The writings are often generic and those scribblers are typically the ones who click Follow and Like recklessly. That might explain why there hasn’t been a resident in my Reader for ages. Manual encoding of the name is how I drop by a site. And personal blogs touching more on the writer’s chronicles or feelings and beliefs are the stuff which catch my interest.

What’s my point really? Five years on WordPress has demonstrated the truth of my steady appetite for reading and writing. I’m doing this for myself, mainly for myself, and you better believe it. 🙂

The task of carrying a sentence through to completion has been absorbing. Sometimes even more gratifying than the diversion calling for a hot blue-eyed Armie Hammer stand-in and a sturdy bed.

It’s like…where the Hades do you place your senses as you start surrendering soon after a lengthy tongue to tongue wrangle with a persuasive kisser? What woman doesn’t know the sensation.

Ah, it isn’t far from the desire that slowly builds up…leading her to assist him in taking off his shirt so she can thence feel his warm hard chest against hers.

Wohow… How indescribably Oh.


shake the sky


A Woman After Her Own Heart

A day for tinted roses, soft words, thoughtful prose, and tender songs. Most of them I still find either lovely or silly cute.

From across a window with glows of tiny moonbeams infusing my home, an air of sweetness has honored one faint white line.

I fancy the language of gentleness within my own heart — that my blog has, in sooth, become a true love of mine.


Most Favorite Love Song When I Was A Young Girl

An apathetic fraction of me asserts romance novels and songs like this must be held accountable for womenkind’s desolation from then till now. But it’s Valentine’s day and, as always, this memoir must hold true to my every remembrance.

I recall quite a sunshine across a vibrant sky whenever I hear this song. Oh so so young I was – around eleven years of age – and dreamy… singing while unbelievably convinced by forevers and of undying love. 🙂

– geena, feb2016


a beautiful lake in Jungfrau, Switzerland; photo taken by me in 2014

So the weary traveler, tired of passing through,

Stops to get his bearings, and stays on to wait for you,

When the moon disappears forever

and the sun shines electric blue

And the mountains and trees tumble into the sea

to rest there for eternity

No matter what you do, I will still love you.


Blogger Insight and Circumstance

I hope for peace with my co-bloggers all the time.

Nevertheless, an “expal” might have gotten pissed off owing to my observation from some recent period of a particular propensity, leading to the blogger hitting back with a snide remark that I must be seeking desperately for love and attention. My only response was “Whoa…” (insert an eye roll to boot).

But then I’ve seen many a female blogger with my status get attacked in the same vein by others who never took the time to know those women through their blog posts.

Still, shouldn’t one ponder on the following questions before dispensing judgment to someone like me who has been open about her circumstances and life stories in this ethernet we populate?

  • Would I go public as to how broken and flawed I am as a human being if my purpose had been to attract the opposite sex?
  • In spite of my being deemed sweet, can anybody stand up and allege that I have initiated a connection beyond mere blog friendship?
  • Notwithstanding having received emails from a few amiable readers, did I ever give anyone encouragement to cultivate more than plain camaraderie with me?
  • Think about it: How can WP citizens imagine of fanciful relationships blossoming when each and every one of us is –now don’t be offended, please– practically disclosing in our respective blogs (oft unawarely) how much of a loser we are?

The blogworld has been my escape from the blistering events that had taken place in my most recent years: It has turned into an alternate world for me. Alright alright, I also admit to not having a life these days. And neither do most of you. 🙂

girl3A month before, I even set up a dummy blog that would have the central purpose of Liking posts and commenting on the newly-found blogs I wish to follow — in as much as I wouldn’t want to unintentionally end up inviting any more new visitors to this site. You can find its avatar on the right side.

No denying I have held dear a few “buddies” — three or four remarkable characters maybe — within my blogging years. Alas, my affection, not to mention my sense of loyalty could be imprisoning — which renders me oblivious of other worthy bloggers. I had gotten attached to some people’s blogs. I had expressed warmth and admiration to a selected few. I won’t deny I had wished I were one of their most esteemed WPress associates, too. That hardly merits a misinterpretation though, does it?

I might have flirted in the past with my first two email buddies. Ok, I can be a flirt and have been so, especially in my younger days: It could have extended over my online persona spontaneously. Such audacity has probably been fueled by the fact I am so far away from all of you. So so far away.

And the flirting has lain dormant for quite some time.

I’ve a need to engage a Muse to be able to write something romantic, true. A few poems had been written with specific bloggers in mind. One of them a highly popular blogger“boy” from the Bronx; Another was the fantastic MrPoppins who happens to be my former black buddy, and who actually feels more like a younger brother to me. Both have long departed from our sphere.

Seeing that the heavens had forgotten to bless me with scholastic smarts, I wish to continue hanging around the cerebral blogs of good writers. I confess to my ongoing quest for bloggers who possess the finest intellect and wisdom to foster my personal growth as a writer.

Having said that, this blog is basically a memoir, not a gazette. If I had the time to work up an educational piece, I’d love to do so. In the meantime, my heart, my soul, and my background tales are this site’s focal essence. Just to be able to write is my preoccupation and foremost goal.

I haven’t yet pasted the chronicles of my romantic history which I have wanted for so long to do across these pages; what with my apprehensions as to being misunderstood in the aftermath — considering my passionate nature has been a consistent player throughout my life.

Let’s be grounded by the reality everything that presents itself here is supposed to stay in this virtual world; In this realm which prevails separately from our physical world.

Capping things off: my Stats has long stopped showing signs of movement. It only means no one reads my blog anymore. I guess the main boon is it’s safe for me now to write about sex.

Yehey. 🙂




The song “It’s Impossible” has the lovely original lyrics that tell the sun to leave the sky and ask whether the ocean could keep from rushing to the shore. Its beautiful Spanish version “Somos Novios” below by Andrea Bocelli and Christina Aguilera became my favorite as well.  

“And tomorrow… Should you ask me for the world, somehow I’d get it.
I would sell my very soul, and not regret it. For to live without your love, it’s just impossible.”

A Few Thoughts On Blogging

It’s not easy for me to find blogs that cater to my taste. Only a couple of blogs remain that I confess gladly going to. One of them – the “fun” one — which I hadn’t visited for many weeks unfortunately had closed down which came to my knowledge only last week.

I am not into blogging politics. “You read me, I’ll read you” isn’t my thing, which means I needn’t be poked to go to someone’s blog. Popular blogs, silly, interesting fun ones I can endure yet half-baked responses or replies still make me want to puke. Take note: I’ll remain a reader if I like your blog except if there arise reasons to make me stop dropping by regularly.

Blogging friendship? It’s something I don’t believe in. This is a virtual world. Unless your online pal is a neighbor of yours, none of the camaraderie you establish here is real.

And then there are stuff the Internet offers and allows its users embarrassingly. Need a single example? Ok. I’ve had second thoughts about saying this. It’s been on my mind for quite a while yet it took me this long to say it as I may hit a nerve and truly anger “one or two pals”: There’s something not right about men reaching senior age who hang around blogs of teenage girls. Kind of eerie. Yet I have seen it happen around – practiced by some male bloggers. Ruminate on this: What would somebody think if I (were, for example, an exemplary woman of decent taste and all) kept on hanging around a teenage guy’s site that hardly offers anything special?

An astute female therapist I once followed told me I have power of observation that is unusual. That I can easily discern what others don’t. Her assessment was unfolded right after the time when she closed down her blog, opened another with everything changed – yet the new blog had been inserted on a “buddy’s” blogroll that when I clicked and started reading it, I knew at once who the owner of the blog was. Her unique writing style didn’t escape me. I proceeded to email her to ask permission if I could follow her.

I may not be always right in my instincts yet in the end, I’ve had more people saying to me “you’re right” than those who don’t.

At my age, I’m entitled to have opinions and wish to express them here. You already get I am not highly intellectual, my academic interests are limited, my scribbling style on the floral side. Plus this is just another diary of a woman approaching her middle age.

Yup, there’s nothing interesting here. Do not waste even a minute of your time on my blog. It would be best to stick with the words you had once released. Farewell. Adios. Goodbye.