Come away with me

Two pathways for one journey,

a start from two to one

and the journey has just begun.

Touchdown, Cebu!

Over at the Chocolate Hills in Bohol.

Happy Pride!
Pride March 2012
Makati City

Not another one!

Not pictured: My heart growing arms and legs, climbing out of my chest, marching its fat little self to the floor and melting into a big puddle of love.

I love you, baby.

T

Counting down the hours

T--

A long, frustrating day at the office. Jesus, and it's just Monday!
I know you're sleeping. I envy Coat for being with you. ;-)
I miss you, love. I can't wait to see you. And hug you. And feel all warm and fuzzy again. Like a damn, big lug. :-)


Counting down the hours,

V

This

Reminded me of you.

Credit to A Bicycle Built for Two

♥

Keep calm

T.

Since we are admittedly both so fond of 'Keep Calm' phrases, here's one. :-) It is too 'you' and too cute not to post!

I know how busy, tired and overwhelmed you are this week. I will try my best not to get in the way so as not to add to the stress that the next couple of days will bring.

Breathe, my love. I know how smart, resilient and good you are. That is why I fell in love with you in the first place! It will be better, I promise.

I can't wait for our Cebu trip next month. God knows we both deserve a break!

ily.

V.

More than a cuppa

There are a few things that do define me to a T, and these are:

1. My poetry
2. Stilettos
3. Coffee

I must say that when you came along...

Yep. So help me God if you don't become my wife (Ok, I will settle for 'my forever').

Fate must be on our side because never a day goes by that we don't catch a glimpse of each other regardless of how atrocious the work weeks are becoming for us. Fate has been infallible so far, it's not even funny. I may be jinxing this amazing phenomena but I don't give a damn --- I have faith, you see. I have faith in you and me.

Cuddle, cuddle

We live and work in different timezones. In the morning, I am spent and listless. Nights are spent making a living. I race home just before sunrise, hoping to catch you in bed--still sleeping. The sight of you all quiet and curled up in a ball is enough to make me smile. I lie next to you and instantly feel relief. I am home.

I hug you from behind as you turn to face me half-asleep/half-awake, murmuring with your eyes closed. My left arm is snug around your waist as you clasp my hand, intent on holding it tightly. I rest my face on your back and then your shoulder. I ramble about my day, always ending with 'You know I love you, right?' Within minutes, I am asleep.

A good thing

V --

I rarely bite but I pinch (you) a lot.
I do not mean to hurt you; rather I am sometimes filled with such overwhelming affection for you that I can't help but pinch a feel. It's not all the time that I can fling my arms around you for a big hug.

The past several days, weeks even, have been pretty rough for you but you are holding up quite nicely.
I would like to think you are the strongest you have ever been what with work and certain disappointments that have come your way. I'm proud of you, my love.
I am confident that you will get past these hurdles and emerge.
Believe that in time, we will be laughing about them over beer or a cup of coffee.

While I would like you to press on unflinching, this I ask of you: Don't be too hard on yourself.
Because at the end of the day, more than anything, you need you on your side.

I love you, sweetheart.

T

Credit to Sincerely, Jules.

You hold on to a good thing. And never let go.
You are my good thing.

Strength

Oh, yes, you are.

I may have a tougher exterior but you, my love, have been keeping me together.
One can only hope that things are perfect from the get-go but life isn't like that.

You are like a pin--one good thing that keeps everything from falling apart.
I appreciate you and I love you.

V.

Sunday Morning

T.

I know we have our quirks and we're finally getting to know each other.
I think we are at that stage where we're both discovering how to make each other tick. We are definitely way past the cute dates and the giddiness of the first few days into a new relationship.

You hate waking up early.
I am not too excited to wake you up because it will take all the saints in the Litany to get you up and about. Even if it takes hours, I still try.

I hate being awake over the weekends. I hate being awake over the weekends alone the most.
So you painstakingly try to be lucid to keep me company. Now, that's a trooper.

I am careful not to order anything with shrimp even if it's my favorite coz you are allergic.
You still find time to cook for me even if you're really tired or you'll be dangerously late.

There are times when we are both so exasperated at the curve balls that this life is throwing our way that we end up irritated. Sometimes at each other. Sometimes to the world, in general.

We bite our tongues to keep the peace. Sometimes we don't if we need a quick release.

Now, we are realizing that nothing is ever perfect.
But you know, 'perfect' is such a relative, subjective word.
Nothing is ever easy. Everyone cries once in a while.

It is another day, sweetheart.
I know you are still asleep as I write this.
I can't wait to spend time with you today.
Know that you are in my thoughts and
always remember that you are loved.

V.

Keep calm and clean the house

'Something' is making me ill. To which V has this to say: Long time coming. By now you gather I'm not talking about my truly horrible cold, which I'm proud to say needed three days of complete bed rest to leave me alone so I can actually function --- It's been real, cold, but I would like to go back to relative normalcy for now. 

Something, n. I am at a crossroads.

Credit to Take Me for a Twirl

Ah, yes. I have yet to make up my mind about 'something' but know this: I will do something about it. To be totally honest, I am no longer happy where 'something' is concerned. And since I am no victim to circumstance, accidental happenstance or otherwise either, it's high time to get a move on.

But that will have to wait. I, after all, pride myself in handling adulthood with poise and grace for the last 27 years of my life and there's no way I am stopping now. Read: I have obligations, and responsible adults take care of their obligations.

On the interim, and since I don't believe in the power of a good wallow (I have done my fair share of many and have drunk from the cup of human sorrow one too many times in the past. I assure you, it's not a pretty sight) I took off to our trusty SM Hypermart and shopped some. OK, I did the groceries and bought some little extras to spruce up our home a bit. I threw out our musty, mold-ridden shower curtain, replaced it with a new subdued green one with a matching rug. My mood picked up from there on! Plus, if you turn a blind eye to the stacks of laundry I have yet to get my hands on, our bathroom is now my second most favorite place in the condo, next to the bed and/or the kitchen. No contest: I love to cook as much as I love to sleep. So there.

Point is, when I'm stressed I shop clean the house and/or do some minor home improvements. Doing so improves my mood immensely and drives away sediments of some negative juju I've picked up along the way being surly. And I have been quite (understatement of the century) been stressed as of late. I am getting by and V is such a huge factor in keeping me sane and happy regardless.

In truth, life is peachy and never better. Except for 'something.'

---
P.S.

Dearest,

We are not without our struggles but having you beside me makes me believe and keep on believing.  I can never thank you enough, My Awesome. You're the real deal. I love you. ♥♥♥

T

---
P.P.S.

Mush is the spice of life. 

Reflections on a cold

There are a myriad of truly terrible things in this world: war, greed, abuse in all forms and guises, environmental degradation, poverty, malnutrition, a bastardized political system run by traditional politicians, rape, an uninformed, uncaring public, apathetic intellectuals who hide behind their words and well-crafted essays, narcissism, the lack of integrity, whiny bitches, an ignorant homophobe who can't get past the words 'lesbian' and 'gay,' the lack of integrity in the workplace, a less than conducive investor climate, the stock market, cancer, hate, nepotism, corruption, power, various forms and manifestations of addiction, hunger, climate change, isolation, and mean people in every sense of the word.

The list is endless. Should I go on? Didn't think so.

There are also absolutely, amazingly wonderful things in this world: a steaming, frothy cup of coffee, junk food early in the morning, the feel of the sun hitting your face, the warmth of your partner's hand, a bear hug, finding love when you least expect it, a sunset, walking on the beach, the sounds of wine glasses clinking, clothes on your back, a roof above your head, sunlight after a particularly horrid thunderstorm, thunderstorms, open hearts, open minds, helping hands, laughter, giggle fits, make-up sex, making love, diversity and acceptance, reading, movie marathons, breakfast in bed, dancing in the moonlight, running in the rain, bare feet on wet grass, red stilettos and even redder lipstick, poetry, doodles and sketches, little notes held by irritatingly cute bears, I-love-you text messages, cuddling, a bottle of Red Horse with friends, lazy Sundays, sleeping in, tickles, smiles, friends, a good book worth re-reading and re-reading, scary stories, a girlfriend who can cook and iron clothes, stolen time, long drives, painting, listening to music, being sung to by your girlfriend and butterfly kisses.

I could continue, but the point is there are truly terrible and amazing things in this world. We know them. And live with them.

But today, I am entering the third week of a truly horrible thing: a cold (maybe, just maybe allergic rhinitis) that I swear is causing my slow and painful demise.

Credit to Google Images

This cold is not your ordinary 24-hour virus. Nor is it your garden variety common cold. No, Sir! It started innocently enough with sneezing fits spaced neatly apart to trick you into thinking that an allergen is just lurking at your desk. This cold took a week to break and gave me chills in the afternoon til late at night causing me to call in sick the next day. It has caused sneezing fits so bad that there is no muscle in my nose and face that doesn't hurt. This is a cold that has caused such terrible sneezing fits that I have earned several sympathetic looks and offerings of tissue paper at the office. I was told the folks across the room have started counting the number of times I can sneeze in under a minute.

I have been fighting a losing battle with this cold that I am deathly scared my nose will one day start dripping blood only for me to discover that clusters of polyps have taken residence in my swollen, irritated nasal passages. Benign little critters they are but they can be a lot of hell to contend with and if I'm really lucky, surgery is a welcome option. Whoopdeedoo!

This cold has been fed with one too many tablets of paracetamol and vitamin c ---  I have taken to chugging 4 capsules a day. It's pathetic, really, me and this cold. It has taken my body and my nose hostage, I can put Rudolph to shame.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for a cold (or allergies lest I consider a nose transplant or live in a vacuum), only symptoms suppressors, which I am totally opposed to as they can have curious side effects. So in terms of recuperating from a cold or riding out my allergies, all I can really do is rest up a lot, drink water, keep warm and avoid stress (good luck!).


So I am going to do all of the above --- such as eat healthy, get back to training, pray fervently for urgent editing requests to abate --- and hope to be back to normal sometime in the near future and also be back on track to be able to reflect on the truly terrible and truly wonderful things in this world of ours, like life without a horrid cold (or allergies).

I Do Not

I do not want to be profound for the sake of looking good or sounding as if I know a lot.

I won’t quote Shakespeare or Browning or Frost. I am not them and they are not me.

I use simple words because these are all I know.

I will not proclaim declarations of love that will last a lifetime. You barely know me, and I, you.

All I know is that I want to get to know you better. To the point where silence between us will cease to be awkward.

I like you well enough to let my mind wander and think of you and wish that you are here with me. Today and maybe tomorrow too. And the days after that.

I like you well enough to let this feeling fill me slowly and gently.

And my only wish is at some point, maybe not now, that you will feel the same way.

***


T--

I am so sorry it took a long time for me to post something on our blog. I have no excuse, I just prefer spending time with you over hunkering down and typing away on a computer (Naks.) I wrote this entry last February without thinking of anyone in particular. I thought it was for this person. And that person.

Well, guess what, after about 5 months, it turns out that I wrote this for you.

I love you.

V

She said

"Please don't ask me to wake you up."

Credit to Pinterest

Admittedly (and I am not even sheepish about it), I am not a morning person. Most mornings start with a bleary-eyed battle to locate the snooze button on my alarm clock --- what a pitiful attempt to gain more a few more minutes' of shut-eye! It then takes about an hour - and a half liter of coffee - for me to get over the morning drowsiness and become a semi-functional human being.

Waking up for me is a process involving long stretches of time spent purring, scrunching my hair thinking I look cute and sitting up in bed hoping against hope that I've managed to perfect that just-got-out-of-bed, rumpled after-sex look. This process takes up about an hour from when I've hit the snooze button for the nth time since my alarm sounded. So you can't really blame Ms. Cranky Rogers for her vehement declaration (methinks she spent about 3 goddamn freaking hours getting me to jump out of bed this morning). 

Alright, alright! Jump is a strong word but you get the drift. Har dee har har.

My inability to wake up on time in the mornings can't be explained by how I spend the rest of my workday alone. It's a culmination of my genetic make-up, biological conditioning and environmental factors which I do not plan to do anything about. Why? Of course, I need to earn money, make my dreams come true and avoid irking Ms. Cranky Rogers but... Lord help me! I love sleeping in too much.




---

Ooze! 

Yes, this word perfectly describes how I wake up in the morning. I ooze out of bed like a blob. 

Let her sleep

Water slips through the slits of her fingers as she keeps

her gaze to the vastness of sky; she wonders how 

she dreams and in what color --- cerulean, sienna,

or that plain block of brown --- do they come in, her dreams.

Or maybe she slumbers in silence, void of images, a blank slate

which clamors to be filled, splattered with paint: a splash of red

for passion, a smear of carnation, signaling a silent, burning love

she longs to send her. So she whispers to the night, willing the wind

to carry her words to where she sleeps, dreaming in snippets --- a fingertip tracing

the outline of a scar from when she once tried and failed, a hesitant echo,

silence golden and yet wishing to be taken back with the words 

I love you, darling. And somehow, that is all that matters; her resting,

caught in slumber for when she awakens so it begins. Again.

Keep calm and fill in the blanks

Interesting endeavor this is. Starting a blog with someone you love is quite a first for us both. Two things: A smashin' success. Meaning we will have loads of fun sharing our insights and musings on and to the world. Or an epic disaster (read: ---------------------------).

Banking on the former. Teehee!

What to expect? Poetry and pseudo-literary shiz from me. Because, yes, I am embracing being writerly. Sense and sensibilities from her. Wired that way --- the anchor. And she will anchor this blog while I carry on with my flights of fancy. Yep.

Only a test post --- the writer in me is getting antsy looking at a dead page, like a painter staring at a blank canvass, brush poised and dripping with paint, ready to pounce. More to come.

In the meantime, keep calm ---

Au revoir for now!

Stilettista