flowers can make anyone smile.

i have always harbored a secret tendre with flowers.
they make me smile. they make me feel better. they make me feel appreciated.
they reassure me that when things get pretty awry, good things are bound to come next.

i am so freakin' exhausted. a lot of things are running inside my head.
i'm tired. drained. and there's a dull pain thudding idly inside my head.
it's beyond the physical.
it's the mental exhaustion that has perhaps (heck, it is), taken its toll on me.

i glanced at the Justine and Jessie and i managed to force out a smile.
i envy the pretty miss. she's swamped with flowers.
pink. red. white. yellow.flowers.
in big and small beribboned baskets.

i wish my table's spilling with flowers right now....

si Einstein.si Florence Nightingale. ang soccer at ako, ang manunulat.

When I was a kid, I often indulge in daydreams.

One day, I was this Einstein wannabe.

My greatest dream then – to concoct an expectorant that will snag the tiniest phlegm of stupidity and selfishness that has taken root in every person’s cranium and promptly expel from the polluted system.

I passed through that stage wherein I thought (and with Nanay’s prodding) I’d look good in a crisp, white uniform with that starchy little cap on my head. I thought I’d be the next Pinay Florence Nightingale.

And then, there was a time I thought entering the PMA and donning a Navy uniform would be the coolest thing for me (I ruled out the airforce, ‘coz I fear heights. Army is a bit ordinary, or so I thought.Hehehehe).
I dreamt of entering military school.

When I was in high school, I was drugged with thoughts of excelling in sports. I thought I’d be the next softball sensation - sporting the spanking, smart, pin-striped uniform of my school varsity. But just like my dream of suiting up as a junior basketeer, Tatay quashed the thought.
He wouldn’t want me to become a lesbian.

But then again, I wasn’t to be restrained too simply.
In college, I played soccer for three straight years, and went on to become my Faculty’s team captain on my senior year.
It was fun. True, I was observed to be a tad boyish for some boys’ standards, but I don’t care. I enjoyed the game and was, still is, perfectly in touch with my feminine side.

When I stepped into the university, I know, my calling was to become a communicator. Since elementary, I have developed this love affair with the printed word. Reading is only second to breathing.
And it is in writing that I found my heart.
The first stirrings of love pulsed through me, when I discovered the magic of writing.

I liked seeing my nails getting inked – from jotting down lectures, notes, interviews, quotes, using the typewriter.

There’s a different kind of high in getting facts, chasing people for interview, cramming everything into coherent phrases, shaping sentences, sewing paragraphs for stories that would inform people, make them laugh, tug their hears, shape opinions.

And there’s a different sense of fulfillment in seeing people actually read what you have written, it’s euphoric when an authority in the field actually acknowledge your existence.

And then I almost forgot how it is to dream, much more, indulge in that child-like trance of daydreaming things the adult me would perhaps dismiss as too simple, too naïve.

Almost. Forgotten. Almost forgotten.
But not quite.

I indulge in daydreaming still. Often, coming home from work. I daydream of spending one whole day, resting. Reading a book, snuggled on my banig. Tucked into my own realm. Unbothered. No household chores to think of. No impending bills threatening to nick my salary anew. Sigh. Those kinds of daydreaming.

Sometimes, I confuse it with my what ifs.
But then, that’s another blog entry.

the fear you won't fall....

i was sifting through a gazillion of emails, and i stumbled on this one.
something that will make any true-blue hopeless romantic sigh.
hahahahaha
perfect timing, 'Full House' is on rewind and i'm tickled pink with Jessie and Luigi's market moment.
hahahaha

trust me, flowers never fails to make any girl smile.

enjoy the song.


“The Fear You Won’t Fall”
Joshua Radin

Digging a hole and the walls are caving in
Behind me air’s getting thin but I’m trying
I’m breathing inCome find me

It hasn’t felt like this before
It hasn’t felt like home before you
And I know it’s easy to say but it’s harder to feel
This way


And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can’t get my mind off of you


I know you’re scared that I’ll soon be over it
That’s part of it all
Part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won’t fall

It hasn’t felt like this before
It hasn’t felt like home before you
And I know it’s easy to say but it’s harder to feel
This way

And I miss you more than I should than I thought I could
Can’t get my mind off of you

And I hate the phoneBut I wish you’d call
Thought being alone
Was better than was better than

And I know it’s easy to say but it’s harder to feel this way
And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can’t get my mind off of you
Can’t get my mind off of you

And I know it’s easy to say but it’s harder to feel
This way
And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can’t get my mind off of you

happiness.

one can never have enough of happiness.
the state of being happy. being in bliss. almost carefree.
as if a thousand smiles rained and the droplets dribbled freely in and around one's mouth...
a tangible, palpable liquid scent - its swirling watery vapors tip-toeing on the lips, ever-so lightly...like dancing butterflies on the petals of a morning rose.

one can never have enough of happiness.
a dose of which can be likened to a cardiac arrest of bubbling emotional goo - sudden lightheartedness, intangible, addictive.

happiness is that rare disease everyone wants to get inflicted of, those who has it, never makes time to seek for a cure.

who would want to be cured from being happy right?
who wouldn't want to be wrapped in a blanket of bliss?
know no pain. relieved of hurt. unscarred. beyond the reach of a scourge.

everyone wants to be happy. you. me. and almost every person in my contact list.

but how does one find it? where does one start the search?

i have learned that being happy starts from within.
and the process is not exactly the very definition of brevity.
finding happiness does not happen in blink of an eye - lasting happiness that is, one that does not fold at the slightest touch nor waver at the faintest blush.

while it is true that happiness may be found in the simplest of things,
it is because one has learned to reconcile certain issues with oneself.

until there was you

sadness never had a face until you came and blanketed its almost ethereal abstraction.
it knew no form, now it is capable of touch.
it occupies no space, now it has a body of its own with fingers capable of tracing the heart's most faint lines and vein the chamber's innermost nerves.

sadness never knew a voice until you came and lend it a sound that has become synonymous with a heartbreak --- a soft cry only that only the heart can hear; a dribbled, stifled wail audible only to the soul.

sadness never knew me, until there was you.
and i have never been happier.