A wordy world

My fascination with journals started out when I was still  small. That was when I slowly took back steps from coloring our walls with my crayola pens.

Being the only child around that time, and being the only kid in both my parent’s side, I have an abundance of adopted moms and dads. My mama’s brother used to work in a printing press. He was guilty of introducing me to the wonderful world of papers. From memo pads to specialty papers, he would give it to me, not by sheets but by rims or bulk. Every time he visits me, he always have some stack of papers for his favorite niece. Being the only one he has, he has no other choice.

I was an OC kid when it comes to writing down on my treasured sheets. I put a yellow pad behind the page before i start to write down. I always wanted my words in proper alignment. I carried this till adulthood. It is less likely that you can fault me on my note taking. My notebooks are suki to photocopiers around the campus up until I was in college, as my classmates would always borrow them.

From the blank sheets my Uncle gave me, I started my first journal. In my innocence I penned the world around me. My small world, seemed like a universe within the words.

I remember when I was in grade school and I have a crush. Or wait… there were two of them, so it would be crushes. LOL.

One has the initials D.D. (and i still remember his full name up until now). We were classmates since kindergarten. His yaya was a tomboy, and she would also fix me a sandwich during breaks. And she would always tease me to her alaga.

The other one was joey. A transferee from another school. And I remembered he has a dimple.

And I wrote about them on my journals. And I wrote how guilty I felt for having two crushes.

And I still remember when my mother read about it while she was cleaning my stuff. It was major embarrassment. I remember praying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Or better yet build a giant paper boat from my stack of paper treasures and row my way to the far off paper land.
It was a tender memory I have of my journals. There were others which are equally funny memory lane stopovers. Like when I accidentally left it in my friend’s backpack.

Happy and embarrassing memories.

Journals are like tattoo’s that sailors inked on their bodies. Each symbol and each name meant something. A touch, a word, a tap, a hug… a single gesture which meant a basketfull of memories.

If I’ll ever make a last will, I’d probably include it and give it to my soon to be offsprings. And hope that they will care to read it. I can not promise it will be a good read, but I know they will be in for quiet a journey. A journey about a life I know I didn’t waste.

I’ve read somewhere that writing in a journal is a voyage to the interior. How true indeed.

Hinaot Unta…

I never thought I’ve prayed for something so badly in my life… so far.

please please please Paking.

[am i] Worth it

For people who really know me, they know how I put myself last when it comes to people I love. I don’t mind going out of my way, sacrifice a bit or fold a plan for the time being because the reason behind it is because of a person i hold dear.

But what when it is the other way around? When someone left his comfort zone for me? When someone chose to dream the dreams i want to dream, and sync his steps with mine and drove off to an unknown adventure with me? To pack his bags and chose to believe and share a journey together with this little girl in some foreign land?

These thoughts leaves me staring into space when they chose to nest in this silly little head of mine.

And I find myself asking, “Am i worth it?”

Thank you. For letting me feel that I am.

One

Written last Aug 25.

A year ago today I felt for the first time how it is to be away from home. I resigned from my job in Cebu, checked what meager savings I have, a portion went to my family and a portion I pocketed for the next step I am about to take.

This is not just another business trip where I will be back a few weeks or months after. There is no sure job waiting for me on the other end. It made me even think if I am “marketable” enough. LOL. I wasn’t so sure really of my “market value“.

I remember telling my friends that if all else fails, I’ll do door to door and offer manicure, pedicure services. Hahaha.

I was told of how statistically i am bound to fail or succeed in what I am about to do. And sometimes the number can really scare you when you get overwhelmed by them.

One of my philosophies in life is to soak things in prayer before taking that first step, or drawing the sword or counting the soon to be exploits. Prayer is the best thing I can do, and it’s free. It’s not a religious thing, it’s relationship.

Before I left, I held on to the verses He gave me the day I asked if this is really I should be doing. I left armed with nothing but His words, “Cast your nets into Open sea”.

The sea was a big unknown. It both scared and excited me. The monsters that lurked underneath the surface can be frightening. But the openness and mystery of the ocean screams adventure.

He who promised is faithful, and my first phone call home was to tell them that I got the job.

I was blessed with angels along the way. And the bloopers I made can be a great recipe for good conversation. And somehow I’ve learned how to steer clear of things that could harm me. Not all fun is clean fun.

I savor learning from the people around me. Hearing stories, making them and sharing them makes this city state a warm hodgepodge. From here I’ve been to many places, that blew kisses on my lust for travel.

A year ago today, I left home to be the big girl that I need to be. And I thank Him who armed me with enough wit to take each step as charmingly as I can, taking each quivering step one after the other.

B&B

I wake up to the smell of his home cooked breakfast. While consciousness creeps into my sleepy head still trapped in the sweet hum of slumber land, my senses feels alive to a new day.

He opens the door with tray in hand and a big smile that I pray would never leave his face. Morning Sunshine, morning gratefulness.

Longganisa and eggs has never tasted this good. Yum!

Thank you for the breakfast in bed mi amor.

initiate

[Initiate]

Wordweb would define it as bringing up a topic for discussion, or to bring into being.

I admire people who initiate. Those who do not think twice about pulling taboo table topics out from their hats or  doing things others think twice of doing. When others simply follow, some take the first step.

Passivity is such a lonely word.

A good friend told me something years and years ago, which up until now I find myself nodding in agreement. There are three types of people on this planet. Those who make things happen, those who watch things happen and those who have no idea what’s happening.

I’d hate to be in the last category. Though there are times that to be passive is bliss, and the temptation to just laze around and care not of whats happening is tugging hard, i would still want to at least have an idea about the who’s and the why’s.

Now what brought this topic on?

Two people, Kaith and J.

Kaith, because she left me a comment “demanding” for an update. LOL.

J, because i sent an email earlier this morning to our housemates about some requests around the house (like maybe cooking some rice when you’re the first to get home. The others can cook the sud.an later), and I told him that sometimes someone just have to say it. He was a bit worried that some may not see it the way that I do, but I assured him I composed the email with such sweetness and carino, that the reader seeing all the smiley’s can’t help but smile themselves or suffer a toothache. LOL.

I am thankful for the housemates I have right now. Believe me, I know how it is to walk on ice when your sharing the roof with someone you just don’t gel with that much.  Enough said.

And it’s way better to correct something while it is still in the bud, rather than a full bloom bad habit. Don’t you agree?

yehey!!!! naa na jud koy update!!!!