tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12766018579163835662024-03-13T21:42:23.568+08:00melancholic memoirsthe haven for my perennially melancholic thoughts that speaks volumes of my often misunderstood self.milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-80667400276499739302012-11-14T18:03:00.003+08:002012-11-14T18:04:17.263+08:00My New Online HavenI've moved blogs. See you at <a href="http://thoughtstalesandwhatnot.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><b>Thoughts, Tales, and Whatnot</b></a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-10680002606569672152012-09-12T18:22:00.000+08:002012-09-12T19:40:07.594+08:00Twenty-Eight and Single<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXlu2tgq_E__egYlw8Kd17f98Mohc7ho5bJ8ckK3UBDp6rLtfLUgl1MBId8zcadj06jf2cWgnZvYLv6_73zeDlsVpNp_OMCcVbJC-RZLMQq3YD-_tRlCvM8UF6t6ApCJm424TLtUr-SB4/s1600/Woman+Moon+Meditate+dreamstime_10915300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXlu2tgq_E__egYlw8Kd17f98Mohc7ho5bJ8ckK3UBDp6rLtfLUgl1MBId8zcadj06jf2cWgnZvYLv6_73zeDlsVpNp_OMCcVbJC-RZLMQq3YD-_tRlCvM8UF6t6ApCJm424TLtUr-SB4/s400/Woman+Moon+Meditate+dreamstime_10915300.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.radicalvirgo.com/2010/10/moonwalk-libra.html"><i><b>photo credit</b></i></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Some people just take great delight in reminding me of my age. I honestly don't know what bothers them more: my age or my being single at this age. I think it's the latter.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My age has never really bothered me. As I have always said, it's just a number and definitely not biological. One can be eighteen and have the maturity of a forty year old or one can be thirty and be no wiser. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Being single has also never really bothered me as I have shared in this blog many times. I'm happy being one. It's not that I do not want to be in a relationship. I do but what I do not want is to be in a relationship with just anyone. And there comes the hard part as it is very difficult for me to find a guy who complements me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Choosy <i>ka kasi</i> (It's because you're choosy)," a friend pointed out when we chatted yesterday. I typed back, "<i>Oo na, ako na ang</i> choosy <i>pero bakit ka naman pipili ng sakit sa ulo? Para ka na ring kumuha ng batong ipangpupokpok mo sa sarili mong ulo.</i> (Okay, fine, I am choosy but why not? Why be with a guy who will just give you headaches?) I just do not want complications and since most guys are complicated (or bring complications), <i>eh 'di 'wag na lang</i> (then never mind). Just look at you." And this sure shut her up because she just separated from her cheater husband.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I won't elaborate further on why I am still single as I have already covered that in a <a href="http://milai-melancholic-memoirs.blogspot.com/2008/04/single-by-choice-happy.html"><b>previous post</b></a>. But to put it simply, it's by <b><u>MY</u></b> choice. Period.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What I want to address is this "<i>napag-iiwanan ka na ng panahon</i>" (time is running out) mentality that most people automatically attach to me once they find out that I am still single at twenty-eight (turning twenty-nine before the month ends). Since when does marriage have a deadline? More importantly, since when does one's (marital) status define a person or his / her happiness?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I browse through my Facebook wall, I smile and click on Like and sometimes even comment when I see my friends with their family or kids. I'm happy for them but here's the gist of what this post is about: I'm happy for myself too. For what I have and do not have. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I admit there are times when I wonder about how my life would be if I already have my own family. I would wonder about what my husband or daughter or son would look or be like. About how I would be like as a wife and mom. But that's just that - speculations. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Life is a matter of choice. So are love and happiness. I cannot spend my life looking back on or chasing after what could be e.g. "What could have happened if I married X?" I already made my choice and so I have to make it work for me. I have to find my happiness in my choice. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am twenty-eight (turning twenty-nine) and single. And luckily for me, I am happy being one.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-82890247384289617102012-08-27T17:32:00.008+08:002012-08-27T17:52:34.329+08:00Take Heart and Give the Poor Guy a Chance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipP3ixjc9wpSECH84613kPoOx529ZmoTXN8GY3-kSMQ8osNfv5JJtsjDZXruSegmRNqDt58QIjzIX7tusfIuay4BEca1-G_aY1ceEHdbgRJNJzLl7xNG8luKG-HMwAZjGfDMz_PtrepyU/s1600/8420700-woman-in-a-balcony-man-with-rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipP3ixjc9wpSECH84613kPoOx529ZmoTXN8GY3-kSMQ8osNfv5JJtsjDZXruSegmRNqDt58QIjzIX7tusfIuay4BEca1-G_aY1ceEHdbgRJNJzLl7xNG8luKG-HMwAZjGfDMz_PtrepyU/s400/8420700-woman-in-a-balcony-man-with-rose.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.123rf.com/photo_8420700_woman-in-a-balcony-man-with-rose.html"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I chanced upon ABC's Dating in the Dark earlier. The show was about three single men and three single women trying to find his or her match while in the dark thus failing to see how each looks like until the revelation process. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the episode I saw, all the men agreed on dating a girl if she looked 'hot.' I thought women know better but the three ladies on that show also had 'looks' high up on their list of standards, and even more so, if I must say. One had misgivings because the cowboy guy was not wearing the right fashion while one girl was so disappointed with the guy she chose to see that she rated him a 5 out of 10, adding he was an average in the looks department. The culmination of the show was the couple meeting in the balcony if they wanted to pursue a relationship or either or both of them exiting the house if s/he did not like the other. Of course, that girl exited the house and the poor guy was left alone in the balcony, watching her leave while wondering what was wrong with him. <br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The above made me think if indeed, we have all gone shallow. I mean, come on, he is the same guy who the girl thought is nice and her match prior to seeing his face! Why not try to probe things deeper by going on a date with him? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Whatever happened to things that matter most like honesty and kindness and love and fidelity? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I won't be a hypocrite and say looks don't matter because they do but all I'm saying is at least give the guy a chance with a date or two. Who knows, he truly is the one for you but since you're too busy critiquing his looks, you fail to see how he takes care of you or makes you laugh or complements you.</div><div><br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-62844099900362095302012-08-02T11:28:00.003+08:002012-08-03T02:30:11.272+08:00Something New<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aEF5Z9J_wA9rRCQlpnu4xJQvuBXY5KS6kiEl0PfLk5Ede9aZSihpx6ssIixXJrGUU4MbKeWjpGi1AJlVq7iuAK1uz9037ii3UoG1Xs2Iv6fL0mg_an5i4ZojQGhJV6iJJ-SBZ9kfz-s/s1600/1440x900_Blue_Sky_Flowers_HM027_350A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aEF5Z9J_wA9rRCQlpnu4xJQvuBXY5KS6kiEl0PfLk5Ede9aZSihpx6ssIixXJrGUU4MbKeWjpGi1AJlVq7iuAK1uz9037ii3UoG1Xs2Iv6fL0mg_an5i4ZojQGhJV6iJJ-SBZ9kfz-s/s400/1440x900_Blue_Sky_Flowers_HM027_350A.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wallcoo.net/1440x900/sky_flowers_01_1440x900/html/wallpaper9.html"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><br />
I love writing. I fell in love with it at age eight when I made my first poem. I actually wanted to be a journalist but things did not go as planned and so I am now a hotelier. Not that I have complaints as being in this industry has taught me a lot and brought me to many lovely places. Still, my love for writing burns as fiercely as ever and that is why despite my mostly hectic schedule, I find time to blog.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Two days ago, I accepted a position that entails writing for a living. It is actually yet to sink in but I'm already having mixed feelings about it. A part of me is excited but a part of me is sad. I guess that's how things go, especially when a particular beginning entails saying goodbye.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I feel sad because I will no longer be closely working with people who for the past three years made my stint as a Duty Manager a most interesting one. I feel sad because I will be missing the rollercoaster ride of handling hotel operations and the opportunity of learning from our guests and staff alike.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the other hand, I welcome working on regular hours again. No more shifting schedules or working on Sundays and holidays, which makes me look forward to spending my holidays especially Christmas, New Year and town fiestas with my family and friends. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As a Duty Manager primarily deals with guests' complaints, now that soon I will not be one, I can also heave a sigh of relief as I will be spared dealing with upset or screaming guests. Not that I dread these situations as such are what taught me a lot and made the past three years such a fun rollercoaster ride but not having them sure is a breather.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am really thankful to my company for believing in me and for giving me the chance to contribute to it through my passion for writing. And though I still feel a little wary of things to come, I resolve to myself to give my best to this endeavor and make the most of it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bring it on.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-77953135134793449902012-07-25T10:17:00.008+08:002012-07-25T10:40:56.634+08:00Another Turning Point (that is, if I Say Yes)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmQMoUdwwtr2VHAJTAv1pTfR6aDTjPri112mNVAGdTY9gvsID9HsP_I9jiW038F17eXN8koKp9vmFb7jXo-9ZuLIs9kIrVpKm9YYl6XPyQJWmkIiIlCLNWiraSgD48A5fuUo5uL3qRuo/s1600/CrossroadsSign2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmQMoUdwwtr2VHAJTAv1pTfR6aDTjPri112mNVAGdTY9gvsID9HsP_I9jiW038F17eXN8koKp9vmFb7jXo-9ZuLIs9kIrVpKm9YYl6XPyQJWmkIiIlCLNWiraSgD48A5fuUo5uL3qRuo/s400/CrossroadsSign2.jpg" width="362" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.christ4thailand.info/"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life…"</blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
So goes a song from Greenday. And as I listen to it, I wonder about how some things unpredictable have worked out in my life.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm a planner. And an OC (obsessive-compulsive) one at that especially when it's my life that we're talking about. More than my being a planner though is my being goal-oriented. When I set myself to something, I must achieve this something no matter what.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was small, people asked me where I wanted to study and without batting an eyelash, I would confidently reply, "in UP." Fast forward to six years and I had just become a freshman in State U.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My life plan also listed that by age twenty-eight, I should be a manager already and this too happened even earlier than planned as I was just twenty-five when I achieved my current position.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So single-minded I am that I almost always have just one option. I refrain from having fallback plans just so I will do everything to make One-and-Only Plan A to happen and work for me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But there are times when no matter my best efforts, things just don’t work out as planned. Some of these things too do not even get dealt to me as life has given me a different set of cards than what I would have wanted.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I did not plan on getting a degree in Tourism and yet, I did. I planned of working, even settling abroad by the time I was twenty-six and yet at twenty-eight, I am still here in my home country.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The above are just two of the most unpredictable things that happened to me but as that Greenday song said, these turned out to be for the best as my college degree enabled me to be in my current industry, which I love and my current company turned out to be my niche that a mere two years after being here, I gave up all plans of going abroad.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I remember the above, I am also thinking of something unpredictable that happened to me yesterday that kept me awake until the wee hours of the morning. As almost all things unpredictable are, this something entails me moving out of my comfort zones and confronting the unknown. It requires a huge risk - something that I only calculatingly take. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At this point, I still don't know if I am going to accept the offer as it's not included in my plans. It's actually shaking my already very well-laid plans to the core that I'm now left looking at the loops and ends trying to see where it fits. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And as I mentally map moving these pieces into what I hope are their rightful places, I realize that it is not the life pieces I have that matter. It is what I do with them.</div><div><br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-87778845128041007352011-11-29T09:24:00.000+08:002011-11-29T09:24:14.670+08:00There's Nothing Like Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11aoqkph_jvdXhIarp7-o0mRM1tyymlTJhCZ_NQNjcmAFdnsgvL-4qVRd8tWHjHk3cTu8ITXamhyAvfIFFFog7cuvdzoU73BGye3MwIk_E7nKzxGBJkmx3BGAAkX6u4KSLiKkXwnkglg/s1600/holding+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11aoqkph_jvdXhIarp7-o0mRM1tyymlTJhCZ_NQNjcmAFdnsgvL-4qVRd8tWHjHk3cTu8ITXamhyAvfIFFFog7cuvdzoU73BGye3MwIk_E7nKzxGBJkmx3BGAAkX6u4KSLiKkXwnkglg/s320/holding+hands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://naptimechronical.blogspot.com/2011/03/holding-hands.html">photo credit</a></i></b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">There's nothing like love to throw you off course</div><div style="text-align: center;">or straighten your path.</div><div style="text-align: center;">To make you wary of taking risks</div><div style="text-align: center;">or propel you to take the leap of faith.</div><div style="text-align: center;">To make you fear </div><div style="text-align: center;">or trust implicitly.</div><div style="text-align: center;">To make you hit rock bottom</div><div style="text-align: center;">Or take you to the greatest of heights.</div><div style="text-align: center;">To bring out the inner monster in you </div><div style="text-align: center;">that you feel hurt and jealous all at the same time,</div><div style="text-align: center;">or even unreasonable. </div><div style="text-align: center;">But it can also create </div><div style="text-align: center;">an understanding, giving heart in you</div><div style="text-align: center;">and even inspire you to be selfless.</div><div style="text-align: center;">There's nothing like love </div><div style="text-align: center;">to take you to a life of upheavals </div><div style="text-align: center;">but it will be </div><div style="text-align: center;">your most thrilling rollercoaster ride yet...</div><div style="text-align: center;">Whatever it is that love brings you, </div><div style="text-align: center;">remember that it is your doing - </div><div style="text-align: center;">your choice.</div><div style="text-align: center;">So love wisely,</div><div style="text-align: center;">taking care of not just his heart</div><div style="text-align: center;">but of yours as well.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-59850169355591433812011-09-30T09:03:00.015+08:002011-09-30T09:58:24.029+08:00Happiness is not an Ending<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5BJL8bv_ODwS8p-DJDmiBiYICoeySZhJHiTFDXgKItVx4o6vCd7OkSTMeigXCiFqj0I6u5ARnNzdfqLmYJmmQtjIWrnR9k1y6ghFGwKvAxyGD2B6s-8ziyIGNJlPTZloDrEUVGHr-24/s1600/happiness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5BJL8bv_ODwS8p-DJDmiBiYICoeySZhJHiTFDXgKItVx4o6vCd7OkSTMeigXCiFqj0I6u5ARnNzdfqLmYJmmQtjIWrnR9k1y6ghFGwKvAxyGD2B6s-8ziyIGNJlPTZloDrEUVGHr-24/s320/happiness.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?q=happiness&num=10&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&rls=en&biw=1280&bih=638&tbm=isch&tbnid=NcfJxHIxJ-qo2M:&imgrefurl=http://self-help.thehappyguy.com/2011/05/10/how-to-find-happiness-in-five-minutes/&docid=PX6vm8taSHEQzM&w=500&h=375&ei=bRmFTtzaOOW0iQeft4SjDQ&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=234&sqi=2&page=1&tbnh=120&tbnw=170&start=0&ndsp=19&ved=1t:429,r:7,s:0&tx=121&ty=64">photo credit</a></i></b></div><br />
The pursuit of happiness. I have come across this phrase quite a number of times. And I wonder why.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Is it because most people think of happiness as something so elusive? Many times, I have heard and read about people wanting to be happy. Some even list it as their ultimate goal.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I disagree. As I have always said, happiness is a choice, albeit a more difficult one. Happiness is also not a goal or an ending. It is something we can achieve even while we embark on this adventure we call life. We don't live because we want to be happy in the end. We are happy simply because we live. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>As I celebrated my twenty-eight birthday recently, I give thanks to God for this wonderful blessing of my life. And I give thanks too to and for my loved ones and friends - these people who add vibrancy to my already great life with the personal touch they put to it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happiness is not an ending. Surrounded by my loved ones, it is something I have always had. It is something my parents showered me with from the time I was conceived. It is something I see in their proud eyes and is also reflected in mine . It is something I feel every time the family gets together. Something my friends and I also share.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happiness is the celebration of the person that I am. It is reveling in my individuality and the appreciation I have for what I have been blessed with. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happiness is also the security I have in my rewarding career. It is also in being able to travel and shop and indulge in my favorite food. In being lost in a good book. Or music. Or being entertained by a movie.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But happiness is not just about the good things in life. Happiness is also knowing that my tears of sorrow or pain have sprouted lessons that now guide my present and future. It is growing up.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I look back on what was and look forward to what will be, I remember the many happy birthdays I have been greeted with these past twenty-eight years. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And I smile because indeed, it is a happy life I live.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-82462984486495511042011-09-16T18:36:00.001+08:002011-09-16T18:36:42.691+08:00God Takes<div style="text-align: justify;">I love how Facebook now enables us to go on a trip down memory lane by posting our status messages a year ago. It's very helpful for me because sometimes, I just randomly share my thoughts and feelings on Facebook (and also on Yahoo Messenger) and forget to share them in my blog. Below is my status message a year ago, which again reminded me to let go and let God.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACeY54OLcv_EMWI_bnpSo0fcGGKW17SwZdu73y-zS5YPsWYykgJCN6hozJJ6Ja-lkuUnl4KluoU1tPky1iUXo_xlbMLDH1pT0yqDUrAvlzDpy6bV4te8yMXsEGj58PEGiwhe98z20SXY/s1600/Hands-and-Butterfly-300x178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACeY54OLcv_EMWI_bnpSo0fcGGKW17SwZdu73y-zS5YPsWYykgJCN6hozJJ6Ja-lkuUnl4KluoU1tPky1iUXo_xlbMLDH1pT0yqDUrAvlzDpy6bV4te8yMXsEGj58PEGiwhe98z20SXY/s400/Hands-and-Butterfly-300x178.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.johndulworth.com/index.php/category/transforming-you/"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Heaven sends and heaven takes but come what may, I believe in You, my Lord and my God, for your ways are different from ours... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">... and so, I surrender - with no fear - just with trust and faith and obedience. Take away what is good so you may give me what is best.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-60156368822298855402011-09-08T06:01:00.000+08:002011-09-08T06:02:30.198+08:00Happy Birthday, Mama Mary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMNEj9P2S_NigjkikE1xHtTkkEeN8bn_Vp44kBPgvembhvfij1BqjTD3Klu281-iikDLKPboKnuK5v5HLLMmH1GlX25QVeyi0zelE7lQIz7eqWIPqJxhurdR3uYda9AGiM8LWq13i3dn0/s1600/stmarys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMNEj9P2S_NigjkikE1xHtTkkEeN8bn_Vp44kBPgvembhvfij1BqjTD3Klu281-iikDLKPboKnuK5v5HLLMmH1GlX25QVeyi0zelE7lQIz7eqWIPqJxhurdR3uYda9AGiM8LWq13i3dn0/s320/stmarys.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?q=virgin+mary+mother+of+god&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&sa=X&rls=en&tbas=0&biw=1280&bih=638&tbm=isch&tbnid=uGUdy0SRncJ9_M:&imgrefurl=http://stwalburgas.blogspot.com/2011/03/mary-mother-of-god-is-no-doormat.html&docid=-ie7Zl-tsfquFM&w=697&h=950&ei=aednTt7rJ8mOiAfAvo3WCw&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=1047&vpy=264&dur=1518&hovh=262&hovw=192&tx=138&ty=214&page=1&tbnh=155&tbnw=111&start=0&ndsp=23&ved=1t:429,r:22,s:0">photo credit</a></i></b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
O Mary today we celebrate your feast</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And to thank you for your openness and generosity is what I can do least</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to be like you, my dear Mother -</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A simple servant of Christ and His faithful follower.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
===============</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>found in my journal & written when I was nineteen.</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-64724488632772842662011-09-07T08:45:00.004+08:002011-09-07T09:50:35.363+08:00Of Life and the Sea<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvI3J0vpE6PlfGEpXeHAv_DNbEO4hnsXyPNjk6avGN1Qaf5mhtxBdoRc1EUA60tRAtBEX8guvNuK0-PWDQdE-lwaAFrYvhhJBszPFraZaE0grERxUDMslvgspu2Vl1e9sEZ2tlou8hYA/s1600/at-the-seashore-joni-mcpherson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvI3J0vpE6PlfGEpXeHAv_DNbEO4hnsXyPNjk6avGN1Qaf5mhtxBdoRc1EUA60tRAtBEX8guvNuK0-PWDQdE-lwaAFrYvhhJBszPFraZaE0grERxUDMslvgspu2Vl1e9sEZ2tlou8hYA/s400/at-the-seashore-joni-mcpherson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?q=seashore&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&rls=en&biw=1280&bih=638&tbm=isch&tbnid=W6b5p6EvLdYv-M:&imgrefurl=http://fineartamerica.com/featured/at-the-seashore-joni-mcpherson.html&docid=HjJ6Tjkwq4X3yM&w=560&h=700&ei=2chmTu_pEOXtmAXNsISpCg&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=1038&vpy=275&dur=281&hovh=251&hovw=201&tx=138&ty=174&page=1&tbnh=146&tbnw=128&start=0&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:14,s:0">photo credit</a></i></b></div><br />
<br />
I was eight. We were on a family outing and mommy was teaching me how to swim. Both her hands supported my weight as she coaxed me to paddle. I paddled as hard as I could. We did this many times till my body ached. And we did it again in our succeeding beach outings.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When she thought I could do it, mommy did not place her hands under my body lying facedown on the water and just said words of encouragement as I tried to support my weight on my own. I sank. But mommy was quick to haul me back into her arms. She hugged me and tousled my hair to soothe me, all the while whispering words of encouragement. But I shook my head, scared of again sinking while I struggled, helplessly flailing my hands as salty water made its way into my nose and mouth.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My fear of being in an open water heightened when during one of our beach outings, two teens from a nearby cottage drifted far away into the sea and had to be rescued by a boat. Their family members were so sick with worry that some even wept as the boat was dispatched to look for them. Once reunited, the teens said they slept while on a life buoy and woke up to find themselves in the middle of the sea. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Despite their happy ending of being reunited with their family, their ordeal left an imprint of a great fear of the sea on me. From then on, I made sure to wade but only waist-deep in the waters. During outings, my companions who were in the deeper part of the sea would wave their hands invitingly but I would only go as far as to where the waters reached my neck. And once there was an onslaught of waves, I would hurriedly go back to where the shore was, fearful of being tided over by those waves.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As these memories come to me now when I am faced with a great personal dilemma, I realize how I have been playing safe all along. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">From 2001 to 2005, I waded but only waist-deep in the waters, testing if it suited me. Then one really big tide of a trial happened in 2005. Confused, hurt and even angry, I retreated back into the shore and comfortably settled there for years. I thought I was okay. I thought I would always be okay there. That to the shore was where I belong. But in 2010, the water again beckoned to me. Scared, I retreated farther back into where the land was but the water time and again called out to me. I resisted but the more I did, the more I suffered.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And so I summoned all the logic in me to battle with what my heart wanted. I wanted nothing of the water. It was dark and deep and endless. I did not know what awaited me there. Waves crashed against it. Anything on it either drifted somewhere else or got drowned. The shore, meanwhile, remained a bastion of safety. A haven where the water could only touch but not claim it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2011 came. The water now more loudly called out to me. I again summoned my logic to rationalize my response but it compromised with my heart by telling me to just wade waist-deep into the water and see how it would go...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've been waist-deep in the water since and I must say it's something I am getting used to. It's something I actually prefer but am scared of fully embracing. I have even told myself that this is the perfect spot because here, I get the best of both worlds. I am at sea but the shore is just a "swim" away. If push comes to shove, if a big tide is coming, I can always head back to the shore.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Swim. Using this word makes me realize that I never did learn how to swim. And all because I have feared the water. The water that has been calling out to me for the longest time now. The water that I am so scared of fully committing myself to for fear of it again hurting me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But as today's memories make me re-realize my fear of the water, as earlier said, it also makes me realize that if I continue standing on its shallow part, just like I missed learning how to swim, I will also miss what really is in store for me in it. What I am really called to life to.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yes, I either have to go back to the shore and stay there for good or risk it all and fully be enveloped in water.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I admit I have reservations. I still have my fears. But as André Gide wrote, "Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-80383428168055865092011-08-22T10:54:00.001+08:002011-08-22T10:55:09.527+08:00Loving is Taking Risks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7u9pRLlcyg07uTgYc7AggByZ5TytzfVObdfTz_nGOnnqCyDcH__8CnI0Ki_iObGzRyfoU8qMXlctEqV9otF0dCvcQZ5rLqm7tGo8bJ2N_B-r_BPAOMSr1_M-7_22UkuUKQa4M71YuaAU/s1600/love_water_beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7u9pRLlcyg07uTgYc7AggByZ5TytzfVObdfTz_nGOnnqCyDcH__8CnI0Ki_iObGzRyfoU8qMXlctEqV9otF0dCvcQZ5rLqm7tGo8bJ2N_B-r_BPAOMSr1_M-7_22UkuUKQa4M71YuaAU/s1600/love_water_beach.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://inmyworldtheskyisalwaysblue.blogspot.com/2011/06/love-conquers-all.html"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Loving someone is always a risk, but it's one that's worth taking.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-65559882764323849822011-05-18T09:25:00.001+08:002011-05-18T09:35:02.240+08:00For X<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0O-RVjwZWhYqM_sc8nIrut_bPzvyubiRqqu7VIkqEAWK18dhroMBhNw3MeP0YwuWSBHa8QeUQl8tHA9VQwTDvFTquU6WCB34_4WpW8JsB5Pq9XP1DwreYf4lizZAYwec-yWvIh-RnRw/s1600/Letting_go_by_PaniFilth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0O-RVjwZWhYqM_sc8nIrut_bPzvyubiRqqu7VIkqEAWK18dhroMBhNw3MeP0YwuWSBHa8QeUQl8tHA9VQwTDvFTquU6WCB34_4WpW8JsB5Pq9XP1DwreYf4lizZAYwec-yWvIh-RnRw/s400/Letting_go_by_PaniFilth.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxlNi1M8wu6RQnSFrOcQjQLs1yLv8U3foZNHFxJkwX7-t2WmYOD7uF_508sEI5ZZKDVqkZLk_v-bO-TdCgkRZgkJUdX-ATSfhIVqrWhNMR5fLnSoUmhS__U5TUXFVZA3F3rKOicPJfSMId/s1600/Letting_go_by_PaniFilth.jpg&imgrefurl=http://latitofur.blogspot.com/2011/05/letting-go-quotes.html&usg=__oLO_RuKhmLZisjE92-ksO8P8Dhk=&h=400&w=300&sz=22&hl=en&start=37&sig2=IQIZQoW60dvQbLKAjULrBQ&zoom=1&tbnid=ERC8maz0FsMWvM:&tbnh=156&tbnw=116&ei=5h3TTeC6KtCrrAelspSdCQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dletting%2Bgo%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbm%3Disch0%2C800&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=1079&vpy=383&dur=2788&hovh=161&hovw=121&tx=77&ty=76&sqi=2&page=3&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:6,s:37&biw=1280&bih=649"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">photo credit</span></a></i></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t know why I’m writing. I don’t even know where to start. I’m having second thoughts too on whether I should continue this. Is chickening out an option? Whoa. Now you’re taunting me. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Aren’t you courageous?” you often say. And therein lies my truth. Because with and for you, I am anything but brave.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s been two years since I met you. And in that short span of time, you have managed to take me into the most nerve-wracking </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">rollercoaster</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> ride of my life. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have always told myself to never put myself in a situation where I do not know where I stand in another person’s life. And yet, I am in such a situation now.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t know how to read you, you know. You say you like me. You care. You miss me. Truth be told though, hearing those words brings me anything but assurance. Hearing those words makes me more confused. Scared. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Why can’t you just say things outright?</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Where does caring for, missing and liking someone lead to? What are those endearments for? I really am confused. And annoyed. I hate it that we’re both too stubborn. That we play a game of wits and will. I enjoy the former, hate the latter. I do not know if you’ve noticed but my response has always been as guarded as my heart is. I don’t want you to think I am leading you on, is why. And I also do not want to appear easy or aloof and heaven forbid, unreachable. And so I play it cool. Maybe way too cool. Damn. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You very well know what our dilemma is. It is the fact that you want me to be the first to admit my feelings for you but I want it to be the other way around. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe culture is a big factor. From where you are from, women can easily admit to their feelings. Some even openly flirt. But I, despite your perceived sophistication of me, am still a traditional </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Maria Clara</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> at heart confined by the long-ago notion of my ancestors that women should wait for the guy to woe her…</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t know how long will I be able to keep up with you. Or why should I, in the first place. If I am going to be very honest with myself, I have to admit that I’m getting tired of guarding my heart. Of waiting. Of being unsure of anything that concerns you. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Funny how just when I, a person who only takes calculated risks, am willing to abandon all and take the great leap of faith, the very person that I am taking the plunge for is nowhere to be found to leap with me or break my fall.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But you know what I find is funnier? It is that you can dare talk to me about courage when you are anything but brave.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And you know what’s funniest? It is that I thought of courage as taking the leap of faith for you because now I know that where you are concerned, courage is about letting go of my beloved who does not know that I am worth defying his great fear of love. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">--------------------</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>May 18, 2007 was when we met. May 18, 2008 was when you reminded me that it's our anniversary. I laughed because you remember the date of our first meeting. I did not. As we spoke, I was actually feeling sheepish, torn between amazement and being touched because really, it's rare for a guy to remember. May 18, 2009. We both remembered the day. I was hoping you'll come out clean but you just continued dancing that avoidance waltz that I despised. That same night, I wrote this post as I mentally said goodbye to you. This post remained sitting in my Drafts folder though. May 18, 2010. My </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>iPod</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Touch's</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i> calendar reminded me that it's May 18. I cancelled it. May 18, 2011. The same alarm from my </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>iPod</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i> Touch rang. I immediately cancelled it then deleted the yearly reminder. It's been about two years that we lost contact with each other and days ago, I found this while I was sifting through my files. So here I am, posting this in celebration of my moving on. </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
</i></span></div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-82012799770818680252011-05-17T09:35:00.003+08:002011-05-17T09:44:15.655+08:00Silver Lining<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDQUgJxWyETBwSmxOSCpVjLqvtJF_qH5y-eMoiCmhRx74WfIq5WsB_CAxcTvqk_GQf1xcCvX6ZI7ZXoljNI8PkShEtg5cZbquZVbbDd0FacWW1H7aHxsZYP27tjn4w76TA-Aq7eY22y0/s1600/6a00d83452719d69e2014e86f1c532970d-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDQUgJxWyETBwSmxOSCpVjLqvtJF_qH5y-eMoiCmhRx74WfIq5WsB_CAxcTvqk_GQf1xcCvX6ZI7ZXoljNI8PkShEtg5cZbquZVbbDd0FacWW1H7aHxsZYP27tjn4w76TA-Aq7eY22y0/s320/6a00d83452719d69e2014e86f1c532970d-800wi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://redstateeclectic.typepad.com/.a/6a00d83452719d69e2014e86f1c532970d-800wi&imgrefurl=http://redstateeclectic.typepad.com/redstate_commentary/2011/03/the-master-of-doomslaying-a-portrait-of-julian-simon.html&usg=__8wZIv66YVJndsZ299FJ8xWgL4iE=&h=375&w=500&sz=63&hl=en&start=0&sig2=0CIcnVawFny-3Rg-Ismedw&zoom=1&tbnid=0A0_qZFREHpvjM:&tbnh=142&tbnw=189&ei=W9DRTcnEHYOIrAf47vSiCQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dsilver%2Blining%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Dic:specific,isc:teal%26tbm%3Disch&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=906&vpy=303&dur=245&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=127&ty=149&page=1&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:12,s:0">photo credit</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are times when I can't help but feel jaded. I guess at some point, we just see the world as it is and not even a really good pair of rose-tinted glasses can make us see otherwise. After all, life is not a bed of roses. It most certainly is not a fairytale. Still, happiness is a choice, albeit a more difficult one. So I'll smile and face this head on knowing that for each obscuring cloud, there is a silver lining to tide me through even the roughest of seas.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-90363944993518078782011-05-12T09:36:00.000+08:002011-05-17T09:38:32.947+08:00the wedding<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaPdyQgmhs6OdbujFTrVwkD_0MRHouftiWsBAlDPokwYmPiFZGcmLtUv3moHgmdn7FwaTO0iJaaE8VmwIKoN8k6_BuFtogdcl2WnW2Cr0BU4W580ZweGd7Ej7BCT3IddBT5kxN-fsD30/s1600/my_best_friends_wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaPdyQgmhs6OdbujFTrVwkD_0MRHouftiWsBAlDPokwYmPiFZGcmLtUv3moHgmdn7FwaTO0iJaaE8VmwIKoN8k6_BuFtogdcl2WnW2Cr0BU4W580ZweGd7Ej7BCT3IddBT5kxN-fsD30/s200/my_best_friends_wedding.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk15/conn_2008/my_best_friends_wedding.jpg&imgrefurl=http://cgerondio.blogspot.com/&usg=__PTKfss3wVzvw4hrYa_0ccOKRa_U=&h=357&w=400&sz=30&hl=en&start=81&sig2=3Ek0C1XIcEaD9dVF6Xe7KA&zoom=1&tbnid=hWemz287oObtdM:&tbnh=154&tbnw=168&ei=hUrLTeSjJ47evQPc6InRBQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dmy%2Bbest%2Bfriends%2Bwedding%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbm%3Disch0%2C2200&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=350&vpy=311&dur=1176&hovh=212&hovw=238&tx=162&ty=128&page=5&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:14,s:81&biw=1280&bih=649"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a><br />
<br />
<br />
and today's<br />
one of those times<br />
when i run away<br />
from the here and now<br />
and drift off<br />
to that faraway place<br />
where there is no you<br />
and your memories<br />
will haunt me the least...<br />
<br />
oh how i wish to forget.<br />
<br />
and today's<br />
the most painful day<br />
when i watch you<br />
watching her<br />
both of you looking<br />
so perfect for each other<br />
your smile<br />
beaming your pride,<br />
hers a picture<br />
of genuine bliss...<br />
and i smile too<br />
while i try my best<br />
to compartmentalize<br />
my emotions...<br />
<br />
oh how i wish to not feel.<br />
<br />
and today's<br />
the craziest of days<br />
my tears<br />
making it difficult<br />
to see you<br />
standing in the altar,<br />
eagerly awaiting<br />
the lovely lady<br />
walking down the aisle<br />
to claim her<br />
as your bride.<br />
<br />
oh how i wish i'm not here.<br />
<br />
and today's<br />
your special day<br />
the atmosphere<br />
in stark contrast<br />
to how i feel<br />
my barely contained<br />
mixed emotions<br />
veering fast<br />
to pained amusement<br />
as you introduce us<br />
myself being the ex<br />
who is now<br />
just a friend.<br />
<br />
oh how i hurt.<br />
<br />
and today's the day<br />
i finally let go<br />
i hurt, i weep<br />
as i allow myself<br />
to freely feel the pain<br />
i ponder, i write<br />
these mostly bitter<br />
but somewhat sweet lines<br />
as i say goodbye.<br />
<br />
tomorrow i will heal.<br />
<br />
<br />
===============<br />
<i>written last weekend after watching (for the nth time!) My Best Friend's Wedding.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-59277947345923127402011-04-13T07:20:00.003+08:002011-04-16T08:40:51.686+08:00Falling is Just Another Way to Fly<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I dreamed I was standing on a cliff's edge, scared of taking even an inch forward. I was scared even of looking down so I closed my eyes and took a dozen steps back, thinking that's where safety was. But then I realized that what I was doing, what I had been doing all along was a way of playing things safe. Of settling to what was familiar. I took a deep breath, ran towards the cliff's edge then with only a split second of hesitation, jumped. And as I fell, I felt anticipation. The fear was still there for I knew not what would happen but there was freedom too in finally leaving my comfort zone and embracing the unknown. </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Thud. It wasn't such high a fall and I landed with my two feet firmly planted on the ground. Chest heaving, I opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings, taking in the grassy field of dandelions. Who knew this was what awaited me here? </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHIiS16y5rVp69wpZ57mxDAS8KvWjffs4oiPz2Mnl5WuEIJYtat9XBeWy0rdktJLknCtY2aWNdt3uHsjtlgdPA6HWojVHC-rCL13ANUeTpMeI8cs32SZGXvsm2Lr7W5HiYjhHcmv2xsI/s1600/stock-photo-field-of-dandelions-blue-sky-and-sun-57804880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHIiS16y5rVp69wpZ57mxDAS8KvWjffs4oiPz2Mnl5WuEIJYtat9XBeWy0rdktJLknCtY2aWNdt3uHsjtlgdPA6HWojVHC-rCL13ANUeTpMeI8cs32SZGXvsm2Lr7W5HiYjhHcmv2xsI/s320/stock-photo-field-of-dandelions-blue-sky-and-sun-57804880.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">For a while, I stood there, watching some dandelions soar by. Mesmerized, I gathered one and observed how its florets needed to be separated from the "head," from the plant itself, in order for it to find its own patch of soil and grow new dandelions. Then I thought of myself and of the risk I took to take flight. And of the more risks that lie ahead...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnqWhODes4BHb8RPEgmUcflNO7En0E9t5cJr2wEbEVrmR0Qp3iYjxPTIdsny5S421QXdifpdcMhS4lg2WSjzfli8Sn72OVWe98Hjs0k0JxJ31_7XYWALemKTK7l0kBlbCTrqqxg7vAEE/s1600/dandelion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnqWhODes4BHb8RPEgmUcflNO7En0E9t5cJr2wEbEVrmR0Qp3iYjxPTIdsny5S421QXdifpdcMhS4lg2WSjzfli8Sn72OVWe98Hjs0k0JxJ31_7XYWALemKTK7l0kBlbCTrqqxg7vAEE/s320/dandelion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://rachel-oddsandends.blogspot.com/2010/07/dandelions.html"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Then I woke up and I was smiling for I realized from my dream that falling is just another way to fly.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-14514400772138899642011-03-15T11:09:00.002+08:002011-03-15T11:20:05.784+08:00Random Thoughts - # 15<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqFQNkYfO8M8aVk96mi14rBGUZK_P5xmsCHIf48cQ4L9dYK_mBRjycho2SVnz2FTkm2kYj7AWEG23syQvudHmeKywP7qDdnXligkJ1uhU5NomukzmSRjesFcpn3SVZLSD9bZdyHXreAc/s1600/flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqFQNkYfO8M8aVk96mi14rBGUZK_P5xmsCHIf48cQ4L9dYK_mBRjycho2SVnz2FTkm2kYj7AWEG23syQvudHmeKywP7qDdnXligkJ1uhU5NomukzmSRjesFcpn3SVZLSD9bZdyHXreAc/s1600/flower.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.webster.uk.net/Business/HealthAndBeauty/AGentleTouch/Home.aspx"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">People are bound to disappoint us one way or another and so I learned to just not expect anything from anyone. Let people be themselves, and you'll find out that each one is a pleasant surprise in his or her own way.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-79802992531124383362011-02-28T08:12:00.010+08:002011-02-28T21:51:20.888+08:00Ironic<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7XAdDVKCtF3YTCDtZRuVsUzvTlkPhH8a4By0r_eFwhQlEBxlqIeG5GO017lwsoeeqILcetFsPCCHq_Wnnyo7n0n_rBxqcRTmzyJKYjKLg3121r1Nay6ts1tEykccsUcXRURiUXsq7mc/s1600/There+is+always+hope-251688.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7XAdDVKCtF3YTCDtZRuVsUzvTlkPhH8a4By0r_eFwhQlEBxlqIeG5GO017lwsoeeqILcetFsPCCHq_Wnnyo7n0n_rBxqcRTmzyJKYjKLg3121r1Nay6ts1tEykccsUcXRURiUXsq7mc/s400/There+is+always+hope-251688.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://dark.pozadia.org/wallpaper/There-is-Always-Hope/"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><br />
<blockquote><b>My friend:</b> I'm listening to <a href="http://www.lyrics007.com/Alanis%20Morissette%20Lyrics/Ironic%20Lyrics.html"><b>Ironic</b></a> by Alanis. Isn't it ironic to find the man of your dreams then later meet his beautiful wife?</blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote><b>Milai:</b> Nah, the irony there is meeting the man of your dreams. (laughs)</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The above exchange made me do a double take. Have I gotten too cynical beyond redemption?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
There is no denying that I am romantic to the core. You see, I began reading romance novels at an early age. While most children read fairytales and picture books, I, much to my mom's dismay, took delight in reading Mills and Boon and Harlequin novels starting at age eight. I also loved reading the works of Barbara Cartland. At age ten, I was into Danielle Steel and at twelve, was into novels by Judith McNaught, Johanna Lindsey and Jude Deveraux. Reading about their heroines ending up with the man of their dreams sure made me think about my own happy ending.<br />
<br />
Ten years after, my view on love, or rather, on men, soured due to the fact that some of my friends and acquaintances became victims of their infidelity or were in an abusive relationship. There were some too who fell in love with men who were difficult to love in the first place. And some who were with men who could not find it in themselves to commit to a relationship or marriage.<br />
<br />
With the above, and also because I experienced heartbreaks and heartaches firsthand, I became very wary of love. Or rather, of men.<br />
<br />
A friend in college said not just once that those like us who grew up reading romance novels would have a difficult time finding the "man of our dreams" basically because we already have our ideals on who or what we want in and from them. "Admit it, unconsciously, you have the tendency to compare a suitor to that dashing, romantic duke from the Victorian era in historical romance novels or to that confident, urbane, a little difficult but loving man you read about in your contemporary novels." And we laughed because it was partly true. Matthew Allen Parker from McNaught's Paradise, where are you? Ha ha!<br />
<br />
Then there's this Linda Howard novel I read where they joked about Mr. Perfect being "science fiction." Ha! I just had to laugh on that one.<br />
<br />
When I was home in Aklan last January, a relative, knowing I am already twenty-seven and most of my batchmates were already married, joked, "So when is the grand walk down the aisle?" I laughed and replied that I am even yet to find THAT man I will walk down the aisle with. Polite queries followed, with most of them asking all the hows and whys that they could think of regarding my being uncommitted and all later coming to a concession that I am just being choosy. Ooooooo-kay. Whatever.<br />
<br />
Is there anything wrong with being single, especially when it is someone's personal choice and she's happy being such, as I said so in a <a href="http://milai-melancholic-memoirs.blogspot.com/2008/04/single-by-choice-happy.html"><b>previous post</b></a>? Is there anything wrong with having standards for THE man a woman wants to marry? I'm not looking for Mr. Perfect because we all know that perfection in anyone or anything does not exist. But I do have standards for the man of my dreams. And on this I refuse to compromise. Why? Because we are all entitled to choose who we want to spend the rest of our lives with. And mine is to be with a man who is like Daddy. Oh, he isn't perfect. He sometimes drinks and used to smoke and he is scary when he gets mad but he's faithful to my mom and wonderful to us.<br />
<br />
You may have noticed I wrote "on love or rather, on men" twice in this post. I want to emphasize this because men (and of course, women), may become unfaithful or jealous or insincere but love is not and never will be. It is and will always be the same kind of wondrous, saving love that it is made to be. Anything less than that is not true and lasting love - the reason why most relationships don't last these days and why some marriages crumble.<br />
<br />
I want to end this post by addressing my cynicism. Yes, I admit to having gotten jaded over the years but there's still that part of me who sees the world through rose-tinted glasses. Who still believes in the wonders of love and in God's perfect timing for everything.<br />
<br />
True love waits.<br />
<br />
</div></div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-90377415565888074492011-02-21T09:08:00.002+08:002011-02-21T09:12:55.202+08:00Past and Future Love<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ewZzLnoHeSBdgf2EGj7E23KO_KbxCDzdcintmB_RIZ8xeEaEInS3ZqJf31NuH6O0Ofus1v_ozQL_l30GoyRpX_-PCL7cTzP_rCYzPCeOoNhRTBIPj89jmDGWlLa4yZ6AmLx5ZIN4k-g/s1600/Letting_Go.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ewZzLnoHeSBdgf2EGj7E23KO_KbxCDzdcintmB_RIZ8xeEaEInS3ZqJf31NuH6O0Ofus1v_ozQL_l30GoyRpX_-PCL7cTzP_rCYzPCeOoNhRTBIPj89jmDGWlLa4yZ6AmLx5ZIN4k-g/s400/Letting_Go.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIZ2mWZbA1-RYlWUDQ0DUdmEWi_mIi0FLfT-WUxtoFrLVrUk5cA4Ni2BXyh0o7ZUTpDiebMUcWpJczOnczcCgatDEij3bnfd4G9oIjui2HFhj_R7KchpVfd-102Q4g_PnZvDQGzm0Gy5e/s400/Letting_Go.jpg&imgrefurl=http://narqs.blogspot.com/2009/03/cont-letting-go.html&usg=__g2QC9pTu89cO4EN7xFGd3XTmIlY=&h=300&w=400&sz=16&hl=en&start=0&sig2=7V_m6jZtc8gn36IOdW43yw&zoom=1&tbnid=ENfnRsR6ECIiyM:&tbnh=129&tbnw=171&ei=JbphTfG9A8KqrAftncS5AQ&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dletting%2Bgo%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Disch:1,ic:specific,isc:teal&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=267&vpy=160&dur=3545&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=155&ty=88&oei=JbphTfG9A8KqrAftncS5AQ&page=1&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0">photo credit</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Seasons change and people too</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I believe that some feelings don't</div><div style="text-align: center;">The clock keeps on ticking and people come and go</div><div style="text-align: center;">But our longing for them just continues to grow.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We may forget some of yesterday's memories</div><div style="text-align: center;">But those that we wove with that special someone </div><div style="text-align: center;">Would remain, and may even haunt us</div><div style="text-align: center;">That we couldn't help but look back on what was.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I miss your smiles, those bedimpled cheeks</div><div style="text-align: center;">And the way your knowing eyes would look me over</div><div style="text-align: center;">I miss all the laughter, and even our silly fights</div><div style="text-align: center;">And the kiss-and-make-up that is sure to come later.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I sorely miss the way you always inspire me</div><div style="text-align: center;">Those words and acts of love that you share</div><div style="text-align: center;">But most of all I miss being with you</div><div style="text-align: center;">And being enveloped in your sweet and tender care.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember all these, and painfully, more</div><div style="text-align: center;">For I also remember the day we parted ways</div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember saying goodbye for I thought it was best</div><div style="text-align: center;">Turning a deaf ear to the pleas you expressed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Until now, I don't know why or how we drifted apart</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I have stopped trying to analyze everything</div><div style="text-align: center;">All I know is that somewhere, somehow, we changed</div><div style="text-align: center;">That what used to be two sides of a coin became estranged.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Things happen for a reason, so they always say</div><div style="text-align: center;">And maybe, ours is to learn to lose ourselves to an <b><u>US</u></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Because admit it, when we were together we seldom compromise</div><div style="text-align: center;">Self-absorbed and stubborn, to our own self each one relies.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I still believe that what happened is for the best</div><div style="text-align: center;">And though I still sometimes miss you, I can smile</div><div style="text-align: center;">Knowing that you and I have grown individually</div><div style="text-align: center;">In ways that our being together did not allow us to be. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wherever you are, my love, I hope you now know</div><div style="text-align: center;">That sometimes the greater proof of love is in letting go</div><div style="text-align: center;">May love teach us to truly love in ways we failed the other</div><div style="text-align: center;">That we may become braver, wiser and better.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-44053825425602166112011-02-14T09:18:00.003+08:002011-02-14T09:20:55.587+08:00The Heart Chooses to Heal<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUexLlgH8JHYGQATdG0T5K5SI5Ma9XLAPeablNpe0Z9N6D9PZjiZFieK1Wxbz8roqAtFnzal0Kig9h4qaomzOBvmrVj_A5CDEvMQMaIvZ78i73fYksl_-C_c0ByEKJJNGUANCQ_2dPgbA/s1600/Embrace-Your-Heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUexLlgH8JHYGQATdG0T5K5SI5Ma9XLAPeablNpe0Z9N6D9PZjiZFieK1Wxbz8roqAtFnzal0Kig9h4qaomzOBvmrVj_A5CDEvMQMaIvZ78i73fYksl_-C_c0ByEKJJNGUANCQ_2dPgbA/s320/Embrace-Your-Heart.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.paintingsbykate.com/Embrace-Your-Heart.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.paintingsbykate.com/paintings22x28.html&usg=__sV3fji5Bg10vgGuYtw9KQJjpWe8=&h=2373&w=1876&sz=291&hl=en&start=0&sig2=nvvuWHAiQF8PJxKPotvLTQ&zoom=1&tbnid=gr0jewnBQ7LqtM:&tbnh=163&tbnw=132&ei=Fn9YTaqtOIzCcdX70JwM&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dheart%2Bembrace%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=275&oei=4X5YTcmcC-jDcKv2xYEN&page=1&ndsp=18&ved=1t:429,r:6,s:0&tx=121&ty=112"><b><i>photo credit</i></b></a></div><br />
In all its fragility, I marvel about the capacity of the heart to withstand innumerable heartaches and hurts. I guess in the end, a heart that CHOOSES to freely bask in sincere, selfless love is bigger than any and all of life's struggles. Cheers to all WARRIORS OF THE HEART who never give up on love despite being heartbroken at some points in their lives. Happy hearts day! :)<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-65224043273057676662011-01-16T09:38:00.001+08:002011-01-16T09:39:09.121+08:00The Gift of the Present<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhma54M5JJMkaUzIbMJVy8j1R4UyFzpuCW-U1LU8S0cxn8RmH-A3gdtxKZQ8tBoldS0Ie0-qtWRMjRGfOjYhzd57s9J-cshI77C01pibhBluhCD9SpDVe1SQj4MIZ0bNkyqD18wa4-jK_w/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhma54M5JJMkaUzIbMJVy8j1R4UyFzpuCW-U1LU8S0cxn8RmH-A3gdtxKZQ8tBoldS0Ie0-qtWRMjRGfOjYhzd57s9J-cshI77C01pibhBluhCD9SpDVe1SQj4MIZ0bNkyqD18wa4-jK_w/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.ginigrey.com/wp/http://www.ginigrey.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/stillness.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.ginigrey.com/wp/insights-inspiration/2009/stillness/&usg=__HdHTTOvjAB5_dtyn4D2IZFDbLII=&h=282&w=425&sz=133&hl=en&start=0&sig2=nB6qC9RS8_rVfps0l2CI-g&zoom=1&tbnid=Nln7bQrV71gpuM:&tbnh=146&tbnw=198&ei=yUsyTbKVG4u9cYOxiJUH&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dstillness%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Disch:1,ic:specific,isc:blue&um=1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=361&oei=yUsyTbKVG4u9cYOxiJUH&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=17&ved=1t:429,r:14,s:0&tx=134&ty=56">photo credit</a></i></b></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
The greatest gift of the present is that it is a constant reminder of God's never ending love for and faith in us. We are blessed with another day because He wants us to cherish yesterday as we grow from it. So if you've been hurt in the past, let go. Today is a new day. God has given you a chance to heal. To make up for your wrongs. To be happy. To love again. To live life to the fullest. Seize this day! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-20116135174496641382011-01-09T09:33:00.003+08:002011-09-08T05:30:09.083+08:00Random Thoughts - # 14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8uukKwn2bKafx9rND1_JDw3q1kG-kwIDYXVU6MgAm2GmmRT_gRxfXPhFJ-fNS_JuoyouTL59buDLvuxJi06drq6Rh832onTQGX7FQDtwl8iPuCk-w_E4yCY5qpI6SpFpX8MP4DLUY7y4/s1600/spew53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8uukKwn2bKafx9rND1_JDw3q1kG-kwIDYXVU6MgAm2GmmRT_gRxfXPhFJ-fNS_JuoyouTL59buDLvuxJi06drq6Rh832onTQGX7FQDtwl8iPuCk-w_E4yCY5qpI6SpFpX8MP4DLUY7y4/s320/spew53.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://i22.tinypic.com/spew53.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.myspace.com/madloveempress/comments&usg=__u22DWzFrt3zJHghyzI23tteEh5s=&h=480&w=640&sz=27&hl=en&start=0&sig2=32ig0km5N4-DLBM91M9i-A&zoom=1&tbnid=vAGR-sNb3p0xPM:&tbnh=158&tbnw=210&ei=FQ0pTamMFc2ecdGX9ZcB&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dhand%2Bscattering%2Bflowers%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DG%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C59&um=1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=375&oei=5AwpTdDFKszXcfqUyJgK&esq=14&page=1&ndsp=19&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:0&tx=175&ty=65&biw=1280&bih=649">photo credit</a></i></b></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Closure</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Closure isn't about just putting an end to the vexations of the mind, heart and soul. It is also coming to terms with the difficulties of the past and, from hereon, beginning a life of acceptance, gratitude and learning, and in so doing, achieving the serenity we so long for.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-32377470551505153022011-01-07T07:11:00.001+08:002011-01-07T07:36:18.211+08:00Mirror of Truth<div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNADrcK0GLeDJ_YyYtpGFYG-y7PEQZMaXRA4uHck5Ezkq3IWaJ3KuBciiANMYfl8DmvHiEyzVSPdDwhgyokqVUHYBsKSy_3zhm7dFaU2iOO3LxzsiFt95W6sA9pSLqoRv61Rcc-OjIs8/s1600/DrHugoHeyrman-TheGaze-2008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNADrcK0GLeDJ_YyYtpGFYG-y7PEQZMaXRA4uHck5Ezkq3IWaJ3KuBciiANMYfl8DmvHiEyzVSPdDwhgyokqVUHYBsKSy_3zhm7dFaU2iOO3LxzsiFt95W6sA9pSLqoRv61Rcc-OjIs8/s320/DrHugoHeyrman-TheGaze-2008.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><b><i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.doctorhugo.org/paintings/monography1/DrHugoHeyrman-TheGaze-2008.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.doctorhugo.org/paintings/monography1/paintings.html&usg=__-4TIkQca9v74Q2xiqcpBRRXriM8=&h=472&w=422&sz=58&hl=en&start=164&sig2=nnp7Ypr4_bExT57bUKOEHQ&zoom=1&tbnid=NDO1LwrbuOEyJM:&tbnh=156&tbnw=139&ei=FVAmTbv8JoX0cZDF-eoB&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dself%2Breflection%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C5091&um=1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=371&oei=y08mTa_FC8G9ccmx5ZsK&esq=7&page=10&ndsp=18&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:164&tx=55&ty=73&biw=1280&bih=649">photo credit</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Life used to be one big theater for me</div><div><div style="text-align: right;">I had to play, I had to act</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">Masks and facades and barriers</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">Had all been a part of me</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">That sometimes they became my "truth."</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">And do I have to tell you</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">That before I resented you?</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">I disliked the way </div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">You were seeing right through me</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">For that meant I wasn't convincing enough.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">Others saw the smiles and claimed</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">They felt my joy</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">But you saw how empty those smiles were.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">You saw the pain beneath,</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">The uncertain, vulnerable child that I was</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">Hidden behind those masks.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">I tried my best to avoid those probing eyes</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">I was wary of the wisdom those knowing eyes held.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">If I could then shut myself from you, I would</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">For you "scared" me and it's not because</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">You were mean or ill-tempered</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">But because you knew me so well</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">That I felt vulnerable with and around you</div></div><div><div style="text-align: right;">And no one wants to be vulnerable, right?</div><div style="text-align: right;">Pride dictated me to shun you</div><div style="text-align: right;">So no one would then read me accurately</div><div style="text-align: right;">No one would know my heart and being but me</div><div style="text-align: right;">But you were so understanding of and patient in</div><div style="text-align: right;">Just letting me be, waiting for me to mellow and mature</div><div style="text-align: right;">While doing your best to help me probe deepest into myself</div><div style="text-align: right;">That I may bring to light the real me.</div><div style="text-align: right;">Little by little, my defenses came crumbling down</div><div style="text-align: right;">Until finally, nothing was left but my true self </div><div style="text-align: right;">The very self that I used to hide and deny surfaced...</div><div style="text-align: right;">I no longer resent you, in fact I never did.</div><div style="text-align: right;">I just thought I did but now I know </div><div style="text-align: right;">That those were just resistances...</div><div style="text-align: right;">I'm glad that all those masks are now gone</div><div style="text-align: right;">I no longer act, I never will again</div><div style="text-align: right;">For life is no grand theater, </div><div style="text-align: right;">Everything and everyone is real</div><div style="text-align: right;">And so I must be too.</div><div style="text-align: right;">I am what I am and it feels good to be me</div><div style="text-align: right;">And it feels even better to know</div><div style="text-align: right;">That you accept me as I am.</div><div style="text-align: right;">Thank you... for being my mirror of truth</div><div style="text-align: right;">For that's all I needed for my awakening.</div><br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-18365432745388526222011-01-05T11:50:00.006+08:002011-01-06T00:17:51.977+08:00The Ties that Bind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNlP45SWJi9V0ELmxi7c_dFdbwNdMbVgb2GBGWAxnrOFXx2l-47DNcEnfLh5UpM4XKxjzgnzFj78IDZ8R_BdmF7rwnDDU1YYwHTQTZMtCbRQp5mVNvqS-hCNLyMIoTRf0y99RwcPu4uU/s1600/love%252Bwith%252Bbind%252Bus%252Btogether%252Bforever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNlP45SWJi9V0ELmxi7c_dFdbwNdMbVgb2GBGWAxnrOFXx2l-47DNcEnfLh5UpM4XKxjzgnzFj78IDZ8R_BdmF7rwnDDU1YYwHTQTZMtCbRQp5mVNvqS-hCNLyMIoTRf0y99RwcPu4uU/s320/love%252Bwith%252Bbind%252Bus%252Btogether%252Bforever.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6PrIMcf2TtnqNM-j3Lm1cwAGgivKM1NWvdLnSIfx4Uum0h_SHzy5ls5mR3O_F9LMRoCIAaq58JVNS2gHZ095ts8Q72U_GsYbrLZUVIN9u24rTN6vy9M4daLoEMdpD1rZnnu8-Sci-Nyc1/s1600/love+with+bind+us+together+forever.jpg&imgrefurl=http://tutte-reflectionsonlifecom.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html&usg=__NuidN0iWou1SyZDuXSmP1pPAB8o=&h=550&w=330&sz=28&hl=en&start=0&sig2=ANc1st26jirPbJDqWvAcDQ&zoom=1&tbnid=PmkW0pwibkjb0M:&tbnh=176&tbnw=108&ei=OOojTcLbIIfJcZrP7ZAK&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dlove%2Bbinds%2Bus%2Btogether%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DG%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D649%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=302&oei=OOojTcLbIIfJcZrP7ZAK&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=17&ved=1t:429,r:6,s:0&tx=73&ty=56">photo credit</a></em></strong></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Be kind to each and every person you meet for s/he is fighting some kind of battle that you may not know about. Our blatant exterior differences aside, we are all a lot like each other - we just want to love and be loved. <br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-80016297109414178922010-07-02T20:33:00.012+08:002010-07-02T21:02:17.879+08:00Random Thoughts # 13<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwaxw020lsBKHd4SjXF4UCYsFLSeroQ2Q2fshq_vIYWgKoApyeceabX1k8BHZE-7tmbfcGtn4jOsOdZFSOSVldJN4v8kegbo-3DdCcRVLzmjA-XrifMp8iIOGOsz15DVYxtvcuoE8AmU/s1600/j0439246.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489291956720090034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwaxw020lsBKHd4SjXF4UCYsFLSeroQ2Q2fshq_vIYWgKoApyeceabX1k8BHZE-7tmbfcGtn4jOsOdZFSOSVldJN4v8kegbo-3DdCcRVLzmjA-XrifMp8iIOGOsz15DVYxtvcuoE8AmU/s200/j0439246.jpg" /></a><b>TRIALS</b><div><div><br /></div><div>Let us give thanks<br />to the trials we meet<br />for with every pain,<br />we grow.<br />With every doubt,<br />our faith intensifies.<br />With every temptation,<br />our resolve strengthens.<br />With every acknowledgment<br />of our weakness,<br />God lifts us up.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://sandrahersey.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/j0439246.jpg"><strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">photo credit</span></em></strong></a></div></div></div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1276601857916383566.post-85998171134560688212010-06-23T09:05:00.006+08:002011-04-16T10:04:26.569+08:00To the Bootlicker<div style="text-align: justify;">Yes, you're on top. You may be deserving but then, how does it feel to be there while others have been relegated to just being your stepping stone, used as a means to your lofty but pathetic end?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485769368897765794" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUihR75L2iOD4XV2xdaswrJtMwBJBPOtOkIUDyPNZpuWQ5mEvDnyTNTOga8ldr6MWmF5OWCq29RT7V7VH9Rk32o9dqCrEhgNG81c3TA4HckZV2oKwuOBKJsqYT9O2uW9q-Q7QKONU7gXQ/s400/office-politics-1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 250px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wish you the best despite what you did and still are doing, you know, but I refuse to turn into a shark just because people like you are. But I do believe in karma. What goes around does come around. So remember this and remember this well: It gets lonely at the top. You know why? Because there is no way but down.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And when you fall, remember me. Remember the times when backstabbing was your way of watching my back. When you deemed taking credit for my accomplishments was your due just because you think you're the boss.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Remember too all those that you have been a fair weather friend to. Remember turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to their cries because you were more concerned about getting to the top than being a friend.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Remember us because we will not be there when you fall. We will not be there to gloat. We will not be there to pity you. But we will not be there to cushion your fall either. And that, my dear, will make it the harder to bear.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485769447953891410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfz1BKP5c1V_1eRIfGlf4KtEfI3AgE9ytBsvEoMqbtecXeBFP9t35sZV5AaQ-DE8JOeTvVcOtkgBppPXFosKszZ-BwiQrOyf27VUzcJQXdzyeUtpP6TaCnckfkESYrXqjDkrsOGxwKf8/s400/imy0110.gif" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 359px;" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Because then you'll realize that getting back up after a fall is much easier when you have friends who support and encourage you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Truly, having it all means nothing when you have no friends to share it with.<br />
<br />
</div>milaihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00642397901250934565noreply@blogger.com5