Wishful thinking

I will fall in love someday.

I will find the one who can make my body sings my heart melts and my spirit soar. I will feel like a woman once again like I used to, I shall smile run shout sing and dance in the rain with so much abandon. There will be sunshine, long glorious days, passionate nights and tender evenings. There will be endless caresses tight lingering hugs sweet murmured and hot kisses. I will dream the lovers dreams wake up contented go through my chores with springs on my feet knowing someone is there for me loving knowing understanding sharing the same feelings. Together we will explore what life got to offer discovering testing proving tempting the fate supporting each other all the way learning experiencing enjoying the roller coaster ride. He will be my rock my anchor my friend my saviour someone I could trust learn depend and lean on. He will be my lover my teacher my mentor.

He will be my home…



I was walking this afternoon to clear my brain because I seem to be experiencing a blogger’s block which I think different from a writer’s block because I can still write if I have to and I didn’t run out of thoughts or topics to pen about but I have no desire to post or linger in Blogsville. Hell, I didn’t even make yesterday task which is kind of abnormal for an OC like me or perhaps it is just that the reality of life is catching up with me.

I will not go into details about it because no matter how personal my blog is, it has nothing to do with my personal life. Let’s just say that there are a lot of things going on around me lately and all of them major changes.  I seem to be always standing at crossroads these days if crossroads exist in the sea and I’m on a raft heading to nowhere just paddling endlessly. Every which way but loose, baby.

This afternoon I was walking and I came across this dilapidated shack at the edge of the forest in the middle of a swamp far from any sign of life. It stood a little bit crooked and had broken windows. I always have been attracted to these kinds of places. I know it might sound strange but I feel there is life in there, stories untold, secrets waiting to be discovered. I went in.

In closer inspection, I saw a sign of occupation. There was some old furniture.  A broken table, gutted sofa and a chair with a missing leg stood in the middle of the room. I found a couple of blankets on the floor, dirty but usable.  A pile of garbage stood in one corner, mostly food containers, wrappers, empty bottles of water and some broken glasses. There was a plastic bag full of folded papers tied up together. To me, they looked like letters.

If I have more time I will stay a bit longer and scrutinize the contents of the bag, probably read the letters. But as it was, I was running late (like always) and I wanted to reach my car before the sun goes down on me. So, against my will, I moved on. But I promised myself I’ll be back when the weather is more cooperative, probably in the spring…

“Ah, life’s little surprises! They can make any day unforgettable… or make it your last.” ~ T.A. Barron 

Photo-0013 (2)e


Each one of us has a way of coping with traumatic events that happened in our lives. Some go to therapy, others give it a place and charge it to experience, there are those that consume by hate and end up bitter ruining their chances to start again and have a happy life. Some decide to simply forgive and forget. I’m okay with forgiveness, but forget? No chance.

How about the ones who caused the trauma? Do they forget? Or pretend it never happened. I call it selective amnesia. Sometimes I wonder how my ex can live with what everything he did not only to me but to our children. Whenever I speak to him (which is rare and only if it’s really, really necessary) it is clear to me that he thinks he never done something wrong. I ask myself which is worse, the fact that he seems to forget, or believing it was my entire fault, like he often said when we were still living together. It never ceases to amaze me how he managed to do that. Is the concept of conscience nothing but a myth? Which brings me to another concept, karma. If Karma is real, how come so many bad people are thriving? They will receive their punishment later on judgment day? C’mon…

Mind you, I am not lily-white. I have my share of wrong doings. I maybe didn’t start the fire, but I helped to feed the flame after years of watching it done by someone else and learning how to do it myself. The difference is I own up to my mistakes. I know what I did and I still feel guilty sometimes. If the concept of conscience is real, then I have an army of it riding on my shoulders, whispering every so often, pulling my hair and kicking my head if I refuse to listen. They hold the filthy demons at bay and keep me on the right track. I can’t say I like them that much. They keep me from having fun sometimes.

Now, let’s go back to forgetting… Do people really forget? Of course they do. Little mundane things like car keys, meetings, birthdays, answers to exams, paying bills etc. But big traumatic events like: (do I dare to mention them? Better not I guess) I don’t think so. I have no idea what others do with them/theirs but me, I never forget. I am what they say blessed (or cursed) with photographic memory. But then again, maybe not, because whenever I talk to my siblings they seem to remember more (and in details) than I do. Perhaps people remember on their own way. That’s why probably most have different recollection of the same events. Like with my son. I was shocked one day when he recalled the process of my divorce with his father totally different than how I experienced it. And mind you, not so much on my favour. I was inconsolable for days after the confrontation. Why I seem to learn lessons the hard way?

What about you? What do you do with nasty memories? Bury them alive and wait till they die a natural death? Toss them in the wind, out of sight out of mind? Or treasure them, feed them with bitterness and hate till they grow into a full pledge of revenge? Tell me.


header image: igbalnugraha

Girly Girl

“I don’t consider myself unfeminine at all. I think I’m very girlie. I like lots of products. I like unguents and creams. I could spend hours in a really nice drugstore. But I’m not sure that I match the regular standard of girlie — vulnerable, lovable, malleable.”

—Martha Plimpton


image: Rina15x


There is this industrial area ten kilometers from where I live next to a four lane highway. Since we moved in two years ago I have sort of gotten obsessed with the place. I see it as a sort of Cybertron, an alien place with all those silos, pipes and interlacing passageways. A beautiful dark, mysterious city waiting to be explored. In the night, when it is all lighted, the effect is quite mesmerizing; to me, it looks magical.

One night following my growing obsession with the place, I drove around looking for a vantage point to take pictures. It was not easy since parking is not allowed next to a highway so, I drove to the nearest bridge hoping from there I will have an overview of the whole area. But even though I can see the place from up there, the view is far from ideal. I took a few shots anyway.

Then I noticed that their main gate was open. I saw this as one of a lifetime opportunity to get in, see the buildings up close, have the feel of the place; so, I ran all the way down and slipped through the gate without someone noticing me.

I was so engrossed taking photos I didn’t see the guard coming from behind me. I played naïve, saying I was not aware it was forbidden to take pictures. He said it isn’t from outside the fence, but inside it is. I tried to persuade him to let me stay longer and take more pictures but though he was friendly, he was also adamant. I thanked him and went on my way.

Here are few of the shots I managed to take. Enjoy.


Once in our lifetime, we came across people who tip the scale and restore our faith in humanity. Such individuals provide the necessary balance in our lives and keep us from going overboard. They make us believe, they give us hope; and believing in something is crucial to our existence or otherwise where we will be?

I am trying to be one of those people, the ones that make some difference wherever they go no matter how little or big it might be.

I can tell you it is not always a walk in the park. Sometimes, the very cause you are crusading for can turn against you and spit on your very face. In moments like these, what I do is swallow hard, shake my head shrug my shoulders, charge it to experience and say to myself: God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

And then move on, staying on track, keeping eyes on the goal and trying not to be discouraged…



“A joker is a little fool who is different from everyone else. He’s not a club, diamond, heart, or spade. He’s not an eight or a nine, a king or a jack. He is an outsider. He is placed in the same pack as the other cards, but he doesn’t belong there. Therefore, he can be removed without anybody missing him.”

(Jostein Gaarder)



I used to earn pocket money in high school by writing poems for whoever was willing to pay for the favour. I lost counts of love poems and letters I composed to strange girls I have never laid eyes on. But somehow along the way, I lost in touch with a poet in me. I concentrate mainly on writing true to life stories and my thoughts in general.

The last time I wrote a poem was twenty or so years ago. I was enamoured with my professor in languages and one crazy day during lunch break, I composed a versified letter to him pouring my heart out.

Here it is… and please don’t laugh.


You’re always on my mind no matter what I do
And wherever I am my thoughts are just for you
I see you in my dreams and when I wake up too
This feeling that I have is simply would not go
I know it’s wrong for me to feel the way I feel
But no matter how hard I try I can’t forget you dear
It’s getting difficult each night and everyday
Oh, darling you’re so near and yet so far away
I can only watch you honey from a distance
And only in my dreams that I can hold your hands
Only in fantasy I can be in your arms
I can only touch you and kiss you in my mind
On how to win your heart I haven’t got a clue
Because you’re not aware of my feelings for you
How much that I wanted I cannot let you know
I’m not free anymore to reach out and tell so
So, you will always be just a far away dream
Someone that can’t be mine someone I can’t be near
But darling in my heart for now and forever
I promise for always you have a place in there…



I am not good at keeping relationships, and believe me it is not for the lack of trying. My marriage ended after twenty years. Looking back I sometimes question if there was really a beginning, I believe we didn’t properly start, not in the right way at least. I was young, naïve and starry-eyed. I thought at first that we could somehow wing it. It took me more than a decade to realize that we were living next to each other but not together, that there was no relationship to speak of.

From there it went downhill. Little girls do grow up and with it come some understanding of certain things, like realizing that the picture was not complete, there were pieces missing. And what people do when they miss something? They go looking for it. When they found the missing pieces they start comparing. And when you compare nothing to something, the result is pretty obvious. You will find out that what has been done to you, you can do too; and suddenly “eat your heart out” is not such a bad motto.

I’m good at burning bridges too, sometimes when I’m still standing on it. That too wasn’t all deliberate. Sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to stop the crazies from following you. In the case of my family, it took me almost five decades to recognize a hopeless situation which I was staring at whole my life but failed to see. Burn baby, burn.

That’s probably the reason why I clamped up on FB if some familiar faces send me friends requests. Then I go into hiding and delete every recognizable image of me wherever they can find it. Those are the people that I shared the greatest time of my life. We shared memories, we have history, yet I have no desire to rekindle the old flames and revisit the past. There are valid reasons for that choice (I don’t do things without valid reasons) one of those is: we cannot go back to the past. I don’t want to risk shuttering some very good memories by giving them a second chance. Things rarely go the way you wanted them to go. Experience taught me that some things are better left buried.

Another reason is: It did not end well to begin with, why dig up old bones?

My experience of friendship is neatly sorted out into two categories: betrayal and betrayal. Wait before you say anything it is really like that. Betrayal by women friends because of envy, jealousy or simply because most are born that way. Betrayal by men friends because somehow along the way, they get it in their heads to throw a spanner in the works by convincing themselves that there is more to a relationship than mere friendship and demanding a concrete definition of what’s going on between the two of you and a title to go with it plus rights to go with the title. I simply cannot do that. A friend is a friend. Exploring outside the boundaries is a sure recipe for disaster. There is no way back after that, no matter which way it goes.

I know that some marry their best friends. First of all, if you marry a friend s/he’s not a friend no more. There are some specific rules and expectations attached to the new status. I know that friendship could exist between a couple which is good for when the honeymoon phase is over and the cloak and dagger aspect of romance is nothing but a forgotten memory and passion is a distant past, there is always a friendship to fall back on. But it is very different than marrying a friend. A friend is someone you don’t harbour romantic feelings for like lust, you would not wake up one day and find out that you are falling for this person who does not move you one bit since the first time you laid eyes on him.

Of course one can marry whoever one wants but I must warn you that there is some setback doing these practical moves. If not one single strand of your hair stood out for this person, in the beginning,  chances are it will never happen later married or not. There will be some sparks but never a burning flame. I’ve been there done that.

Where am I? Yes, keeping relationships and burning bridges and my attitude towards friendships reminds me of this quote …

“It makes no difference if I burn my bridges behind me_ I never retreat.”

You know what they say: don’t mind swimming if the bridge is fucked up, to begin with…



I picked a random word, did Google image search on it and checked out the eleventh picture it brought up, the photo above was the result. The word I typed is sorrow. Now, I have to write a post about whatever that image brings to mind and I don’t know where to start…

They say every life has a measure of sadness and every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; I can only assume it is true. Show me a person who is nothing but all happiness and I say either he is mad or lying.

We all experience grief in some point of our lives. There is no less or greater sorrow, like there is no small or big problem, it is just a matter of perception.  This reminds me of what my son said to me a long time ago when I asked him why he always gives in with the caprices of his sister. He said:

“Mama, her troubles and grief are greater than mine because she believes it to be. It doesn’t matter if they are of no importance, for her it is the end of the world, you can see it in her eyes and that is what counts.”

What he said, true or not stays with me and made me realize that like most things, we experience sadness and loss in a personal level. We cannot attach a degree to someone’s sufferings and compare it with ours. Everyone has their own way of coping with everything, that’s why it is very difficult to judge human’s emotions and actions.  Sometimes, we have to stretch our patience and broaden our understanding to be able to accommodate certain events and see them from another perspective. Because I really do believe that there are different sides in every story no matter how complicated or simple it might look at first glance.

Sorrow (related or not) nudges me to think of a quote from Jane Austen which goes like this:

“Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary proportions.  A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep affliction, as the more graceful set of limbs in the world.  But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will patronize in vain, — which taste cannot tolerate, — which ridicule will seize.”

Happy blogging and I wish everyone a wonderful week ahead…


image: favin