Delectable Dee

I let out a loud sigh as I scrunched up my nose and fanned myself with my hand. I tried to keep my balance as I gently wiggle in my seat so I won't fall off the motorbike. I turned to my left to hide my face from the angry glare of the sun. I looked down to my arms and thought to myself, "I look crispy enough."

I craned my neck in a futile attempt to see the traffic lights that are barricaded by the looming edgy back of the truck and I stifle a small cough. "Smoke belchers," I grumbled. "What could be taking so long? I'm frying down here," I added.

I cringe as I imagine how my back and chest would look like later on. Skin painted with sore red and slash marks of pale skin from where the strap of my tank top hid what little they could afford.

I turned to my right to look around and I see the woman driving the car beside me is glaring ahead. I turned to look at the man driving the van behind me and like the woman, his eyes were fixed straight ahead. From a good deal of distance, I could still see the crease lines of his frown on his forehead.

"Oh, this is gloomy," I thought. Isn't it supposed to be that everything should smell yellow? I mean, it's summer!

I reached down to my right pocket to retrieve the handkerchief to wipe the sweat that's trickling down my temple. I can feel my neck breaking sweat as well.

I turned again to my left and looked at the billboards. I scoffed as I look at the advertised products. Then I spotted an elderly woman walking slowly on the other side of the road. She was in a way, kind of hobbling. She had several plastic bags on one arm and her other hand was clamped as a visor over her eyes.

I could see she was trying to get out of the heat and was hurrying to rest under the shade of the stunted fox-tail palm, a few paces just under the billboards.

For a moment, it did seem like she's been walking forever. I could barely make out the expression on her face but I can tell her walk hadn't been easy. Still she tottered on, taking one small dedicated step after another.

Finally, she reached the small shaded spot and just as well, she rested there. She placed down her bags and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and looked around. I can now fully see her and her face and suddenly, she looked too feeble. Like as if a mere gentle whisper of the wind would carry her off.

Suddenly she bent down to what looked like a dying thicket with scare-crow twigs and sparse leaves.

"What is she doing?"

I squinted my eyes to see if I could get a better and clearer vision that way and true enough, I saw a little crimson flower. What appeared to be like the scrawny bush was in fact, a rose.

She plucked the small flower and held it close to her face and took a long big intake of breath. She then placed the rose in her shirt's pocket and smiled excitedly at herself. She picked up her bags, threw her shoulders back and started marching on, braving the heat, with the pretty rose safely tucked in the chest of her shirt.

At that, she seemed no longer tired and weary but rather, refreshed and happy, like she could take on the world. Her steps, sure and steady, her face no longer hidden from the sun but was rather upturned and proud.

Most of the times, we get too caught up searching for something better than what we already have and we mourn for our present situations like as if they're hopeless and dead. We get too busy counting the faults that we miss life's little pleasures.

God, forgive me of my doubts and my impatience.

[26] Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? [27]And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? [28] And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, [29]yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.[30]But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? [31]Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’[32]For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.[33]But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.[34]“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.
Matthew 6:26 - 34



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I know I am a very impatient person and that I tend to leap into my concocted what ifs years away from today while being utterly disgruntled in the here and now. *sighs*

I am frustrated at how things seem to not work the way I planned them to. The way I hoped them to. My heart is broken. I am mad at myself for being not good enough.

Am I settling?

I am afraid and I am tired. There are days when I feel so much pain and frustration I end up numb. Doesn't matter if I fall down - give me your best shot. It couldn't get any worse than this.

I noticed this rather odd thing about myself when dealing with myself. I observed, I tend to talk in circles and nerve wrecking mazes when I talk to myself.

Yes, I talk to myself. Everybody does. What?! You don't? You freak. What? People don't talk to themselves? Pish. Normal is boring, anyway.

Where was I? Oh, yes! Circles and mazes. How lovely.

No, really. See what I mean? I ramble in incoherent loops that I never figure out in the end. I ask questions I know the honest-to-goodness answers to and yet I deny them blindly.

I feel like I am dreaming that I'm in a dream. The dream I dream I'm dreaming (get it? Hah!) isn't exacly a dream but rather, a nightmare in a way that I couldn't seem to wake up from it where I'm totally helpless and frustrated.

I can't feel my legs and arms. I am currently emotionally depleted.


I am frustrated at how different women are from men.

Why couldn't you remember details?
Why are you emotionally repressed?
Why are dates not important?
Why are you insensitive?

I cannot talk to you just yet. I have forgiven you but I must keep away for a while. For all our many differences, this one, possibly is the greatest - I am as sensitive as your are not. You've broken my heart far too many times and far too damn carelessly.

No, this is not unfair. I need to deprive you of myself so you'll somehow realize how bleak life is without love. I know you shall miss me but perhaps, this time, you will truly see how much I mean to you.

This a necessary evil.

How do you expect us to see past tomorrow? I though you knew how friendship works.

*picture taken from Gawahon Eco Park, Victorias City.

Even with your thorns, I still appreciate you and I have not forgotten how you were like when you blossomed.


For how long will you keep this up?

It pains me to realize that you don't know me at all, after all these years. For everything that's transpired between us all these times, you still somehow haven't figured me out yet, nor how far my love goes for you. This has so far been the worst.

Rip my heart out, why don't  cha?

I don't want to say more because I still love you. I know I will read this entry years from now just like how I still read the entries I wrote about you four years ago. This time, I don't want to remember.  I don't want to hate all over again.

It's not like you haven't done this before. I just never seem to learn, I guess.

Suffice it to say that you've done it again.

You should be ashamed of yourself. You take the words right out of my mouth. You leave me speechless. Me. For someone so fascinated with words I claim I breathe them, you still manage to somehow leave these lips dry and broken.

Just so you know, I hope you bleed.


"... You see I love the way you love me
           I love the way you smile at me
    I love the way we live this life we're in


I don't believe in magic but I do believe in you

 And when you say you believe in me
there's so much magic I can do
And I might sink and I might drown
but death don't mean a thing

'Cause life continues right or wrong
when I play this birthday song

I learned from you, and you can't even sing

grace, undeserved
of mercies,
faithful and divine
unwarranted forgiveness
and of blessings galore
of friendship and love
abounding understanding
blissful memories
and of
dreams, undefiled
of the life undue
and of Christ,
the glorious S a l v a t i o n
and the peace that passes all understanding
of hope and faith
of trials and pain
of strength and discipline
of comfort unfathomable
of all the joys
of all the tears
of all the little seemingly insignificant things
of love
oh, yes
of love
have I said Thank You enough?


A sequel to my previously posted love letter, although different. I still stand by my belief that other than love, what the world needs is more love letters.


Tonight is one of the many and countless nights I lie awake, praying for you until sleep would kiss my eyes. As I have incessantly done over the years, I'd float into a timeless nook where I'm beheld by you until the morning sun would caress my face. There we would depart only to be reassured that each departure is a tug to the chain of days where we are linked together. One sweet day, you'll find your way to me and I to you.

When you finally will see me, you won't notice that I'm plump and that my hair is topsy-turvy short. That my eyes are too big and my lips too small would be of no importance to you. That I have a scar and my skin is not perfect won't matter to you for you would see someone different. You will see someone breathtakingly beautiful through eyes graced by love.

I can talk and act without pretense, wearing my heart out on my sleeve and you won't be displeased. Rather, grateful - appreciating the sincerity and trust. You will know and value the trust and respect I have in you because you love me.

In return, you will never know what it's like to be jealous and insecure because you will know that I won't love any other guy but you and only you. By then, you should know that I've loved you before I even met you. It's you I have consistently been asking GOD for. You will know that how you look won't matter at all for I already have a picture of you in my mind taken from my heart's eyes. How you will look won't change the way I will see you. You can age up to a thousand and still I'll see the disarmingly handsome prince whose every smile takes my breath away. It won't be your looks that will sweep me off my feet, leaving me lovestruck and swooning in daze. It will be the kindness, the witty humorous quips, the respect, the patience, the understanding and even the little seemingly insignificant things that you will do that will lock the chains and make you the keeper of my heart.

You won't always feel a need to fill in the silence of every second we're together with impressive and sophisticated words for you will know that silence don't necessarily mean void, especially when I'm with you. Sometimes, a lot of things are known better through words not spoken through the lips. You will value silence as much as you value time for you will know that there is no time wasted in silence but rather, most of the magnificent and priceless things are witnessed in silence. You will hear me better when I say I love you in silence.

You will appreciate the beauty only nature can provide. As the sunset shouts the glory with each magical hue it paints in the endless sky, so along with it will you see my love for you. You will know that every declaration of majesty and awe you see around you is also the declaration of my love for you.

You will be sure and you will have peace for you will know that my love won't end along with the last breath I shall take. Death is temporary. Death doesn't have the power to end my love for you. I can and I will love you even beyond eternity, that, you can be certain of.

You will know that I love you because I do.

Yours Alone.


Is it wrong to dream for a love that would hold you when you own spirit should decide to abandon your soul? Is it wrong to hope for the blissful surrender to that emotion so strong, it leaves you breathless and at the same time longing for more? Is it wrong to believe in love that's pure and selfless, one so steadfast and committed it sees your flaws to its utter disgusting form yet is still willing to embrace you to the zeal of a heart-beat? Is it wrong to long for that someone who will hold your hand with as much passion and ardor when your hands were still perfect and smooth as jades, soft and graceful as the petals of the lotus flower until they become twisted, trembling, wrinkled and gnarled as grotesque knobs of old age? Is it wrong to wish for a heart that could see you in the light where you truly shine and not your stains that nails your guilt on an eternal plaque, stating you are a hopeless child of sin? Is it wrong to yearn for the breath of heaven to caress your trite and despairing flesh, to kiss your  stray and trodden senses, to refresh your dried and parched up emotions? Is it wrong to cling to the sweet glorious promise that there is somebody for everyone?

Is it wrong? Is it a sin? Is it foolishness? Is it madness? Is it profligacy? Is it idiocy? Is it cold-blooded stupidity? We all must be fools, then.

Such foolishness it is to desperately grope and grasp for that sweet soothing balm of faith after being drowned in the nightmare of reality. Such stubborn foolishness it is to keep on  reaching for that pair of arms to hold you in night's sheerest depth. Such insanity it is to turn your ears to that melody that fiddles all wellness and sublimity in your heart's furnace. Such madness it is to believe that there is an angel with a crippled wing looking for you to make him/her whole so you could both soar up to the timeless ecstasy of amity and love. Such stupidity it is to waste figments of profound imagery fashioning a burning desire to satisfy that intrinsic carnal and spiritual hunger that oftentimes knocks us in reeling daze and staggering amazement. Such doomed folly it is to offer perpetual prayers along the chain of breaths that caress your life to have possession of that lustrous, fluttering butterfly kisses, enthralling yet chaste. Such astounding madness it is to fantasize of walking forever in fields of carnations and getting soaked under a shower of sunflowers and sweet smelling roses.

Should I bow my head in shame because I'm forever shackled to such senseless madness and pointless longing? Should I offer a requiem for love night after hopeless night? Should I cast down my banner of faith and burn it to ashes and trample on my every dream? Should I kill every arrow of delight that would sear my soul every time I'd inhale the sweet intoxicating scent of flowers? Should I cower back in the shadow every time warm blessed sunshine would touch my ashen being and forever rot in the dampness and the nipping cold fangs of loneliness?

I'd give up countless of eternal freedom to be bound and shackled to the reckless madness. I'd give up life to forever float in the stream of dreams where I'd be truly happy and be plunged in perfect sublime. I'd give up every substantial tangible possession and superb indifferent reason I have to be forever lying on my back on a field of grass, tracing stars under the cool twilight of the velvet heavens. I'd give up my existence than give up these dreams.


LOVE is a decision.

It is also a VERB.

Falling in love is a lie (where true love is concerned, anyway). When one falls in love, that also means that one is bound to fall out of love. Where is the commitment there, then? Love don't "just happen". Loving someone is a conscious decision. A decision is made and so there is the commitment. There is an effort. There is value.

If love just pops out from nowhere like mushrooms do after a storm, where would that leave you? Nothing was done, no energy was used up, it's free...then what's it's value? After the first sight of a road block, the basic instinct for you would be to bail out. I mean, why would anyone stick and risk one's own neck for something one didn't even lifted a finger for to happen?

The term falling in love, I think, is confused with attraction.

I kept on thinking about it and I realized that I wound never want to end up with somebody who just "fell in love" with me. I mean, seriously, sure, he loves me now, but what about tomorrow or the day after next? What if one morning he wakes up  only to "realize" that just as easily, he now "fell out of love" from me? Wouldn't that be awful?

What I want is someone who decided to love me through and through, along with all my stupidities and imperfections. Somebody who made a conscious decision to love me while being aware that all my "annoying days" that he's witnessed maybe still just not the worst yet. Yet he still preferred to love me, anyway.

It may not sound so romantic like they way they put it in the movies but yes, true love is a DECISION.


Just got back from my Iloilo trip and I am so exhausted. The heat is staggering - a consistent 35 degrees Celsius for the past four days. I loved it there. If it wasn't for the heat, I would have stayed longer and toured around the city more, perhaps ride around the province on local jeepneys and see the scenery the native's way.

I shall be coming back soon, though. I plan to pass by Iloilo next month, on my way to Guimaras. I've already asked around and have found a rather decent and affordable place to stay in for five days. My sister and her boyfriend are planning on tagging along but I don't really care if they join me or not. I welcome the company should they indeed join me and I still welcome the solace should I travel alone. Perhaps, Watz would be interested?

Pictures will come up soon. First, I must rest. However, this one house I must post first. Look at it's antique colonial charm! Such beauty, such grandeur!

*the picture's already been edited. There are vandals on the rusted gate and they ruin the charm and  grace of the house so I just have to erase the [blue  paint] vandal. Aside from that, no retouch was made.


When I look outside the house, I can see leaves  everywhere. Not on trees, no; but on the ground. Yellow, orange and bronzed leaves scattered in a glorious mosaic of nature. Oh, lovely, I thought to myself.

I love summer, I do. Truly, I do. But if I had been born anywhere else where there are four seasons instead of (then) two (now, seemingly one...hah!), I think I would have loved autumn, most.

You must understand this adoration. Summer is like my reality, whereas Autumn is this lovely dream I nurse to fuel me my silly hopes and spectral reveries. Summer is my life but I need to breathe Autumn. Do you understand now? Perhaps, if you're a silly dreamer such as I, you will.

There is something utterly mystical I find in fallen leaves. So glorious in their golden array yet tragic in such a way that they've got to fall to the ground to give beauty to otherwise,monotonous grass and lackluster dirt/pavement.

Oh, such tragic beauties.

If it was up to me, I'd let them be. All strewn about in their candid grace, bequeathing me of my little gilded paradise. Heartbreakingly beautiful, remarkably real.

Any other day, I'd be pissed off at my neighbors who own the tree that always loses all its leaves during this time of year. Year, after year, after year the tree faithfully sheds off its leaves.

I haven't noticed before, I don't know why. Blind and foolish, such wasted times.

Oh, but GOD is wonderful to have opened my eyes to such magnificence. In a corner of the world where it's impossibly foolish to expect autumn to occur, I have been given an exquisite gift.

My very own Autumn.

*Taken earlier today in our yard.