Delectable Dee
The rapid churning of thoughts inside my head often times overwhelm me to the point of exhaustion and frustration. I can never keep up with these bullet-like ideas whirring past me in neck-breaking speed. I can only grasp so much and it annoys me (mostly these days, all the more) that they always manage to escape me before I can bottle them all down. So many lost ideas to balance the ever-stacking weight of the many lost dreams.


Regrets, oh, I have them. I don't care about other people's, though. Each of us have enough demons to fend off without having to throw blame and meddling at each other. I know the feeling too well of wishing against hopeless past, if only tears can undo what has already been done. But have we ever dared wonder what life would be like without regrets? What would we be like without remorse? I know they're not exactly the same thing but they can be, too, sometimes.


And what good is pride, really? More often than we'd like to accept, it has cost us dear and precious relations, wounding loves too deep beyond mending. We always let it get the best of us. It makes us gamble what we cannot afford to lose. But despite the very poisonous nature of it, sometimes, on some very rare times, it can be our only saving grace. Saving us from our supposed better judgements. Saving us from ourselves.


If we allow ourselves to grow up, to grow out from beyond the selfish and shallow confines we have caged ourselves into, we realize that leaving is also a two way street. That despite abandon, unless we decide to turn our backs and leave, too, we haven't really been left behind. We haven't really been forgotten. Unless we leave, too. Unless we also forget. 


I think that we are constantly being given the life that is much better than we deserve. But we complicate things anyway. We love to throw away our gifts and strain our necks into craning over to see what the other has gotten and we think we've been cheated of a jockpot. Never mind that we also see them craning their necks envying what we've got in ours. Stop thinking that the grass is greener on the other side. Your grass would be green too, if you spend as much time watering it as you do covetting what's not yours.

Okay, so if you know me, really know me, you'd also know that I am terrible, terrible, TERRIBLE at accepting complements. I could never just say thank-you gracefully. I do the most stupid things when I'm complimented. I feel like I'm sucked out from my skin and I start fidgeting like a silly goose, all red in the face with an anxious look in the face. Really!!!

So, I still get embarrassed when the man tells me I am beautiful and I blush uncontrollably. And I get double embarrassed because of that. 

The man constantly tells me I am beautiful but I am too silly a goose to appreciate them fully, especially during the exact times he'd tell me. But on lucid, semi-sane moments like now, I really do appreciate and cherish the fact that he adores me beyond everything silly and shallow. He never gets mad at me, even though I am so despicable and deserving much of it. He is forever patient with me. He's open to my every suggestions and ideas and is a good listener. He makes me feel secure and wanted, and he even takes the blame for things I clearly know are of my doing and fault (this is crazy, I know!) He's shown me beyond sanity (and better judgment LOL) and I am perfect in his eyes.

But by far, the sweetest thing he's ever told me was, "I don't think I have been loved as much as you love me."
Guys say the damnest things when drunk!!! (I know girls do that too, but since I am one of those girls that never drink and this is my blog after all, I can rant whatever I want to. TYVM!)

I have once been told that when drunk, a person is stripped off of all his guards and inhibitions and what they say are mostly what they really feel. Well, isn't that a hoot! And what is it with guys who flirt so blatantly when they're drunk only to turn into brooding bores when they've finally sobered up?

I don't like it when guys I consider to be friends hit up on me and flirt shamelessly at me when they have too much of a drink. That always surprises me and I've never liked surprises.  It unsettles me.  I find it really bothersome and to an extent, deceiving. Always, that puts a dent in the friendship and because I am the wired-up silly girl I am, I   always end up feeling conscious and uneasy.

Firstly, having an issue about my self-worth, I could never handle praise or admiration gracefully and whenever I'm told I am beautiful or worthy of some guy's interest, I always do the most stupid and embarrassing things that usually makes the guy cringe back and think again. I know what I do and I hate it and I hate hating myself. Where is the love, hey?!

Secondly, having said my first reason, that brings us to the problem that instantly develops after said flirting. Guys who, on normal sober state broods and treats me as if I am another guy, turns into a flirting romeo when drunk then turns back into their brooding sober state the next morning shatters whatever dreamy fragile ego that has grown overnight and it is always painful. I always over analyze things and I cannot help it.

Thirdly,  I get into an overly analytical zombie mode and I find myself in a frenzied disheveled state trying to make sense of everything. The ruckus inside my brain puts a circus to shame. Really. I always see something to read between the lines that even I, in my better self, is imprisoned inside this craziness and I shout to myself, "You fool, stop it! There's nothing to read there!" But do I stop? Of course not! No sirree! I would think, "Why is he flirting? Is he into me?" Or, "Why are we even friends?! Girls and boys can never be really friends. So...we're not really friends?" Or sometimes, the nastier questions that go like this, " Am I only flirt-worthy when a guy is intoxicated and temporarily mentally handicapped?"

You see, I am not the kindest person to myself.  I have so many pent-up issues on myself that would confuse any shrink to bits. 

My point is? Well, now that I'm so caught up with my rant, I am quite confused now myself. I don't know. I don't know.

Just that, guys! Please. Be kind to your female friends. You've no idea how unstable some of them can I obviously am. Be kind because more often than not, they are the nastiest critics of themselves. Be kind. Do not drink and flirt. Do not flirt. Do not...especially when you are too damned a coward to finish what you started in an unstable, intoxicated state. 
You remind me so much of him.

The half smiles and the piercing looks that always steals half my breath away. The brooding silence and the stolen glances that drives my already insane imagination up the walls. 

You are not good to me. You are what my cryptonite is made of.

This is beyond shame.

I must not only be insane but concieted as well! Why do I always feel or get the feeling that there is always something MORE that is being kept away from me? Like you want to say something but then decides not to? 

Then again, who am I trying to kid? As if someone like you would ever find something worthwhile from someone the likes of me. Those kind of things just don't happen in real life...especially to me.

You overwhelm me when you shouldn't even exist to linger in the premises of my mind. Although you remind me of him, altogether you are solely you. You. 

I shall save myself the mortification and stop now. I just needed to vent. Just needed to see my thoughts printed somewhere, so I can let go of some. The build-up inside my head is terrible. I get the ever vivid active imaginations and they always leave me sad and guilty.

I am such a sad fool, today. All througout the remainder of yesterday, all I could ever think of was the song Dream a Little Dream of Me. It played yesterday and of all places and time, it played right there and then. 

I am only like this when with you and I hate myself like this. I remember well the last time I felt this strongly before. It ended up with me in a puddle of tears and haunting dreams of regrets. I should know better. But I partly blame you. And mostly myself. I should't read so much between the lines because if I know what is good for me, I'd know that what I read between the lines aren't really there. And you! You should't be drinking at all!

I'll try to fade away after this. If I let myself into my paranoia again, I'd say there's been signs alread. I'll try and stay away. I just know nothing good will come out of this. It doesn't take rocket science and even a major foor like me, on some rare lucid hours can tell. 


Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me close and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me



1 Comment

Although what we had can never be found in the tainted pages of time and decades from now, the reality will be defined from the other side of the spectrum, nonetheless, that doesn't rob my memories of you of their brilliance and splendor. 

That time, long ago, when the horizons of your dreams were joined at the seams with mine.  

Forever was supposed to last longer than it did. 


 Forgetting is wearisome when all I ever do 

is remember you. 

I may not be a myriad of many awesome things but one thing I know 
and I'm damn sure about:

I am fiercely loyal to those  I've  decided to love and care.

Now that we've settled that, I hope it is also then apparent that who I love and care about are none of your business. 

Second chances will always be something I feel I'll never deserve and yet hope to always get. I love who I love and it really shouldn't upset you who and why. If I could help who to love, then I wouldn't be loving the lot of you now, would I?

Betrayal is and will always be a big issue for me but who am I to trample on forgiveness when I feel so strongly for it? You betrayed me once, too, remember? So how come we're friends still now? I forgive but I rarely ever forget.

So I find it highly offensive that you feel you own the right to be disappointed at me for being friends with someone you have personal issues with. 

I am my own person.

Don't you forget that.


You should try grace, for a change.
It does the soul lots of good.

I used to believe that things are needed to be spoken or written - wishes, memories, passions and heartbreaks. I have for the longest time, believed that they are therapeutic to my soul. Of course, there was a time that it was...until recently.

Until recently (Read: the last year or so), I have avoided graphically painting my every sighs and blahs with the words I have so loved and adored. I felt like I wanted to just lie down and let things die down. All these stirring emotions, their connections to haunting memories, all the possibilities of their ruining my future and the whirlwind that  is disrupting my present - I want them all gone.

I don't want to remember. 

Wouldn't it be wonderful if a person can compartmentalize every bit of emotion, every bit of everything that ever is an everything in her life? Joy? should be here, right next to bliss. Ahh, should be perfect right in between hapiness and annoyance. Oohh, testy...heartbreak, hrrmm.., I think you should go down at the very bottom and back of everything fact, you should be place well in behind the wall ductaped with guilt and lies, subtitled "selective amnesia". 

You get the picture.

I remember you, Dear Moonman. I remember you well. But I don't remember much of the things in between. I remember you too, Dear Beautiful Chaos - I loved you. I don't care anymore, come to think of it. And I also remember you, Dark Darling. You've struggled then, you still struggle now. Your roots have been uprooted and I'd glad you died. Three major heartbreaks - the wing-clippers and dream-crushers. Ironic how you three fill so much of my little frail heart more than every life-supplying happiness and fond memories my feeble life has gathered.

Lost hopes and missed loves. Dusks and deaths. Broken sighs and ashen smiles.

Oh, you tragic beauties.


Balay Negrense
Silay City, Pilipinas
Hello, blog. It's been ages since I last paid you any due notice. You see, I lately haven't had much of a life worthy of all the goodness beloved words are made of.  I have been quite busy, yes, but I have also been whining so much, I've lost count of the things essential and precious. 

If the weather isn't too soggy, it is too damned hot. What's up with that?! (<--see what I mean?)

October's been really busy for me. First there was this Missions Conference at GEBS in Ilo-ilo. Came home exhausted and totally in shock of the extreme weather difference (haha, puh-lease as if I was gone for centuries) and with a nasty sore throat, thanks so much for 2 successive sleepless nights with lots of howling and abandoned laugher (maybe mostly on my part? ^_^) over several card games and a plate full of talc powder.  Then there was the 18th ICCC World Congress that was held here in Bacolod half of the time.  I wish it could have lasted maybe weeks more longer. Just without the ridiculous talent portions, ugh! Then of course, there is the annual MassKara Feastival which overlapped with the ICCC event. I also met Marky when he came here to experience the MassKara. There there was the bout with the cold and now the Christmas Cantata choir practices.

I am pooped.

I am also excited about Christmas and the tradition reunions. 

I am also still keeping secrets. Certain secrets that will be kept until they become forgotten and remain as such.


Dearest  Ocean,

I miss you. So much. 
So damn much.

surely you've heard them
reverberating in a stubborn resonance of thuds
heartbeat after heartbeat after heartbeat
echoing in faithful consistency of breaths
calling out to you
again and again and again

surely you've felt them
caressing you in a touch of a gentle prayer
stroking you in the intensity of a whispered sigh
intimate and personal
yours alone to behold
shy and quiet
a trace of a sercret ardor

surely you've seen them
those blushing hints of a fool
the face behind the words
hiding under a moonlit shawl
the dancing worshiping smiles
swaying in utter dependency to your chanced glances

surely you've smelt them
the stiffled scent of an innocent dream
the fervent aroma of a stolen need
the intoxicating fragrance of confusion's ebb and flow
teasing in an abandoned wild decadency

surely you've tasted them
in mouthfuls, you must have
those clumsy childish charms
religiously been thrown at your feet
in dishevelled rainbow of candid flavors
the ardent offering of choice-forgotten hopes
of a jester dancing in a trance of dreams

~djf (07/03/06)


I give up on people a lot. 

If I don't see or hear from you, my heart for you slowly dies and I detach myself from you. I give up on you.  I do not know why I do that. I don't even plan on it. It just happens. 

I get resentful, too. I get all these mad accusations inside my head about how petty you have become and I get petty, too. And I indulge myself to some self pity and I stay there until something better catches my attention or some fond memory jolts me back to my senses.

And then I love you again.  And then, you are ethereal again and I could almost worship you. When the tide of every memory comes rushing back in, it sometimes become so overwhelming, I would find myself drowning. But it is a good thing, no? 

Loving you again.

Most of the times, you make me happy to love you again. But sometimes, you fail me. I would look around for you and never find you. And in the eve of the flood of love, I die again. These kind of deaths are painful. These kind of deaths are the hardest to forget. Even forgive. These kind of deaths amplifies the emotion that made me give up on you in the first place. 

I loved you and you were never there to love me back.

And so this time, I lose you.