In college, I was part of the De Buang Familia - a bunch of intelligent ladies who actually had a life. LOL! It's so refreshing to know that I have friends that have lasted for 15 years. Sayang wala si Mela and Mona.
The nice thing about having a front lawn or a backyard is that we can pitch a tent and "camp"
My little chef! He always loves helping me out inn the kitchen. :)
My Princess made a sign to put on the wall when she sleeps. It cracked me up!
Little girls who start becoming responsible big sisters make my heart beat faster and my insides fuzzy.
Little boys who can't get enough of mommy (and can't wait to get rid of mommy too) make me laugh.
Seeing the next generation bond and love each other like something fierce makes me very happy.
Little creative geniuses make me grin.
Hammocks always make me smile.
A makeshift herb garden on a window ledge makes me giddy. Believe it or not, I talk to these cuties.
Small patola plants that eagerly grow and climb make me smile.
Making pinakurat for my Guns and Roses family makes me smile.
More vegetables growing makes me smile. I'm so excited about my vegetable garden!
I think people should be allowed to goof off every now and then. It's the secret to youth.
Silly uncles who "sing and dance" in the rain would make anyone laugh out loud. Thanks Laki Cong!
And this is my pride and joy. There's this little space at the side of the house that used to be a dump. Mai and I decided to clean it up and turn it into a veggie garden for Dave. We planted a banana tree at one end and (what I assume to be) banaba at the other. (See how that works out, eh? LOL!) Then we planted corn, pechay, baguio beans, okra, talong and tomatoes in between. In about 40 to 60 days, we're ready to harvest! Woot! Woot!
I received this in the mail today and it made me smile because I really wasn't expecting anything. It was a token from SMART Communications - my mobile phone provider. Thank you SMART! I really appreciate this. Our 2010 wasn't so great but you did manage to turn things around and make it all better for me. Even tonight, when I called (because of a recurring issue), Mae, the customer service representative was so nice and was very efficient. Aside from the great customer service, it made me smile even more when I saw that you're supporting the Gawad Kalinga Sunshineville, here in Las Pinas where I live! :D Thank you for being socially active and responsible. That's what's going to make me stay with your company and that's what's going to make me promote you and your products with my friends. Now, if only we can get my boyfriend's blackberry to work... :D
When we started Kudos.ph yesterday, we weren't expecting a lot of people to come and visit. But they did and I love the number of people on there yesterday - 143! :D I want to send a big thank you to all those who visited and a special thank you to Ron De Vera for leaving that wonderful kudo for me. Thank you so much! I hope this can help in spreading positivity in the country and hopefully, in the world!
Thank you too, to the wonderful Miss Lesley Anne for her sweet comment. You made me smile. :)
I've been in a funk ever since my birthday. I was sick (like REALLY sick) and I didn't have any money to do the things I wanted to do for my birthday. There were good things in it though - David taking care of me, the cake my uncle bought for me, my new red handbag courtesy of Mom, my pretty new earrings from my daughter, my cards, my beautiful genuine leather notebook complete with an authentic calligraphy pen set and Chinese ink from David!
However, it wasn't enough to get me out of the funk. That was, until I stumbled across Color Me Katie's blog. She's such a silly and wonderful and colorful person that she inspired me to get out of my funk and start doing nice things - things that I've forgotten that I've loved! I started today by taking photos of the kids and editing them. I even got a great one with Bea watching a butterfly flutter by.
Then I took photos of her all around the village. We cycled around with the bike with the side car and we just talked about school and stuff she'd like to make with me. It was pretty fun. This is the result:
Of course the boys wouldn't be left behind. Although they chose to go "comfy" in their Pajamas. I love how these photos captured their personalities so well.
"Because I don't want a hot maid around you that can twiddle herself in front of you while I'm not here."
He sat next to me and gave me a hug and kissed my head. "I know of how little your faith in men is. But believe me when I tell you that even if we got a maid you thought was hot, I'd fire her immediately if she came on to me."
She still pouted and remained unconvinced. He held her tighter and kissed her on the lips.
For those of you who know me, I don't have to explain it. For those who think they know me - think whatever you want.
I'm going through another chapter in my life and I think this is what I've been waiting for all my life. I am happy, secured, content and cared for. My children are happy, content, nurtured and indulged. My mother and my family is very happy for me. I have everything I want and deserve.
She was quietly sleeping upstairs when he started writing. It was only supposed to be one note, a couple of lines max but he found himself just going on and on until he had an entire page.
It still felt like it was lackadaisical; incomplete in is expression of how he truly felt for this woman. "Maybe next time, in another letter" He whispered to himself. He peeked up the stairs to check if she was coming down anytime soon. Safe for the moment, he then slipped the note in her phone case but not before giving it a kiss.
He knows she'll find it well enough. And with that, he smiled.
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Sunday, February 21, 2010
in
Love,
Writings
She lets him take everything he wants and more; he kissed her deeper, harder and more demanding
Everything was frantic and eager, hands grasping fabric and wrapping around skin, pulling each other closer even though there's already no measurable space between
He can see so many things in that kiss - so many secrets, so many many unspoken desires
His hands thrum her skin, like a silent piano recital. He moves to put his head between her legs, speaking in a language only the body could understand
He whispers secrets on her skin, sharing words and thoughts that has been kept hidden in the deepest recesses of his subconscious
He begs to be let in, just as he pleads for her to come in
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
in
Love,
Writings
On mornings just as the sun is about to rise from its cradle, you are at your most beautiful
On nights when the stars fight for their right to shine with the full moon and you're there looking up, you are at your most beautiful
In quiet moments within crowded pavements In the solace of your thoughts In words spoken wherever you place your smile you are at your most beautiful and with you is the only time I am at my most beautiful.
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Monday, December 28, 2009
in
Love,
Wow Deep ito
“Tamed as it may be, sexuality remains one of the demonic forces in human consciousness -- pushing us at intervals close to taboo and dangerous desires, which range from the impulse to commit sudden arbitrary violence upon another person to the voluptuous yearning for the extinction of one's consciousness, for death itself. Even on the level of simple physical sensation and mood, making love surely resembles having an epileptic fit at least as much as, if not more than, it does eating a meal or conversing with someone.” - Susan Sontaq
I had to take care of mom and miss one day at work (which was a Friday, and that means I have to come in early today just to make sure I catch up on what I left behind.). I was supposed to go out Saturday night to relax but I had a call for a shoot for a film. Was filming until 5:30 in the morning and had to go back to Las Pinas to just literally shower and dress up for another event over at Quezon City at 9 in the morning. Got back home at about 9 in the evening and had to take care of some other personal stuff until about midnight.
Now, tired as I may be (and sleep deprived - yes, I can hear all of you screaming, especially Malou, Dean B and Japs) I still can't shake this feeling of immense gratitude. True, I may not be at the pink of my health nor am I out of my financial and emotional burdens but there are a lot of things that I am still grateful for and these things make me happy day in and day out.
I've got beautiful, smart and polite children who greet me every day with a smile, a sloppy kiss and sticky hugs. They make me laugh with thier antics and make me feel like I've done something right in this world. There's no better word in this lifetime than the word "Mommy".
I've got a wonderful and loyal mother who'll always mean well and want the best for me and my children. She raised me to be the best that I can be and to be who I wanted to be. She may have a weird way of showing her support and affection but I wouldn't want it any other way.
I've got my Nanie who'll always treat me as her "Baby". I will always find comfort in her arms and in her phone calls (albeit weird meteors attacking the earth ones...hehehe)
I've got a few true friends (Virtual and RL - you know who you are. *wink*) that will never ever steer me wrong and will always want to hear about my day even if it's pointless and whiny.
I've got a job that lets me help those that need and want it, it pays the bills and it also lets me do other things that I love (such as shoot for shows and films) It's really a godsend.
I'm filled with love and affection and genuine concern. What more could I ever want? (Although Jared Padalecki is still on the top of that list. hehehe) The universe has been generous. I want to be able to share those blessings as well, in any way I could.
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Sunday, October 04, 2009
in
Love,
Writings
I miss you even before you've gone. My heart aches in longing and nothing can fill the hollow.
Your absence has caused me grief and I am forced to wear it like a veil.
But I will be here, waiting at the place where you left me.
I will be exactly where you found me. And if you never return, if you forget that there is one person who longs for you, know that I will never take it against you.
I will remain here - as faithful as time; as constant as weather; as solid as love.
My love for writing and for all things writing related has never been a secret. I've been teased mercilessly about the sheer number of pens I own and lug around. My notepads, notebooks and assortment of paper and postcards get equal teasing. I don't really care as I love to write and I've got things to write about.
Another non secret is my love of leaving little notes around. I'd leave them on bus seats, on tables in cafes where I've been, in bathrooms - almost everywhere I have managed to bring my physical self to. I'd fold them up into cranes (another bad habit - origami) and leave them there for strangers to find. I'd like to believe that someone might see it and take an interest and open it up to read. My note can either make their day or make them remember something or it might just break their heart a little bit. Either way, I'm under the illusion that the note just doesn't get chucked into the bin.
Then, I see this:
It's the Griffin & Sabine writing box. If you haven't read Nick Bantock's Griffin and Sabine book series, you're missing half of your life. It is imperative that you read them.
If you love writing and if you love me, can you send this my way by December? *Bats eyelashes and smiles*
That moment, that precise moment when you bridge the gap between your lips, your bodies – that moment divides you into two; takes you to two different and extreme places where you’re aware of nothing but his warmth, his breath on your skin, your hand on his chest, his hand on your nape and the beat of both your hearts. It also takes you to that place where you’re aware of everything around you, and you catalog it in your head: the smell of the air, the noise in the background, the temperature change in the room.
That first touch of lips is held to last forever or at least for as long as you can, hesitating to deepen it for fear that it may break the momentum. But the desire to do more, to feel more, outweighs the fear. A slight parting of lips, a small tilt of the head, a breath caught and slowly, bliss seeps in.
The tips of your tongues touch. His hands have moved to cup your face, bringing it close, holding it still and true – almost possessing you, owning you, begging you. He swipes the tip of his tongue over your lower lip, tasting your latest favorite flavored chapstick and for a second, puts in a mental note to purchase more of that for you. You nip at his upper lip as you let go of a sigh, curling your fingers around his collar, tugging him closer to you. You plan to defy physics and have him melt into you.
A small sound bubbles from your throat, incoherent and guttural. Only he understands, only he is well versed in your language. He pulls away, catching his breath and resting his forehead on yours without letting go of your face. He speaks your name and suddenly you can’t breathe. You’re choked and you’re holding on to the tiniest fragment of your self control. He says your name as if it means something, as if it means everything, as if you were his salvation. You give everything, you leave nothing for yourself, and you save him as you save yourself.
“Kiss me again…” you say. It’s all you can say anyway. It’s all that you need and all that matters.
And this is the way you make me feel. I am the infinite being your goddess. Every touch Every breath Every thought immeasurable. You take me to depths plunge me deep into unknown crevices of my mind and there you rescue me. It is as if you are testing me; making sure I was worthy of you of your love and everything else in between. You take me to extremes and I never complain. It is as if I have been expecting it.
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Sunday, May 10, 2009
in
Love
My poor mother definitely deserves so much praise. She has managed to raise me (and not kill me when I was a teenager) and she is now helping me raise my kids. Words cannot explain how much I love her and how grateful I am for what she has done and what she is continuously doing for me. I love you Mom.
To my Nanie Su - you're my second parent and the best one I can ever have. Thank you for making sure I wouldn't turn out to be a completely uncivilized monster.
To all the moms out there, you deserve today, in fact, you deserve at least 4 more days to celebrate who and what you are - a mother.
He received the first letter on a Thursday. It was simple, white and plain. It had his name written in a scrawl on its face and it was postmarked from Peoria.Inside the envelope was a torn page from a book. He pulls a face, visibly displeased by the action of blatant disrespect towards books. He hates it; the way people just disrespect books by ripping their pages. It’s unnatural and almost blasphemous. Never mind if it’s Foucault or a fucking Harlequin romance book, their pages should never be torn.
There was no other note in the envelope but there was a few hair strands – cut, not pulled. He snorts at that thought. “Like it makes is less creepy and cryptic.” He sets the envelope down the table and opens the folded page. It’s Pablo Neruda.
I CRAVE YOUR MOUTH, YOUR VOICE, YOUR HAIR
Don’t go off, not even for a day, because—
Because – I don’t know how to say it: a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
When the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because
Then the little drops of anguish will all run together
The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
May your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance
Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest,
Because in that moment you’ll have gone so far
I’ll wander hazily over all the earth, asking
“Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”
He looks back at the envelope on the table, opens it and takes the hair strands out. He touches them with such longing and quietly says “Smart, romantic, poetic woman.”
2.
The second envelope had a postcard in it. It says “Welcome to Mexico!” and had a picture of a beach on it. He flipped it over and it had a note on it, written in her chicken scratch hand writing.
“I tried to get a tan. I just got burned. I tried to drive but I crashed. Crash and burn.”
He laughed. “Stay away from the peyote then.” He shook his head, remembering that he’s talking to a postcard.
3.
The third envelope was bigger. It didn’t have a note but it had a stack of pictures. Random strangers from different walks of life but they were all smiling and held a sign that said “Hi!”.
He thought about what bullshit she had to say to get them to do it. Each photo had a background of New York City. He smiled in spite of himself. He kept the photos on a drawer in his nightstand by the bed. He made a mental note to get all those photos framed after he lays them out.
“It’s cold in New York. Don’t forget your gloves.” He says to the air. He doesn’t think it’s weird anymore. He kind of hopes the air brings the words to her; desperately trying to make a connection with her.
4.
It was a Sunday when he got the next envelope. This time, he never bothered with the pretense that it was just another letter, just another envelope. This time, his fingers were shaking and his heart was about to leap out of his chest.
There were leaves, a Louvre museum brochure, a napkin from a café and a picture of her sitting on a sidewalk just looking out. It was the first photo she sent him and he was quite disappointed it just showed her profile. Another first was an actual letter from her.
Paris is wonderful. It’s exactly how I thought it would be. It’s like things are the same and yet, different here. The air is crisper, like it’s challenging you to do something you never thought you could. The mystery and allure of the lights and the people are hard to resist. Whoever said it’s weakness that drives us to fall into temptation cannot be more wrong. It takes a lot of courage and strength to give in to certain temptations.
I walked around the streets of Paris, trying to breathe in its truth. Let me let you in on what I’ve discovered: I’ve learned that the only way you can find out the secrets of this place is if you’re a tree- unmoving and observant. The leaves keep the secrets and I’m sending some to you. If you can get it to talk, I’ve whispered a few of mine to it.
This photo was taken by a stranger. He says I looked pensive and lonely. He rebuked me; he says nobody should be lonely in Paris. He kissed my cheek and gave me the photo. Do I look lonely? I think I just look pensive. What does he know, right?
Suddenly, he was the one who felt lonely. And jealous.And angry.
5.
Two weeks have passed and there was no letter for him. There were no postcards, no cryptic envelopes with weird stuff in it, nothing at all.
He was on the edge. Wound up tight and stretched to his limit. His thoughts are a dangerous mix of fear, concern and fury. What if something had happened to her? What if she decided that this whole one way communication wasn’t worth it? What if she thought he was a pompous asshole for just waiting and not attempting to reach out to her? What if she decided the amateur photographer in Paris was “The one” and not him?
His daily trips to his mailbox have become a harried task. He was excited that today could be the day he’d finally get something but at the same time afraid to be disappointed yet again if he had to find that mailbox empty.He hit the box with frustrated righteous anger.
“Now, what did that poor thing do to you that it deserved your fist?”
He spun around so quickly that he must’ve deliberately changed the gravitational pull of the world in that half second. She’s there. On his pavement. Smiling like everything’s right in the world. He stood there, drinking her in, like she’s an illusion, an oasis to his desert.
“You’re here.” He breathed.
“Yeah…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t fit in an envelope and the guys at the post office said it would be more comfortable if I rode a plane on a seat than in a sack.”
Anger flared inside him. “What’s with the cryptic semi anonymous letters? You couldn’t stand me writing back?”
She smiled indulgently. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
He wouldn’t. He knew that. Not for the lack of skills but for the lack of courage. Still, it doesn’t make it right. He was angry. No, he was furious. He was angry that she was right. He was angry that she was here, right now when he wanted her three envelopes ago. He was angry that all he could feel was anger when he knew he wanted to do other emotions when he imagined this moment, alone in his bed.3
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
She walked two paces towards him, arms stretched out, as if waiting for him to come head first into it. She smiled indulgently and never took her eyes off him.“I’m supposed to make you feel better. The letters are just an introduction.”
He never could say no to her. So, he did what he always did: Wrapped her in his arms and swore to never let her go.
