Nothing more intimate

The two of them stand in the hallway, eyes at each other, not quite knowing what to say, almost certain that words aren’t needed. The woman leans forward, impulsively but softly kissing the corner of the man’s lips. The man is surprised, but delighted.She leans back, only to lean over again to kiss his neck, the part just beside the bounding pulse. She could smell the coffee he took at The Two Windmills that afternoon. She kisses his eyelids.


She looks at him, points to the corner of her lips. The man happily kisses the spot tenderly. He kisses her neck, feeling the remnants of a tear on her cheek. He kisses her eyelids, before their lips finally meet.

————

You probably realize by now that that’s a scene in Amelie and that it could possibly be the most beautiful scene in any movie ever. And it's the number one fantasy that I want to do. ;) Nothing could be more intimate than this! I don’t know if I did any justice to that scene at all though. lol. Basically this is what you get when you watch Amelie over and over again (I watched it yesterday, and today, and probably tomorrow too). If you haven’t watched this movie yet, watch it, and I hope I didn’t spoil the story too much for you.

Reality strikes, reality bites

Life isn't going to be how you think it will be.
You want to think that everybody gets their happily ever after.
But the truth is, people will always be lonely.

You're thinking 90% of them have settled for less than they deserve.
You fear you'll do the same. You fear you'll settle for someone who loves you more than you love them. You fear you'll cheat them of their own happy ending. But who really gets the happy ending anyway? He will adore you, he will love you. What the heck, right? Nobody will be interested in you. This is the only person who has pursued you. It's certainly better than settling for the guy who was wonderful when he first met you, but turned out to be a completely horrible person after you got married.

Or you'll find that marriage isn't what it's cracked up to be. Eventually you'll resent your spouse, wishing you were with somebody else. And you will. You'll have an affair with a married man. Even though you know it's wrong, you've never felt more alive. For the first time in many years, you have something to look forward to.
You know this won't last, but you'll take anything that comes. That's how lonely you are.

What if that's your future? You'll never get that happy love story you've always dreamed of, and it makes you sad. Because no matter what you say to yourself, you'll always look for that someone  you'll share your life with. Your best friend. Your lover.

You look at what really happens and you're slowly accepting...that life won't be what you thought it will be.
And you're not sure how you can be happy after that.

Reading, Writing, and a Love Letter

Reading: Is there anything that that quote left unsaid? This is why I love reading.

Writing: All writers read. How amazing it would be if I could write something that would make my reader feel the things it described. It would be the ultimate satisfaction.

A Love Letter: Because of the aforementioned, the book I'm currently reading crossed my mind. The love letter below, I feel, is one I could have written myself. Or anyone, really. Who doesn't fall in love that way? The writer took the words from my mind. To find a writer like that is kismet. But destiny has a funny way of going about its business. I would never have bought that book if Fully Booked didn't hold a sale. I almost didn't buy it because of its title. And because it cost 50 pesos. But I said, what the heck. It's only 50 pesos, you miser. And I NEEDED to read a book. 

This love letter. This is me, in love.

Dear Goat,

How does one fall in love? Do you trip? Do you stumble, lose your balance and drop to the sidewalk, graze your knee, graze your heart? Do you crash to the stony ground? Is there a precipice, from which you float, over the edge, forever?

I know I’m in love when I see, I know when I long to see you. Not a muscle has moved. Leaves hang unruffled by any breeze. The air is still. I have fallen in love without taking a step. When did this happen? I haven’t even blinked.

I’m on fire. Is that too banal for you? It’s not, you know. You’ll see. It’s what happens. It’s what matters. I’m on fire.

I no longer eat. I forget to eat. Food looks silly to me, irrelevant. If I even notice it. But I notice nothing. My thoughts are full and raging, a house full of brothers, related by blood, feuding blood feuds: I’m in love ——Typically stupid choice —— I am, though, I’m racked by love as if love were pain —— Go ahead. Fuck up your life. It’s all wrong and you know it. Wake up. Face it. —— There’s only one face, it’s all I see, awake or asleep.

I threw the book out the window last night. I tried to forget. You are all wrong for me, I know, but I no longer care for my thoughts unless they’re thoughts of you. When I’m close to you, I feel you hair brush my cheek when it does not. I look away from you, sometimes. Then I look back.

When I tie my shoes, when I peel an orange, when I drive my car, when I lie each night without you, I remain,

As ever,

Ram

— The Love Letter, by Cathleen Schine.

What it takes to skip a heartbeat

She stands among the crowd. Theyre either listening intently or half-listening to the man on stage, talking about global warming, natural disasters, tsunamis, that kind of stuff. Her classmates are horrified. She feels someone move in beside the pillar she was leaning against. She pretends to look around, spots his friends, and finally lays her eyes on him, standing a little ways to her left. She wonders what powers would urge him to stand so close to her, causing her heart to palpitate with his strong presence. She keeps on standing in the same spot, trying to keep a relaxed pose while straining to understand the speaker's lecture on disaster management. Futile. She could smell his scent -- a hint of aftershave. She could even feel his eyes on her. Could it be --


~~~~~


Everywhere he went, he would see her. An unusual girl. But their classmates respected her. She was always the type to get things done excellently. She was someone they could depend on with school affairs. Who knows what possessed them to vote him as the VP to her President. The more he thought of that, the more he thought that if it wasn't for his stint as vice president, he wouldn't have known about her love for books, for Bruce Willis movies, and wrestling. He couldn't have spent so much time with her to notice that she scratches her elbow everytime she lied, or how bright and pretty her eyes looked when she was intently discussing plans for the school fair. If it wasn't for all that time, he wouldn't have fallen in love with her.


He would have to explain later to their homeroom teacher why he was late for the assembly. It was convenient, however, because he was placed in the back, near to where she was standing. He sees her surreptitiously scanning the auditorium, but she doesn't seem to notice him. She was nearsighted where things really mattered. At least he was able to admire her from this angle. The light did great things to her eyes (lately he was obsessed with how light touched her face), which did strange things to his stomach. Here comes the butterflies. 


What was the guy at the podium talking about? Something about tectonic plates. It didn't matter. He's too busy thinking up a plan to make her a part of his world.


~~~~~


-- nah, he can't be looking at her. It's her with her assumptions again. Why must he be so cute? Why must he bear himself with such grace not commonly found in boys his age? How can he be manly and boyish at the same time? He had no idea how he can be so influential with their classmates. A natural peacemaker. He should be a diplomat. Not only that, but she noticed a kind of brilliance in him that he doesn't care to show. She had a funny feeling he could easily surpass her.


Was it, or was it not, incredibly hot in that gym? She drags her friend toward the lavatory to get some fresh air. She passes him, once again smelling that aftershave. But there's something gnawing at her. They say that if you catch a guy turn his head to look at you while you're passing by, it means he likes you. What the heck? Might as well find out.


~~~~~


He could smell the scent of raspberries as she passes him on her way to the girls' room. His eyes follow her. He was unaware that he had half-turned his back at the podium, and was all but ogling her. Her back is turned towards him, but she suddenly turns her head. 


~~~~~


Their eyes meet. 
A heartbeat. 
Then a skip.


April 4, 2011
----------------------------------------


I think  love stories are the easiest to write, don't you? Or maybe girls just have a huge reservoir of fantasies. OR maybe it's just me.

This story got quite of hand. I thought it would take only a few paragraphs, but I guess I really was trying to build a novel (?). Now that I think about it, I shou;dn't have tried to supress it. I'm uncomfortable writing love stories (though I have written a few), when all I have ever experienced were unrequited loves. I wonder if the one who read this thinks its as cheesy as I think it is. But then again, love stories have a certain level of cheesiness.

Those days when you conjure up a person

Did you ever think of someone so much, wishing to see them, that they actually appear in front of you? No, I'm not talking about hallucinations. I might have put it wrong.

I mean, the person turns up. Just when you were thinking of them. Well, yesterday, that happened to me.

Since I'm going up to Davao to play nanny to my nephew, I was fantasizing about how I'll meet my crush again. Let's call him Jacob. I just wanted to see him. The night before, I dreamt I was talking about Jacob to  my friends and that I thought I saw him, but it turned out not to be him.

While we were driving, I again imagined myself seeing him. He's just so cute you see and I'm so infatuated. Lo and behold, I did see him. But what's funnier, was how I realized it was him. This may sound so dramatic, but it's how it happened: As I entered the SM supermarket, I was looking for my mom. Then my eye caught a figure of a guy clothed in a blue V-neck and shorts. I couldn't see his face from afar, but even from there he looked really attractive. I thought, wouldn't it be amazing if that actually turned out to be Jacob? But he ws too far, and I needed to find my mom. I eventually did, and then I saw the blue-clad guy again. I wanted to see his face , was he gay? was he ugly? was he one of those vain types? But as I got nearer, it turned out it was Jacob! I couldn't believe my luck! And also, my bad luck, because he was with his girlfriend, Alice, which ruined pretty much half the experience for me. So there I was, ogling at Jacob's grace, happy with his girlfriend, who were both oblivious to me. I felt so shabby then. They were both so hipster,  with skin to die for, and I was shabby. 

But the point is, what if we had gone to Gaisano like I requested? What if I didn't accompany Mom in the supermarket? I wouldn't have seen him again. I just can't believe that after all my thinking, he would actually turn up. God must've wanted to tell me something. And I feel strongly that the message was: GET OVER HIM ALREADY. You've seen him, happy with his girlfriend, now get over it.

And I really will have to.

These Men

I blame February. This streak on love-related posts is all because of the month. It can't be a mere coincidence that I've been talking about love for the past few days. And later on today, I will spend Valentine's Day watching the Beatles' documentary on their love life in Bio channel. (Real. Life. Stories.) Yepee!

Anyway, this has been building up ever since I watched Inception last month but it finally has to be let out: I have a crush on Cillian Murphy. Gosh dang, he's always been this creepy villain in Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins to me, and starring as the villain in Red Eye only made it worse. But his starring in Inception has made me take notice of him. He is one hell of a good-looking guy.

Look at those blue eyes! That profile! Just watch him in Inception. He's a musician, a Beatles fan, intelligent and shies from the limelight. I swear, he's endeared himself to me. haha

And since we're on the topic of my Hollywood crushes, here are some of them:

Anton Yelchin

The Russian accent in Star Trek was so cute. Imma watch out for him in the future.

Rupert Grint

of course. He's so down-to-earth and easy going. And he's RONALD WEASLEY.

Shinichi Chiaki

He's not Hollywood, and he's only a fictional character, but he will remain one of my favorite heroes of all time. I want my Chiaki-senpai as well! -____________-

That's it for now, but I think I'll post new Hollywood crushes in the future.

Happy Valentines everyone!

Something romantic

She looked into those eyes that pierce through her soul. She remembered how he would move with subtle grace, oh so natural, yet with such strength. He had a bearing that says he’s self-assured and you’d feel he can take care of everything unselfishly. He still had humility, he was goofy but when you needed an ear, he’d listen and had a lot of things to say about one thing and even more with just one look. She always liked talking to him, he understood her perfectly well. All these qualities were overwhelming her and she couldn’t help but smile and then sigh.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. So typical – as if he wasn’t aware of his charms.

“You can be so dense sometimes” she said exasperatedly. Though to whom she was irritated with she wasn’t sure: him or herself. She sighed again as if expelling the bad air out of her system.

Constance looked at his eyes straight on. “It’s just I can’t take this anymore. You’re so darn good looking and we get along so well. Being with you is beyond any fantasy I’ve ever had. You’re the culmination of every dream guy I ever imagined. It’s so unbelievable! Needless to say, I like you a lot.”

She slid against the refrigerator to the floor and looked up at him, emphasizing even more their height differences. There was a long silence. “You’re also very dangerous. I can’t even think anymore when I’m with you,” she closed her eyes and attempted to rest. Confessing like that took the toll out of her.

“Stan…” he said. She felt him crouch to her level and opened her eyes to see his face very close to hers.

“Oh please, Dmitri, do not even think of kissing me right now. I poured my heart and soul to you and I want to hear what you have to say,”

Dmitri leaned back. "First of all, who said anything about kissing you? Aren't we a little too full of ourselves?"


To an outsider, this would be considered the worst reply to a love confession of all time. But this was Dmitri. So she started to punch him in the arm, but lost heart because this was becoming a cliche. She laughed instead. "Oh God, you're right. We should probably get started on those croissants." Constance started to get up.


"No, wait." Dmitri said. "I think it's only fair that we should continue what you started.  You wanna hear my say right?" He looked at Constance with an enigmatic look in his eyes. He was holding her down by her shoulders. He smiled slightly. "I happen to think you're amazing. You're not like other women, are you? I like being with you so much, I don't know how not to know how to act with you. I know how when you get hold of a retractable pen, you can't not use it without pushing it a thousand times first. I love how (insert everything that Dmitri loves about Constance here). But now...you caught me completely off guard." 


Constance was stunned. But not stunned enough to say this. "Okay, you can kiss me now."


-- February 8, 2009




this is what you get when you read Susan Elizabeth Phillips.
It really was a culmination of my fantasies. If this were turned into a romance novel, this would take part in the middle-to-end. I was envisioning this happen in a kitchen, in a bed-and-breakfast or something.


 My God this was so cheesy. I still laugh whenever I read this. But this would be my dream guy. Because he would only exist in dreams. I loved fantasizing about him. ;)


I had noticed that I wrote this on February two years ago, and now I'm reposting this on a February. Is this the Valentine's Day effect? whut?!


The ones in Italics are the ones I recently added. After two years, that was what I could add. I'm so sleepy and clueless as to what Dmitri would say, that I didn't get to finish his monologue. I just can't write love stories. Or stories. Period. I can only write snippets. I'm lame. I know.

Why I love dogs

Dogs are simple. They eat, sleep, play, protect you occasionally, and just want some love.
Dogs never want anything from you except love and food. They would love you unconditionally  if they sense that you are kind and harmless.
They look incredibly alien--they look totally diffrent from humans and yet they're adorable. 
They light up when they see you. Their simple pleasure is for you to cuddle and rub their ears and belly.
Dogs are forgiving and forgetful.
Dogs sense when you are sad and will comfort you. They will listen to you. (What else is there for them to do?)
Dogs will miss you when you're away for the day. When they see you, they will jump on you as if they haven't seen you in a hundred years.
Dogs will not bite the hand that feeds them, that's why I'm not afraid of my dog eating off of my hand.
Dogs would sometimes rear up on you but they immediately retract and are remorseful after sensing your surprise. You'd sense they were asking for forgiveness by the way they hold their head down,their ears flat on their head, and their tails gently wagging.
I think dogs worship their masters. And their masters are grateful of their love.
Dogs accept who you are.
Dogs love your love.
Dogs are friendly and playful. They like taking care of you.
Dogs don't run away when you call out to them. When I hold out my hand, my dog will come to it,because she knows I'm going to rub her belly.

There's something comforting in the way they sit at your feet when you're on your chair, quietly reading, or just looking at the scenery or listening to the music, or when you're lying on your hammock and they lie down near you.
Dogs are trusting and you're always eager to protect them and their innocence.

One Look

The writer had known the girl for quite some time now.

It was on a breezy Friday afternoon when the girl moved in on the apartment a floor from his. He had just sent the draft to his editor, and the girl was carrying a large statue of a dog, which interestingly resembled an elongated Scooby-Doo. When the girl saw him, she smiled and headed upstairs, failing to notice his outstretched hand. She seemed determined to carry that dog right to the fourth floor. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to insult her strength why he didn’t insist on helping her, but at that split second, he sensed she was not the kind of girl to accept help easily, especially from men. That smile said it all: “hello, nice to meet you. I’m quite capable of carrying this statue, thank you, and I don’t really think I’m in the mood to meet new people today.” He could still surprise himself with his perceptiveness.

    They eventually became friends. She was a chef in some three-star restaurant, and had quite a lot of friends herself. And it was in those lunchdates,  Halloween parties, general get-together picnics and lazy afternoon conversations that he knew these of her: she had a way of handling and mingling with people without giving away the fact that she was basically shy. She liked having company and frequently cooked for her friends, but she could be as happy alone. She was an intellectual, with many diverse interests. Like him, she was a dreamer, but probably with more ambition and a truckload of insecurities. It must be her personal demon. She wouldn’t show her insecurity willingly, though. She was an essentially strong woman, who, despite her insecurities, would always look towards the light. She was sanguine and moody. A contradiction.

    Today, she was feeling particularly forlorn. Probably her demon acting up again. She looked bored and dissatisfied, and the writer could see she needed a distraction, a redirection of thoughts. It wasn’t good to keep on being melancholic. She needed a friend.

    He approached the bench she was sitting at in the park. “If you want to look ugly, all you have to do is take off your concealer and show your eyebags instead of sulking in a park,” he told her. “It just doesn’t work. You look like a sad Giselle(you know, from “Enchanted”?)”

    She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t compromise your masculinity by admitting Enchanted’s your favorite movie.”

    “Women find it sexy, actually.” He was glad to see her lips curve upward and that haughty look come back to her face. She had returned to life. “There’s a children’s choir concert on the east park. That’d be entertaining.” He held his hand out to her.

    She looked up at him with eyes that said thank you.

    “Well, I do love children,” and she took it.

-dated February 24,2009. wrote this on a whim, when I was trying to portray Woman as an ambiguous being, both strong and fragile, and how lucky she is to have a man that understands her with just one look. sort of inspired by Jason Mraz's song "A Beautiful Mess" (which BTW I think is one of the most romantic songs about relationships ever). :) 


please comment on the CBox. :)


photo by KECHI@DEVIANTART

Love Tells Us Who We Are

Love Tells Us Who We Are
Love Tells Us Who We Are.
When I asked the Answer “Who?”
No love answered so I knew
I had to wait for Love

For we are no one before Love
A missing clue looking for a person
A star looking for a sky
An “am” waiting for an I
Music Tells Us What We Feel
But Cannot Say Love Reveals
What We Know but cannot see

Before You I was Nothing But
When You Gave me Your Hand
I took My Hand
For Love Tells Us Who
We Are So When I asked the 
Answer “Who?” 
Love Answered You.

Donald T. Sanders 1944


~~~~
one of my favorite poems. :)