who am i kidding

This year has come and gone I tell you. And I've done nothing to benefit my little online home. 

My pregnancy brain has taken over more than I had realised and has caused me to neglect my space. 

But I won't kid myself into believing I'm going to make up for it in the last two months of the year. 

There were so many things I had lined up for this year, I just have to let them go and perhaps hope that my two thousand and thirteen will be a better blogging year. 

So apologies to my small number of readers. It will get better on here if you still decide to stick around. 

I promise.

"April come she will when streams are ripe and swelled with rain"

This 36° Manila summer has been devouring me with its heat. 

I can't seem to get anything done.

Forgive me for the blogging drought, I never thought my thoughts would be so parched and arid, especially after my Blogging From the Heart e-course. What a wonderful thing to have been a part of, I just wish my life outside my online world allowed me to keep up with all the inspiration that was being shared.

With April being my worst month ever in the two years of blogging, the last thing I want is a repeat of an unimaginative space. 

So here's to hoping May brings me lots to stock up on, throws me thoughts to ponder on, and gives me moments to  share.

inner voice

 first seen here:

wednesdays words

I'm not too sure where I first saw this, but I remember reformatting it on photoshop and printing it out.

and as I looked through my files today, I found it.

Good morning, Manila. I think it really may be alright.

thought for the day

photo courtesy of forgotten heartbeats

making time for firsts

 

via French by Design

its in the air

there is wedding fever in our house.

and if i would do my wedding all over again I would have more of this:

and i would be wearing this...

Photos from style me pretty , camilla styles, ruffled

because i love doors and windows

“Our senses are indeed our doors and windows on this world, in a very real sense the key to the unlocking of meaning and the wellspring of creativity.”

--Jean Houston

What is it about doors and windows that cause my lens to gravitate in their direction?

Is it that I am curious of what stories lie behind each shutter?

Or that maybe I often create fairytales in my head about situations that may exist once each door is shut?

But sometimes i just like the door. An object of entrances and exits, exteriors and interiors. Suggestively symbolic or generically typical. Ancient or modern.

And sometimes I just think the window is pretty. An object of openness and privacy. Blatantly uncovered or mysteriously restricted. Aged with time or contemporary glimmered glass.

Sometimes it's just because they captivate me.

Just like that.

the way it is

that ordinary moment

December 27 – Ordinary Joy. Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? 

I remember it being a bad day.

I remember being angry, frustrated, upset, alone. My road rage was at its height, I screamed at people through the glass of my car window, muttered curse words under my breath annoyed at every movement the other motorists made. Everyone seemed to be in my way and all I wanted to do was get home and sulk.

Then it came. The moment I had been waiting for since I moved back home, on a highway that sits in the landing path of the international airport. Right underneath the gigantic body of a Boeing 707, my car sat underneath the huge roar of its engine as it neared its destination.

Oh, how I laughed. I laughed on my own and I giggled like a little school girl as if i had reached a goal that was unachievable, as if it were a dream of mine that I longed to have for years and years. But it was MY ordinary moment, my simple ordinary moment that made me smile the rest of the way home.

I don't even remember what I was angry about.

Photo by Lauren Treece

.because i love paris.

I thought I would do another ‘because’ place post before I get started on work. I’ve been thinking a lot about Paris recently, how I never went there enough. Twice was too little, and there was still so much to see.

My first time was a work trip so seeing sites were limited. In fact, I saw Paris only at night. And the Eiffel Tower was the only tourist spot we saw and as we climbed, the lights were sparkling through towers structure and from the middle tier, the scene below was breathtaking. We roamed the streets for the Fête de la Musique, drank in the middle of the street party, then spent the last night club hopping from one bar to another. The next time wasn’t quite as rowdy, as it was spent with my folks and brothers. Six months pregnant, with swollen feet, wasn’t exactly the ideal way to see the city.  However, with a flat in Parmentier over looking the busy street, just a walk away from Republique, who would’ve asked for more. I remember as the first night was slowly ending, Dad played Edith Piaf and I truly felt Paris. We did the typical tourist places as you do and it was wonderful. But I’d like to go back.

I’d like to go back with my husband and walk the streets like new lovers. I’d like him to swoop me up into his arms and kiss me beneath the Eiffel’s sparkling lights. I’d like to walk hand in hand down unsuspecting streets and stumble upon the art galleries. I’d like to sit at a cafe in the middle of the Latin Quarters sipping some wine watching the Parisians as they pass by. I’d like unveil Paris’ secrets together. And then after Paris, we can drive through the wine country in a car with a sun roof, through to Champagne then down to Nice.

Oh, it’s nice to dream sometimes.