Introducing...

The boyfriend.



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......
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The love story will have to come later.

This is just the prologue.

THE JOHN

               A drunk person's worst nightmare... or at least, biggest challenge EVER.






***Taken at the Bosch Plant in Malaysia where I fell into an 8-second panic (I kid you not) as I tried to figure out just... how exactly... do... I...

*shrugs*

Good thing I wasn't wearing heels.

SURPRISE.

Even after all of my ranting and complaining and over-analyzing and pseudo-soul searching and preacher-man preaching and... well... just plain...

Whining... *shrugs*

God still manages to give me really really nice surprises.

Case in point:

 

 

And the point being?

*drumroll please*

 

..........

 

Dating. Is. Fun.

Yes.

And I am amazed by this newfangled revelation.

...

I should have dated a looooooooong time ago.

POETRY FOR MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER, PSYCHE CALYPSO.

 

She is gonna call me point “B”
So no matter what happens
She can always find her way to me
And I’m going to paint the solar system
On the backs of her hands
So she has to learn the entire universe
Before she can say “oh, I know that like the back of my hand”
And she’s gonna learn that this life will hit you
Hard in the face, wait for you to get back up
So it can kick you in the stomach but
Getting the wind knocked out of you
Is the only way to remind your lungs
How much they like the taste of air
There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by
Bandaids or poetry so the first time you realise
That Wonder Woman isn’t coming don’t feel like
You have to put the cape on all by yourself
Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers
Your hands will always be too small to
Catch all the pain you want to heal
Believe me, I’ve tried and “baby” I’ll tell her
“Don’t keep your nose up in the air like that
I know that trick, I’ve done it a million times.
You’re just sniffing for smoke so you can
Follow the trail back to a burning house
So you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire
To see if you can nurse him back to health
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place
To see if you can change him
But I know that you will anyway”, so instead
I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rainboots nearby
Because there’s no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix
Ok there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix
But that’s what the rainboots are for because
Rain can wash away everything if you let it and
I want her to see the world through the underside
Of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the
Galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind because
That’s the way my mum taught me, that there’ll be days like this
“There’ll be days like this” my mama said, when you’ll
Open your hands to catch and wind up with only bruises and blisters
When you’ll step out of the phone booth and try to fly
And the very people you want to save are the ones
Standing on your cape. When your rain boots will fill with rain
And you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and
Those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you
Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses
To stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away
“Baby” I’ll tell her “remember that every person you pass on the street
has a grandparent who went through hardship so they could be here
and friendships are always worth trying to build despite
all the splinters you may get, remember your mama was a worrier
and your papa was a warrior and you are the girl with
Big eyes and small hands who never stops asking for more
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and
Always apologise when you’ve done something wrong but
Don’t you ever apologise for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing when they
Finally hand you heartbreak, when they give you war and anger
When they slip hatred under your doorstep, when they offer you handouts
On street corners of cynicism and defeat you tell them
That they really need to meet your mother.

 

 

***Thanks Pao. *hugs*

DEF POETRY FOR THE EX.

***Part 1 and Part 2 of Wife... Woman... Friend.

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Beyonce's "Single Ladies" ain't got nothin' on this.

Dana Gilmore PREACHES it.

 

Psyche.

 

.................

 

And she's all mine... *beams proudly*

All f*cking mine.

WHY I DO WHAT I DO.

"For you," he said.

...

i do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
i do it because it's the least i can do
i do it because i learned it from you
i do it just because i want to
because I want to

everything i do is judged
and they mostly get it wrong
but oh well
'cuz the bathroom mirror has not budged
and the woman who lives there can tell
the truth from the stuff that they say
and she looks me in the eye
and says would you prefer the easy way?
no, well o.k. then
don't cry

and i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know that there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
and when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know

i do it for the joy it brings...

..........

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JokZeceao74

God help us.