Started playing dress up when I was 5 and I guess it never stop


“A good heart gives one the courage to make tough choices for the greater good, not to be confused for a heart that allows biased emotions  of love and affection to make way for weakness and cowardice.”
Cpl. Casteleiro, G. A., USMC

Such beauty and such depth and such hope




Little me age 5
Falling in love is part of her daily routine. She falls in love with little details that catch her eye during the day. A half empty water bottle under a park bench. One single, little plant growing from a brick wall. Details like that stay with her for a long time, because of what they made her feel when she first saw them. In some odd way they make her feel life it worth living. They make her realize art is everywhere. They make her realize everyone and everything has a story. How did that bottle get there? Who left it there without finishing it?  They make her realize she can see beauty in ugliness and struggle. There are days she falls in love with her own struggle, with her sadness, her doubts, her fears. There are days she falls in love with her problems, her mistakes, with all that went wrong. Because there is such beauty in struggle. Such beauty and such depth and such hope. 

It's A Girl


Tanya's Baby Shower Cupcakes

The idea of adding raspberry n chocolate chips in the center of each
cupcake was just excellent  ^_^

"Fondant aka Sugar Paste"
It's just like playing with "play-doh" 

30 Pieces of Cupcakes for Tanya's Baby Shower Party







***

Darrell's 1st Birthday Cake

Chocolate cupcake with Mint frosting



♥ ♥ ♥ 






There is a part of me that love telling people about bad things I've done. 
I enjoy the surprise on  their faces, 
I enjoy shattering their mistaken image of me,
 I enjoy proving people wrong.

Get Off Your High Horse Sir,



Is it weird that I do a lot of my own little social experiments?
I find it really interesting how people interact and cooperate with
each other in various situation.
Honestly it’s like I’ve never done anything to reciprocate your feelings and yet you seem to think we have a mutual connection. Just because I put up with you doesn’t mean I like you, just because I show common courtesy doesn’t mean I respect you, just because I manage to snort out a laugh doesn’t mean you're funny, and just because I play along doesn’t mean I care for your rules - I just don’t want to embarrass you.
I always give people the benefit of the doubt because I have hope in progress and perhaps foolishly I believe that people can change. But it seems that the chances I give, and the things I let slide, just fuels people’s confidence to become an even worse verison of themselves. It’s frustrating and painful to watch and I’m tired of people creating scenarios in their minds about things that don’t exist between us. Get off your high horse or someone’s going to have to push you off. Seriously, check yo self.



Spilled Ink #2: Stubborn


You're not very easy to forget and I think a part of me will
always be waiting for you.

He held her and she lent her head against his chest, it was almost weightless.

“You should leave me before it’s too late, it’s only fair to give you a warning” he whispered whilst twirling her hair round his finger tightly till it became a tourniquet.

Laughter lifted out of her, “you say the stupidest things. I love you and you love me,  I know you haven’t said it but I know you do.”


He continued playing with his improvised cord sighed and with deliberation spoke, “I haven’t said it because it isn’t a thing to be sought. My love is heavy, it will weigh you down like an anchor chained around your throat.”

Turning to look him in the eye she began to speak he placed his blood deprived finger on full lips.

“It will pull you screaming through oceans until it pulls you through the ground, till you can go no further and are worked by hot heat and handled with heavy hands, until you are lost in oblivion.”

She bit his finger then kissed it softly, “I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.”

This Kills The Image




Sometimes we need to do something to show people how we feel.
Even when they're not here to see it.
There’s so much we attribute to people that aren’t inherently in the persons we experience. We impress these opinions, ideas, assumptions on to the representations of them that we hold and so much of our experience of the person is made of these things that if we were to strip people of all things we’ve placed in that person, they really wouldn’t be more than a ghost. They’d be weightless, insignificantly figured, and even someone we’d not consider as real because of their lack of fullness we expect from people with all of us and our thoughts, feelings of them pressed and packed into their image.

Everyone that floats by in our lives are just thin, weightless, faint figures until we tie the select few down with our mental strings and emotional draws to pin them with more weight to become more of a mass in our experiences of them. So when you have to let someone go you really need to cut these strings and draws or at the very least, let them fray with time. Then they lose this gravity we’ve placed into them and they’ll just float away like a ghost.
It’s this weight that separates the ones that figure more prominently in our lives from the more environmental figures, the minor characters. Sometimes, it maybe that some people spend more time on our consciousness screen and the ties are grown over time naturally to pin the person. Or it maybe that we build the relationship and invest ourselves into the other. We spend our time and effort trying to keep someone with weight in our minds because we want them so much to be figure in full. We add so much of all we consider about them, the impression we have them, details that are wholly from our minds and not from them to build this weight.
There are times we make a mistake. Sometimes people see all the weight and all the bits from ourselves we’ve placed into another person and they can’t let go. So they press this idea of the person so dangerously close to themselves trying to incorporate them into their being. There’s so much of their thoughts placed into the person that in desperate fear of losing all these parts of themselves, they pull them in and try to involve them, swallow them back.
This kills the image.
So we have to choose to cut the ties and ropes. Let the figures float away.

Milo's sarcastic comments when I told him about what my next tattoo
going to be was : "why don't you just tattoo a novel"
My next tattoo : "Honesty and Trust"

Birthday Weekend

Happy  10227 days to me


Foggy Birthday ... We decided to spend the afternoon
@ Sie Joe.
I love deep conversation and heated discussion.
Who knew that a right conversation could turns fogs into romance.


Thanx to Heru & Ben for the lovely lunch <3

The perfect pair for the ultimate attention whore like me.
It's considerably pathetic how excited I can get over materialistic things ^_^

"Can you really walk on these?" He asked curiously

"Who says I'm gonna walk on this baby?, not every
shoes are made for walking sweetheart" a simple answer that
shoots him straight to his own imagination land.

Part of me really wants to go home, Part of me screams for more
adventures.
I pay attention to neither.
In my world, Romance stronger than fogs
Finally got my "Faith" and "Love" tattooed 

A pen for a writer and pairs of shoes for a shoe fetish

And of course "Alto Cafè" was on my schedule.


Dangerous yet Delicious.
The foggy weather cause 3 hours delay.
As of during that time, I was a pathetic human being






Another perspective


(could it be, maybe) I’ve never been able to hack it when people hinge their hopes for happiness on me. I loathe being depended on emotionally like that. It’s one thing to love someone, to care about them or to want to fuck their brains out. It’s another thing altogether to expect someone to be your everything. 

It’s kind of a big responsibility to shoulder. I commend anyone who tries it, even more so if you’re successful. Yet people who want someone to be their world throw it around like it’s no big deal.

Oh, that person didn’t work out, maybe this one will. Oh wait, nope, back to the first person. Someone I used to know was the same, his family never gave a crap about him, aside from his brother, his grandparents and an “aunt” who wasn’t really an aunt. The closer you were to him, the worse he treated you. I was the first, his Aunty second, his brother third in line on the shit list. The rest of his family he gave money to, bought clothes for, helped out in almost every way possible. They never had to deal with any of his insecurities which they had all had a hand in creating. He took them out on the people who loved him most. The more you loved, the more you copped.

I was like Laila Ali. Dodging, ducking, weaving all over the place. You can’t catch me if I don’t want you to. I can’t bear that burden, it’s too much. So maybe I’m weak, maybe I’m afraid and you may be right. But I don’t care.

It’s not like I’m not honest and open about this stuff during a “courting period”. But for some reason everyone think they’re special and that they’re going to change my mind.

WRONG.

Relationships are a huge deal for me. I don't just throw myself head long into a fling and called it “a relationship” just so I can change my Facebook status away from single. Recently, a friend of mine told me that her "friendship" (at least that's how she put it) with the guy she's seeing went only so far outside of a relationship, but in the mean time she had three boyfriend. Fine, I respect everyone’s personal decisions but apparently, dry spells don’t last long.

To me, this behaviour demeans the point of having a relationship. Relationships are no longer special or a big deal to her. She’s also rather attractive, so any guy with questionable morals is going to go out with her for a week, fuck her stupid and dump her arse.

There’s this kind of mentality that seems to be directed in my direction that, if I’m single, automatically I’m looking. That being single is some kind of six foot hole that I should desperately be trying to get out of.

SO NOT TRUE.

I’m not looking for someone to make mine, to suffocate. I don’t want to own, or be owned by, anybody. I have other things in my life, I have strong family ties, I have mon petit prince, I have few (i don't need more) friends who cares about me and I cared about, I have music, I write, I read. I’m a geek, I bake, I sing (terribly, but i don't really care). I like having alone time. I don’t want to be with someone who’s only interests in life are me. I shudder at the thought.

I understand everyone has insecurities, shit I’ve got a million, but taking them out on the people who are trying to just get close to you is just wrong. You don’t *need* any one. If you *want* someone, hey good luck, but you need to reassess your outlook on love if you’re a fiend for attention, or whatever you’re looking for.

I'm just saying, don't take this personal.
Good night.

Questions #1



Okay. Tough one. 
Firstly, I’ll befriend an obese person at KFC to use as a food source. Between the amount of chicken wings they have shoved in their pockets and their overall body fat, I’d be havin ‘good eats’ for a lengthy amount of time (this idea is just plain gross, I think I'm just trying to be funny). Secondly, I’d bring my teddy, Boo Bear, because I can always tell him everything without being judged (YES, I consider him a friend- stfu). As for the celebrity, I’d bring Chris evans (obviously I just watched "Captain America"). Not only because I'm gonna need those strong arms to build me a bungalow by the beach but because I’d do him any day of the week. I love them “dertty” boys. 
I wouldn’t subject any of my actual friends, acquaintances, or lovers to my inevitable stream of whining about being on a dessert island. 
Peace :)

Spilled Ink #1 A letter to you


“I’d like to write you a letter.” She says her words out loud. It’s about immediate action.
She sits down and stares at her tea. There was no chardonnay in her fridge. The floor keeps getting colder.
“I’d like to write you a letter about something nice.” She picks up a pencil and takes a sip of tea. Her feet cross.
“I’d like to write you a letter about how you never leave my thought.” The eraser is well chewed upon. Nervous habit. Her tea is getting cold.
“I’d like to write you a letter about how much I've been missing you.” Her feet uncross.
Dear You,
“But first I need something to eat.” Out loud again. Commitment. Action.
The sun is shining and she wraps her blanket closer to her body. Freshly fallen snow crunches underneath her feet and some flakes settle onto her hair.
A car runs a red light. The screeching of tires echo through empty alleyways. Her slight frame is struck and the windshield is speckled with blood as her nose smashes to one side and cheekbones crack and split. Teeth settle on the blades of the wipers, legs hang and are crooked from being sucked and dragged underneath the back tires. Three crumbled ribs sit against her lungs, poking through their flesh and muscle, making each and every breath an unwanted labor.
One snow flake still sits between two strands of hair. It never melts and is joined by more and more. Sirens. Commitment. Action.
Dear You,

Torturing myself by looking at things that I know will upset me.

This has to be my thing, right? This need to know everything to the point where it’s almost masochistic ?!
Just moments before sleep takes me, I think of how I am dictated by these sheets of paper and illuminations of a certain computer screen that I have come to both hate and love from such overuse. I’ve always been a denizen of the night, stirring away the silent hours into my cup. The noise of the day is silenced, and I am alone with the memories.
But it is that very moment between when the thread of consciousness is cut and the AM architect begins his construction of labyrinths worthy of Daedalus that overwhelms me most. Secondary and tertiary voices, usually so full of euphemisms, find the toxic need to perform seances to commune with all the excrement of what I’ve once released from my own Pandora’s box. Live and let die, I’ve said, but some things do die hard, like your image. 

Note

If you're going to start a conversation with me, then talk to me. if you want to talk to me, then speak to me. SPEAK. I don't understand why you try to act cool and indifferent when you're the one who approach me first. It's one thing if I'm pursuing you and you want to play "hard to get". Well even then technically that's not allowed, only we, females can play that (I didn't invent the standard but hey, it's there). I'm not interested, I'm not trying. And you want to strike up a conversation with me and act like a lil douche-bag? GOSH who do you think you are?! 5th grader?
If YOU want to talk to ME, then be interesting. Be entertaining. Be funny. Be friendly. Be reactive. Ask questions. Respond to answers. Remember, I have nothing to lose. I'm replaying to you out of courtesy - I'm doing you a favor. If you're the one who made the proposal, at least make it worth MY TIME. Actually, even more importantly, make it worth YOUR TIME.
Why would you put in so much effort approaching if you're not going to try to get anything out of it? Because trust me if I "WAS" interested in the first place, then that indifferent attitude and that sly smirk ain't going to change anything except push me further away. Seriously guys. If a woman has the respect to let you keep your dignity by not ignoring you, then don't waste her time by letting your pride get in the way of returning respect!

Good night !

A pile of scribble

Fiction or non fiction?
It was 3 and a half years ago when I started the 1st 
chapter. it's a short story with 17 chapters in 164 pages.
This pile of scribble of mine based on fiction and non-fiction
events and characters. 

The End
The last 4 Chapters dedicated to special friends of mine B & N. Who has been kicking my lazy ass for the last 2 months, my motivation booster, my inspirations.
Those 2 months, I realized that there could be a love story unveiling itself right this second. Two people, B & N, traveling cross country to see each other for the first time. You see, they have never known the softness of each other’s hands. All that is true is the words they wrote. Paper and ink bound their feet together. And even if this search for a piece of one another’s souls leads to nothing, then the inked correspondence between these two creatures would make life itself bearable and human. Even though in some senses they have left my waking consciousness, their chase for each other is stronger in my mind. I wish them well on their transcontinental voyage.




Love always, R





Beautiful


There are certain things that are breathtaking simply because you disbelieve in their very existence by the fact that they are indeed so rare (a foolish lunatic like myself do believe in so many things). I was rendered speechless by a friend yesterday over dinner. And I feel like to have him share something like this with me, so frankly even, was something I really needed. Perhaps this was a powerful answer (among many that I have come to know) to questions I have been asking and simultaneously avoiding in a recently self-destructive mode of life.
He told me that for the first time in his life, he felt like he was in love. He thinks that woman he’s with might be “the one.” The one he might spend the rest of his life with.
Yeah, immediately the cynical red flags come up and alarms start going off. At this age? This soon? Does he really know what it means to love? Is this one-sided?
Listening to him, I felt envious. I desperately want what he has ultimately found: stability in love.
He found somebody genuinely capable of empowering his life and validating everything that he ever felt important to him. And the beautiful part is that it is wonderfully reciprocated with this indescribable ease. His faith, a trust that only grows over time, doesn’t come around very often for most people. Someone who can evoke this possibility of long-term commitment and a redefinition of what it means to love oneself and another person… it feels surreal to even write about it. And it’s a strange to think that I  had exactly experience this in my own life, but apparently it was only "one-sided" (that at least the thought I had left) It’s almost silly to just want it so intensely.
What he tells me in quickened breaths is something absolutely sacred. He might never love another person.


Some people hate it when others dictate, but it is apparently perfectly fine if they are doing the dictating. Some people call others out on their crap and then get defensive and self-righteous when it gets done to them. Some people are so twisted they don’t realize they’re preaching against the very things that they are, by essence, doing as well. Some people want others to take them seriously, but when things do get serious and they find themselves in hot water, they get to that “why so serious?” bit. Then they downplay the mess, losing their backbones in the process, saying it was all supposed to be a joke. It’s about credibility, plain and simple. When you act high-and-mighty and suddenly flip-flop, that’s all you’re ever going to be. A big joke. No, I probably won’t laugh as it isn’t funny. But duuh, it would be the easiest joke to ever get.

Mon petit prince ❤

2003 - 2007 - 2011

I started baking May 2011 when I received a cupcake book recipes from mon petit prince.  





When mama smiles he is there
Smiling back
Bright like the sun
Holding her face and sharing the joy

When mama is mad he is there
Soothing her with a soft touch
The sweetest kisses
Guiding her out of her wrath

When mama cries he is there
Quietly comforting
Wiping her tears away
Protecting her in his tiny arms

When mama wakes up he is there
Watching her with the fierce love of a child
Protecting her with the purest love
When mama see's him she remembers...

She is not alone


From Adam with Love

Little Surprise from Adam