Sunday, August 11, 2013

Wandering/Wondering

My soul flies to where my feet can't go. It seeks to find a home in places I don't know. One day I'll find it. It will hold my heart and give my tired feet rest. One day I'll get there and know that I've found home. One day.












































  1. Chicago - Mat Kearney
  2. Boston - Augustana
  3. Manhattan - Sara Bareilles
  4. New York - Snow Patrol
  5. California - Phantom Planet
  6. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - The Postal Service
  7. Tall Trees in Georgia - Eva Cassidy
  8. Calgary - Bon Iver
  9. Amsterdam - Coldplay
  10. Berlin - Snow Patrol
  11. Pompeii (Acoustic) - Bastille
  12. April in Paris - Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Sighs & Syllables: A Haiku Collection

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

When Love Arrives (by Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye)


"Maybe love stays. Maybe love can’t. Maybe love shouldn’t. Maybe love arrives exactly when love is supposed to. And love leaves when love must. When love arrives, say, ‘Welcome. Make yourself comfortable’. If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her, turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper, ‘Thank you for stopping by.’"

I Wonder

Will I ever hear
the sweet words of a love song
whispered in my ear?

Sunday, May 12, 2013

The Perfect Storm

Ever since I was little, I've always had a fascination for Storm. She's beautiful, smart, powerful—she's perfect! How could anyone not like her? And since I'm bored and contemplating whether to do some work or not, I've decided to share some of my work that features my all-time favorite X-man. It's not much, but it's something.
A quick sketch I did while taking a break from work.
In watercolor, during my days as a bum. Fun times. :D
A picture I took and shared on Instagram (@franztene). It's a graphic novel I bought for less than half the price!
“I am a woman, a mutant, a thief, an X-Men, a lover, a wife, a queen. I am all these things. I am Storm, and for me, there are no such things as limits.”

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Hot Summer Nights

The night was at its peak, and the air was weighed down with humidity. The fan was going mad as it blew warm air to the already hot room. My breath, though constant, was irregular. It was out of rhythm, and I found myself paying more attention to the rising and falling of the chest. I wiped a sheen of sweat off my face, and as an involuntary response, I let out a low groan. My skin was moist and I could feel the sheets cling to me like the ghost of my regrets. I was wrapped in warmth, but what I wanted was to be released. I wanted to give my body what it wants. What it needs. I needed the darkness to be enough for me, but sleep won’t come until the heat dies out. If only it would.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Happiness Is A Debt You Owe To Yourself

Stop. You are not what you think you are. You are a cliche dressed in yesterday's clothes. You are not original. Just a copy of a copy that came a tad too late.

This. This is not your world. You try too hard in a place where you don't belong, and you expect to come out on top. Such a foolish thought! A fish out of water is what you are—running a race on wet fins and failing gills. In the end, you will only reek of the stench of frustration and disappointment.

Now. All things will fall apart. All will be lost if you don't decide to move now. You will tire of keeping up, and people will see you for what you truly are. This charade that you put up will slowly crack and crumble, leaving you with a pile of worthless rubble.

Take a step back and look at the bigger picture. Where are you headed, really? Do not be caged in other people's expectations. There is no greater woe than to be stuck in a mold you can't fill.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

If You Forget Me (by Pablo Neruda, read by Madonna)


I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Friday, April 12, 2013

Down by the Sea of Hopeless Dreams

I was swimming in a barren sea with nothing but rocks underneath. I kept moving forward until I found the first sign of life. When I came up for air, I noticed that I’ve reached the other end of the ocean. It was much more bountiful than the side from which I came. Near the shore, surrounded by girls whose faces I can’t remember, was a figure of someone I know so well—you. For a second, our eyes met. You looked at me with blank eyes and a lopsided grin, and I found myself inching a little closer. I tried to stay, but something inside me pulled me back to the desolate waters, and back to the shore that’s almost void of life.

Back on my side of the sea, I was being called home. Standing near the shore, I decided to stay out a little longer, hoping that you’d come for me. I never thought you would, but still I hoped. As I was about to walk away, someone grabbed a hold of my hand and stopped me. The touch was familiar, and I knew then whose hands held mine. You tried to look me in the eye, but my gaze was downcast. I wasn’t even looking at you, but I could feel your lips slowly part. And just when you were about to say something, just when I could almost hear your breath turn into words, I woke up.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Creative Writing Assignment #2: Your Favorite Book

To ask me to name a favorite book is a demanding thing to do. It's almost as hard as picking a favorite shade of your favorite color. And to tell people about it? I don't think anyone's got enough time to listen to what I have to say about my favorite books. So for this assignment, I decided to put together a string of quotes from some of my favorite books to create a story.
For You, A Thousand Times Over
She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.
“Oh, the cleverness of me!” she said. “I pretend I am a princess, so that I can try and behave like one.  And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane. She was like a song I'd heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.
In my mind I could hear her say, “Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.”
As she read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. 
And in that moment, I swear I was infinite.
I hope it made as much sense to you as it did for me. After all, creating a cohesive story out of a bunch of unrelated lines isn't exactly a walk in the park. For those who are curious and unfamiliar to the quotes, I've linked each one to the book's Goodreads page. For those who recognize them, I salute you for having an excellent memory and exquisite taste in books. ;)

Creative Writing Assignment #1: The Story Behind Your Nickname

For this assignment, I wrote a very heartfelt and moving haiku. Please try to hold back your tears as you read along.


Sunday, February 3, 2013

Hello, February


"They say true love only comes around once and you have to hold out and be strong until then. I have been waiting. I have been searching. I am a man under the moon, walking the streets of earth until dawn. There’s got to be someone for me. It’s not too much to ask. Just someone to be with. Someone to love. Someone to give everything to. Someone."

-- Solipsist, Henry Rollins

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Put Your Music Player On Shuffle

After failing to finish the last 30-day challenge, I vowed never to take on one again. So when a friend of mine asked if I would like to participate in another challenge, I politely declined. I admit, the challenge seemed much more interesting than the previous one (and I'm actually tempted to do it), but I don't think I can commit to making a daily post. Not right now at least. I will, however, indulge myself by taking on the challenge for Day 10. Just because. Haha!

Day 10 says to put your music player on shuffle and post the first ten songs that play. Here's what I got:

Laura Bell Bundy and the cast of Legally Blonde: The Musical
Legally Blonde: The Musical

See, dreams really do come true, you never have to compromise
Omigod, you guys!





Lynden David Hall
Love Actually Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

Nothing you can know that isn't known
Nothing you can see that isn't shown
No where you can be that isn't where you're meant to be,
It's easy




Megan Hilty
The Music of Smash

If your face and figure are whistle bait,
Then honey, you'll have the keys to the studio gate!





Jakob Dylan
Seeing Things

If it's true that good fortune gives no chase
We got just what it takes






Knowing Me, Knowing You
Mamma Mia Original Broadway Cast
Mamma Mia!

Breaking up is never easy, I know
But I have to go






Evenstar
Howard Shore feat. Isabel Bayrakdarian
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Original Soundtrack








Light Rail
Jeremy Messersmith
The Silver City

We'll take you on a little tour of your past
Or if you wanna see the future we can get there fast






Without A Word
Birdy
Birdy

Stand there and look into my eyes
And tell me that all we had were lies
Show me that to you it don't count
And I'll stand here if you prefer
Yes I'll leave you without a word
O Come All Ye Faithful
Martina McBride
White Christmas

O come ye to Bethlehem;
Come and behold him,
Born the King of angels






All My Loving
Jim Sturgess
Across The Universe Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

I'll pretend that I'm kissing
The lips I am missing
And hope that my dreams will come true


So, yeah. I guess.

I remember reading from somewhere that if you ever want to make it as a writer, you have to write. I have long since forgotten where I got that from, but the message has always rang true. As someone who aspires to write for a living, I know that the only way I could make it happen is by, well, writing. And although as a copywriter that is basically what I do, writing healthcare ads probably won't be of much help in becoming the kind of writer I hope to be.

I started this blog as a platform for expressing myself and a venue for honing my skill(?). I used to come here often to write and to read what others have written. Learning. Discovering. But life has been crazy and I find myself visiting less frequently.

Aside from not having much time in my hands, I've also been doubting my ability as a writer. Lately, I've been struggling to find my voice and to make sense of things that all I ever seem to come up with are rushed and half-assed writing—bad stuff. My writing has taken a turn for the worse, and even now as I'm writing this, I'm not sure whether it has any direction or if it even makes any sense at all. I just had this strange urge to write.

I'm no stranger to self-doubt. In fact, I don't think anyone is. It can be crippling at times, but I know I must not allow myself to succumb to it. I have to let this wave pass, and then push it far back—I don't think I could ever be able to get rid of it for good. And I guess that's a good thing. It will keep me from being arrogant, and at the same time, it will give me room to surprise myself (and I do hope I surprise myself). Self-doubt is a bitch, but we can sure as hell hope to tame it.

I have no idea how to end this mental purge, and that is proof of my dwindling ability as a writer, but that doesn't mean I won't try to wrap it up nicely. My constant questioning of my competence would probably still bludgeon my ego to no end, but I will always try to bounce back after every blow. I probably won't be a good writer anytime soon either, but I could always be better than I am now. I know life will keep throwing me these terrible lines, but I'll be sure to be armed with truckloads of "buts" to counter every one.