Mommyhood

Just stories about the joys and trials of a full time working mom with 2 babies.

Oh, the places you'll go!

Just another travel stories but from a different perspective - mine :)

Thinking out loud.

Musings, randomness and anything in between, a few decibels louder.

DIY

An attempt to creative-ness.

Back to where you started.

You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you and change the ending. Thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, November 16, 2023

On swirling thoughts and memories

  


i'm feeling pensive...

 

lots of thoughts swirling around me but i can 't seem to catch any... i want to nurture it in my hands and stitch a few meanings to it by attaching some raw emotions and unspoken words...

 

 

 

i want to write about who this sentence reminds me of:

 

"I like to believe I loved him so much that I couldn't make him choose. But mostly, I was afraid to find out who he'd pick"


but the thought keeps running away...

 

 

i want to write about how all those broken promises and all those who broke my heart lead me to him and how glad i am it’s him inspite of our differences… how he’s been a wonderful father


but that thought too kept flying with the wind...

 

 

 

i want to write about the could-have-beens and might-have-beens of this young love who suddenly vanished like a mist in the early morning dew....

 

 

 

i want to write about the childhood friend who i have loved dearly and learned to let go but never left and has come back to be the best friend one can ever have...

 

 

i want to write about the one that time and circumstances stole from me for a decade or so years ago and how surreal it was to see this person  once again and how natural it felt when we just picked up where we left off as if those years apart never really happened… but as fate would have it, we are meant to be apart…

 

i want to write how their story intertwined with mine.... how it somehow feels like they were put there in my path because the universe conspired to be so…. because they were meant to be there...  


there are some whom i know are not meant to stay, but i still want to put my thoughts of them into paper to prove that no matter how much the passage of time tries to erase these memories, in my heart it will all remain...

 

and will be revisited like a favorite book... to be read again and again and again...

 


 

i want to write about these memories...

 

i really want to..

 

but they all keep swirling away...

 


 

Saturday, September 16, 2023

On Pebbles and Streams

I always imagine myself sitting under a big tree with a huge umbrella of leaves shading me from the sun with a trickle of sunlight escaping here and there in between leaves and would form a tiny random spotlight on the ground where my knees are.

I like to imagine the soft breeze caressing my cheeks and playing with just a teeny tiny few strands of my hair. And there would be a stream right next to the tree. Far enough not to reach me but close enough that I can see each molecule of water racing by. Close enough that I was able to witness how the stream of water kiss the pebbles it pass by. No expectations, no demands. They both just savor the time they have, a moment at a time.

Can you hear the sound they make, those pebbles and stream? They’re like the tinkling of the thousand beads of crystal of an elegant chandelier. Except theirs is not the soprano sound but a tenor’s. 

I can see a snowcapped mountain at a far distance, with cumulus clouds merrily striding by. Is that a baby elephant I see flying on there on that blue sky?

A slightly stronger breeze put my reverence back to the book I am reading. The pages started flipping on its own and  I lost gripped of the spine. What page was I on again? Chapter 16, page 18 or was that 88? 

A small band of yellow maple leaves start rolling by my foot. One of them stumbled and fell flat, but went back up and soldiered on with the rest of the band. I love autumn. I love Spring too. I love the maple trees’ autumn leaves waving at me while I do my morning run. I love the ever shy and always smiling cherry blossoms when they blink their hellos at me while I walk through rows and rows of them. Both season are equally beautiful but autumn, autumn is different. It’s more dramatic. Its color matches the color of sunrise. 

I hear laughter and tiny feet crushing leaves on the ground. I don’t need to look up to know where those are coming from. I can hear them getting louder now. I can hear the sound of stream and pebbles kissing on my right and sound of tiny laughter and tiny footsteps on my left. I waited until suddenly tiny arms wrapped around my neck and waist and calling my name.

Mommy.

Music to my ears. More melodious than everything else I am hearing at the moment. Well, that, and my tiny humans' laughter. I kissed both their small flushed cheeks and stood up to join them. My book can wait.

Monday, August 21, 2023

Gut feeling

 Serendipity? Coincidence? Luck? Bad luck?

Once in a while something unexpected happens. You analyze it or just shrug it off and ride it out. You enjoy or endure it while it lasts.

All of a sudden there’s a nagging feeling that it’s all too good to be true. We all know what that means. Then you insist that maybe you ought to give it a chance, even if you aren’t really sure why you ought to give it a chance. You give it the benefit of the doubt but at the same time you also start looking for signs. You pay extra attention.

When a sign presented itself you immediately cut your loses and wondered how invested had you been. You think it’s not a lot. You think you got out on time.

Then you realize the gut feeling you have is true all along.

You feel sad because you secretly feel it’s worth the shot but grateful at the same time for having the courage to go against the flow. Such is the rule of the opposites. 

It’s for the greater good, you said.

Is it good for you, though, you asked.



Wednesday, July 26, 2023

I'm writing a book

Scratch that.

I wrote a book.

I have a new found respect for writers. Not that I don't respect them before, in fact I do. Specially those authors who can write beautifully constructed sentences, but my respect for them is magnified 1000x.

Why? Let me count the ways.


1. I realized that once you're in your element to write you don't even notice the time. 

While I was writing my pathetic first novel I would always go to bed between 2-3 AM. I start at 9:30PM or 10:00, depending on when my babies conked out to bed. I would imagine it's worst with writers. Once the idea flows in your head, there is no stopping it. I have to force myself to stop because I have a day job, but if left to my own device and I don't have responsibilities, I will be in front of my computer from 8am until December 22, typing my thoughts away.


2. The research you have to do.

Thank goodness for google. I had to research what flowers are available at winter time or what food a certain country has, when does the sun rises or sets in Antarctica. how does it feel like to be a male gynecologist or what day of the week is January 12, 2007,  and some other stuff that I won't list down here. Let's just say if my computer had to be subpoena by the authorities, I might get in trouble when they see my search history. This is all because I don't want a plot hole. 

This is specifically true for historical fiction writers like Diana Gabaldon of the Outlander. The research they had to do!


3. The attention to details.

I need to learn how to be more observant. As in how long is the shadow at 4pm compared to 7am. How do you describe the sun on somebody's face. Or what does hair flowing in the wind really looks like? 

Like I can't just say "her hair is bouncing in the wind like a bunch of squiggly worms". I have to find a softer, delicate way of describing the wiggling hair. Like, "she lifted her cheeks up and the sun soak up on her face while her hair drifted like golden feathers in the wind". 

Get my drift?

That took an hour to construct though because I had to find words that flow smoothly next to each other. I'm sure writers can do that with just a snap of the finger. One favorite author of mine where I can actually taste the ray of the sun or the wind on someone's skin is L.M. Montgomery, author of Anne of Green Gables.


4. Grammar. 
I am notorious for bad grammar. My instagram is my witness. 
And facebook.
And twitter.
And this blog.
So I praise those who knows how to use their at, to, with, in, on, into, unto, across, beside, in front, for, from
are you still there? 




5. Conflict and Ending

The first novel I just finished is not the original first novel I was planning to write. What I wanted to write first has something to do with time travelling. A bit of science fiction and paranormal. The problem with that one is I don't know how to create a conflict and I don't know how to end it. 

When I decided with this novel I actually wrote, which by the way is romance novel (so no, I am not going to tell you where it is and what the title is), I can see the conflict and the ending in my mind even before I started.



6. You have to be patient.
I had "read-re-read-proof read-edit-repeat" my novel for the nth time. And each time I would find a flaw. 

Like do you sometimes type faster than your brain that you realized you have skipped a word in your sentence? 

And mine is just 50,040 words. So imagine doing this for something twice as big. Well, I guess if you're a known writer you can hire someone to proof read and edit. Still, it's a lot of work. No wonder it takes so much time to publish a book after the author is done writing it.


7. Catchy first and last paragraph.

I think my last paragraph is good but my first paragraph, agh! I'm still thinking of how to improve it. 

I have read lots of books that have very good first paragraphs. The one I can remember right now is the Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Very catchy. 

For the ending, it has to be from One hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez


8. You need to end a chapter with a hook. 

Hooks are  like a cliff hanger. Something to entice the reader to read the next chapter.

For me it’s hard because sometimes I don’t even know how to break my stories let alone think of a hook. 

Sometimes I end up re-distributing a handful of chapters just to make it work.


9. The characters.
I need to make sure my characters are interesting. That I have described their personality very well.
The only author whom I think can do this very well is Ayn Rand. When the character is psychotic, it's like you're actually there talking to this psychotic. 

I have yet to learn how to make them interesting.


10. Dialogue. 
It's hard to think of witty dialogues. So I admire those authors like David Sedaris or Erma Bombeck who can make me really laugh out loud.
I also admire those authors like, Charlotte Bronte and Ayn Rand who can make me ugly cry with beautifully written monologue or dialogue.


11. Originality
There's nothing more fascinating than reading a book and then say "oh wow! I wish I have thought of that". I remember thinking this when I learned about the "Room of Requirement", from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter.


12. It teaches.
I love authors who teach me new stuff by inserting it in their story line. Not the kind that will get my head spinning like how Penumbra's 24-hour Library did (and to think I am in the software engineering line of work and it still made my head spin), I think it's called info-dump. I like the kind of info that’s subtle that there’s story surrounding it and not just throwing it in the book to make it sound intelligent. My favorite is B. Obama's "A promised Land". That book taught me a lot.


There you go. 

I am not claiming I am an expert because I'm very very far from it. Like from 'i suck' to ' i suck so much', I'm at 'i suck so very very much'.

I just want to share what I had to go through when I did my first attempt and how I am grateful for the authors of my favorite books who had entertained me all these years.