Enchanted Kingdom in a nutshell.
Enchanted Kingdom in a nutshell.
My younger self would probably nod dissent with the way I spent my Valentine’s Day this year, and I won’t blame her for expecting nothing less.
First, there were no reservations made. We ended up walking in at Uncle Cheffy’s when, in fact, we could have gone somewhere else that’s not part of a regular day’s dining list.
Second, I ordered one of the darnest dishes from the menu. In my defense, I didn’t know that it was an aphrodisiac. It may be common knowledge to people but I just happened to not know it that time. I might have been told about it earlier but I just didn’t give it a damn. And to be fair, I ordered it only because it was one of the few meals that suited my no red meat diet.
Lastly, I didn’t get flowers. Again. How many years in a row? I wouldn’t know, I stopped counting at three. (And I’m just twenty for crying out loud, haha!)
The thing about my younger self is that, I saw myself getting whisked off by my feet by the man I love at the age of eighteen. Nineteen, would be the latest extension. I set my standards too Hannah Montana, inflicting myself with so much pain every *empty* Valentine’s Day that passes by.
It was only until recent events (re: heartbreaks, series of unrequited love, short lived what-have-you) that I’ve gotten my standards and priorities set to a more realistic mode. By that I mean, knowing and accepting that love comes in different faces, and in different phases, too. Since then, I’ve been better in handling things including, but not limited to, my emotions, thoughts and reactions.
I might have appeared too bitter for my life earlier in this post but it isn’t the pity party I’m going for. I just wanted to make a point on how things started looking more promising when I stopped problematizing.
Now, a photo of my date..
and of course, my other date.
I make this face every day in my life, and it has come to me more often because of Norman. (Quick question, dear reader: Will you still love me even with this face?)
My photojournalism buddy. Or, he who saw the earlier stage of my possible life career, haha. He has remained loyal to the craft, while I found myself drifting to different kinds of work. But hey, we’ve managed to keep each other’s company.
How many more photos of me can you take? Haha.
Anyway, a preview of the gift I got for the said (Hallmark) holiday. It’s another story I have yet to tell you.
“The love you take is equal to the love you make.”
These are the maddest words I’ve written for a boy—part of a project I never finished, a letter I never sent, and a riddle I never answered. This was almost for a shy boy (His eyes almost hidden beneath the layers of his hair, voice softer than the music he plays, personality more mysterious to me than the secret we keep.), but I’m just not really the type.