Hello after 333333 years!!!

This post is long overdue! I have been so busy with my new life, new family and new environment. I haven't updated this blog for how many years? I think 3. I admit I don't religiously post stuff here. Just when I'm bored or really excited to share stuff but anyway, I will try. 😊

A Mother's Love

Mama

by: Spice Girls

I was busy reading The Little Prince, I didn't even notice a woman walking past the doorstep straight from work. She gave me something to eat, I consumed it all and was full, but I didn't even bother to say "Thank you,". That was year 2004, the last time I saw her. My mother-- who bravely left her family to venture on a dream that wouldn't only benefit her, but us as well. It isn't selfishness, it's sacrifice.

But I was too young to know it then. I was too blinded by the fact that I am free, that I can do things without anyone scolding me. Some people know for a fact that my father isn't that strict enough compared to my mother. So I did things out of freewill. Things that most teenagers do, things that sometimes, I regret doing. I sometimes ignore her calls and never returned messages. I was more like an ungrateful daughter, I turned my back on her, disobeyed and disrespected her. I was a prodigal daughter. I took her and everything she's done for granted. I never even bothered to say "Sorry." 

She is the type of woman who will always forgive you. Hatred isn't allowed in her heart. That's why back then I was too calm, cause I know tomorrow will be different. All is well, all will be forgiven. But boy, was I wrong. It was different, yes, but I was too blinded to see that all the loneliness and the hurt filled inside her. And she was only waiting for that one dreadful moment were she could let it all out. To finally set her heart free of emotions. She cried, cried way too hard. But I was too proud to say sorry, too proud to admit I was wrong. (I swear if I could go back in time, I would have spelled the Cruciatus curse on me. If it was allowed and sane. )

One day I felt so alone. One of those days where I could say "I do not exist.", which is worse than a heartbreak. And like a lightning bolt, it hit me, I needed her. Like a little child wanting her mother to tuck her into bed. That's when I realized my mother is the truest friend I have. Who will go shopping with me without even getting tired. Who will always answer my call even at 3 am in the morning. Who will always understand what I do not say. She loves me, especially when I least deserve to be loved. This goes the same for my father, who I dearly love.

This may be an eye opener to some people whose paths have been lost. It's never too late. Everyone may leave you, but your parents will always be by your side.

Mom, if ever you read this, you might be wondering why the sudden drama. Besides the fact that I would become a mother too in a few months and yesterday's drama and frequent listening to Spice Girls' Mama, I stumbled upon this poem and I remembered everything. From the day you and daddy accompanied me to school (you and daddy thought I was embarrassed by your presence, I was not, I am so proud of you two) to the day you left. I am sorry for every heartache. I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you and hug you very tight. Though times may be hard, I might make you cry, it doesn't change a thing, I love you and I always will. 

Mother
by Leslie Kissire

If I could give you diamonds
for each tear you cried for me
If I could give you sapphires
for each truth you’ve helped me see.

If I could give you rubies
for the heartache that you’ve known
If I could give you pearls
for the wisdom that you’ve shown

Then you’ll have a treasure, mother,
that would mount up to the skies
That would almost match
the sparkle in your kind and loving eyes

But I have no pearls, no diamonds,
as I’m sure you’re well aware
So I’ll give you gifts more precious
my devotion, love and care

Always be happy Mommy because you and Daddy are forever loved.

♥♥♥

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Science And Faith by The Script

Just when I thought "Nothing" was their best song.

♬ Of all the things that she's ever said
She goes and says something that just knocks me dead. 
You won't find faith or hope down the telescope.
You won't find heart and soul in the stars.
You can break everything down to chemicals
But you can't explain a love like ours. ♬

Wish for you on a falling star

Wondering where you are

Do I ever cross your mind

In the warm sunshine..

HARRY POTTER

I think I'm hooked on Harry Potter. I find myself wanting to pass through Platform 9 & 3/4 and arrive at Hogwarts and be on the Gryffindor Team and then be part of the Quidditch Tournament. I'm now aware of the 7 Horcruxes which I find amusing and The Tale Of The Three Brothers. I would then, after several years, be able to fight You-Know-Who or more commonly known as Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or The Dark Lord, whatever you want to call him. 

Lately, I've been fantasizing of being a member of the Order of the Phoenix and fight the Death Eaters. I even wanted to own an Invisibility Cloak and an Elder Wand so I can stupefy those people who annoy me and have the chance to spell the famous Wyngardium Levi-o-sa not Levio-sa. Now, I think my Patronus is in the shape of a polar bear. 

Not to worry, I wouldn't name my son Albus Dumbledore nor Severus Snape. Maybe Neville Longbottom will do. Haha Just kidding. 

It's a Boy!

I'm having a baby boy!!! <3

I think I'm gonna name him.....
Anyway, that's too early for now.

I'm currently 4 and a half months pregnant, though I had my ultrasound at 3 and a half months.

He's so long and thin. He got my features :)

Date A Girl Who Reads by: Rosemarie Urquico

This is in response to Charles Warnke’s You Should Date An Illiterate Girl which is meant to be a satire. For me, this article never opposes to Charles Warnke's-- because I think Charle's article is like a denial post. This just gives the audience a clearer perspective why it's cool to date a girl who reads. -JMN

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent.  Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton,Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are lovely. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax.Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl by: Charles Warnke

This article is actually a satire, a piece of irony, which makes it amazing! Some may be bored cause of its length and the powerful choice of words but it's worth reading! -JMN

Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi, and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale, or the evenings get long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail, frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return, or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent as a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, god damnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are the storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so god damned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life that I told of at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being storied. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.

MODE DE VIE

All photos by:

Photographer: Francis Ferrer

Stylist/HMUA: Karllen Kyle Dalay

*All photos arefor Mode De Vie ads

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The open photoshoot is an opportunity for the young and model wanna be's to showcase what they have and also have the chance to live their dream." --Mode De Vie