My road less travelled

I cannot believe I am actually writing on here again. I’ve been blogging somewhere else because I don’t know where to start when I try to think of dealing with this place. But it’s about time I get my scheisse together and start rocking this twisted blog back to life. Some melancholic and heart-breaking things are alive in this blog and I did not know how to face them for a long time. Anyhoo, I don’t know if I will be revamping anytime soon. But here’s a start. Before the year ends, I want to shout to the world that I am doing fine and I am excited to what the future holds.

Last year, so many sad things happened to me and that was the reason for the hiatus of this forgotten blog. I had a rough break up. Then I quit med school, and I took a few months break from everything. I just spent my time mostly cooking and baking my heart out, while staying at home and helping out. I convinced my parents to let me study culinary arts because cooking was something very dear to me. I have been cooking since I was nine years old. I always helped out my grandma and my mom when baking since grade school. But it was something I did not think my parents would allow me to pursue because they have always wanted me to become a doctor.

 I think it was a blessing in disguise that I had that painful breakup, because I was able to just stop and think life over and on what I really wanted to do with my life. Thankfully, my parents were very understanding and they allowed me to study culinary arts. I am now taking the road less travelled and it has been a wonderful, humbling, full, and life awakening journey. Studying the culinary arts has made me appreciate the small things that are more important in life. I don’t think I have learned as much in my life as I have with cooking. There is just something so intense yet gentle about cooking that is heart warming and satisfying, especially whe you are cooking and serving good food. I have gained so much respect in the food industry and in life in general that I am very thankful to have walked this path.

Apart from cooking, I have also been taking pictures again and I’m very happy to be learning and exploring photography by just observing the eyes of gifted photographers all over the world. Thanks to Flickr for that opportunity. Hopefully, I’ll progress my skills in this hobby as well. I don’t know if I sound fired up. I guess I am. It’s good to be able to just write here again. I’m so glad I now have the strength to put sadness and pain aside, and just enjoy the blessings that are in my life right now.

The crying woman and I

I cried while walking home from work today. It was a quiet morning and there were a few joggers nodding good morning as they jogged past me. The sun just started beaming its glory over this lowly girl who felt the morning due was a mixture of the dry earth and her sour tears. All because of a boy.

I had a nightmare yesterday. I dreamt that my ex sent me photos of him and his girlfriend. They looked in love and the only thing clear to me was the pain that kept stabbing as images flashed one after the other. I’m not bitter but I’m honest. And even if the images were happy, or the fact that it was just a dream, the pain was real. I really don’t want to remember the stabbing feeling. The reason why I’m writing is because it’s been a long while since I tried rechanneling all this pain to other things. I’ve just been crying and crying and crying - it’s getting pretty boring really. All that crying for all the months that’s gone by. I’ve got to start with something, even if the words are all blurry and I’m a little messed up right now. So here it is. Writing about a nightmare and this crying woman on her way home from work. All because of a boy… 

who broke her heart. 

When you left

 I filled forgotten pages 

of old newspapers with scribbles 

of unsaid sadness.

I often found myself

curled up in bed

breathing back sour tears.

The skies no matter how blue,

painted memories

that crumple the heart.

I kept hearing timid outbursts

in the shower - the only place

where I allow my pain to speak.

Everyday, a piece of you lingers.

It kills me every time I tell myself

to let go.

The saddest truth you don’t know,

is when you left,

something beautiful died in me.

eruc on

You keep waiting for something you know will never come. And it breaks you

Without any breath of comfort

because there’s no cure for it.

Gripping my heart at 2:50

When I die, all I ask is to play Valleys of Neptune on my funeral.

Just so it won’t be too lonely in heaven.