Hello there. HWAH has been pretty silent, partly because I’ve been horrendously busy over the past weeks (which had two long weekends YAY) but not entirely the ideal kind of busy. Here’s what I’ve been up to, by order of pleasantness. An out of town road trip sleepover with friends at Tagaytay. Which took place last weekend (the longer one) It’s been ages since I’ve seen some of these folks, and it was a good time to make new friends and reconnect with unexpected overlapping friendship circles. Somewhere along the way there were pineapples (courtesy of one of my good friends Val), a mandatory listening to a Filipino rap song (also courtesy of good friend Val) while surviving good friend’s driving, Spice Girls, jokes about what happens when there’s too much estrogen in a room, medicine-like sweet drinks, and a whole lot of laughing and hot-seating of people. Good times. An unexpected dance-a-thon with my best friend to the music of Jai Ho, Shake It Out by Florence and The Machine, and Janet Jackson’s Together Again. To …
I’ve been meaning to write about this place for a while, except that I want to keep it a secret. But I’ve figured out a compromise.
Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. C.S. Lewis
The trouble with liking someone, whether romantically or in a I-really-want-to-be-your-friend kind of way, goes two ways. The first is how much the liking factor keeps you from seeing who they really are. Because you find them rather amazing people (or people with potential for being such) it isn’t hard to build an idea of the kind of person they’d be. And you’d (subconsciously) do that because in figuring out what they could be like, you’d be able to figure out the kind of person they would like, then assess yourself whether you’re the kind of person they’d like or if they actually do like you. This form of behavior is very high school, but sometimes even adults fall prey to such silliness.
Awaits behind giant wooden doors.
Stories are the only enchantment possible, for when we begin to see our suffering as a story, we are saved. Anaïs Nin
One of my best friends wrote a letter to a future, after being asked to write about romance. She’s not the type to do that, but it’s fun watching her cringe a bit. In fact, it’s our tradition to have cringe-fests by watching humanity’s prime forms of cheeseball romance: the entire High School Musical and the Twilight series. Because it is fun. Well, aforementioned best friend challenged me to write about romance as well. And I accepted.