Posted on

OMG, he’s reading my diary


See all of my Creative Copy Challenge results here.


That’s it. I’m utterly crushed.

There’s the chili oyster recipe, my secret aphrodisiac appetizer to lure him to bed.  Then there’s a list of cut-out lingeries from magazines I read, since I still couldn’t decide which to pick for our first night. I also thought about which band to play to when we do it – Earth, Wind & Fire or The Isley Brothers? No, I should just go with Barry White instead. But then I love Mr. White too much to choose whichtrack to put on. And the rest of it are private entries, about him. Well, the whole thing is about him. My strangest obsession and my wildest imaginations, even after all these years we’re dating. (Well, you see, I celibate).

“Wow, you never told me you’re one wild girl,” he goofed on me.

Whatever,” I shrugged.

“What’s ‘sexcited’?”

“That’s my slang for promiscuous,” Mumbling my words.

He puts away the book on that page written about the time he first kissed me, and I was sexcited. Then he looks at me with that goofy smile he always had. I walked him to the door but he didn’t move. He didn’t want to leave. We’re already late for the dinner.

And guess what happens to a newlywed in the bedroom.


Posted on

Never lose sight


See all of my Creative Copy Challenge results here.


Should stars fall down on you, catch them one by one. You want to grab hold of them as each one is ingrained with magic (and other wonderful things). Seal them safely in your pocket wherever you go, protect them with your firm hands, and when you come home, put them in a container. Every time you reach to your container, you’ll be counting your blessings. So how do you spot these stars? They’re everywhere, in every moment – it’s ever-present. You must use your vision. Don’t rely on the things you see and hear. Don’t answer every knock on your door, because once reality sets in, you can’t play pretend anymore. No more containers of hope, no more stars falling, and life’s just not that fun anymore.


Posted on



February 2012



I was just riding my bike around the corner when I saw the pretty pearl necklace on display. The little pearls behind the glass window so iridescent, they shone through like little diamonds dancing in a night sky. I almost heard glass breaking through the more I glued my nose on the window, so I thought perhaps if I stop by everyday, the glass will shatter every so often that one day the pearls shall breakaway in the skies flying free like a bird.

I became obsessed about it. I have my dinner nearby the corner street every night, watching over it with an eagle eye. Still, I know the six-digit price I have to pay in order to stop this. In this dark place I am in my life, these pearls became my precious gem. Then I began to feel that stiff coldness in the air.

It’s simple, really. They changed the pearl necklace into real diamonds. Now I feel the coldness in my heart, a hollow heart that I can no longer follow.

It’s barely there, you see; so elusive, so obscure – just like the day you waved goodbye to me forever, and all the days I’ve been through since then without you, the light of my life.




Posted on

The placebo affect


See all of my Creative Copy Challenge results here.


Sick of your life? Tossing left and right?
Few people wait just a little bit longer.

Keep, keep going,
but open your heart,
and listen hard: Why are you here?  What is your purpose?

You must make some reason to believe
in the good things awaiting you.
Start thinking carefully
about your goodwill, as long as
it takes for you to get it and keep it real.

Because being one of the few
is like being a really sick patient who doesn’t take pills
it takes 100% patience, and that popularity is too mainstream.

While answering these questions,
enjoy the ride,
the quest to conquer your passionate soul.




Posted on

Just on my way getting some morning java



See all of my Creative Copy Challenge results here.

I’m bothered by the paucity of eye-shutters.
Look at those eyes! No goals achieved, no dreamers alive.
Zombies everywhere. Apocalypse coming.

But the dozer takes an alternate route. She’s real.
She closes her eyes, and
she gains power. She’s bent
her life in dreams. She’s bold, and
she grows
long, smooth, balmy hair, without the pretentious
fringe enshrouding the face, unfolding the acrasial self. She was
tough, and she lived
long, smooth, pleasant life, without the external
motivation enshrouding her face, unfolding her true psyche.

Listen when the soul sleeps! The ego shatter to pieces in bloodshot eyes, and
you, fellow dozer, can walk toward the road not taken.

Apologies for my circumlocution. I’m heading to Starbucks. Wanna join?


via gangsfornothing.


Posted on

When you were born, you are delivered







Handle this little soul with special care, He told me. “Trust me, my precious,” He whispered to it. “Trust the plan.”

The package was labelled “fragile“, then tied up in silver linings. “My will be done,” He insured, lest any form of damage should happen along the way.









Posted on

WRITE 6-sentence stories with new vocabulary


September 2011



Stacia’s personal challenge of the week is writing 6-sentence stories a day to practice her writing skills and build her vocabulary. To see her upcoming challenges, check out her challenge of the week page under the Agenda tab.

So I wrote most of my 6-sentence stories on The 6S Social Network. I diligently followed all days except on the 18th, 21st and 22nd, to which I’m making them right here while writing this post. Here, just for you readers:



Continue reading WRITE 6-sentence stories with new vocabulary

Posted on

A new age



Hope shines anew
Who knew this day would come?





The age-old guests swagger askew
Lopsided, directionless
Of ostentation to over-come.

Child-like strangers unmitigated in lieu;
Of a wholesome clutch in His bosom,
Guided under the second light, an advent
Of lasting candles, a yardstick
For getting in, accepted

The party started
plethora of champagne glasses clinking in the air.
From the dusty red wine bottles of age
Of ripeness, of faith.

Old, new, amended alike.
Fill it up to an extravagant hundred
Let it be, once again, birth.

Raise the shining glass for love!

Have a few
Shall we all have some?

Creative Copy Challenge #100 (Happy birthday!)






Posted on

Confessions of a gigolo’s fashion



Hey woman. Last night, I had a nightmare. The whole thing was in a timewarp, so I remember everything very clearly.

Continue reading Confessions of a gigolo’s fashion