THIS WRITER'S BLOCK

Originally, this is not the post for today but as I type the title it was set as draft since morning. The cursor is blinking faster, faster and faster and faster. Images are flashing in my head but I have no specific words for them. Whenever I try to form a sentence, I forgot what the original idea is. Would it be shameful if I tell you that I am not sure how some words are spelled?

LETTER TO CUPID

February 14, 2014

CUPID

God of Love

Mt. Olympus

Dear Cupid:                                                                                  

I have known you since I was a kid. Every month of February your symbols are everywhere, display in stores window, streets, in school or at the car bumpers. You are a cute boy with wings like an angel. In the images that the grown – up made of you, your arms are full. You’re always positioned sideways with a bow and arrow aiming through the hearts. They said it was you Cupid – poor Cupid they don’t put a decent cloth on you. Need I to remind them that lack of appropriate attire specially in public is not okay? Eventually not, the grown – ups does not seem to hold a reason for them to fret with your appearance or with your fondness in archery in a very young age. Once my older cousin told me that it is your duty to find a soul mate for everyone. In short, you are the God of Love. What do I know of such love she spoke of aside from the love I give and get from the rest of the clan? So I have decided not to bother myself with you Cupid.

DON’T SEND ME FLOWERS

“Don’t send me flowers when I’m dead. If you like me, send them while I’m alive.” 

                                                                                                          – Brian Clough

LAUNCH OF PROJECT SNAIL MAIL

Starting this month, February 2014, I will be making a trip to the post office. Officially, I am letting the public know that I will express my birthday greetings and few hellos via letters – the traditional way.

HELLO, FEBRUARY!

Poster created by me .

Hello, February year 2007! I was sixteen years old. It was that time of the year again. Everyone is anxious. A school dance is being organized – JS prom as what they call it.  Do I get a date with someone or not? Honestly, not my major concern. I am sure glad that the dress code for the dance is our school uniform. Yup, school uniform on a prom; it is how it is when you are bound to comply with the rules of a very conservative campus ruled by nuns. Besides, I have many things going on in my mind:

One, there was this final dance in our P.E. class wherein I have no choice but dance, worst is it was a paired dance. With my history in dancing, I prayed that my partner would not back out on me. That final dance was significant; it is to determine my good chance in passing high school. If I remember it correctly the dance that was picked for us is called Paso doble. Imagine how I motivate myself, a rejected dancer during elementary who does not even know how to perfect a simple Square Dance. Lucky for me I had known confidence – confidence in myself and in my dance partner that he would not drop me as we twirl. Aside from knowing confidence I had this mantra, “Get it done. They won’t remember a thing of your mishaps when you see each other after ten years. Get it done.”