Romantic

Romance is the excitement in a relationship or friendship that perseveres... it’s not really lighted candles, Fred Astaire ballroom dancing or grand public gestures that people see in the movies. It can be as simple as doing something thoughtful for someone who you care for just because you thought of them. Or spending time together doing something you love. It’s really not a one size fits all. 

One of my favorite romantic gestures involved a guy bringing me a specific kind of lemonade that was out of his way because he thought of me. Look... Every relationship is different and I know a great many platonic friendships that are far more romantic than the couples I know. I think my friends tend to let me wine, dine & spoil them with gifts more than the men I’ve dated. So...

Define your own romance and don’t worry if you aren’t romantic enough. Don’t take romantic advice from garbage humans. They’re only trying to make everyone unhappy. If you have the grand ballroom, candle-lit romance... that’s amazing. If you have sweats and blankies on the couch watching a flick... that’s amazing too. To each their their own. Love is grand in all its shapes and sizes... no matter what. 

What kind of romantic are you? 

Here’s a old story about no one special & nothing really... 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

On the menu

(9-29-2010)

Good evening. Table for two? Right this way.

Ah, well aren’t the two of you sweet enough to eat. Lovebirds. I’ve definitely seen my fair share come through here. Not like you. You seem to be quite the pair. I’m getting a lot of energy coming off this connection you got going.

Well, let’s see where shall we put you? Oh of course there’s a small accompaniment over in the corner of the restaurant if you’d like a song. Not that you’ll be noticing. Especially with the way your eyes are locked onto each other like that…

 I, um, you know what? From the looks of you two, I think I’ve got the perfect table in mind. It’s a bit tucked away with just a little bit of ambiance and privacy for mood. It’s right this way.

If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been together?

Three years. Oh my! You don’t say! Such passion!

Is there anything special I can get for you? Oh you want a bottle of wine. Not a problem. Of course, but that’s a pretty specific year. Is there a reason?

Tonight’s an anniversary! I love it! I could tell there was something special happening here. You see I’m pretty good at guessing these things.

This is really a beautiful spot. The lights and sounds are quite subdued. Don’t you think? Oh well, don’t mind me then. Help yourself to a kiss or few along with a seat. I’ll be right back in a sec with the wine.

The wine.  The glasses. A taste? Perfect.

Alright my lovely lovebirds, would you care for a little food to accompany the romance on the menu?

Not to worry. Enjoy each other. Enjoy the wine. I’ll be back in a little bit for your order.

Fairytale

“Life itself is a most wonderful fairytale.”

-Hans Christian Andersen

Read the fairytale or live it? Life is the fairytale and you get to experience it happening every second you are alive! Don’t let anyone tell you that you haven’t experienced a fairytale because it’s outside of their limited perception. Everyone experiences the miracle of living and it truly is a choice to see the magic & wonder in each moment of it. Some people just don’t stop and take in every moment presently. They wait to live based on things that may or may not happen. 

Things come and go, find gratefulness for everyone & everything that you experience in life. There are no losses when it comes to love, dreams, jobs or friends & family... there only lessons and memories from the good and bad. You can live your own fairytale and you don’t need anyone or a book of any color to tell you how it goes, you just need yourself.  Fight and put in the work... the fairytale exists. When you are discouraged, remember even characters in the books struggle to get their happiness. 

Here’s one about a story... 

Do you experience the magic of living or do you let someone tell you that you’re not or missing out? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Once

(12-29-10)

“Once.”

“Once upon a time?” 

“I suppose so.”

“Go on then...”

“Once...”

“Upon a time,” 

“...He loved me. Once there was someone who truly loved me. As cliché as it sounds the one thing that really got me through many years alone was knowing that he loved me.”

“Who? G-G-”

“No child. Not your grandfather. He was someone before we met. Don’t get me wrong child your grandfather was a wonderful man but we had a different kind of love. We were both two people that loved each other very much, but in our own way. What endured our relationship all those years was a strong underlying friendship. This man, was my first true love.”

“Tell me more.”

“He wasn’t like your granddad. That’s to be understood. No love affair is the same. Some are passionate. Some are lovely. And some end before they ever start. One thing is that they are without reason. Well, he surprised me. Wasn’t like any man I ever met. A gentler, kinder man. More of a gentleman than he’d think…”

“B..but…”

“I could hear that “but” before you ever got it out. He… couldn’t. The easy way to put this is that he didn’t return like he promised.”

“War?”

“Nothing like that. Things keep people away, sometimes.”

“Would you have married him?”

“Child, I don’t know that answer. That’s from a time that never finished itself. A moment in the past that can never be completed.”

“Huh?”

 “Whatever happened in the past pales in comparison to what is happening right now. That can not be recaptured. No matter how much you want it to be different there is no other way. I’m lucky to have had him in my life. We spent some of the best moments of our life together and I’m glad he was there in my life. But I continued to have a sweet life with your grandfather.”

“Happily ever after!”

“A fairytale that has been a joy to live and even sweeter because I have you.”

Dream Roomspiration: Masks

The man who sees the mask that others are wearing is the one really wearing the mask... the best place to hang your mask is on the wall. 

Dream Roomspiration: Masks 

Do some people take off the mask they hide behind? 

Barbie doesn’t think so.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

An Urban Canvas by odD+ architects

When you are able to see everything in the world as a canvas then your art is truly a gift that you see value in... here’s a colorful concept of painting the architecture in the world.

An Urban Canvas by odD+ architects

“The concept is  a satirical statement and was conceived to incentivize art and creativity in one

of the most posh neighbourhoods of Quito while at the same time maintaining a sense of order

towards the uncontrollable graffiti interventions happening in the city.  The project is based on

commissioning a renowned graffiti artist once a year to express their art as an urban statement on

the façade of one of the oldest mid-rise residential towers of Quito, Ecuador”

 

Would you love to live in this conceptual world?

Barbie would!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Haunted

We are only haunted by the past if we choose to be... When you are ready to let go of looking back to see who you were and compare yourself, then you will find peace. Who you are is a choice and based on the decisions you make in the present... the past is an illusion that plays tricks on you and the future isn’t set. Love yourself enough not to be haunted by what can not be changed. Only a ghost is stuck... between then and now. 

Here’s something I wrote about 9 years ago... about living with a ghost. Do you believe in ghosts? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Sleeping with Ghosts 

(10-4-2009)


Sleeping with ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Yet here I am again waiting for a spirit. An entity to appear. Often I wonder, are you in my head? Truly this is madness that I’m alone in. Do I walk away? No. I wait. Here in the dark, in the silence of this old house, I wait for you to return. Each time only brings me closer to understanding true madness. I don’t want to believe. The moon rises and the shadows move across the old wooden floor. The movement seems to dance before my eyes. I’m no longer alone. The cold air against my skin sends chills up my spine and goose bumps down my arms.

Each sound that resonates in the house has me on edge. Every thump against the south wall makes me tremor in anticipation. My heart is pounding in my chest and I’m completely in rapture wondering when you’ll arrive. To any other person the small sounds would be completely nerve-wracking, but to me they provide comforting relief. The signals that precede the visits are unmistakable, the pounding noises, the intermittent phone rings, and the phantom music. In fact, the quiet nights are truly the most restless, as they indicate the unknown. When it’s quiet I wonder if any of this real or purely my imagination gone array. That this is a sadistic punishment executed when I allow myself to get carried away.

My grandmother once told me the Dead watched the living. Sitting, standing and existing alongside us, as they studied our patterns. Our every moments, they shadowed in silence. As the dead have no way of showing their existence. They no longer understand what it’s like to be human; suffering and passion, our emotions. Such things captivate them. Occasionally a human is flawed; cursed to interact with these entities often to the misfortune of that poor soul’s mind. Such extraordinary individuals tend to lose the very thread of sanity due to these frequent interactions with spirits. As a child, I was reluctant to take note of the hidden meaning behind her stories. However as an adult, I understand all too well. Ghosts - watching, yearning and occasionally manifesting to select few.

The first manifestation should have frightened me but it didn’t. Actually I practically ignored its presence as noise and flickering lights in an old house. What caught my attention was the movement. The books stacked on the table collapsed without warning. Upon investigation, I found myself face to face with something not quite human, and not quite dead. Curiosity getting the better of me had definitely led down some unfortunate paths in the past. But that night I couldn’t help myself, so I spoke and reached out a hand. This ‘spirit’ responded in a fashion by moving closer and touching my hand before dissipating. Each night for what seemed like an eternity, we’d play cat and mouse. Hiding from one other and guessing the next move. Hauntings should be frightening, but this was more like a game that I looked forward to each and every day. Perhaps it was just the beginning of true madness, but this ghostly manifestation proved to be more intriguing and less intrusive.

How do you continue to accept something that you don’t believe in? There’s the question that requires a leap of faith. Not knowing where the next manifestation will be. Wondering if the whispers in the house are purely the old noises of my ancestors or your ghost here to haunt? The moments of silence are those times I dread most; the uncertainty of this dark obsession. Truly it is darkness that draws me in. The dead only watch the living and do not cross the line without purpose. Your desire is to possess my spirit and you’ve made it thoroughly clear. However, when you ask for my life and beg me join you in the realm of the dead, I decline and attempt to shut you out. As if I could ever truly shut you out. Mere mortal that I am, this possession is beyond my understanding. Ultimately I question whether you’ll stop asking and just take it without warn as you do not comprehend my grasp of life and the desire to remain among the living. Although this thought rests in the back of my mind, I do not fear your return. Whether you’re here to take my essence or an evil spirit sent to consume my life, it does not matter; I eagerly await your return.

Sitting in the dark waiting. The moon’s shadow continues to dance along the floor boards in the darkness of the room. The cool air gently stirs across the bare skin of my arms. Shivers run up and down my spine as I can feel you enter the room and cross towards me. My heart races as phantom hands find their way across my neck, along my arms and down my back. I’m haunted and shall remain so…

Haunted.