Marley and Me

All I knew was that it was about a dog, about starting a family, and some other silly stuff. But just the same, my friend and I decided to see it because we had nothing to do, and we had no other choice. I am glad we did.

I didn't know it was based on a true story. Not until we went to a bookstore later after the show and saw a book about it. I didn't know it had to be taken seriously. I hadn't taken any movies of Owen Wilson seriously. Until now.

To those who didn't have childhood memories with a dog, they might have a hard time relating. It wasn't in my plan to cry this evening. I wanted a light movie, have a big laugh, go home and rest, like what I did when I saw "The Pink Panther 2." Yeah, my friend and I laughed big time. Owen still hasn't lost his charm. He still delivers lines effectively it will make you laugh till you can't stop. Good thing I brought a hanky, because we also cried big time. We cried big time.

It's an old cliche: a dog is a man's best friend. But there is no other phrase, nor statement, that can describe this little thing that happily waggles its tail when it sees you. One that doesn't require any reciprocation from you. One whom you can be who you truly are, you can pretend if you want, and will accept you whole. It will still accept you whole.

I received an email that was circulated in the office about love according to kids, and there was one definition by a four-year old girl that was very interesting. I looked it up on the internet and, luckily, I found it. She said, "Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."* I agree. That's a hundred percent love.

And only a man's best friend can offer you that.

*thanks for the quote!

Hazel's 3rd

Tuesday, February 24. Changi Airport.  

Yeah, that's us. And yes, it's Hazel's third send-off. Sometimes I wonder if I really am in Singapore, because some of my friends travel to and fro as if we were only in Quiapo. ^^

Somewhere only we know

I guess the best part of the movie was when this song by Keane was played while Justin Long uttered, "You're my exception." You're my exception. Somewhere only we know. Perfect.

If you've seen Love Actually, He's just not that into you is the American's version of it. It didn't involve high ranking officials nor intriguing porn stars, though. The characters are that of a typical American woman. But the amazing part of it is that even though it's conceptually American, every girl can relate to it. Somehow. I think, regardless of the race or location, almost all girls share the same insights when it comes to boys and love. And almost all boys have the same wavelength and spiel when it comes to girls and love. And sometimes they just don't meet.

"You are my exception." I still can't get over it... =)

A beautiful day!

Yeah, that's me. On my most slob-but-fruitful day. This is the life! ^-^

Reality check 2

John Lennon said, "They say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one." But I think I am the only one.

Dreams don't come true. To some lucky people, they do. But to the most of us, dreams are a million light years away. At least to me. It disappears together with the falling star I wished on. Yeah, so much for my happy ending.

I read from a publication somewhere on the internet that the reason why there are still a lot of people unattached, despite being pretty and smart, is the fact that they have a very high standard. This statement may be redundant to my previous post, but I still can't figure out how some are able what to me appears so impossible. Am I cursed?

I had opportunities. God is good He gave me chances. I blew it. Or maybe there were really not opportunities at all. I just thought they were. I was lost in reverie. I let myself be flown away by the beautiful summer. Until I realized they were better in dreams.

I don't want to sound desperate. I am not questioning the magnificence that guides our very existence. But sometimes when I'm alone eating my little lunch in my little lunch box, away from the noisy queue in the banking hall, I stop and think. Maybe I am not exciting enough. Maybe I am boring. Because I don't drink. I don't go to parties. A simple trip to the movie house excites me. Is that bad? Am I restricting myself too much that I let life pass me by? I don't know. Sometimes I don't want to think anymore.

They said it's better to be alone than be hurt. I disagree. I don't want to be hurt, but if it's part of the process, of this wonderful process, then might as well be ready. I want to know how it feels like to blush for one particular person. To have a reason for a sunshine morning. To feel beautiful even on my darkest days. To be held while crossing the street.

I had a conversation with a friend yesterday. She's turning 30 this year. With no significant other. I asked her what she plans to do since anytime soon her age will no longer be in the calendar. She said she doesn't care. Thirty is just a number. Yeah. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should just stop caring. Maybe I should stop analyzing and focus on what's now. If things are meant to change, if fate will entangle me with some beautiful story, i might as well be caught unaware. At least that would make me happy. Sometimes expectations just disappoint us. It is better not to expect.

Things might be better that way.