GOAL!

Hello there! This is your friendly ol' virtual neighbourhood alien correspondent reporting. Rosey is the name and finding one's purpose is now my game.

I started this blog 5 long years ago wearing my hello kitty night gown, my perpetually enlarged eye bags (more like luggage) fully intact, I was 10 lbs of tear-weight lighter, shards of my heart on the floor shattered into countless pieces. I was in a state that no woman wants to admit she has been through. I was helplessly soul-broken. This is the problem I share with intensely passionate people. We love the hardest, but fall and breakdown immensely hard as well. We might even lose our minds along the way. We can't help it. We love hard or just don't love at all.

I wrote what my heart said. What my soul screamed. What my mind debated and argued. I threw all of these thoughts out in the vast void. Not asking for any answers nor solutions, really. I just wanted to let it all out. If I didn't, if I had let these consume me, I would have inevitably exploded. My microscopic remains drifting in the air. Now you see, I didn't even in the slightest way, attempted to search for someone to save me. It might have been fear that kept me from finding love again. Might have been fatigue too. Love has drained all forms of energy in my body, and so I needed to recuperate.

I didn't even see it coming. One day, I was a male wizard killing pixelated monsters on my Ipad, made pixelated armor-wearing friends, a swordsman, a priest, multiple characters you would never meet else where. I was incognito, top player of the entire game. The next minute, I was seeing a stranger everyday. "Dating" in fact. A cold, reflecting flat screen in between us. And before I could even say chocolate peanut butter cups, I had a ring on my finger. The heavy and beautiful kind.

Our story is meant to be written as a novel. Ah, maybe a comic book! It surely is funny now that I have come to think of it. A modern pixelated fairy tale that is yet to be written.

Now that love has come into my life so unexpectedly, I think it is about time to work on the other things that will fuel that galactic love hence fuel the essences of my galactic life. I feel dumbfounded for not being able to keep up with the demands of this life. "Adulthood" is what they call it now I hear. I am not sure how I feel about that term. To me it should be just life. Yours and theirs. Plain, bedazzled, laced, spiked, however you want to make it. "Aldulthood" makes it sound like a chore. Which is the farthest thing of what I want to call this stage of my life. Making that first strong step and the preceding just as strong steps is the struggle. I want to do the things I love and do things that I am good at. Do them the very best I could. That's the goal.

I want to write everyday. Like what I said, just catapult my mind juices into the boundless void! Just do it. And along the way fish out ideas and breakthroughs that wouldn't have been dug out inside this brain if I didn't. I want to share more. BE more. Let's do it, fellow galactic wanderer! We might be a little late. But we can do it!

Signing off and hungry,

Rosey


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Shine that light!

Greetings beautiful creature of this world!

I am not sure how or why I bumped into your beautiful soul here. But nevertheless, welcome to my humble, feeble, boundless, virtual mind bin. There are no rules here. No genre/categories. No filters. We are all friends in this strange corner of the inter web. You are now my friend. *warm warm, squishy hugs*

I have come to the conclusion that I am running out of time. The hands of time stop ticking for no one. And I feel like I have not caught up with the realities of this lifetime. Every single nano second that we deter ourselves from what the universe has set us to, we stand farther and farther from our destiny. We all have a place in this world. Big or small, we matter. We have a purpose. Our very breath signifies our worth. Our contribution to mother earth.

So the next time you feel like you are a nobody. When you start doubting yourself and hide beneath your sheets. When all you see in front of a mirror is failure and disappointment. Look at the stars. They see you. And they are waiting.

So let's go, virtual friend. We have no time to lose! We have a lot to do! Shine that light!

Trying to shine and hungry,

Rosey

**go on and pass that warm squishy hug! Some one might need it today!

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I miss you, Philippines.

Never have I thought I'd one day be living in a different country. A country where its inhabitants speak different languages, pray to different gods, their houses built on top of each other. It's beautiful. Singapore. Stern and concrete subdued by the ethereal nature. Clean. Safe and straightforward. I have fallen in love not only with a beautiful human but to the beauty of Singapore itself.

Here's the thing. I am about to hit my head with a humility baton, and remind myself I am lucky to be with the person I want to spend my life with. Being a Filipino, with thousands of fellow Filipinos scattered around the world, unable to spend a birthday, a Christmas, all the good and anticipated times of the year, and worse, the bad ones too. Stuck at their desks, taking care of another's child, aiding a disabled, saving a life. When the very ones that matter to them most are infinite miles away, the stars being the sole witnesses of their sorrows.

I miss the Philippines. Mainly because 99% of the occupants of this aching heart are there right this very moment. Some may be snoozing, or is trying to since the karaoke machine next door is too loud. Or having a classic food trip in one of the countless eating stops that grow there like mushrooms overnight. And boy, do I miss my mama's cooking. Don't get me started on those Adobo Squid with coconut milk. Oh my sweet baby Jesus. Love you ma!

I miss my family and friends. So so terribly, achingly much. Is it weird to say my laugh is different here than in Pinas? I don't know how to explain it. It's a muscle I don't get to use as much anymore. It's not sad. It's different, I guess. Somehow an adaptation? Evolution? Indigestion? Who knows? But what I do know for a fact is that I am genuinely and insurmountably happy. I have used that word too many times these past few days. Its meaning becoming clearer and clearer every day since I have begun this new life. This new shining leaf. It's all about contentment. Knowing your needs and wants. Weighing them. Differentiating them. Decisions being made and committing to them. I chose to be happy. Made and continuously making decisions to stay happy.

How about you,wandering reader? How happy is your wandering soul?

'til next time.

Yours and hungry,

Rosey

PS.

I present to you semi VLOGS or attempts in the Philippines that made me oh so nostalgic. Did I mention I do youtube now? Yeah, I know. Weird right? Might I add it is, all of this is, undeniably therapeutic.

ENJOY!

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3:00 AM Chit Chat

Two posts in two days.. *brush the shoulder*

Hehe.. Hello there. It's Rosey. Back at it again. Or at least trying to.

It's feels so weird writing with these same rough fingertips, but in a totally different spirit. Hence, the feeling of a some what out of body experience. The feeling of my skin against letters in bright red lighting. My thoughts being sifted through a system I am not sure how the brain processes. But it does. It works. A pause. Bite the lip. Find the right word. Arrange. Organise. Press. Magic.

Let's start with the things I have stuck with since five years ago.

FOOD. Particularly, pastry and bakery. Well folks, if there's anything in this fickle world I will stick to. It undoubtedly is food. All the edible sorcery the world has, will, and is producing is a blessing we all often take for granted. And shamelessly abuse. I am proud to have graduated this year in Singapore. And have pursued what my heart set me out to. I have been obsessively crafting sugar flowers for couture cakes. That I hopefully one day would make into as a full-time career. I am in love with this art. It's patient, beautiful, so thoughtful and sweet all at the same time. I have always loved drawing. I would spent hours my nose touching my sketch pad, translating how I see the world onto paper. It eventually got me into painting. And doing these edible flowers just satisfies that artistic itch. Each time I make a flower, I learn something different, the slightest curve, delicate crevices that need the utmost attention and care. I love it more and more.

BOOKS. I read every day. Every single dilatory day. As much as I love other things. This is just the water to my plant. The gas to my car. The vinegar to my Adobo. No contest. The feels a really good book makes me feel.. Orgasmic. It can make you cry like a deprived toddler. Laugh like a hysterical hyena. Fall in love like Bridgette Jones. Even a mediocre book sends me vibes and ideas that I will never get from somewhere else. If you're not a reader I don't blame you. As a friend, please take the time to read. Once you find the right kind of book for you, you will be a literature addict. And I will apologise in advance for taking a ginormous chunk of your life. Because you will spend hours and hours staring at words that will pierce right through your core you wouldn't even notice a second of your life ticking away. Khaled Hosseini is your man. Start with his Kite Runner. Followed by A Thousand Splendid Suns. You're welcome.

2:55 am. Score!

Smile for me will you? The world needs it.

Hungry,

Rosey

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Hello. It's me. I was wondering....

Adele is a goddess. *cue in Hello by Adele*

And so it begins again.... 5 year later. *phew*

I think I had become of what I had expected to be. More and less at the same time. Well I am, thanks to human genetics, older. To the human environment and tendencies, rougher. To human prerequisite participation, achy-er. But due to self loathing and adamant self denial, most definitely, not any wiser. Double but, because of a former distant pixelated virtual friend, and the now unyielding, ever so loving husband of mine, blissfully happier. It's actually unadulterated, the truth.. It is the kind of happy I thought people only made up for fun. You know, just to rattle our insides. For fun.

The H word. I myself cannot believe it. If I was reading this 5 years go, I'd slap myself left and right until I wake up from this dream. No, erase that, until I wake up from this delusion. Oh my goodness gracious great goblets of fire. A wife at 24. Who would have thought?

I spent the day reading each and every post I unpublished since I started this blog in 2011. (That is now re-published) I have to admit. Some were unbearably painful. Some annoyingly witty and funny. Most made me, stupidly, tear up. But all gave me this exact same feeling that is running through my whole body to my fingertips as I type. There are no words on how to describe it. Think of Tinkerbell's pixidust in liquid form being injected intravenously. That tingly, sparkling, jittery juice you feel running through your veins. I missed this. I missed writing. I missed this feeling of some how translating my wandering, repressed thoughts into these miraculous letters. My hands get me. They understand. They obey. Unlike this stubborn mouth that disagrees with me. It has this filter that rejects the signals my brain sends and decides to be either completely mute or spastic or both.

I have a lot to tell you. Knowing where to begin is the difficult part. Well I got the awkward, "Hey, I'm married!" part covered. I guess we just have to improvise as we go.

I missed you. And you don't have to miss me too. Just letting you know I really do.

I was wondering.... How are you?

Still hungry even after 5 years,

Hungry Rosey

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Un (one)

Hi.

So... I happen to mischievously run into two casual breakthroughs these past couple of days. Not exactly a head to head collision per se. The impact was gradual, but concise enough for me to finally notice. One. You can be alone. Both in body and ceaseless thought. If you choose to, even in your most clouded modes of disposition, you can freely lash out off the shackles of reality. Put up a forcefield repelling anything that comes close. Build this immeasurable, supremely impenetrable wall around you. A shield. No way in. No way out. And so... I thought again, that perhaps, you might as well have the luxury of  returning, without event the slightest of prejudices, continue life in boundless isolation.

It's funny how life works. What an unsually capricious humor life has... I do admit, though humbly covered in doubtful conviction, I had implanted this idea in my silly head, that by secluding myself from the realities of this world, both its harshness and opportunities, lock my tangible self in my own little disorganized corner, lace euphoric fantasies in my drowning thoughts, that somehow, even just for a little while... I could run away.

But yes... You beat me to it yet again, internet. I was wrong.

Rosey

Rain, Rain

Ahhh the rain... Being the steadfast, homebound, ultraviolet light-loathing, self-proclaimed hermit that I am, I just love it. The magical cycles of condensation shiznits that the prestigious mother nature does whenever she feels like it. She's a lil nasty biatch like that. Quite impressive though. Perhaps a form of repressed vengeance? What weird sorcery, eh?

The response of each wandering soul, every beating heart to the uncountatble drops of corrupted vapor transformed into its liquid state, is and forever will be.. Different. We're all wound up at a variety of contorted ways. I wonder what earthlings, my fellow martians and whatever else organism there is in existence are doing right this very second. Uhh so, what about you my beloved reader? Whether you are an oxygen-breathing human being or a ticking, fire fueled creature. I want to know. How are you feeling this fine, best-pajama worthy, scalding hot and fatty, for-loud-obnoxious-slurping-only meals, it's-perfectly-decent-not-to-do-a-single-motor-thing-accepted-excuse kind of weather?

As for this couch sweet potato, as-long-as-I-am-at-home-dry-and-drowning-under-20feet-of-food, other-people-are-safe-and-sound, we-have-electricity-cable-and-internet, hot-shower-working-swell-as-it-should, more-time-to-do-rosey-shenanigans rain lover, ahh I think I'm good. Great even. The rain helps me think. Calms me down. Relaxes my tensed muscles. Slows down all of my mental and emotional processing. Trust me, I could use some of those lately.

PS.
I pray for everyone's safety. Please do take care everyone. May God Bless us all. Raincoats, umbrellas and boots, floaters, lifeboats and scuba gears are out!


Busying hungry bee,

Rosey


Tweet me!
My instagram too!

Tik Tok..

Deafening clicks and ticks.. The clock is constantly ticking, my ardous forbearing reader. And its skinny hands shall continue coursing its way second by second to sugary infinity.

Hi! It's me again. Quite engrossed in this sweet reboot I am venturing in. Lacking in this requirement the human body demands though. Earthlings call it "sleep". An unfamiliarity to your vocabulary as well? Ahh, fellow nocturnal creauture, you know... The imminent act where we close both eye lids. We shut down our conscious mind.  Let our subliminal selves take us blissfully away to dream land. The haven of deliruim and utter ecstasy. A yearn for euphoria I suppose. Who wouldn't want to habituate in paradise, eh? Hell yeah, I would.

So... I am currently submerged, nose-deep in shimmering shenanigans.. It is what you would call.. An oh so buttery "venture". I am painstakingly treading my way above the waters of majestic confection. A sweet, sweet culinary expedition. I am pretty pumped up! Took me a long time to feels this again. Hungry.. Excited! The fire is back! But I am not going to lie... The sugar buzz contributes to the hyper modes, my beloved reader. Ahhh, it has never let me down me, the power of glucose.. Amen.

PS.

Stay tuned for the best cookies, cakes, pies and everthing nice you will ever, ever consume in your lifetime and beyond! Hehe. I kid, I kid. But seriously, I shall humbly present my babies soon. I just have to make everything perfect for you guys. Share a piece of my ultimate euphoria. Sweet sensations for the perpetually hungry.

Ready your sacharrine fangs, my co ravenous martians! My sugary babies are on it's waaaay!
(Instagram for updates!)

Hungry Rosey

http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey
http://instagram.com/crimsonsandcream

From EX To Next Part II

Hi!   Well well.....   We meet again, my co wandering escapists. A part two of the previous, controversial post. Let us not waste one nanosecond, shall we? We have lots of poignant yet enthralling absurdities to discuss! Let us stimulate the ridiculousness within all of us! Let us begin!

The EX. Ex annoyingly itchy back scratch-ing. Ex I-am-going-to-die-from-giggles tickl-ling. Ex knockedout-from-minuscule-amounts-of-alcohol carry-ing. Ex I-ate-the-last-piece-with-a-huge-grin-on-my-whatever-sauce-covered-face-and-I-am-not-so-sorry-about-it convicti-ing. Ex even-people-from-Mars-deciphers-cacophonous-chuckles laugh-ing. Ahh.. Silliness. That's the thing that kept me in the relationship. *fake old man cough* Aside from that L word ofcourse. These memories are refreshing. It tells me why I should still treasure a failed relationship. Failed with quadruple big fat capital F's. But then... Reality bangs me in the head with an attention-grabbing reminder in neon lights that the worst thing out of all of  these is/was losing a best friend.

How did I know I have moved on? *dark, apocalyptic background music cue* Well first and foremost, I was still breathing. Anomalously short and seldom inhales. But enough to keep me alive (ish). Oh believe me, I wouldn't even attempt to glaze a whimsical I-was-fine veneer over the harrowing truth. That's bullcrap. I was a mess, my dear reader. A gigantic horrific, ghastly, widely abominable mess. Ahh just thinking about it pinches a certain segment of my heart. How horrible I felt.. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't talk. Couldn't even think straight! (Well that wasn't knew) All I did was eat and cry. Mostly at the same time, even. What a calamitous combo! That was how I dealt with it for a few months. But then, thankfully, before I began losing myself completely, I started this blog. Then began reading my eyes out. More intensely than before. From gory Scarpetta books to food and art history. Then I started to draw again. I discovered a hidden passion for these things. I was happy again. Just by being me. I realized the simpler things that became part of my animated daily self. Dilatory days were behind me. I was contented. My best friends were a big support. Pushed me to shed some vitamin D into my skin. Pushed me to date even! Ahh.. Now the dating part. Oh my goodness gracious golly  gesundheit gee whiz. How I hated this. Took me awhile.... A definite WHILE. My awkwardness paired with paranoia. A guaranteed disastrous typhoon! I tried it after two creativity rebirth years. It was rejuvenating. Well for one, he wasn't somebody I didn't know. We were actually pretty close even during my one relationship. He was a lil' sneaky then even. Though, any full bloomed love story didn't even get a chance to reach its Once upon a time. I sure did enjoyed it. The simple times. Simple easier times..

Now to be wooed.. To be swept off both my two left feet.. To be carried and flown away to utter bliss.. To be once and forevermore, treated like a queen and his world. *slo mo shampoo commercial-worthy hair flip* That's a different story. Yet to be written I guess? *wink

***to be continued

Now after this post....

Hugs and cookies,

The Hungriest Rosey.

http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey

From EX to Next Part I

It's that time again internet. And here you are! So if you would allow me to.... Ever, ever so kindly.. I shall babble a few of your precious minutes away! *No pun intended.

Here I am... Attempting to exude a lil' bit of enthusiasm about this e-e-entry. The trembling, apprehended post. Well.. To be utterly honest. It is quite liberating :) Ah what the hell! Let the grinding begin! Release the Kraken!!! *ginormous PUN definitely intended.

THE EX.. Uh, if you do not have any yet.. Well then! Congratulations!! Go on and continue reading my fortunate, fortunate friend. Hihi... Nah. Unnecessary jokes aside. I am welcoming you with both warm and slightly sweaty arms. *wink. Now where were we? Ahh.. The EX. Ex lover. Ex cuddler. Ex sweat wiper. Ex mind boggler. Ex stress causer. Ex stress lifter. Ex leftover eater. Ex food sharer. Ex makes me say I-hate-my-life-er. Ex makes me shudder and shout with all drools and conviction life-cannot-get-any-more-perfect-now-er. Ex constantly pushes me to do better-er. Ex I-am-corny-as-fuck-now maker. Ex tear jerker. Ex life threatning-fart from laughing giver. Ex perpetually my everything and anything in life-er. Whoever he/she is/was in your life.. The EX. The exed. Or the ex-er.

I have one. But let me tell you... From the roller coaster of emotions this one relationship has graciously bestowed upon me, it felt like I've been with a dozen men. Oh let me correct myself, not even close to a man yet, boys. Through years with this "boy". I have known him even before he had interest in boobs and booze. The single main reason of his existence was an old school analog controller held by both his sticky cheese-covered innocent hands. (Same goes for me btw way. Hihi) We weren't really that close during those dreaded pre adolescent years. But during "the" ever so fickly capricious relationship. I may have played all roles known to man. I have been like a naggy ass mother. A snot filled little spoiled brat desperate for attention. A terror, stoic as stone math tutor. A mysterious, passionate, sucker for romance lover. Different modes of Rosey were needed during these different, confusing times. It's amazing how growth transforms people. Well, I could go on and on and not finish by the time you get bored of me! But I think, my favorite version of myself to him was his loyal, resilient, I-would-catch-a-grenade-for-you-and-hug-it partner in crime. You see.. These different versions of you depend on wherever phase in life you're in. It doesn't mean you are/were a different person. It's just you being human. A human freaking being. My sweet dear friends... This is called.. The unending evolution of the man freaking kind.

More often than said, an EX is usually intertwined with something negative. A word you wouldn't dare mention, thought of even. It is either you end up getting a mandatory plaque of being the heartbreaker or the heartbroken. The culprit or the victim. Kind of sad actually.... *sigh* Why can't it be.. The former heartbeat-er. Or.. Former heartbeating. And beating.. ..and beating.....

***to be continued.

Well, still hungry....

 *wink

http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey