It’s been awhile since I’ve put down anything that can even be remotely described as concrete, much less sensible. So, in lieu of the just-barely-so-new year, I’d like to say the following: Last year was great. Sure, it was also one of the saddest and crappiest years I’ve ever had, but there were good things too, and I’d like to thank God for that. Sorrows aside, it was a year of finding love again, overnights and New Year’s Eve in Tarlac, meeting families old and new, surprising generosity and the subsequent Mr. Pookums, watching Into The Woods with a good friend, watching Avenue Q with my best friend and favorite person, and smatterings of small good things scattered in-between. It was a year of a lot of good books and (still) trying to write; a year of realizations and lessons learned. ========= Moving on. I wish I had something massive to write about. Not love, because I love for me (and her, of course), and it’s nobody else’s business—I think I’m past the stage and age where I lik...
Insanely idiotic, mind-bogglingly brilliant, and all points in-between; more of the former.