We were early to at the mall the other day, which meant we were the first ones to get to the Disney store. We were waiting around when it opened and the store employee asked if my daughter would like to help out. She got to perform the opening ceremony in a borrowed costume. How cool was that? She had to get the magic started by saying “let the magic begin” while dressed as the sorcerer’s apprentice. Disney really is magical. Even in the stores. After the ceremony they gave her a lanyard with sorcerer Mickey on it. Makes me long for Disneyland.
To some, today is the first day of autumn. Breathe deep this hallowed air, hold it in your cursed lungs, give your mind to the soft yellows and vibrant oranges, the ruby reds and the oncoming midnights.
Breathe deeply, as deeply as you can, and fill your cold, black heart with the ever-chillier, ever-darker nights.
Let the dark, infernal celebrations begin! Ring the bells of wonder and magic and wickedness until the horror of spring begins!
"... This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. ... The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray. "Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window. "Professor R.J. Lupin." whispered Hermione at once. "
How’s that? I can’t find the exact words to say how I really feel. It’s not that I have this feeling to harness on you, but, well, yes, I do like you. Yet, I’m not expecting anything in return nor asking you to feel the same way. If that would be the case, I’ll be off the game in no time, right?
I’ve been pulling together lately - sleepless nights, hearty laugh, swapping of kind and saccharine text messages, and you putting me almost in the pedestal through your nonstop optimistic adjectives and me reciprocating those words which I knew since birth that I am no good. Ha! So how’s that? How do you want me to handle that? I’ve been weird (well, I’m always weird), reading all the records of you that I can find over the WWW. Kindly take note that I’m pretty impressed, browsing all these images with your engaging smile. I’m not stalking you or what, it’s just that I’m really interested to know you better, let’s just put it that way. I told you that you’re on my mind. I know that’s another suicidal attempt, but yeah, it’s cool that you’re reciprocating. And yes, I kind of like it, you quipster.
You were there, telling me how you admire my Asian-ish look, loving my oriental eyes and my nice smile, commending me for my very appealing preppy look and for believing in me that I am oozing with such confidence. In fact, I used to be a wallflower. Thank you for uplifting me when you said, uhm, I’ll just quote you: “Hindi bagay sayo to be all down and gloomy and magmukmok sa tabi. See how spirited the guy with that burger is. He looks fun to be with!I think he looks kwela and kengkoy. And yeah, parang walang dull moment with him.”
I don’t know why I’m posting this explicitly on my blog; it’s just that I envy those people around you. They can tell you what they want to say without hesitation, and here I am on the other side of the line talking to you full blast yet holding myself back only to not spoil and jeopardize every single moment with you. Remember when we’re talking about our fears and shit? I told you that I’m learning to start a new fear: to lose you.
I have to stop this since it’s starting to rain cheddar, mozzarella, and parmesan here. Ha!
Vivi stood outside a shop with a small garden of sunflowers lining the path to the door. It’d been a while since she’d visited and even longer since she’d needed help. She felt bad that it took until her personal store of ingredients to get low for her to come back.
With a sigh, she walked up to the door, opened it to hear the familiar jingling of bells and stepped in. She was met with the gaze of the freckled faced woman she hadn’t seen in what felt like years.