October 3, 2016 § Leave a comment
You’d be fine without me, yes? I feel like we’re in a movie and it’s about to end. Realizations are being made but also new discoveries are surfacing. I’m racing against time trying to get to know this new you. I’m falling in love all over again. I don’t want to leave. But I have to. End scene. Fade to black.
July 31, 2016 § Leave a comment
How comforting it is to know a person so well, that even though there may be changes in each of your lives, big or small–but those that are especially big–like adulthood, that slow, painful ascent to knowing more and feeling less, then that confusing stage of feeling more and knowing less, you know the one…that person you know so well still looks at you like he did all those years ago, and you are comforted. And even if you write in ellipsis and broken sentences and a whole lot of “and’s,” he understands and says “Rough day?”
Rest of the entries here.
July 4, 2016 § Leave a comment
The month in a nutshell: Slept in again and just waited for dinnertime with Auntie and family. They’re flying home tomorrow. You know, for all the days I’ve been here so far, this is the first time I felt truly out of place. Las Vegas is a different story, I expected feeling weird there. But to feel this in Lake Forest is strange. Doesn’t have anything to do with anyone, I’m guessing. Just…I want to be home, too, even though I like being with my loved ones here. Someday I wish to understand this. But right now, I want to remember this gorgeous sunset.
May 31, 2016 § Leave a comment
There are days though when the first person I seek is you, when something good or bad happens. You’re that person to me now: my first person. Who’s yours? Who do you want to call first when something exciting happens or when you remember something funny and want someone to laugh with? When you’re walking and you see something, who is the person you often think about in terms of “I wish s/he was here”? When you’re sad and homesick, whose voice do you seek to hear? Who makes you tear up when you suddenly remember how they smell?
May 1, 2016 § Leave a comment
Last month, I asked Kuya for advice about how I could earn extra money, and he said I should do something that interests me. “What do you like doing?” he asked, and all I could think of was “Write.” I like writing. I’ve been dithering about a lot of things in my life and now I’m just taking advantage of this specific boldness I’m feeling. After years and years of hesitation, here I am putting my “work” out there-out there.
Plus, I’ll be honest, I need additional funds for a June thing, and I’ve been racking my brain for ways to earn extra money. And this is what I came up with: Sell handwritten versions of selected entries from my 100 Words site. There are infinitely more ways of earning extra money, I’m sure, but this is what spoke loudest to me. So I’m taking a chance.
You can find all of them here. (Shout out to this site’s creators and the people who maintain it [Jeff Koyen, Roy Batchelor]—writing on 100words.com has helped me in many different ways, I can’t even begin to express how much.)
Some of the entries are personal, most are fiction, a few are a mixture of both.
I thought of the possibility of selling separate entries as “prints”—handwritten pieces on paper, with a signature. But I couldn’t see then how such a thing would work. My handwriting is average, and these are personal pieces, how could someone else want to buy them? And—I’m just going to say it—it reeks of self-indulgence and presumption.
However, here I am trying. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen, what’s important is taking the first step, right?
Below are samples of what you can expect. These are what we shall call prototypes. I’m looking at adding a bit of illustration, using better type of paper, practicing for more legible handwriting, etc.
For now, if you are so inclined, you may choose any entry from my 100 Words site and I shall write you a personal copy. The format of the samples above is all I can offer for the time being.
I’m uncertain what this would achieve: An 8.5 x 11 piece of colored paper with my name on it, a signature of some sort, my handwriting, and one of the many stories I have concocted over the past months, it’s funny to me now, what am I selling? But I gotta try, I gotta try, so here I am, trying to sell these “pieces.”
I’m aware I’m not doing a good job of selling this to you. Well, okay, here, think of this little project this way—each piece you get will never be replicated, that’s it, that’s the lone copy there will ever be. Same entries might be made, but the handwriting will never be the same (not that it will ever be of that kind of value, just…it’s unique and handmade and old-fashioned). I’ll find a way to authenticate it, a dry seal or something. This is my best attempt at selling something that is fully my creation and something that is personal as personal can get that I hope can connect to other people, so please bear with my ramblings.
Over time, I’m looking at offering additional services such as writing actual (by-request/commissioned/personalized) love letters/wedding vows and good old proofreading/editing. For now, let’s stick with whimsy. This is me officially opening a little undertaking I shall, for the meantime, call: BoLLs (Business of Love Letters).
In summary, I’m selling pieces of paper with my handwriting on them. PHP200/piece. Each paper shall contain a selected entry from my 100 Words site. You may choose any entry from the compilation. Let me know which one/s you chose (indicate the date and year) and I’ll write it for you then send via courier. Send me pertinent details and discuss payment arrangements through Facebook private messaging or through e-mail: purplerevolt at gmail dot com — I’m online and able to respond in the mornings, 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. Manila time.
Orders will be taken Mondays through Fridays and pieces will be shipped on Sundays (after payment). Shipping fee is waived for the month of May. Thank you very much for reading. :)
April 30, 2016 § Leave a comment
You’re like my old house. Sturdy and dependable. Sometimes disorderly but always comforting. The stairsteps make a sound and that’s how I know I’m home. The front door knob is unwieldy but I know how to deal with it and it lets me. The 20-plus-year-old toilet bowl at the upstairs comfort room is still there, sullen and unaffected, still providing my needs. I don’t mean to have the last item compared to you to be a toilet bowl so here, a window, my bedroom window, giving me the same old view of heart-shaped leaves during summer.