Blind date

I woke up with a heart ache and a massive pile of tear soaked tissues.

Not the best way to wake up, but when your boyfriend got delayed in coming home again, crying all night can become a habit. Especially when you haven’t seen each other for more than a year.

I remembered his pained face when he told me that his study contract had to be extended. He was graduating from his masters, and his professor made him stay two more months so my boyfriend could “tweak” his thesis. He was frustrated and homesick-just like me. He has always been my home, no matter where he was. And I was his.

Thank God for modern technology, the way I could see him every night and hear his voice like he was just beside me. But technology could only do so much.

I couldn’t feel his warmth, they way his breath would tickle my ear when he hugged me from behind. The way his nose would brush mine just before he kissed me. The way he’d hold my hand when we crossed the street like a kid, and he’d never let go at once. His hands would just linger its touch, sometimes with his thumb brushing mine.

I missed his unfunny jokes, the way he’d make me laugh over the most stupid things. I missed the way he never stopped singing so badly when I tried to ignore him, knowing that soon I’d give attention to him anyway.

I hated being so far from him, and I felt like we were growing apart.

Sometimes the thoughts would run in my head wildly like forest fire.

What if he was different now?

What if I wouldn’t recognise who he is in the inside anymore?

What if he’d thought that I was different?

I can’t imagine how I feel around him anymore. What if everything was different now?

Sometimes I secretly wished he stayed where he was, just so we wouldn’t get awkward when we meet again.

What if he didn’t love me anymore?

We haven’t talked in two weeks since he had to concentrate on his thesis. Endless days of overthinking and crying and hoping to see him again.

One night my friends wanted to get me out of my funk, and tried to coax me into going to a blind date. After refusing a lot of times, I gave in, with the promise of telling him about it.

My friends blind folded me, saying it was the whole point of having a blind date. They led me somewhere I didn’t know, made me turn around three times, then made me sit down. I took off my blind fold and there he was, in a suit and tie, smiling like an idiot. There was white pasta in front of both of us, and a candle at the side.

“Hi.” He whispered.

“Hi.”

“I’m Ken. You’re Kelly right? Your friends were right, you are very pretty.”

I couldn’t help but smile as he played on with the “blind date”

“You look pretty handsome too.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do this in person, but will a flying kiss do?”

“I don’t kiss on a first date.”

“Will a handshake do?”

He extended his arm out, and I reached for it.

I held in a tear as I pretended to shake his imaginary hand, and he did the same. The screen between us felt like we were boxed, yet he smiled at me brightly.

“Nice to meet you Kelly.”

“Nice to met you too Ken.”

—————————————-
Not so good, I know. I’ve been in this funk when I can’t write because my meds make me sleepy. Bugger.
Original, all mine, and fiction.

Good vs. Bad: Why Death takes the good guys first



Ever since the first recorded death on the Bible, the good guys usually die first. Abel vs. Cain is the first human personification of good vs. bad, and until today it’s usually the good guys who get seduced by Death.
            The contrast of the Abels and Cains in this world has been going on for centuries after the first murder, and is still the example that is being shown today. There’s a Filipino joke among teens where they say, “Ang bait mo, sana kunin ka na ni Lord.”(You’re so nice; I hope the Lord takes you). It’s neither an insult nor a compliment (but it depends on the recipient), but simply stating something we’ve subconsciously noticed: that the good ones go first.
            I’ve never really been the religious type, except for the fact that I went to a Christian school through my elementary and high school days. I knew how to pray the rosary, I knew the Ten Commandments, I knew who the 12 disciples were, but I always wanted to know why the good guys got “taken” first since I was nine.
            Another nine years later, I got my answer.
            A friend we’ll call Anne had her aunt pass away suddenly. She was still getting over the shock of it all, and she kept telling me that her aunt was the nicest person in the world. She always gave what she could give without asking for anything in return. From what I heard Anne’s aunt was another Abel-a nice person who went to heaven, leaving the Cains behind.
            And that’s when it struck me.
            The reason the Cains get left behind is not because of unfinished business, or that they have a long life ahead of them. The Cains were left behind because they had to do something before they died that the Bible has mentioned over and over: they had to repent.
            An Abel is someone who isn’t always doing the right thing, but they try to. They help people when they could; they may or may not be religious but believes in a Higher Being; and lives life the simplest way they could.
            The Cains are those who aren’t ultimately bad guys, but are easily swayed into giving in to temptation. They are the ones who know they’re doing the wrong thing but they do it anyway. They are the ones who show us who we don’t want to be, and makes everything else complicated.
            It was then that I had another realization: the reason Cains stay on Earth is that they’re given the chance to become an Abel. Which brings me back to my first conclusion: Cains needed to repent.
            The concept of Repentance has been practically drilled into our heads when we were kids, Catholic school or not. During Mass we are told to return to God and do His Will. Repent is defined as the feeling of regret or remorse over something, and the priests have been telling us to repent of our sins.
            Repentance has been taught to us as our “ticket” into getting into heaven. We are taught that God easily forgives if we find it in us to repent, which transforms any Cain into an Abel.
            This may seem easy enough to do, but it’s not. Everyone knows it’s not.
            We’ve been taught that we had to be genuinely repentant. Saying that you were sorry for your sins didn’t count if in the back of your mind you knew you were going to do it again didn’t count.  
             The Holy Week centers on the idea of Repentance. We remember Jesus dying for us in the cross, another example of Abel. We are constantly reminded that Jesus died for us, for the Cains, for us to see the example of whom we should follow. We may not all be priests or nuns, but just being the person we know Abel would be is all God wants.
             And even though we die first because we became Abels, we will be remembered, just as Anne’s aunt was remembered. As a person worth crying for, a person worth talking to a friend you weren’t close to in the first place. In the end turning into an Able in a world of Cains saves you, just as He promised. Abels don’t die because in fact they’re given a life forever for choosing to be an Abel and not a Cain.

            Death isn’t the end when you’re an Abel. It’s the beginning of Eternal Life.

——————
This post may be kind of deep, so I’m just going to ask a question for the comments:
Have you ever had someone you know die and you believe they were and Abel? What qualities do they have to be worthy of being called an “Abel?”

The hands that held mine

Is it wrong to fall in love with someone
because of the way they hold your hand?
I remember when I was younger,
my mom would hold my hand when I crossed the street.
It made me feel safe and protected,
like she won’t let go until we were safe.
I remember in school,
we were supposed to hold hands when we sang.
The hands were slimy and they smelled bad,
and the feeling was weird.
I remember my friends holding my hand 
when we ran past the guards,
the feeling was exhilarating,
Yet my hands felt empty.
But when he held my hand,
our hands meshed together like a perfect puzzle.
I couldn’t tell the difference between his hand and mine.
He made me feel a thousand emotions at once:
happiness, anxiety, warmth, forever

and most of all, LOVE.
———————
Seriously, is it wrong? I keep falling for him when he holds my hand, 3 years later 🙂
I know I said I won’t post poems or stories for a while, but I just loved writing this one too much that I had to share it. <3
Original. Copyright.

The wrong generation

I seriously think I was born to the wrong generation.

Not to insult the time I am in, but I wish I was born during the time when writing was something you were talented in, not a crash course you could take in a day.

Everything seems to have a manual these days, everything has rules, everything has standards. Shakespeare didn’t have one, neither did Hemingway. These men just wrote whenever they wanted to, and now look at them.

Before I decided to be a full on writer, I just wrote like them: in whatever way I wanted to. But then I learned the hard truth about writing: everyone else can do it, even though they don’t have the talent to do so. Isn’t it frustrating? How you could want to write with so much passion, and then wuptidoo lookey here, someone who has connections to a publisher got their book published! How you try so hard to enter a competition you weren’t even comfortable with because more people like those who won awards, and then whoooooosh! A kid who was trained by a professional won.

I’m not really bitter about writing. I love writing. It’s the world that gave writing the wrong definition. Writing should be something shared freely, without rules or boundaries. I mean, I’m just fed up because I’m usually “out there” with my ideas that no one seems to understand.

If only I was born in the time when writing was an art and not a job. I’d even like to live in the time when writing was banned, but I’d still write because I love to. I write because I can’t help it, but I can’t be credited for it because I don’t fit in with everyone’s standards.

Writers read and quote this book.
(I like to be original thank you.)

Writers should write a million words a day.
(Okay maybe just a thousand, but most of us suffer writer’s block)

Writers have to live through being poor or stuff like that.
(Life has already hardships. Now I have to chose to go through them?)

Writers shouldn’t publish their works when submitting to a contest.
(How about us bloggers?)

But how about me? I’m just an eighteen year old girl without a mentor, who lives in the Philippines, struggling to finish college, who doesn’t read Hemingway or Tolstoy, and just wants to write because if I don’t I lose it.

This generation makes struggling writers like me struggle more because of nonsense definitions.

I love to read and write instead of partying or drinking. I rush to the nearest bookstore instead of the nearest sale. I’ve been different my whole life, always lost in a world I’m either reading or creating. I don’t have anyone to relate with, but that’s okay.

If that means that I should try harder, then let it be.

I am Le-an Lai Lacaba, 18 from Tacloban City, Philippines. I will be graduating from college next year, and I’m going to pursue my career as a writer. No matter what anyone says, I’m a writer. And I will sure as hell prove that.

———————
Just a little rant. I’m just frustrated because weeks after applying for so many jobs and entering competitions, I still have nothing 🙁

The freelance writer advertisement

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Have a story to tell but you just can’t seem to put them together?
Do you need someone to take care of the content of your blog, newspaper or magazine?
Are you searching for a writer of original, unique and thrilling content?
Look no further!
I am Le-an Lai Lacaba, an 18 year old junior student of the University of the Philippines and I’m offering my services as a freelance writer. I have been writing short stories and poems for six years, and professional articles for almost two years. I have worked and have been published on Espejo magazine and a few other websites like LDRmagazine. I have interviewed important people, including our mayor. I research my articles myself from reliable sources. I have also published my book, Less Than Three, which is a collection of short stories.
My offer for each article ranges from 50 Pesos($1.11) to 2000 pesos($44.59) depending on the word count and the urgency of the article. 
Please refer to my resume below for more details.
Email me at lean.lacaba@gmail.com if you wish for me to write articles. My expertise of topics range from relationships to family to world news. 
I hope to hear from you soon!
————————————————
I am currently on an educational fieldtrip, and we’ve been learning about advertisement. And I thought, heck, I should advertise myself! 

Book lovin’ babe

Aren’t just there moments in your life when you finish a book and you sigh and think, “I want to read that again.”?

That’s the power of a book. And being an eighteen year old girl who has read more books that the hair follicles on her hair, I know all about it. Funny thing, I first loved writing before I loved reading. Maybe it was because we didn’t have a proper bookstore in our city when I was younger. All I had were my mother’s monthly Reader’s Digest, and a few Sweetvalley High books. But once I got into college three years ago and two bookstores opened up in the city, I piled up on books. And when I discovered e-books, I read more.

Addicted? Yes.

But one day though, I’d love to read my own book like I’ve never seen it before. Like I just bought the book for the heck of it, forgetting that I even wrote it.

Now that I’ve read 600 or so books, I’d love to read more. So I’m going to try and do some book reviews. Free books for my opinion sounds like a great idea.

Another reason I’m going to be a book blogger is that I’m taking a pause from posting my stories and poems online. Every writing competition seems to require that every entry has to be unpublished, so I’m going to take a break for a while. But fear not! Whenever I get published, I’d post it here immediately!

Here’s my new blog, Book Lovin’ Babe! I’m still working out the kinks 🙂 

Now off to more reading!

Care to recommend me to author’s who’d like to get their books reviewed? 😀

Longer hair, courting soulmates and sweet videos

Helloooooooooooo!

If you’ve been a reader of my blog, you may have read my post when I first started writing Courting my Soulmate in my January 6 post. So first, I’m going to update you on my hair! Definitely longer than the last time, isn’t it?

Anyyyyyywayyyy.

I’ve published my second book on Wattpad! Yes, COURTING MY SOULMATE! Since January 6, I’ve written 24 chapters already, and I’m loving it so I thought I could just post it! There are times when I’m lazy as a Snorlax(pokemon) when I write, so I sometimes need feedback. So I’m posting one chapter per day. The best part? It’s FREEEEEEEEEE. So if you’d like to read it, download the app on your phone or you can read it online. Click HERE. (could this sign be any more obvious?)

Synopsis:

When you’ve been waiting thousands of years for your soulmate, you never would want to let her go once you spot her. For Arthur, he knew he was head over heels when he finally saw the woman he was meant to be with. He’d try to conquer angels and demons, strict Filipino fathers, and even try to forget Olympus was his home, all for this girl. For Victoria, she knew she was falling for this Greek guy-and fast. But with Death and the heavens wanting her back, she tries to flap her wings away from Arthur as fast as she could.
I’ve also been addicted to love videos on YouTube. I mean, I rarely act like an emotional teenager, I am just eighteen after all, but when I do act like one, I got gaga!
So here are some videos that are GUARANTEED to melt your heart. If it doesn’t, well, okay. (pouts and goes away)
Their wedding.
Baby on the way!
Baby is here!
Yes, they’re from the same couple. It’s just not fair to show you one video. You have to see the three of them. <3
SURPRISE ANNOUNCEMENT!
In celebration for posting Courting my Soulmate (and I’m just in a great mood after watching these videos), I’m selling my 1st book, Less Than Three, for $0.99 on Kindle! That’s a WHOOPING savings of $4.00! Hopefully by the time you read this post, the new price has been implemented. So again, Click HERE to buy my 1st book!
SURPRISE ANNOUNCEMENT #2!
I’m working on my 3rd book. That is all. 😀

Imagination

12am and I still can’t sleep.
I imagine lying down beside you, your arms around me. I imagine you kissing my forehead while I close my eyes, your breath ticking my nose. You slowly lull me to sleep, making me smile all the while.
But in the end it’s all just an imagination.

In the end you’d still be ten feet below me, together with your slut of a mistress. Bloodied, and never meant to be found. Just like the knife with my prints on it.
——————–
Scaredya didn’t I? (insert evil smile)

Damsel in Distress

She’s Sherlock Holmes
with a twist
a spunky attitude
and a curled up fist
she doesn’t give up
even in a fight
cause she’ll only give
the bully a fright

she usually stands up
for herself
and doesn’t really need
any help
she can sometimes be your
girl next door
or as crazy as a big wild
boar

you can depend on her
during crisis
cause she’s the type
of gal you can’t miss
she can be as smart
as a duke
but can surely pick a fight
with captain hook

make sure you dont underestimate
her sweetness
or you’ll wind up
in a real hot mess
she’s the type of girl
you’ll fall in love with
and i can tell you,
she ain’t no myth

she’ll really love you
for who you are
and doesn’t really care
if you’re a star
and if someday she’ll
look your way
you’ll know she’s here
to stay

she’s miss SMARTASS
as some may say
but she’s only looking for someone
to brighten up her day
and in the end, she’s the real
DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

——————————–
Written four years ago, so I’m guessing I was fourteen. I’m rummaging through my trunk of old files, and this is by far the funniest poem I wrote. I love how it describes the spunky teen I was, before I found out that violence is never the answer. Sometimes. >:)

Streetlight

After four months, it lights up our streets.
And ultimately, our hearts.
In between publishing my book, getting confined in the hospital for a week, and struggling with my studies, it’s easy to forget that four months ago, Haiyan almost drowned me.
Last night, something beautiful happened. A streetlight near our house got turned on.
To some of you, this may not be a big of a deal. But for us who have been powerless since the storm, it’s a way of igniting that someday everything would be the way that it was.
The turning on of the streetlight lessened our fears of someone breaking into our house, since it would be lighter outside.
The turning on of the streetlight meant that soon, we’d get our electricity back soon.
The turning on of the streetlight means that I don’t have to bring my laptop everyday to school just to charge it.
The turning on of the streetlight means that I won’t have to be too afraid of going down stairs in the morning since I could just light things up with a flip of a switch.

The last four months haven’t been easy, as we adjusted our lives after the storm wrecked our home. With the streetlight on, it makes us hope for something better.