I had the weirdest dream last night.

I dreamt Allan had a baby girl, but with another woman.

We were hanging out somewhere (I don't remember the place), and then he was with this cutest, most beautiful little girl ever. I can still even remember her face: she had long, curly, light-brown hair, a cherubic face with an impish smile with one lower tooth missing, and she had on a baby-blue dress with silver star prints.

I remember, in the dream, I was so taken with the little girl and we had a great time playing. It was only later, after I had tucked her in her bed and kissed her good-night, that I realized she was Allan's daughter (but not mine). I know, dreams have a funny way of connecting disjointed scenes.

In the dream, I remember asking Allan about it (though not in a confrontational way), and the expression on his face told me what I feared to be true.

And then I remember the pain. It was so... raw, and felt very real.

And then I woke up. And the pain was still there.

Have you ever had that kind of dream?

I wonder what the Lord of Dreams is telling me.

Yes, I am unfaithful.

To this blog, I mean.

Just now, I finished creating my other blog, built mainly for income-generating purposes. The layout and main page is kinda bare for now, as I have to go ask Balot for more info about layout stuff and what-not. And the contents are old, swiped from this blog and that.

But, I'm still keeping this blog for my personal use, mainly to keep y'all (yes you. all 1 of you) updated with what's happening and to have someplace where I can rant about whatever and whenever I like.

Hopefully, the new blog generates more traffic, as I think that's one of the basis for getting paid by blogging. So if you don't mind, please spread the word and tell your friends about my new blog! (Just not this one, please. heheh)

Or better yet, you can just visit my new blog a couple of times a day. I think it should work. *crossing fingers*

So, here's to the world of blogosphere and getting paid to write!

Cheers! :D

Back when I was still in college, I had this huge girl-crush on a classmate (I think it was the English something-something class).

I remember sitting there in that classroom, it was in the middle of an afternoon, and we were restlessly waiting for that 15-minute timeframe that tells us it was okay to leave (in our school, if the teacher didn't show up in the first 15 minutes of the class, that automatically meant no classes for that period).

And then she walked in.

She was tall, lanky, morena, with hair cropped close to her head, and the most adorable doelike eyes you've ever seen. She had a nonchalant gait, like it wouldn't matter if the teacher showed up or not, and she had on a plain black shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a messenger bag slung carelessly over her body, probably a last-minute afterthought when she realized she'd be going to a class and it was the appropriate thing to have.

And then I thought to myself, wow, this girl is cool.

Now, I'm not a lesbian - let's get that straight (pun intended). I've always enjoyed the company of men (at present, particularly that one man I've spent the last 7 years with), and can't ever imagine myself being with a girl ('cause I'm a girl and being with another girl? that's just way too much vajayjay).

So anyway, I remember thinking how cute she was, and how lucky her boyfriend was (if she had one, at that time).

I never got her name, though. And I never got a chance to speak with her, either. I think that was because I felt too intimidated by her cuteness and how cool she was, and also because she seemed to be the odd girl out that nobody ever thought to be friends with her (my classmates and I belonged in the same block, you see, and she was from another course).

And that was my first and last time to be crushing on a real girl. I have girl-crushes now, but they're celebs so they don't count as real.

I wonder, though:
when boys crush on girls, do they feel the same way I felt?
Or is it just all hormones for them?

Hmmm.

Some people just don't get why I spend hours and hours with my nose buried in a book.

Why read, they'd say, when you can live life? Why spend a big chunk of your time in someone else's story, when you need to BE in your story?

Well, now, I have just the answer.

From Darren of An Extra Smidgen of Eternity, The Sandman Book of Dreams:

Stories are hope. They take you out of yourself for a bit, and when you get dropped back in, you're different - you're stronger, you've seen more, you've felt more. Stories are like spiritual currency.

*Need I say more?

 After more than 7 years, I find myself in this strangely familiar place. It feels weird, and scary, and intoxicating, all at the same time.

Who would have thought something like this could happen? Who would have thought I'd walk away from everything I've always known, then dive deep into uncharted waters, and then walk away again?

And if someone were to ask me, now: would I do it all over again? Would I do what needs to be done when faced with what's obvious?

Hell, yeah. Abso-fucking-lutely.