And my blue room is waiting for me!!

It’s going to be one super busy and stressful week. I still have a lot of packing to do, calls to make, transfers to schedule, bills to settle, loadss of cleaning up, last minute shopping, changing ISP, aghhh. I just want this week over and done with already!

But I’m going to hold on to this picture in my head, my room waiting for me back home. And Mommy’s cooking. And Isaac being in the room just above mine. And being around human beings again! And yayy someone’s coming home soon too! <3 And and annnnnd, September is here can you believe it?!

Dude. Things are sooo looking up. :)

But I’m going to contain my excitement and go through my loooong to-do list now. Be back once I’ve settled back in.

I’ve grown to love looking at interior design magazines/catalogs and window shopping for furniture as much as I love shopping for shoes and clothes. In fact, I’ve invested so much on furniture since I moved out 4-5 years ago, and now that I’m moving back to my parents’ home (and to a smaller room space), I have to let a bunch of my *cough* investments go.

Imagine how I drooled over the 2011 Ikea catalog that came out just recently (Thanks to Mariel for the blog alert!). I have yet to get my hands on the real glossy thing (I’m counting on you, Mae, for my copy!!), but I’m enjoying the online version in the meantime.

I like looking at home office inspirations as I have been working from home for almost 2 years now. I always believe that one’s working environment affects productivity big time, one of the reasons why I rented an apartment with an extra room I can convert to a work space. These are some of the my favorite home office layouts in the Ikea Catalog:

When I discussed with my mother than I’m coming back home, we talked about constructing a home office for me — not a bedroom — thinking I could just squat in her room with her. But upon realizing that I have too many clothes and shoes and stuff to fit in her extra closet space and cabinets, we decided that the home office would now double as a bed room with a huge closet that can house all my clutter as well.

I love Ikea’s organized closets, but since we don’t have Ikea here in the Philippines, my Mom and I had a floor-to-ceiling closet custom-made back home that looks pretty much like this:

And of course I already said that I want my walls painted blue, and I want it vibrant/dark blue, not pale (because pale just won’t work with the dusty and polluted Manila air). Also, I want vibrant accent colors everywhere, pretty much like this room right here:

(more…)

I found this in my drafts haha. It’s from Mae‘s last balikbayan trip (for the record, she’s gone back and forth Manila and Singapore about 3 times already since these photos were taken). I think I wanted to write an elaborate documentation of the experience, or maybe a worthwhile review of Dashing Diva’s services, but was too lazy to finish the post so it remained in my drafts, forgotten, as with all the other unfinished posts I accumulated over the years.

Ohh whatever, I’m posting them now anyway..

..just to remind me that my toes and nails need serious pampering now and I need to make that trip to that pink magical place inside Beauty Bar shops, like, SOON-OR-ELSE.

I’m moving back to Caloocan in about *counting the days in my head* two weeks (wow, time flies!), and with the construction of my new room happening this week, I had to pick a color to paint my walls with. Why thank you, Carrie Bradshaw, for having such a fabulous (fictional) apartment for inspiration. Yesterday, I finally chose my color swatches, deciding on a color that’s familiar and comfortable, not to mention I love: Blue.

Check out these photos of Carrie’s renovated apartment in Sex and the City 2. <3 (Segue: are writers in New York City really earn so much that they’re capable of keeping a pad as snazzy as this one?)

My love affair with blue.

Growing up with two brothers, my juvenile interests leaned towards boy stuff — watching PBA, collecting basketball cards, playing roller blades, championing at pusoy dos, wearing lose shirts and baggy pants, and preferring non-feminine colors like black and blue. I was 16 years old when, taking over my Lola’s room in the second floor of our house in Caloocan, I decided that I wanted to paint the room blue. To be overly redundant, I asked my Mom to buy me blue curtains and blue bed sheets and pillow cases. Turning 18 years old, my parents threw a debut party for me, and it didn’t take me a minute to decide my color motif. Perhaps the only blue thing that I wasn’t crazy about in college were UP’s blue books, lol, can I just say that those little exam booklets were the bane of my college existence??!

Blue books aside, it came to a point when blue, to me, became a safe zone, hence, when I started moving out of life’s little comfort zones, I started exploring a bit on my color preference too. Pink, brown, red, green, purple — my color dateline, in that order, representing eras of my life. Invite me for coffee and I’ll share my color story with you. ;)

And now it’s blue again.

You know how it feels like when you’re back with an old love affair after exploring and testing other options, realizing that he is still the love of your life, maybe you didn’t even stop loving him after all? Forgive me for the tacky illustration, but that’s how blue is like to me. Home, puppy love turned love-of-my-life, the color that I want to wake up to in the morning, surround me the whole day, the last thing I see before I close my eyes. I’ve seen all the other colors, but it all comes back to blue. I can’t wait to see how my blue room is going to look (and feel) like.

I’m getting to know a whole new version of myself lately.

That version of me who welcomes the idea of settling down, who chooses the warmth of the familiar over the thrill of taking risks, who prefers being surrounded by family rather than party-loving friends, who labels things according to whether they’re temporary or eternal and chooses only those which will last.

Choosing blue, somehow, feels like a representation of all that.

And and and.. I’m doing that thing again where I over-analyze on trivial things like color preferences and being all melancholy again about getting old(er) and wondering again about things like, if they say quarter-life ends at 27, does this mean I’m, at this point in time, having mid-life crisis?

What’s my point again?

Whatever.

Oh, and thanks, Carrie Bradshaw.

I missed church last Sunday. My macbook, which also serves as my trusty alarm clock, got pulled off its plug and drained off its battery while I was sleeping and by the time I woke up to realize what happened, it was already too late to get ready for church. Coincidentally, my back-ups (read: wake-up calls from people I expect to occasionally check on me by default) seemed to have forgotten about me too. Sure, I had two text messages on my phone from curious (yup, curious, not necessarily worried) friends asking me where I was and why I wasn’t in church. Unfortunately, text messages can hardly wake up this sleepyhead that I am.

As I mulled over what happened there, just because I live to over-analyze things like that, I couldn’t help but think how I could have died that morning and no one would’ve known [insert sad background music here]. My family and everyone close to me would’ve been in church, I would’ve died alone, and no one would’ve known until my body was cold and decaying.

Yep. Leave it to me to have a minor alarm clock failure and end up thinking about my dead and decaying body.

What I’m really trying to say is, I’m finding more and more reasons to affirm my decision to bid good bye to this *cough* exciting independent life, the most recent reason being, not having someone/something other than an expensive alarm clock to wake me up in the morning and to check if I’m still alive and breathing. However shallow that sounds.

It served me well, this full, life-altering independent life I got to experience in my younger days, the first two years with housemates (what my Dad thought of as a trial period-slash-OJT of sorts) and the last two years on my own. Moving out of the confines of my parents’ house has taught me a lot of things I wouldn’t have learned otherwise, I always say. But now I have arrived at the inevitable reality that one can’t really live on her own too long. I suppose it’s different for everyone as far as the length of time it takes for her to realize she’s done with being solo is concerned, but I do believe that if someone must choose to live by herself, she would eventually need to either (1) share her apartment with friends; (2) get a dog, (3) get married; or (4) move back home. (Notice, of course, my gender bias.)

I won’t in a million years recommend that you get a home-based job while living in isolation and keeping a long-distance relationship at the same time, trust me when I say that these three don’t mesh well together — way too much self-inflicted isolation, lol. Still, under whatever circumstances, I know that independence has done me good. And now, I’m happy to have come to this point in my life where I’ve experienced independence to the fullest that I’m ready (and excited!) to come back home. I’m counting the days.

OAN, I’m selling some of my furnitures. You want? c”,)

Lastly, I really should update this blog more often.