Wedding Video

Ok guys, I know it's a little late but my husband finally found the time to condense our wedding video into one nice 3 min song, our theme song "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love for You."
Hope you guys enjoy it. =)
mark and rona's wedding

Goodbye World of WarCraft

I have officially decided to stop playing World of Warcraft. This game can take on a life on its own once you get hooked and I admit I was addicted. I played to be the best priest with the best gear, the most pvp kills, the highest healing bonus and to accomplish as many achievements as possible. Moonbery Jenkins The Explorer will now put her War Mace of Unrequited Love (what a lovely name for a weapon) down.
And how does one quit this glorious addicting game cold turkey? I have to tell myself that I have achieved my personal goal for the game. I have leveled from 1-80 on my main character; and I am at the point where I cannot devote anymore time to participate in raids that require space in my real life to do list agenda. I used World of Warcraft as a distraction before, a distraction from taking my mind off of the stresses of work instead of going to PT's Pub and drinking. I played World of Warcraft so I could stay home with the kids while they were babies and I was able to be beside them on the bed as a played, I would have them fall asleep on my lap with my legs crossed Indian style as I played main healer in Karazhan BC times.
At this point ask me anything about the game I know it. From holding my own guild to being officer to being a nomad I played, and at times I played hours after hours mastering the game and my character talents. When away from the game I look forward to logging on and playing with my virtual friends, my guildies and buddies that I dungeon and quest with, or even to do something as mind numbing as fishing.
I am leaving Moonbery, still mediocre, but efficient enough to heal most end game dungeons and activities.
But as the saying goes: goodbye's aren't forever, I'm still keeping my account. I will be disabling it by not paying the monthly dues for now, because the next expansion when it does come out, might be too tempting for me NOT to be able to take on where I left off on my level 80 belf priest, till then game over.
"For the Horde!"

Beautiful Song!

Srry I know it's more about Twilight but with out knowing the movie I would not have discovered this artist and this beautiful song. So just don't think and listen and enjoy. I mean don't even watch the video just close your eyes and feel the song. Please, to appreciate it!

Flightless Bird - Iron & Wine

A Foot Print In my Life.

WARNING BEFORE YOU READ AND JUDGE THIS: This is an excerpt of a very long story, my first novel in the makes…I made this piece vague purposely for my benefit so I can be flexible as I finish the manuscript. This is RAW AND UNEDITED work so bear with me.

I was walking behind a procession of students. I am one of them, wearing a white collared short sleeve button down shirt and a black pleated skirt that hung below my knees. This must be some sort of field trip. Through the long procession of students I can see familiar faces, all are my classmates from high school, most are my close friends, but they all seem to be walking too far ahead of me to notice my presence.

We passed by an old canteen, familiar to me during my high school days; I guess the school hasn’t changed much since I was last here. I could smell freshly made steamed rice as if it was carefully cooked with the essence of pandan leaves, the floors were covered with bottle caps of different sorts, from Rc Cola to Sarsi , Royal True Orange and of course Coke. The lunch tables were covered with plastic table cloths that is pretty much tarp like, just colored with floral accents. The tables are stained and greasy; the feast must be over and we’re heading to the main event, the reason for the feast. I’ve concluded this procession I’m following isn’t destined to lead me to a social gathering centered on eating.

I tried to walk faster and pick up the pace to catch up with the others, I really wanted to say hi to my long lost friends, I have so many questions to ask, I wanted to know how they were doing. I can’t seem to catch up, why am I chasing them? Don’t they see me? I always stick out in a crowd being the palest and shortest, my racial features can deceive anyone, and in a crowd full of olive skinned Filipinos that looked more Spanish, Indonesian and Malay, I look like a clash between a Japanese geisha with the super white skin to a female version of Jackie Chan with my Cantonese features. I’m in my hometown now, in Cavite City in the Philippines, I should be easy to spot as an eyesore. Maybe I should scream to them, but nothing comes out. I get a sudden rush and urgency to run and chase after them, but my feet seem to be planted in one spot and all I can do is watch them walk away. And that’s when he grabs my arm from behind.

I turn around and I am face to face with this 6 foot tall guy. He has beautiful olive Guamanian skin, thick curly hair combed neatly back and dark brown almond shaped eyes, luscious thick lips both top and bottom, so kissable. I’m frozen where I stand.

“How are you?” he was looking at me closely penetrating my guards, but that’s how our relationship always was, deep and intense. He could just be trying to converse casually and was just looking for an answer to his small talk. I started to feel hot, forgetting everything else around me. “Well, what a nice surprise, I’m good. So, I take it you haven’t fallen off of the edge of the earth after all.” I might have had more sarcasm in my tone than I’d wish to let him hear, but I had to keep my guard or what’s left of it, if he hadn’t already seen through me. The History of our love was ended with a lot of open ends that were just abandoned. “So, where have you been?” I managed to pick my thoughts back to reality and compose myself. “I’ve always been here, Ma.”

Ma. What is he trying to do to me? We were supposed to be over, and any reconciling meet with him like this is supposed to be at a superficial acquaintance level. Ma, that was the pet name he used to called me, and I liked it. The last time he or anyone has called me that was over 10 years ago when we had no idea I would be forced to stay away from him. I never made it to my own high school graduation because of my relationship with him, maybe my parents saw the intensity and deemed it imprudent, but they can’t stop me now, not that I would think of rekindling something from the past with him. It’s too late now. But I always did wonder if he suffered as much as I did during the break up, and did he still find me as desirable as before? Well, I shouldn’t waste any more time pondering, now is my chance to get some answers.

We were staring at each other’s eyes like there was an invisible chain that linked us together trying to yank open our thoughts and entwine them. It looked like he was waiting for me to say something, but what could he possibly want me to say? To ask, even? I wanted to ask, no, I didn’t want to ask, I wanted him to know what to say and what I was thinking and to tell me that after everything and all the time that has passed if he still loved me and if he loved me the most. I do love selfishly.

We just started walking together falling behind with the rest of the group and ended up standing in front of a large square fountain filled with water and lily pods. The water looked clean, but nothing out of the ordinary little fish ponds, I’d seen one too many of these in other people’s houses. This must be another improvement they are adding to this school, the cause for celebration of course. An older lady came up to me and handed me green seeds, they looked more like air gun pellets, and she told me to “throw theses across the fountain and this will complete the opening of our latest addition in the science department.” Okay, okay, I thought, still feeling the presence of him standing right beside me that I could hear him breathe. I can sense the warmth of his body. Okay, focus; throw the seeds in the pond, simple enough.

As everyone threw their little pebbles into the pond, I noticed tadpoles swimming in the water and more to quickly they turned into frogs, hopping happily from lily pad to lily pad and just swimming around like there isn’t a care in the world, like they have no predators and nothing can inconvenience or harm them in their artificial habitat, what lucky frogs. Suddenly in a new feeling of awareness of his presence I became self conscious again and turned to look at him.

“Are you staying here long or are you going to run away from me again?” he asked. I sensed a hint of worry in his tone that maybe I might leave too soon for him to say what he has to say. I was dumbfounded for an answer to such a simple question, to me at least, the answer wouldn’t be easy.

I wanted to ask him why didn’t he fight for me and take me away with him. I wanted to know why was it so easy for him to just let me leave when my parents exiled me away from him. If he had loved me enough to turn his back on his friends, and even his family just to be able to be with me, why didn’t he fight for me, to keep us together, for us? In our relationship he gave me the freedom to live a normal life with my friends and to continue as a normal teenager while he suffered. I made nothing easy or normal for him during this time that I was his world, where the possession of my love for him seemed to be all he needed to keep going, and the short times we had to ourselves was a love of so many great loves combined. We thought alike, we adored each other and we were both physically drawn to each other.

With the thoughts flashbacking through my mind I recalled our first kiss.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He was sitting beside me in the bus on a fieldtrip we had to some planetarium in Manila when he whispered those words to my right ear. I didn’t know what to say, we were drawn to each other, or I was drawn to him and with his statement I was numb and waiting for it to happen. I wanted it to happen, I wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss him and be that close to him. Without waiting for me to answer or turn around to face him he gently kissed me on the right side of my mouth. It smelled like vanilla but felt like honey and I wanted more. “You didn’t slap me, that means it’s ok, right?” That wasn’t a question; even so, the answer was inevitable. I was now looking at him and he slowly gave me a peck on the lips. I looked away only to turn around too quickly and without thinking I met his lips willingly and kissed him back, and the kisses were sweeter than honey, they were lingering and hard, his vanilla scent made me feel heady and at that moment I didn’t care who was watching or if the catholic nuns in the bus with us were watching, or if I was going to get suspended for this behavior. It would be worth it. Why didn’t the nuns teach me that heaven was right beside me? Or is my version of heaven just too sinful, that it got vetoed in the sacred scriptures.

Here I am face to face with this guy I was in love with whom once we shared a very passionate love together. He bent over to give me a quick peck on the lips; they felt the same, soft, warm and sweet. “So where’s your wife?” I had to speak to break the spell I was falling into. “Uh, we’re not really married. You know how it is.” He stepped back and shrugged.

Our love was the kind of love that was intense. We couldn’t live or breathe without each other and everything was beautiful for as long as we saw them together, a pile of dung would look beautiful as long as we saw it together, to say the extreme. Like all great and intense loves it ended quickly. Of course love like these doesn’t end by falling out of love or loss of interest, it ends brutally with force, but ours didn’t end in the unthinkable, obviously we’re still alive and breathing, just rough enough for immense sorrow that once sank me into a very deep depression phase.

I couldn’t believe I was standing beside him again, after all these years. “Come with me.” He asked almost pleading as he cradled my left hand in between both of his. And I knew what he meant by that was more than a walk in the park or a cup of coffee. “I can’t.” I managed to say, but it was tempting, I was feeling high off of the warmth of his touch and the view of his presence, imagining what it would feel like to throw myself in his arms again and just let time stand still so I can stay with him…holding him would feel so good right now. “But, what about your wife?” I asked as I snapped myself out of the trance I was sinking deeper into. “Would you stop saying that? I finally have you here, it’s you, you’re here standing in front of me, you were always the love of my life, and if me standing next to you is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up. We can take off where we left off. ”

“But you..” I couldn’t think straight, I did not know what to say. I was torn between emotion and logic. I felt my voice drift till everything was muted, the surroundings blackened around me and his presence drifted away and my eyes opened.

--Rona Aying Llanos

Intimacy

Intimacy, this does not mean actions beyond PG13 but it is possible, just not on this entry. I wanted to write about how I write at a personal level and how my husband Mark writes at a personal level but in his own way because he can put himself in the shoes of the person with such emotion. I write what I personally feel, he writes what he thinks you feel.
I've been looking and observing other poetry websites and there are a lot of good writers out there with their own style and twists on their creativity, too many of them I should say. It scares me to realize my voice will never get heard in the midst of all these brilliant minds that shine brighter than mine, but I will do my best to be heard and keep a flicker of my creation up because, like all the artists out there, we are hungry and struggling to survive.
I was once told that two poets can never be together, actually that was from a fortune cookie I had opened once when I was 14. I was dating a brilliant mind and he wrote deep poetry and of course this won my heart. Needless to say the fortune cookie was right, we did not make it, there was too much emotion that it clashed, exploded and evaporated.
The intimacy I have with my work now has more balance, although sometimes it tends to boil over, raw, and or over baked but always edible. It comes from my heart, deep in its' darkest corners where pain is hidden subconsciously and out through the luminescence where there is happiness that shines.
Mark and I are kindred spirits when it comes to our work but in a way we contrast just enough to maintain the balance of the yin and yang and the chi and zen of things. Yea, I like that.
Intimacy of being so close to think alike in depth of strong emotions, to feel it, live it and write it, that are real in this world is surreal. And I want to express that possibility and make it happen.

MIracle Impromptu

every now and then
a miracle happens
when a caterpillar becomes a butterfly
when a star shoots from the sky
in an eclipse the moon covers the sun
and a baby is formed in a mothers' womb
death is fought the same time a new life exists
the way love is found in someone's first kiss

Scatterbrained me....

Ok, so I think I'm finally getting the hang of the Twitter thing, I think it can be of advantage in the aspect of you can really get yourself out there and be followed and follow other people and yada-yada-yada....I always have too many things going on in my head. So right now, I am ranting about how I can not commit to anything, I don't even know if I can commit to this blog, I have tons of unfinished journals, manuscripts, art projects and that's to say the least! I have soo many ideas of business plans in my head and all I really need to do is commit to put the time and sit down to write it all down. OMG! At least I stay committed to my husband but then that's different its loyalty because both me and my husband know neither of us can commit to anything and that's why we understand each other so much that we are compatible. So back to what I was saying twitter, I wish more of my friends would go on it because now I have to check twitter and then friendster and then myspace for thier messages, if it weren't bad enough to have yahoo email and a cellphone that I can hardly keep track of cause my battery is always dead because I forget to charge it ( I can't commit to plug my phone back to life in every other day) Ok, back on track....I meant to post one of my poems just to see what you guys think.
A little background about tis piece is that its old, obviously. It was created during the time of my first husband and our reconcillation: Let me know what you think.

Slowly you came back to me,
After I thought we would never be,
August of 1999 we fell apart,
My heart treid to mend but still torn apart,
September still growing far from each other,
But at the end of the month we started drifting towards each other,
October you were faithful and true,
We went to Lake Mead and enjoyed the view,
November a new month that brought us our son,
December the end towards the beginning of a new year,
And now the gap between u is gone.
Rona