Category Archives: Life and Style

After six months…

So… I’m back! It’s been quite a while (six months by the way) and a lot has happened. I got married in October last year, and right now, expecting a baby girl. I’m exactly at 38 weeks and 7 days. It felt like 6 years to me!

I decided to write again since I ran out of things to do at home while waiting for labor and delivery. I was thinking of creating another blog about being a mom or a wife but nah, maybe I’ll just stick to this original blog and see what will come up in the future.

(c) Franz Allan Barol | 2015 | Batangas, Philippines
(c) Franz Allan Barol | 2015 | Batangas, Philippines

Ah yes, I’m now married! (see Frankly, it wasn’t the fairytale wedding that I really wanted but I was as magical and lovely! We only had two months to plan and I thank God that it turned out well despite all the challenges. I was pregnant at three months that time so just imagine the mix of physical, emotional and spiritual difficulties. However, I can say it was all worth it! And what’s more rewarding is that I’ll be seeing my little bundle of joy in a few days!

Wish me luck and prayers! πŸ™‚

Ned Vizzini


” Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That’s above and beyond everything else, and it’s not a mental complaint- it’s a physical thing, like it’s physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don’t come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people’s words do; they come out in chunks as it from a crushed -ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet. “

-It’s Kind of a Funny Story

a quarter of an inch of charred paper



β€œThe remaining chain swung down, he wrenched the door out and he was free. The last thing he heard behind him was the oncoming stomp of running feet.

Now began flight, that excruciating accompaniment to both the sleep-dream and the drug-dream as well. Down endless flights of stairs that seemed to have increased decimally since he had come up them so many days before. Four, fourteen, forty – there seemed no end to them, no bottom. Round and round he went, hand slapping at the worn guard-rail only at the turns to keep from bulleting head-on into the wall each time. The clamor had come out onto a landing high above him now, endless miles above him; a thin voice came shouting down the stair-well, “There he is! See him down there?” raising the hue and cry to the rest of the pack. Footsteps started cannonading down after him, like avenging thunder from on high. They only added wings to his effortless, almost cascading waterlike flight.

Like a drunk, he was incapable of hurting himself. At one turning he went off his feet and rippled down the whole succeeding flight of stair-ribs like a wriggling snake. Then he got up again and plunged ahead, without consciousness of pain or smart. The whole staircase-structure seemed to hitch crazily from side to side with the velocity of his descent, but it was really he that was hitching. But behind him the oncoming thunder kept gaining.

Then suddenly, after they’d kept on for hours, the stairs suddenly ended, he’d reached bottom at last. He tore out through a square of blackness at the end of the entrance-hall, and the kindly night received him, took him to itself – along with countless other things that stalk and kill and are dangerous if crossed.

He had no knowledge of where he was; if he’d ever had, he’d lost it long ago. The drums of pursuit were still beating a rolling tattoo inside the tenement. He chose a direction at random, fled down the deserted street, the wand of light from a wan street-lamp flicking him in passing, so fast did he scurry by beneath it.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Marihuana