My World is about my world…
A little part of me and is also my online journal.
I’ve created other blogs too but i think that i’ll settle for this one from now on.
By the way, i’m Melody Jimenez Mular.
I’m from Pasig, Philippines. I was born on April 10, on a Tuesday night. I was really grateful when i found out that Mandy Moore and i share the same birthdate. And…. Just before i was born, it is Kristen Stewart’s (Bella Swan of The Twilight Saga) birthday! Well.. Just so you know.
My favorite color is GREEN. I like to read books, sleep and eat. And now, i’m into Blogging.
I wish that i can continue this blogging thing as long as i am alive.
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Hi, I’ m Melody. I’ ve been alive for 23 years now, I’ m very excited, and generally excited by anything else that falls into the “cute” or “cozy” categories.
I learned to play guitar when I was 16 from my brother named Morris who is fond of playing it at that time. I like blankets. But that’ s probably because I’ m always freezing cold.
I LOVE Pasig. That’ s where I live, and I’ m lucky enough to be there. I love the town so much, and scream “I LOVE THIS TOWN” loudly out the windows. That wouldn’ t be weird, right? Every time I try and wink at someone, I mess it up and end up scaring people.
My lucky number always has been and always will be 3.
It pops up in front of me in the most obvious and undeniable ways, but only when something good is about to happen.
I’ m an Aries. I think that means I’ m a creative person. It also means I have a Summer-themed birthday party every year. I love cool colors (especially GREEN) and things that make reality seem more whimsical than it is.
I have a collection of letters, from friends and ex-boyfriends whom i still keep safe in a box. I under-think and under-plan and under-organize. I’ ve been like this since I was a baby, before I was became 5’ 3″ (estimated XD) tall and over-relaxed.
These days, I’ ve been trying to classify my thoughts into two categories:
“Things I can change,” and “Things I can’ t.”
It seems to help me sort through what to really stress about.
But there I go again, under-planning and under-organizing my under- thinking!
I write songs and poems, and also read books relating to my adventures and misadventures, most of which concern love.
Love is a tricky business. But if it wasn’ t, I wouldn’ t be so enthralled with it.
Lately I’ ve come to a wonderful realization that makes me even more
fascinated by it: I have no idea what I’ m doing when it comes to love. No one does! There’ s no pattern to it, except that it happens to all of us, of course.
I can’ t plan for it. I can’ t predict how it’ ll end up. Because love is unpredictable and it’ s frustrating and it’ s tragic and it’ s beautiful. And even though there’ s no way to feel like I’ m an expert at it, it’ s worth writing songs about — more than anything else I’ ve ever experienced in my life.
I’ ve apparently been the victim of growing up, which apparently happens to all of us at one point or another. It’ s been going on for quite some time now, without me knowing it. I’ ve found that growing up can mean a lot of things. For me, it doesn’ t mean I should become somebody completely new and stop loving the things I used to love. It means I’ ve just added more things to my list. Like for example, I’ m still beyond obsessed with the summer season. I love the heat of Summer and grocery shopping and really old cats that are only nice to you half the time [yes, I’ve been bitten by one]. I still love writing in my journal and wearing dresses all the time and staring at chandeliers.
But some new things I’ ve fallen in love with —
- mismatched everything.
- Mismatched chairs,
- mismatched colors,
- mismatched personalities.
I love spraying perfumes I used to wear when I was in high school. It brings me back to the days of trying to get a close parking spot at school, trying to get noticed by soccer players, and trying to figure out how to avoid doing or saying anything uncool, and wishing every minute of every day that one day maybe I’ d get a chance to win an award. Or something crazy and out of reach like that.
I love old buildings with the paint chipping off the walls and my dad’ s stories about his childhood. I love the freedom of living alone, but I also love things that make me feel seven again. Back then naivety was the norm and skepticism was a foreign language, and I just think every once in a while you need fries and a chocolate milkshake and your mom. I love picking up a cookbook and closing my eyes and opening it to a random page, then attempting to make that recipe.
This was ridiculously long, and you probably have other stuff you could’ ve done in the last four minutes.
So to you, or anyone else who has spent four minutes on me in some way–
I love you like I love sparkles and having the last word.
And that’ s real love.
Follow me friends 🙂