Diary of an International Lover

limbo

2012-02-10T22:57:00.000-08:00

haven't written any new stories.
memories are going stale.
stuck in limbo
between my past and my future.
i hope the present posts my bail.

horizon

2012-01-06T17:52:00.001-08:00

there are good things to come.
like a lovely scent
dancing in the folds of a wind
or a heartwarming melody
that can be heard from around the corner.
there are good things to come.

there are good things to come.
like a red sky behind a setting sun
or that perfect spring breeze
that carries us through to warmer days.
there are good things to come.

there are good things to come.
i hope i recognize them when they arrive.
so thankful that the worst is over.
with every bone in my body
and with every breath that i take
i hope that there are good things to come.

there must be good things to come.

late to dream

2011-12-09T22:39:00.000-08:00

late to sleep.

late to dream.

early to rise.

memories are fresh on my mind.

a heart stolen.

a heart broken.

you, a blur. always a blur.

impossible to lay a finger.

behind my eyes,

invisible yet always there.

we dance.

and then i am awake.

missing you again.

fingertips

2011-11-26T17:44:00.001-08:00

this mouth of mine
it isn't mine
it belongs to the brain in my head.

thank goodness however
for these jaws of steel
for without them i'd surely be dead.

appetite aside though
i have my two sides
which are easy to tell apart.

for without my fingertips
and this keyboard
i'd never have a voice for my heart.

you made me

2011-11-26T17:39:00.001-08:00

you made me look
you made me smile
you made me laugh
and you made me love
then you made me miss you
and you made me cry
so take this bed you've made
and go fuck yourself

mirror

2011-11-23T03:42:00.000-08:00

this place is my mirror
a frozen lake
i am on both sides
and am face to face with reflection.
locked away beneath the surface
this reflection is all i've got.

i struggle with what i see.

i miss what i no longer have.

i do not know how to melt the ice
and break this glass.

i hope this does not last.

believe

2011-11-03T04:28:00.000-07:00

you say that people do not change.
i have to believe that they do.
for if no one changed
then pray tell
how am i here with you?

wicked winter

2011-10-19T02:49:00.000-07:00

the crooked limbs are slowly revealed
as if the trees are inviting me off my path
and motioning for me to come forth.

the wind whips my hair about my face
blinding me from what lays ahead
and forcing me to stand my ground.

paralyzed with a chill that has slipped under my layers
motivated to simply hibernate
where is my spring when i need it?

the road i want to travel

2011-10-16T16:17:00.000-07:00

there is a road ahead
and already i can feel it beneath my feet.
it extends much further beyond
the distance that my eyes can see.

the end of an era

2011-10-07T03:54:00.000-07:00

two thousand eleven.

the year of passing
and the year of loss.

the year of tears
and sleepless nights.

this has been a year of
finding oneself lost.

and this year is still
far from over.

this year has marked the end of an era.
an era where all had been well in the world.
and now it's not.

two thousand twelve.
i await you with baited breath.

until then, RIP those we have lost.
these tears they fall for you.

wake

2011-09-13T14:51:00.000-07:00

i've never started a story
knowing how it'll end.
i rarely take steps
knowing where they'll lead.
i don't smile
expecting one in return.
and i won't ever
ask someone to change.

life is what it is.
and what will happen will happen.
i will go where i go
and always end up
somewhere else.

i pray no one is hurt in my wake.

here

2011-08-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

this path has lead me here.
where to go now ...
to the right is the sunrise.
an open path
blinded by sunlight,
but the breeze carries promises
of possibilities
and tomorrow.
to the left
the woods
carpeted in blinding fog,
the residue of yesterday,
but in my gut i know
that i'll still find my way.
this isn't lost;
i know where i am
and i know where i came from.
i just don't where to go from here.

circle

2011-08-10T12:47:00.001-07:00

circling you
encircling me
together we dance
this dizzying dance.

i will hold on to you
until i let go.
your hand will grab onto mine
and then let it go.

face to face
eye to eye
cheek to cheek
we kiss.

and then we're spinning away again.

i am so dizzy.
please let's stop this dance.
circling you
encircling me
i am ready to stand still.

perhaps someday we'll just stand still.
finally.

broken window

2011-08-10T12:39:00.000-07:00

it doesn't matter how many stones i throw;
all the windows are broken.
let the bulls run wild,
let the rains come down,
let me remember what it feels like again
to be me.

these windows have been broken for so long.
i tried to hide them behind the curtain,
until yet again
a stone i threw.
instead of a crash
there was silence
because i have thrown that stone before.
and i won't fix the glass
cause i'll surely throw that stone again.

ah. to be me.
me and my horrible aim.

swing

2011-07-28T04:36:00.000-07:00

how do you know
what's real
and what's not?
where
is the
telltale marker?
cannot accept
science's proposal:
chemicals
in the blood
make me feel this way.
cannot accept
religion:
the one
true god
has a plan.
like a swing,
i'm here,
i'm there.
today and tomorrow
i am
everywhere.

sleepless

2011-07-05T15:38:00.000-07:00

tonite it rains again.
the drops are loud against the window.
some of them land on my head.

nightfall

2011-06-20T15:46:00.000-07:00

at night it rains.
every night,
it rains.

it is unrelenting.
it is consistent.
it is soft.

and then
it stops.

just.

like.

t
h
a
t
.

.

.
.
and then it starts again.

time

2011-06-11T15:50:00.000-07:00

there is a contradiction
that can be felt
and exists within time:
it can be counted
- it IS counted -
and yet time both drags and slips
right thru our fingers.

perhaps time is not being measured
by the right parameters.

perhaps time isn't meant to be measured at all.

for when you lose a person you love,
the time you knew them
doesn't change
one ounce
of the sadness,
the denial,
the grief,
and the number of tears
that fall.

love is love.
and love is timeless.

if i could speak

2011-06-05T17:15:00.000-07:00

Where there are no words
How do you find them?
When there is a void
How do you fill it?
When the emotion is overwhelming
Where do you begin?

Speechless
and
empty
and
lost.
So lost.

je ne peux plus

2011-06-04T05:24:00.000-07:00

j'essaie j'essaie
j'essaie comme une foule
mais je ne peux plus.
j'suis desolee mon amour,
mon dieu,
moi,
mais je ne peux plus.
je veux oh comme je veux
mais je peux pas.
je ne peux plus.
pardonnez-moi
j'aurais jamais essayer.
je me connais mieux que ca
j'avais tort
malgre la faite que j'aimerais bien...
j'suis desolee
mais je ne peux plus.

a helping hand

2011-04-26T02:27:00.001-07:00

In an effort to help a friend reach a wider audience, I am posting a link here to her beautiful little bed and breakfast, Birchcliffe Bed & Breakfast. It's located in Hebden Bridge, a gorgeous little market town in West Yorkshire in northern England... If ever you find yourself in that neck of the woods, you should definitely look into staying there! Check it out: http://birchcliffebandb.co.uk

grandpa

2011-04-18T15:48:00.001-07:00

dear grandpa

are you with grandma now? is what they say true? are you watching me now from above?

did you know i came to visit you? i promised you that i would. i'm sorry i couldn't come sooner. i'm sorry i couldn't stay by your side longer.

grandpa, i'm sorry i didn't call more often. i thought about you every day. i have many pictures of you that i always keep close. you are so special to me.

i wish we could go back to that autumn day at your apartment. you were so full of energy, so excited to show me your latest pieces of art. we ate cookies and drank coffee. grandpa, on that day, in flesh and blood, you were 95 years young.

grandpa, you are forever in my heart and you will last a lifetime in my memories.

i hope that what they say is true, because that would mean that you're not alone up there. so until next we meet, i'll be thinking of you, and missing you dearly.

grandpa, i love you.

a tale of two sisters

2011-04-18T15:02:00.000-07:00

The last time they saw each other it was as if no time had passed.

Old wounds were rendered fresh,

and the distance they had come only found them back at square one.

They shared very little common ground,

but that little ground

meant the world to them.

Everyday they would convene

to stand watch over the grandfather they loved

as he rested in his hospital bed.

They would take turns holding his hand,

speaking to him softly,

but loud enough to overcome the chatter around them.

They would do all this together,

but from opposite sides of his bed.

It felt like opposite sides of the earth.

As the days progressed

and their grandfather weakened,

the two sisters were more akin to strangers.

The conversations between them had ended.

No more time was spent together.

They would once and for all go their separate ways.

On their last night in the same town,

the eldest sister prepared a meal for her parents.

It was to be a quiet evening at home.

But an unexpected guest arrived.

With trepidation she approached her sister

and then uttered five words:

"Grandpa waved to me tonight."

In an instant, those five words erased all that had come before them.

The two sisters embraced one another

and in their last night together

they managed to find reasons to laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy.

Sisterhood means different things to different people.

In the case of this tale of these two sisters,

sisterhood simply means love, despite everything, love.

deja vu

2011-04-07T04:43:00.001-07:00

life is a moment.

and then another one.

and then a third.

every moment brings with it

happiness

sadness

surprises

and with a little bit of luck

a whole lot of sunshine.

sometimes life pulls a deja vu

and altho the situation's changed

the feeling is reminiscent.

as if you've felt that before.

that's what now is.

grief is heading my way.

i've felt it before.

and now i'm due to feel it again.

this is no good.

these imminent events.

this is no good.

you changed me

2011-01-17T12:19:00.000-08:00

it can take a long time for a person to become a part of your life.

or it can happen overnight.

you, you took a weekend.

pictures are misleading.

they feel like yesterday.

they were taken so many years ago.

we grew together,

and then we grew apart.

being with you changed me.

the tempest

2010-12-07T17:30:00.000-08:00

passion,
it is the storm on the horizon.
you think you are out of harm's way on the shore,
but you are in its line of fire.
first felt as it drizzles down,
desire will slowly soak its way into your soul.
then thunder crashes in the forms of dreams
and the electricity jolts you awake.
finding yourself drenched
you try to run for cover,
but the deluge is on.
the fervor weighs you down.
slows your step.
the earth beneath you swallows you whole.
engulfed by the tempest of the sweetest emotions
all you can do is weather the storm
and pray for dear life that the floods cease
and that clear skies are on their way
because this storm doesn't invigorate,
it inundates.

hunter

2010-12-07T15:13:00.000-08:00

this attraction,
i know it's not the smile on your face.
it's nothing more than the thrill of the chase,
and it fools me every time.

i sit here and think i might love you.
and you will creep into my dreams.
and this will last until my heart breaks a little more
or explodes along these freshly sown seams.

someone who learns from mistakes,
my god i must be insane.
because i keep doing things differently
and yet always end up the same.

i can't put my finger on it
i can't see where i go wrong
and everyday i fight this fight
reminding myself all along,
that despite this feeling of desire
and despite these relentless dreams
no matter how much i want to believe,
nothing, nothing is ever what it seems.

it's only the thrill of the chase.
it's only the thrill of the chase.
and i promise you that it has nothing to do
with that smile on your beautiful face.

to eden and back

2010-12-07T13:49:00.000-08:00

the pastures can only be so green
and the sky only so blue
like your eyes
so blue
and so lost i get when i look into them.
looking away is like a return from eden
where the grass isn't so soft under my toes
and the sky is chocking with clouds
and everything i saw in your eyes is gone.

damn you, you wonderfully magnificent dreams!

2010-12-03T17:55:00.001-08:00

my dreams as of late have been amazing.

the emotions of my slumber far surpass those when awake.

so wonderful.

and so cruel.

imagine sleeping thru the happiest moment of your day.

rather, sleeping to have that happiest moment.

so cruel.

and yet, so wonderful.

damn you,

you wonderfully magnificent,

emotionally charged,

and evermore exciting than the last

dreams.

if i didn't know any better,

i'd think my days were dreary for dreams to have such impact.

and yet, i couldn't be farther from the truth.

my days rock, but f*ck, my dreams rock harder.

habits and cycles, one in the same

2010-11-08T14:50:00.000-08:00

a tendency that is hard to give up,

a repetition of an action,

these habits and cycles are one in the same.

and although they get me through each day,

they may well also be my undoing.

time is slipping away

2010-11-08T14:45:00.000-08:00

they say time is created by man.

but man doesn't command the rising of the sun nor its descent.

man doesn't push these days along.

he only breaks down this passing into ascertainable moments,

moments to be recorded for later referral.

time stamps for our memories.

like the drips from a leaky faucet,

time passes.

whether we count the fallen droplets or not,

the time and the water are gone.

alone in the dark

2010-07-15T22:43:00.000-07:00

when i close my eyes

i am alone

in the dark.

my dark.

my alone.

my eyes.

my thoughts,

they play tricks on me.

try to make me think i'm there,

when i'm pretty sure i'm here.

my dreams,

they are cruel to me.

they show me things that are not there,

but seem so real,

and just out of reach.

all the time.

just out of reach.

when i close my eyes

i pass from dark to dream

and all the while

i do it alone.

even in the company of friends,

it is done alone.

my alone.

my dark.

my haunting dreams.

alone.

the lady in silver and gray - a true story

2010-06-13T09:21:00.000-07:00

i stood in front of the wooden door and tapped on it, unsure of how else to alert the landlord that i had arrived. in tow were two potential renters and i was the liason for the day. they chatted between themselves while i waited apprehensively, wanting the day to end; i had more important things to do.

a lull in their conversation provided just enough silence to hear the footsteps approaching the other side of the door. i quickly brushed my rain-soaked hair from my forehead and straightened my jacket in the hopes of looking somewhat presentable; i quietly cursed myself for forgetting my umbrella.

when the door opened, a woman greeted us and quickly we were ushered in from the chilly hallway. she welcomed us to remove our rain-speckled jackets and it was in that moment that i took a better look at our host.

she was an older woman, in her late 60s maybe 70s, dressed head to tow in a two-piece grey knit ensemble. her skirt flowed long and her top draped itself over her womanly curves, still intact after all these years. she had a grace about her, a grace that spoke of class, manner, and worldliness; she needn't say much to know that she was a woman worth meeting.

she lived by herself in an apartment built for a family. once upon a time her family did live under its roof but now they were all grown and moved out, save for her husband who had passed a few years before. she remained in the apartment alone because of the memories it held, but she was now ready to move on.

she invited us into her kitchen for a drink and altho i could see that the renters were ready to leave, something compelled me to stay; i wanted to talk to this woman and hear what she had to share.

she poured us each a glass of cider and she began to tell us the story of why she was leaving such a big and beautiful apartment in the heart of paris.

she began her story with a time long before her move to paris. it was a time in her youth, a time before war, a time that only serves as memories these days. she was seventeen years old and she had met the love of her life.

in their time together, said time was limited. they had a few days, a couple of meals, barely one night including one memorable dance. the two attended a community dance together and she wore a dress she never again wore, owing to the swatch she cut from it to give him; he was due to leave the following morning to report for his service duty in their country's army. she remembered their kiss goodbye, knowing it would be a long time before they'd be together again.

a week later, her family moved to paris. she would never see her love again.

as the years went by, she grew older, attended college, met a man, married and had a family. she lived an affluent life, living in the largest of parisian apartments, wearing the nicest of clothes, traveling across the world day in and day out. she led a happy and fulfilling life and altho this kind of lifestyle could lead a person astray, she was always that girl from the countryside within.

as her children grew and matured, her husband became frail and ill. over the course of many years she watched him slip away, and despite her love for him she could not save him. from one day to the next she went from a happily married woman to a saddened and heartbroken widow.

in the years that followed she kept to herself, spending her days and nights locked up in her apartment, floating from room to room and reminiscing about all of the wonderful things that had happened in her home. the more she revisited her memories though, the more distant they began to feel. what was once an immediate remembrance soon became clouded as other memories took their place in each room. memories of her tears, of her pain, of her loneliness.

one morning she awoke, knowing that it was time to carry on with life. her children were grown and long gone to their own homes and families and she knew she was doing no service to herself locked up in her apartment, the same apartment where i was sitting and listening to her story. so she contacted her travel agent, and the following day she was sitting on a bench on a platform waiting for her train.

the train was running late so she sat patiently, wondering if this late train was a sign that she wasn't meant to be taking this trip. as she waited she watched people come and go, depart and arrive, say hello and goodbye. her thoughts were interrupted by a woman sitting next to her, asking if she had missed the train that was due to leave from that platform. she informed her that she too was waiting for the same train, so they settled in together for the wait and began to chat.

at first they chatted about the simple everyday things: their families, the weather, the lack of comfort that the benches had to offer. not really knowing how the conversation led to what they talked about, before long the widow told a story from her youth, about meeting a young man whom she deeply loved, and then losing track of him after her family's move. in keeping with the conversation, the woman asked the widow where she grew up. when the widow told her, the woman remarked "that's funny. that's where my ex husband was from." the widow inquired what his name was, thinking that perhaps he might have been an old schoolmate of hers. the woman's reply was beyond the unthinkable; she spoke the name that the widow had only whispered in her thoughts since all those decades ago. the woman's ex-husband was the widow's first true love.

both women sat in silence for a moment. one woman in awe that they could have this man in common, the widow in shock. before the widow could ask any questions, the train pulled up and the woman gathered her bags. before walking away, she turned to the widow and handed her a business card. she told her that the man they had in common lived there in paris and that perhaps the widow should get in touch with him. after handing the card over, the woman ran off to the train and boarded her car. the widow sat there, bewildered, unsure, and in wonder, staring at the card and reading the name over and over again, sure that this was a dream.

she took a moment to compose herself, gathered her belongings, and walked away from the train. once outside she hailed a taxi and headed straight back to her home.

she sat at her telephone for what seemed like hours, staring at the dial, card in her hand. would he remember her? would he want to hear from her? was her memories of him just simply glorified after all these years? who was he now? would seeing him destroy her beautiful memories of them?

she picked up the receiver and dialed...

she managed to reach him and they spoke but for only a few minutes. he was heading out of town the following day for a business trip and would be back shortly, but he wanted to see her that night.

as she dressed herself that night she was torn. she felt the memories of her life looking down at her with scorn for dishonoring the memory of her late husband. and yet her spirit felt more alive than it had felt in years, telling her that the only way she could dishonor her husband would be to wallow in her sadness and tears.

she shook as she held her hand out for a taxi.

she arrived to the restaurant where they were due to meet and she wondered if she'd even recognize him. and then there he was. as if a day hadn't passed.

he approached her, and before even saying hello, he opened his wallet and pulled out a worn piece of fabic; it was the swatch from her dress after their last night together, almost 50 years ago.

they threw their arms around each other.

and then the widow, sitting across from me at her kitchen table, smiled. she poured me another glass of cider and told me that that summer, she and her love were due to wed.

i looked at her as she uttered these words through her glowing smile. her hair was grey and silver, loosely pulled up into a bun at the top of her head. many, if not most, of the many strands of hair had become loose and fell to her shoulders and down her back. her elegance floored me. her experience awed me. and her story, well, her story, it gave me hope. i tucked my short hair behind my ear, the only thing i could do to stop the tears from falling.

the renters, unmoved by what they had heard, began to fidgit and made it clear that it was time to leave. the woman politely showed us to the closet and handed us our jackets which had by now dried themselves of all raindrops.

as we said our goodbyes and shook hands, i knew i would never see this woman again. i wanted to grab her and hug her and tell her that her story changed me. but i didn't. i shook her hand and thanked her kindly for the cider, her time, and for sharing her story. and then i walked out her door, and she closed it gently behind me.

i can still remember the raindrops when i stepped outside. i can still remember the color of the leaves and grey of the clouds. i can still see her face and i have for ten years never forgotten her words.

you never know what each day holds. you never know what life has in store. all you can know is yourself, and so trust in that. believe in that. follow that through to its end, because our lives afford us the stories that can change people's lives. and when they do, it's miraculous.

I hear you

2010-06-06T10:28:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since we've seen eye to eye,

and it's been even longer since we touched.

But I want you to know I still hear you.

Your arms wrapped around me,

all these memories we share.

All this distance apart, I still hear you.

The way that we danced,

the trouble we caused,

all the fun that we had, I still hear you.

No matter the depth of the sea,

the height of the mountains,

the obstacles that stand in the way,

someday I'll return.

I hope that by then I'll still hear you.

May, tell me where you went...

2010-06-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

Thirty one days. Gone.

I think I had dreams along the way.

I know I had a nightmare.

Woke me from my sleep, and made my stomach turn.

Fearful, I know I laid in bed all night, staring at the ceiling.

Shadows played with my eyes.

Thoughts played with my mind.

Sleeplessness played with my body.

Thirty one days. Gone.

Except for that one night.

That one night I dreamt bad dreams.

I feel like such a little girl sometimes...

raining spring

2010-04-30T07:41:00.000-07:00

the smell of the flowers is thick in the air.

the weeds are being weeds.

the leaves decorate the trees something green

and the clouds rain down a shower.

soon it will be time to plant the seeds.

new lives are waiting to live.

first mother nature must wash winter away

and with it yesterday's sorrows.

this one's for you

2010-03-24T15:54:00.000-07:00

if i close my eyes
the memories push and shove to get to the front of the line.
each memory begins the same:
your smiling eyes,
your funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint.

like the time i came over and you greeted me at the door,
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint,
saying "go inside and watch the movie in the dvd player.
and then you can come hang out with us in the other room."
i saw my favorite movie to date that night.

or the countless times i sat across from you
on the couches in your living room,
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint,
telling me that everything's going to be ok,
the countless times i came to you with my worries.

how about that time i built you a room made of garbage bags,
in an effort to create the room in which you'd display your masterpieces,
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint,
happy with the masterpiece i had made for you.

there was that time when we first met,
and we decided to ditch that art class together,
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint,
telling me it was nice to meet me,
while we strolled along the seine.

and i shall never forget that time you lost your pet
somewhere in your massive apartment,
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint,
warning me not to put my feet bare feet to the ground,
because let's not forget that the pet in question was in fact
a massive scorpion.

i will never forget your effect on people,
whether you made them smile or squirm,
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint,
smiling in delight or return.

you are timeless in my thoughts.
you will forever be
smiling eyes,
funny hair,
your long arm outstretched towards me
passing me the joint.
and i will forever reach out,
take that joint,
and say thank you my friend.

and by friend i mean,
that person who will always stay with me in spirit,
no matter where in the world,
heavens or below,
with those smiling eyes,
and funny hair,
that long arm forever outstretched towards me
passing me the joint.

tonight though,
this one's for you my friend.
and this second one as well.
what i'd give to look into your smiling eyes,
give you props on your funny hair
and outstretch to you this joint i've got here...
what i'd give for you to be here to take it...
aw sam, this one's for you.

Coming and going

2010-03-16T05:03:00.000-07:00

People sweep in and out of lives
like the tides of the ocean on the shore.
Ebb and flow.
Ebb and flow.

Perspective determines whether this this cycle is erosive, corrosive, damaging,
or perhaps imperative to shaping the shoreline as we know it today.

Ebb and flow.

There are some tides that arrive in waves,
and some waves whose beautiful memory lasts a lifetime.
And then there are some waves that destroy everything in its path.
And you wish you could forget it, but can't.

Ebb and flow.

The moon is to blame for all that happens below.
Held hostage by our beliefs that it's more powerful than all of the ocean.
Proving the message from the story of the sun and the wind.
Sometimes it is the gentle hand that can affect the most change.

Ebb and flow.
Ebb and flow.
Ebb and flow.

the future's going to hate us

2010-02-21T10:10:00.000-08:00

it shocks me that there's still a debate about the environment; whether or not the environment is beyond it's breaking point is simply a moot point. how can people not agree that our earth is one worth taking care of?

i recently started watching battlestar gallactica. as much as i thought i'd be embarrassed to admit it, my point here trumps my shame.

when it comes to the future, and people are floating through space on their spaceships, there are three undeniable truths:

1) in order to survive, the people need water.

2) in order to survive, the people need food.

3) in order to survive, the people need air.

looking at today, these are three resources being destroyed by the minute.

our water is polluted beyond comprehension.

most food is now processed and nutrient-lacking.

and the air is browned with chemicals.

it makes me realize that capitalism is a far worse system than any communist or socialist system that ever befell this world. capitalism lets the few put their personal interests before the good of the many; it puts the bottom line before the last breath; and it lets money talk louder than mother earth.

when all is said and done, all the money in the world will not bring back the air, food and water once it is gone.

and this is such a great shame that we'll forever be branded with after we all pass away; and it is a surety that future generations will look back at us, scratching their heads, and wonder: 'what the hell were they thinking...'

Forever

2010-02-03T15:22:00.000-08:00

She should have never looked into his eyes.
She should have never shared a smile.
She should have never touched his skin.
She should have never tasted his lips.
Because if she choose to believe in soulmates,
She knows she just found hers,
in him.
And she cannot do anything about it.
And knowing that she will have to wait another lifetime for him
will turn this one into an eternity.

But a dream more real than life

2010-02-03T15:16:00.000-08:00

The smoke is more solid than you have been.
The water is easier to hold.
The air feels warmer than the memory of your skin
and outside, tonight it is cold.

You are but a dream more real than life
because only life can make me feel this way.
In time I hope life catches up to me,
Because I don't want you to go away.

Falling home

2010-01-17T07:38:00.000-08:00

I am suspended
high up in the air.

I have no fear.
Because I see the net below.

And so I walk the line.

I take these risks
that are really not risks.

Because I see the net below.

Truth is, I want to fail.
I want to fall.
I want that rush.

I want to feel like I'm flying,
falling,
tumbling towards my fate,
my destiny.

I want to lose sight of where I came from
and where I'm going.
I want to spin.

I want to be nothing but feeling.
Falling.

And then I want to be caught by the net below.
It will feel like home.
Safe.

The net lets me jump
-yes, I jump-
and do things I'd never do
if it was never there.

From one quiet soul to another

2010-01-17T06:33:00.000-08:00

We are loud.
We are fast.
We are thoughtless.
And we move.
But our souls are quiet in unison.

You're there and I'm here.
More than worlds apart.
We don't even see the same stars.
But our souls are in lockstep and dancing.

It was but a moment,
not even a clock could record the time.
A blink you were there,
and then a blink you were gone.
But our souls are still holding hands.

Why meet now?
Why meet at all,
if this is all that's left?
Because lonely souls have a way of finding one another,
and then never letting go.

happy 'new' year

2010-01-02T07:52:00.001-08:00

this is the thirty-first time i've celebrated a new year. thirty-one fresh beginnings. thirty-one years worth of resolutions. thirty-one years to understand that it's not about january 1st. it's about march 18th, june 26th, and october 4th. it's about taking advantage of each day, starting anew when necessary, and keeping the momentum going for those things that are going good. it's about the fact that there are 365 january 1sts if you needed them.

it's not a happy new year. it's just another happy new day.

:)

2010 - The Year of the Bee

2010-01-02T06:59:00.000-08:00

This is the year that amazing things will happen.

Not because it's 2010, a new decade or just simply the new year.

Amazing things will happen because I want them to. Call it manifest destiny.

And you? What do you want to happen this year?

Never forget that where there is a will there is a way, and that life never gives us obstacles that we cannot overcome.

Wishing you all a happy productive year :)

Tidal

2009-11-21T02:10:00.000-08:00

today is ebb. it is the withdrawl. it is the pulling away from the coast and everything that stood solid in life. it is the precursor to the shitstorm waiting at the door.

you can feel the immensity of what's to come behind you. its shadow creeps across the ground engulfing yours. and it is silent.

and then it isn't anymore.

the end of ebb is the beginning of flow.

it is the rushing forward despite all attempts to slow down. it is the fearlessness of all obstacles in the way. and it is the courage in knowing that there is but one moment which will define it, and then it is over.

and so begins the cycle again.

it is knowing that there is no good and no bad, only halves that make sense of the other. it is knowing that without down there can be no up. it is the constant belief that everything happens for a reason, and even if we don't know what that is, it is the perseverance to keep this cycle going, no matter how dizzying the cycles can get.

for the love of words

2009-10-22T13:51:00.000-07:00

we are creatures of expression. how lucky are we to live in this time where our forefathers made possible a world of art and dance, music and poetry, theatre and the printed page. all of these things avenues to realizing our thoughts, musings and ideas, and then communicating them. for me, it always begins with words.

they come to me. words. they come to me when i least expect it. it happens while watching a film, or riding a bus. they sneak in when i'm supposed to be listening to someone talking, or paying attention to what i'm reading. they line up perfectly whenever i don't have a pen nearby.

and it's frustrating. to have a passion that you do not have control over, and instead has control over you.

i cannot be alone in this feeling.

writing isn't easy. but not writing is even harder. i mean, how long can a person realistically go before needing to write something down?

.................................. not long.

A few of my favorite things

2009-10-03T00:39:00.000-07:00

It's bumping into a friend on the street. It's waiting for the temperature of a hot drink to come down on a cold day. It's the way the sun reflects off your neighbor's window and shines across the way.

It's the days past, it's the fading memories, it's the reasons that you are who you are even though it's hard to recollect them sometimes.

It's the way things change without your noticing. It's the way hair grows longer and days grow shorter. It's the way that four different seasons flow into a year. It's the way that you grow wiser.

It's the way you felt yesterday and the way you feel today. It's the wishes you make and and the promises you break. It's the way sadness gets in the way of happiness, and not the other way around.

It's the way that life constantly proves to you that things can get much worse, but can also get much better. It's the constant reminder that you are alive and well and still not quite at where you want to be. It's the reason we do our best.

Starting from scratch

2009-09-06T05:45:00.000-07:00

everything is being pushed to its limits.
and the environment is seemingly limitless these days.
how far can we realistically push,
before we find ourselves back at square one?
having come full circle, where has one to go from here?

how do you do something new?

1999 - 2009 / A Retrospective

2009-08-31T07:42:00.002-07:00

I don't know the days of innocence.

I don't remember when I didn't know, when I was first discovering, when the world changed. It was always already changed.

Sex, drugs, my rebel ways, always a part of who I was, always a part of the romance of my life, always my calling, my poison, my cure.

And now I've gone cold turkey. I'm returning to the days that were supposed to be mine.

No more fighting. I want peace.

No more binging. I want stability.

No more selfishness. I have others to think of.

No regrets either though.

I still teeter on this seesaw, wondering who I am, where I'm supposed to go, what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to do it.. and then I remember that I'm the only person who can answer these questions. Which means that I can be whoever I want to be, go wherever I choose to go, do whatever I want to do, and do it however I so feel.

Ignorance is bliss? Whatever. It is stupidity. Knowledge is bliss, innocence is divine, and life is a crazy roller coaster just waiting for you to take its ride...

I can't do what they do (but I can publish my 100th post)

2009-08-29T08:16:00.000-07:00

It's job hunting season... I did this to myself. I had a job, and then I quit it two days later. I've brought this upon myself, like most things in this life....

The job boards are filled with positions for people vastly more qualified than me, for peope with skills I do not possess, for people who's interests are not the same as mine. Where's the job for me?

I am afraid that I know the answer to this question; I've known it all along. I'll never find my job out there because it's not a job that anyone can give me; it's a job I have to create myself.

Shit.

My happiness and success depends on motivating my lazy ass to get up and start making something happen.

Life never was as easy thing, but f*cking hell it's just become a hell of a lot harder...

It's been a year now...

2009-08-15T06:44:00.000-07:00

One year. Three hundred and sixty five days. About 8765 hours, depending on who you ask.

This blog was intended to facilitate the writing of a book. One year later, I'm no closer now than I was then. But how the world around me has otherwise moved on.

America inaugurated a black president. The economy crashed. The swine flu continues to spread. And I am now a married woman.

All these things happen around me, yet daily life hasn't really changed much. Babies still cry on airplanes, people still drunkenly sing their way home down my street on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Tuesday nights, and restaurants all over are still looking for serveuses. Movies are still being made, music is still influencing the youth, and drinking a coffee in a cafe seems to never go out of style. Organic is still more expensive than edible crap, the polar ice caps are still melting at record speeds, and Sarkozy is still painfully shorter than his amazonian wife. In fact, the only real tangible difference I can see these days is this ring I wear on my finger.

Funny how that little difference is what is going to make all of the difference.

I don't want my daily life to change, unless it is I who changes it. Perhaps that is why I sit content with my blog for now; for fear that taking that next big step into bookdom might spin my life into a direction I do not know the footing for. But did I not just marry? Did I not just do something new and scary and embark into a world I've never been in before? If I can do that with a man, why can I not find that same courage and do that with myself? For myself?

One year ago I would have never guessed that the world would change as it has, but it did regardless. I'm beginning to believe that anything is truly possible. Perhaps in one year, three hundred and sixty five days, about 8765 hours, depending on who you ask, I'll have written a book, the kind of book I have always dreamt of writing.

God knows, I'm a married woman now. Anything, anything is possible....

The Truth Behind These Words

2009-07-08T07:14:00.000-07:00

I have made many mistakes in my life. I have taken many risks. I have taken steps when the path wasn't necessarily clear, and I have gotten into cars with strangers. And I feel that life has only rewarded me for it.

Every mistake has become a lesson learned. Every risk proved my fear inutile. Paths have laid themselves out for me, and is it not strangers who eventually become our friends?

I write this blog to share my experiences and my thoughts. I try to keep it short because we're all busy people, with busy lives and busy friends. Hell, I'm even a bit busy from time to time. But regardless of the time that does inherently slip by, this blog is my way of reminding myself that life's not for nothing.

Life's moments and experiences, good and bad, are worth sharing. Amazing the number of people on this earth, and each of their individual stories... mine is but one. And just like every other one, it is unique, and so I choose to pop in from time to time, and put in my two cents.

These past two months since I last posted have been filled with joy and discovery; I have met my future husband, a wonderful man with whom I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days, and am due to marry in exactly one month.

The name will change but the person will not. Life is what it is, and I will always want to tell about it. So I extend my gratitude to those of you who have been following along with me this past year; your company is well appreciated.

I will make an effort to post again on a bit more of a regular basis; even once a week is better than every two months... so until I post again, enjoy the summer -rainy, hot or dry as it may be- and don't forget to embrace life once a day. Does a body good.

;)

Oops

2009-07-08T07:12:00.000-07:00

How?

How has it been two months since my last post? I remember writing it like it was just yesterday...

I wonder, what does that then say about the time since then?

It is time lost? wasted? spent? Ha. No.

Far from it.

We are all on drugs

2009-05-14T05:40:00.001-07:00

It’s halfway through 2009. The world is in a state of financial crisis. There is a health epidemic spreading from Mexico that has every country up in arms. The global climate is worsening everyday as the environment’s final hours are ignored. And we are all on drugs; and then we ask ourselves why.

We live in societies that have maintained their strict rules over centuries, despite the changing times. We are raised in families whose traditions are outdated by the now daily new technologies that alter and supposedly ameliorate our existences. We’re bombarded by a mass media that is controlled by people who have their own agendas. And war brims on all horizons.

So pick your poison.

You can drink. You can go to a doctor and get a prescription for something that will come in a little orange bottle with a childproof cap. Or you can just go to the pharmacy and get pills that’ll help you sleep it all away.

You can also smoke a joint, snort some yeyo, or shoot some smack. There’s also always crack, fake sugar, and coffee.

Who’s not dosed with something?

The question of why is almost rhetoric. We know why.

We work hard (in life, love, and everything else) and most of us see very little in reward.

The world has become depressing. So we need every little thing we can find to put a smile on our faces or at the very least to ease our soul a little bit.

It is a hard thing to be sober in this already sobering existence.

Rain rain go away

2009-04-18T06:42:00.001-07:00

The room isn't filled with sunlight, but there is still light. The kind of filtered light that reaches a room after passing through thick clouds and millions of raindrops.

The air is chilly and there is no sound save for the pitter-patter on the windows.

Hard to tell that it's springtime in Paris.

Or is it?

The old man in the subway

2009-04-14T07:26:00.000-07:00

Everyday I take the same metro to work, from the same stop to the same stop. I ride the same car, at the same time, and not once have I ever seen the same face. Except for the old man in the subway.

He sits on the steps of the station I exit out of. Everyday he wears the same beige pants, the same tweed jacket, the same blood-red scarf, and the same bowler's cap. And they are always pristine.

Sometimes I think that he's just a normal guy, sitting on the steps to take a break from his day. But then I notice the little pan by his side for people's spare change.

I always want to give him something, but I rarely have anything to give. Except for today.

I saw him from a distance and instantly reached into my purse. I pulled out my wallet and from it I withdrew a 2 euro coin. I held it in my hand as I approached him, and politely bent down to put it in his change pan once I reached him. I looked up to his face, and he just stared at the ground, oblivious to the fact that I was there, or that I had just placed 2 euros into his pan that had only up until then held 30 centimes.

I wanted to give him a hug.

But I didn't. I just stood up, and headed up the stairs...

Several hours later, he was gone. I looked for him around the station, but he was nowhere to be found. I wonder how the rest of his day went. I wonder if he got himself something good to eat, perhaps drink. I wonder if I made any difference in his day...

Men

2009-04-11T18:03:00.000-07:00

you are such strange creatures
i can never tell if you're for real or not
i ignore you,
and you pursue me.
i hold out my hand,
and you turn away.
you come
and you go
and you turn into a dream.
a dream i want to realize at first,
and then you only become the faint memory of another later on.

the kind of dream that you forget.

Medellin

2009-04-08T18:41:00.000-07:00

You stood there and looked at me
as I looked out at you.
Your beauty mesmerized me.
Your pain touched me.
Your history pulled me in
and your rains flooded me out.
Your life I felt in my veins.
Your world I was a part of.

But now you're there,
and I'm here.

Until I close my eyes.
And the two then meet in the middle.

And that's good enough for now...

The night I met the neighbors

2009-03-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

This evening, I had my late night smoke in the courtyard of my building.

As I stooped in the shadows, a young woman came in and saw me, and walked towards me asking if I had any alcohol that I could sell her; she was heading to friend's party up on the 3rd floor and seeing that it was 2am, nothing in the neighborhood was open to buy anything.

I told her I had nothing to give her, and apologized for not even having a bottle of shit wine to offer. Truth was, I did have alcohol up in my kitchen, but it is a bottle of bourbon, and I keep it for those wonderfully random sporadic hot-toddy nights. Can't be giving that away.

Anyway, not much later on, as I was finishing off my smoke, a group of people came down, amongst them the woman I had met earlier. She quickly introduced me to my neighbors above, as well as the rest of their group, and as quickly as they had showed up, they were out the door and onto the street, drunk and looking to continue their evening.

That 's now two neighbors in the building who I know. (Three if counting the neighbor below me whose door I had to knock on to retrieve my kitchen-mat, which had fallen from my window sill down onto his.)

So far, everyone I'm meeting and seeing are around my age. And so far, everyone seems cool. I've lived here for four months now... funny that all of a sudden now I'm meeting the people who live so close to me...

Hunger

2009-03-19T18:06:00.000-07:00

I'm a different person when I'm hungry.

I think differently. I act differently. I move differently.

Priorities are quickly rearranged. Time is made. Certain obligations cease to exist.

And when I speak of hunger, I speak of hunger as if it was but a desire. A desire for food, for love, for affection, for solitude, for happiness, or perhaps to just be creative.

Hunger drives us, if only for short spurts throughout the day, it does so each and every day of our lives.

There's no ignoring it.

Hunger only grows, and not feeding it can kill a person, in body, heart, and soul.

And feeding that hunger is the best feeling in the world.

Not for nothing

2009-03-19T09:03:00.001-07:00

Weeks go by, with each day passing quicker than the previous one. Is it because the sun is staying up longer, the days are getting warmer, winter's finally ending? Or is it because perhaps the worst of life is finally over?

It feels like time can once again resume its normal pace.

How slow the days can drag on when things are so hard and so sad. How difficult it was to imagine not feeling heavy with those thoughts. How hard it was to smile.

And little by little, and day by day, just as I had hoped, I began to forget. New memories made to push the others away from the spotlight. New friends and new laughs. New days and new nights and so much of the old released.

But not all.

Some has stayed; and it has changed me. Like everything else in life, these experiences have changed the way I look at things, at the world, at people, and at me.

Everything is never for nothing.

Life is a never-ending series of lessons to learn... it's our choice to accept or reject them.

Personally, I'm a fan of acceptance; I like to learn new things every day...

My heart named Tyler

2009-03-01T17:05:00.000-08:00

One more week under my belt, and again, another lifetime led for a hot minute.

Where have the days gone where I could count on tomorrow?

I'm scared of what tomorrow brings now. Scared that it's to bring more disappointment, more let-down, more emptiness.

The hardest part is realizing that my feelings are borne of my hidden hopes and my sanguine expectations... this is all my doing.

And it's all I try to avoid.

But my heart won't stop making an effort to love, no matter how much I try to stand in its way.

I feel like I'm Edward Norton in Fight Club, and my heart is Tyler Durden. Oh how it sometimes fills me with confidence and make me feel invincible, but when it's not, my heart is my worst adversary.

I'm not about to shoot myself to make my heart named Tyler go away though.

I guess I'll just have to keep letting the weeks come and go, and hope that someday, well, hope that someday my crazy heart will calm down and just be content with me...

It's been a while...

2009-02-24T21:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I was last myself....

Two short weeks, and in awe of how little can happen and yet alter so much.

... I'm changed forever.

Two short weeks ago, I tested positive five times to take-home pregnancy tests. With each package I opened I desperately hoped that in five minutes I wouldn't see that second blue line or pink positive sign appear in that second little window. They were always there.

I took blood and urine tests. The results said I had the hormones.

I even had an ultrasound. And there it was. And I couldn't deny it any longer.

And I wanted to keep it... him.. her...

But I didn't. For reasons I accepted, but didn't agree with...

I know it's going to be okay... life is good to me that way... but I just wish that none of this had ever happened...

I am not happy to have had to make the kind of decision I had to make.

Nobody Knows (words by Oren Lavie)

2009-02-10T03:50:00.000-08:00

Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in its case

Soon she's down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And she goes...
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And she goes...
Nobody knows

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasantly strange
And counting the change
And she goes...
Nobody knows.

Sweeping up the pieces

2009-02-09T11:25:00.000-08:00

I could not help but notice the hairs and socks left round my apartment. Today became the day to clean: the apartment, the mind, the soul.

Hobbling on one foot as I worked my way slowly around the room, picking up memories of these past weeks, I found that it got easier and easier to let go; to let go of the ideas, the hopes, the wild imaginings of a girl who fell in love.

Funny that today is today.

It is my three month anniversary of my return to Paris. Three months, the same exact amount of time he'll be gone. And so much much has happened since my arrival, and I can not even begin to imagine what lies in store for me ahead... Three months. Such a long time. Such an awesomely long time, just enough time to forget about all of this....

Heart and Ankle: Broken

2009-02-08T14:55:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure which pain is worse, or which crack was louder, but I do know that I wish I could numb myself from head to toe.

I wish I could erase my memory. Delete the words. Shake the hell out of the fucking etch-a-sketch of life. I want a new path. I need a new direction.

I am stupid when I am in love. And stupidity always leads to getting hurt. Apparently stupidity and taking risks are not greeted by life in the same manner.

We are seemingly rewarded when we take risks; the rewards of traveling to new places, meeting new people, eating new foods, listening and dancing to new music... you take these things away and your live is enriched with their memories. But you do this with love, and you reward yourself with discovering a new person, touching a new body, falling in love with new eyes, becoming vulnerable again... you take these things away, and you're left empty.

And its horrible, how a person can carve out a space like that in a heart, and be thoughtless enough to then vacate it.

Anger is now following the sadness I felt earlier. Later tonight I'm sure to move onto loneliness. In the morning I'll be groggy, and probably put on some music to try to motivate me a little bit.

I know this pain will pass, and this wound will heal. But what I'm not looking forward to in the end is the scar.

On Being a Lover

2009-02-03T16:39:00.000-08:00

I am afraid that I have lost track of myself.

I used to be someone led by her heart; a romantic thru and thru. But skepticism seems to have crept up into my veins.

I am fearful of letting myself loose, knowing how far I can go, how much I can bend, how long I can wait, how patient I can be.

I have fallen in love again, and I hate myself for it.

Where have the days gone where I let love cover my eyes and lead me by my hand? So wary of falling down...

As if I loved everything in this world, except for love itself.

The Danger of Withholding Truth

2009-01-29T19:11:00.000-08:00

To withhold a certain truth is to play with the 'what if' of life.

It is a dangerous game.

Because truths always surface. And reality can be a bitch.

... such a f*cking bitch.

Time

2009-01-28T14:14:00.000-08:00

Time can be nothing, or it can be everything.

Some things thrive with time, others whither and die.

I imagine this is why they call it a test.. the 'test of time'...

And it is a test.

It's like holding your breath
Under water
Whilst swimming laps.

But then, you come up for air. And you look around, and check out how far it is exactly that you've gotten... And no matter the distance, you're usually glad to have at least gotten this far...

I think that in the end, time is most definitely a blessing in disguise.

No matter how much it sucks to hold your breath.

Saint Sulpice

2009-01-27T00:31:00.000-08:00

Saint Sulpice is an area in Paris where the unexpected happens.

Scaffoldings have been climbed, Jesus has surfed, and last night I drank with a homeless man.

Rather, he sat at our table as two friends and I shared a bottle of wine. He told us that he was Spanish and an artist.

Neither was true.

He took the waiter's tip from the table, interested himself in the 5 euro bill also sitting on the table, and smoked all three of the cigarettes that we offered him at the get-go. He pretended to cry, told us his life story, sang a song, and by the end of the hour that we all shared the table and drinks, we all hugged goodbye.

Expect the unexpected, and when it comes knocking at your door, greet it with smile, and then let it in.

...Last night was an excellent night.

;)

The Human Condition - Chapter 14

2009-01-22T07:45:00.000-08:00

The rain falls lightly outdoors. Not enough for an umbrella, but just enough for the bottom of my pantlegs to find themselves wet.

And here I am in love, but no one knows.

My actions speak louder than my words though, and I know that someday soon the man of my affections will know for sure, if he hasn't figured it out already.

We've agreed to not fully disclose our affections, as he is leaving soon; albeit his return is inevitable, we're still willing to wait until there are no more reasons to say goodbye.

I've never felt so sure of anything, and I know nothing.

We have only our actions, our caresses, our soft words and kisses. And right now, that's all I need.

Gone are the days of constant reassurance, instability, and doubt. Today, and forever more, is for trust, confidence, and belief.

I've spent many a day, month, and year waiting. Time is nothing.

Love is everything.

Three months

2009-01-21T17:10:00.001-08:00

What is three months?

A job can be lost, a job can be found.
A book can be read, a movie watched, a long path taken.
A friend can be made, a lover discovered, perhaps a heart that gets broken.
A plant can be grown, an animal born, a clock that keeps on ticking.
People unite, worlds fall apart, spring brings leaves to the trees.
My hair grows longer, a feeling grows stronger, and a heart that only grows fonder.

Lonely nights, they come and go.
They never last forever.

I can wait.
(For you.)

Day 16

2009-01-16T06:03:00.000-08:00

Everyday has its little moments.

And each of those moments add up to their days.

This is how time goes by.

In the good moments, when you know you're in the midst of a moment you want to remember forever, how do you make sure you're making the most of it?

The way time slips by these days scares me. So much time, gone. And so much time to come, true, but nothing is guaranteed.

I just hope I can look back someday and be happy with all of the decisions I made along the way, and know that I did my best to make the most of everything, good and bad.

Please, life, don't let me end with any regrets...

Day 5

2009-01-05T18:54:00.000-08:00

Expect the unexpected.

Because that is what will always come knocking on your door.

In life, in just one day, people will come and go, circumstances will shift, environments can change...

It's hard sometimes to trust any of it; constantly wondering where it will all lead.

I'm on that path now... feeling a little lost, feeling a little weary...

Ah well, I guess things can only go back up from here...

Happy next 365 days

2009-01-01T17:18:00.000-08:00

January first is like a blank page, a clean slate, a 00:00.

It's also a time when we often ask ourselves, "Where have these past 365 taken me, and what's in store now with these upcoming ones?"

We'll know by New Year's Eve 2010.

So until then, I'm just going to keep taking things day by day. (I highly recommend it.)

I hate to plan ahead... it's so much better when life just surprises you along the way....

Happy Holidays everybody!

2008-12-24T11:25:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here and hoping that you are all in the company of loved ones over this holiday season.

I am with you in spirit.

:)

The Human Condition - Chapter 13

2008-12-20T18:23:00.000-08:00

What it's like to be a man, I'll never know. What it's like to be a gay man however, I think I might have a clue.

I mean, it seems that women and gay men have the same issue: not hearing back from whomever they might have just spent a wonderful evening with, and that usually includes sex.

What's up with a man's detachment?

I say, ladies, let's play that game. Let us stop being disappointed when we don't hear back from 'that guy'. Let's stop imagining what could be, and just live in the moment.

Let's get detached.

There are so many men out there, why let one dude get you down when there are so many others that can just lift you right back up? And in my opinion, a guy shouldn't even be necessary to make you feel good about yourself (and certainly shouldn't make you feel bad!).

Yeah, I know, feeling wanted feels damn good, but again, don't let it get you down if he is foolish enough to think that you're not worth any more of his time. Cause I know the people who read this blog, and I gotta tell you, you rock.

So onwards and upwards my good people. Here's to getting through the day with a smile on your face, regardless of it all.

:)

Goodness Gracious

2008-12-15T15:10:00.000-08:00

How has it been two weeks since I last posted? How is that possible?

To say the very least, things have been wonderful, and so I guess it's true; time does fly when you're having fun.

And things really do happen for a reason. Whatever those reasons are, life does cycle in and out of good and better moments, with some heavier ones in between.

It's hard to trust the world sometimes, but you have to do it. You have to trust people, you have to trust your surroundings, and you have to trust yourself. Without trust, there can be no confidence. Without confidence, there can be no success.

And today, I am feeling successful, and I know it's because I'm learning how to trust and be confident.

Finally.

To dance a dance

2008-12-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

At 5:18pm on the 8 line of the Parisian metro tonight, an accordian band loaded the car that I was sitting in. They began to play, and I began to tap my foot. They began to clap and I began to nod my head. They began to jam out and I helped keep the beat. The man playing closest to me let go of his instrument, reached out to me, and motioned for me to get up and dance with him.

So I did.

And I danced in circles with the accordian man as the train passed from Madeleine to Concord to Invalides. I had no idea if people were watching or not. I have no idea what song we danced to. And I have no idea why I did it.

All I know is that I did. Just like I've done everything else in life. I just got up and took an opportunity by its hand. That's the only way I know how.

The Human Condition - Chapter 12

2008-11-24T23:50:00.000-08:00

The human condition. What is it?

It is what makes us smile, and makes us cry. It is what brings laughter to our faces and pain to our hearts. It is the conflict and harmony of sun, the moon and the stars in our celestial body, and it is a black hole too. It is everything we understand, and everything we don't.

I write about it because we're all the same; we're all seeking some salvation, validation, justification, for why we do the things we do, and why people do what they do too. To help make sense of this puzzle.

Sometimes when I write, things become clearer to me. Sometimes they don't. But writing has become the only way I know how to be honest with myself sometimes, especially when the truth hurts and the words -for fear of compounding the pain- cannot escape my mouth.

My words, they creep silently through my thoughts, down my pen, down my fingers, onto a paper or keyboard, whichever is at hand.

One day my written words will find my voice, and the two will fall in step. That is a day I dream about.

That day is not today tho.

And how I wish it was.

But of course...

2008-11-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

When you're walking down a pedestrian street filled with people, such as Rue St Andre des Arts, and you see the crowd parting up ahead, upon realizing that it's in fact a veritable Mini trying to putput its way through the mass, naturally you look into the car to see the crazy person trying to steer their way through this maddness, and naturally you see a little old lady with her two dogs in the car -one in the front seat and one in the back... but of course...

There are no words

2008-11-19T03:57:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting here listening to a mixture of Etta James and Nina Simone songs... The room has taken on a relaxed jazzy feel and I'm sitting back and enjoying the music.

Sometimes, there are just those days, where you find yourself speechless and all you can do is find music that somehow resonates with the deep tones of your emotions...

I love those kinds of days. Because I love this kind of music. Especially when I feel this way.

The dangers of being too tired...

2008-11-17T04:59:00.000-08:00

I laid in bed last night and I thought about today's posting. I had it all straight in my head. I thought of its closing lines as I drifted off to sleep.

And then I woke up having forgotten every word of it.

I sit here now and wonder what it was that I might have thought of.

I sit here and think about my day yesterday.

It was a good day. I saw good friends, I listened to good music, I sat out on my bedroom balcony for a while and enjoyed the view, and I got creative and wrote a little book.

Perhaps today's posting was going to be about good things.

So in that esprit, today is about the good times, the good people, the good food, and this good world. Go hug someone today. ;)

Around every corner

2008-11-15T10:50:00.000-08:00

Around every corner there is a new face.
A new place.
A new view.
A new you.

Around every corner there waits the future.

Confidence in your walking ability is all you need.

Left foot right foot. Left foot again.

Step after step, maybe someday this path will make sense.

Until then, corner after corner, around every corner, juts keep trusting in your steps.

These times are strange

2008-11-14T06:48:00.000-08:00

The headlines read one thing, the streets say something else. Most of life is happening behind closed doors these days, as bank accounts fold over themselves like the waves of the sea in the middle of a tempete.

In the middle of it all, America elected Barack Obama. I was on the streets on New York City the following morning, and the spirit in the faces of every person I passed was practically tangible.

I have since left and will be watching America's progress from the other side of this here pond. I know I'll be back, because I want to take part in the great things that are to come, but I'm also feeling fortunate to be overseas, to witness how America's economic downfall truly effects the entire world. I feel that from abroad I have better access to international news, and with that it helps me better understand my place in this world, and how I can help.

I think hope is important these days. I think strength, courage, and wisdom can't hurt either. I hope we all live through these times and look back knowing that we did our best.

The Human Condition - Chapter 11

2008-11-13T01:05:00.000-08:00

What is it that seasons us into who we are?

I imagine it begins at birth, from that first gasp of air. From there, we either cry all night or sleep soundly. Eventually we grow eager to walk, but to where?

Who comes and goes from our lives having left lasting impressions?

How do we make sense of it all as adults? When reacting to situations, what's really happening in our psyche? Are we simply mimicking what we've learned? Or are we ever truly being ourselves?

From person to person, different things come out in me. Why is this the case?

Synchronicity

2008-11-11T17:44:00.000-08:00

This summer my father picked up Carl Jung's book on synchronicity, and it has since become a regular topic of conversation. And since that point, it has also become an eerie presence in my life.

Synchronicity is the "experience of two or more events which are casually unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner". (Thank you Wikipedia.)

I had often confused this phenomenon with destiny, or serendipity (the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely. Thank you again Wikipedia.)

In an effort to make sense of it all though, I choose chalk down these kinds of experiences to the idea that life is simply letting me know that I'm on the right path, as I watch pieces of the puzzle starting to fall in to place.

Here is what I'm talking about:

Six years ago, a close friend made me a necklace for my birthday; it was a woven hemp collar with a small golem figurine secured in its center. (The figurine came from a class trip to Prague several months earlier. The history of this mythological being comes from Jewish folklore, and as such it was a protector of the Jews in the Prague ghetto against anti-Semetic attacks.)

For years I have traveled across the globe and carried this necklace with me, always hanging it above the doorway in my bedroom; call it a superstition, I always felt like this was my way of warding off bad juju and somehow spiritually protecting myself.

This past summer however, it was the first time I traveled without it. For some reason, as I packed upon leaving one home to move to the next, I placed my golem in a box to store.

That same summer, I saw my friend who had made me that necklace; it was the first time we were too see each other since the necklace was made. Now, three months later, we are due to wed.

It's like life let me know that I wouldn't need the golem to watch over me anymore...

There is another moment which only came to light as of today...

Going back to this summer again, one thing I did bring along with me to my new home was a set of three pictures I have also carried with me everywhere I have gone. It is a set of three photographs of graffiti from Barcelona (one of the most incredible graffiti-decorated cities I've ever seen.) They are encased in small rimless-glass frames, and have been for years.

I tried to remove them from their frames this summer (so as to wall-mount them simply with scotch tape), but two of the three were stuck to the glass and would rip upon any attempt of removal. So I hung the glass frames with duct-tape. (I know, smart.)

One week later, the picture in the frame that could come out fell from the wall. The glass frame broke.

Today I have moved into yet another new home. I live here with three friends, one of whom is my fiancee. As I unpacked, I came across the two of what was left of my three framed pictures, wrapped in my scarf for protection. My fiancee unwrapped the pictures and upon discovering the two frames he said, "Sweet. You can hang them on the two hooks on the wall." At which point he motions over to a spot on the wall where sure enough, there were two hooks hanging perfectly in place to display the two pictures he held in his hands.

It's like life let me know that I'd only have enough space for two of those three pictures soon...

As life progresses it also carries this sense that it is unfolding; as if things happen on a continuum where events are seemingly random, but yet are closely interrelated.

It brings me a great comfort to look at things this way. It makes sense of the truly crazy yet wonderful moments that this world has to offer. It also makes sense of the perceivably mundane and unimportant moments that for some reason you remember upon experiencing some other seemingly everyday commonplace moment; a connection can be sensed.

I am curious to see what other kinds of events come my way as I move forward. It seems that the key to having this kind of relationship with life is to just be yourself, and do as you feel right; because when you drive through the country, mountainside or desert, you can control whether you go right, left or straight, but it is life that controls the obstacles and vistas that line up along your path.

GOBAMA

2008-11-07T06:55:00.000-08:00

Two words.

Barack Obama.

America's President.

I'm happy.

Welcome home.

Quitter

2008-11-07T06:19:00.001-08:00

Yes, I'm a quitter. I quit things when they're too hard, too easy, and smokable.

It's been almost two weeks now that I'm smoke-free. It's been rather difficult, and there have been times where every inch of my body screamed for just one drag, but I have resisted. I realize that it's just about getting past the moment. Those cravings come in waves and if I can just ride them out, then eventually I'm back to my serene voyage.

I did smoke on Halloween though. I stole drags from cigarettes being smoke around me by friends. But I don't let this get me down. I look at those moments as wind in my sails, allowing me to step further into my non-smoking obscurity. A few drags here, a few drags there, and some alcohol in between, due to that one night this week has been much easier for me than the one before.

So for those of you out there who hope to do what I'm doing, just know that it's all about day by day. If you slip up one day, it's okay. There's always tomorrow to make good on your promise to yourself; just don't forget that you did in fact make a promise to yourself, so don't let those slipups happen too often. ;)

WHOAH..

2008-11-07T06:16:00.000-08:00

Oh, wow, sorry my friends! I hadn't realized that so much time had passed since my last post! I'll be doing a series now to try and catch up!

It doesn't make sense...

2008-10-28T21:24:00.000-07:00

How can an organism want something that is harmful to it? Specifically, I'm talking about addiction and illness, and ultimately death.

As a smoker, I'm trying to make sense of my cravings for cigarette after cigarette after cigarette. How can my body do this to me? Isn't it wired for survival?

I learned once that you cannot leave too much food out for a labrador retriever because they will eat themselves to death, literally. I can relate somehow; I also seem to lack this ability to stop when I'm ahead.

I would like to quit smoking. Rather, I would like to rid myself of the cravings I have for them; no matter how much I give in, it only leaves me feeling more enslaved. For every cigarette, I want another, and for those two I want one more.

I want to take my life back. And I want to hold on to it for as long as I can. I know what needs to be done. *

*Warning: if I do actually try to quit, I'll probably post regularly about the hell I'm going through, as I've been smoking for 15 years... wish me luck, and please be patient with me. It's gonna be a rough ride....

Grey

2008-10-28T17:33:00.000-07:00

For the second time here, I shall be posting someone else's words...

***************************************************************
Grey

the sky is grey, the sand is grey, and the ocean is grey.
i feel right at home in this stunning monochrome,
alone in my way.

i smoke and i drink and every time i blink i have a tiny dream.
but as bad as i am i'm proud of the fact that i'm worse than i seem.

you walk through my walls like a ghost on tv.
you penetrate me,
and my little pink heart is on its little brown raft floating out to sea.

and what can i say but i'm wired this way
and you're wired to me,
and what can i do but wallow in you unintentionally?

regretfully, i guess i've got three simple things to say.
why me? why this now? why this way?
overtone's ringing, undertow's pulling away under a sky that is grey,
on sand that is grey
by an ocean that's grey.

what kind of paradise am i looking for?
i've got everything i want and still i want more.
maybe some tiny shiny key will wash up on the shore.

Winter's a comin'

2008-10-28T17:23:00.000-07:00

The trees outside are almost parallel to the ground below them. The wind is ripping the leaves off and throwing them down to my feet. My hair is dancing around my head. My scarf is wrapped tightly around my neck.

I have the leftover taste of medicine in my mouth. It's my little toast to the upcoming season. *cough*cough*

Snow's falling around the world. Only rain here for now though. A few more degrees lost and we'll soon have ice.

I've been lost. Trying to retrace my steps through puddles that weren't there before. Do I trust my sense of direction?

The night's going to be a long one. I hope the sun comes up soon. We need some warmth up in here.

Distance and the fonder heart

2008-10-28T11:43:00.000-07:00

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

I don't know if that's true.

Sometimes it is, sometimes it's not.

Sometimes distance makes the heart grow weary, sometimes it makes it grow curious, and sometimes it just makes it grow.

Distance of space and time is like a test; a test to see if your heart is truly unchanging.

There are times I curse distance, and others where I welcome it. Either way, it's an inevitably of life, and fighting it won't make things any easier.

So come distance, come time, come and stay a while. I'll make us some tea and see who can stick around the longest...

Saturday Post - No more cobwebs / A piece of you / Paris

2008-10-25T07:03:00.000-07:00

Today's post is a little atypical, as I ordinarily post during the week. However, seeing how little I've posted this week, I've decided to write up a special Saturday edition.

********************************************

No More Cobwebs

Matters of the heart is a curiosity that has plagued men and women alike for centuries on end. Why do cheezy pop songs about love climb the charts? It seems because we all unfortunately know (and have felt) what the singers are talking and singing about... we relate to it.

Ah, the heart. What a funny place. What little control we have over it. Or is that really the case?

I once thought that I had no control of my heart. I thought my heart had settled on one person, and for almost 10 years that fact remained unchanged. But it was a heart in waiting, and I don't get the impression that hearts will wait around forever. Not if it's the only one waiting.

So I took a summer and decided to open my heart, and let in more than I had ever before. It was my summer of love. It began and ended in San Francisco, but it branched out to LA, Germany, Poland, and Paris. By the end, my heart had swelled, and as it emptied, I found myself feeling free; free of the cursed love I had carried around with me for so long. The only love I had left in me was a love for myself.

In the months that have followed, life has been challenging through my unemployment, family issues, and stress that has reached levels so high that my body is beginning to physically react... but I have never felt better. To have my heart back makes everything manageable.

There is someone in my life again now, and I find myself being apprehensive from time to time. I suppose I just want to make sure I know my balance point; I want to share my heart, but I don't want to give it away.

Time will tell how things progress, but I do know one thing. My heart was mine again, if even for only a short time, and that means that right now, for the first time in my life, I am beginning a relationship with someone and I don't have any old love in tow. And that knowledge -that feeling- is incredible.

It makes me feel like anything is possible.

********************************************

A Piece of You

There is something amazing about something that is handmade by a friend especially for you. It almost doesn't matter what it is that they've given you, so long as you know that they made it for you, you're going to love it. (Unless you don't love it, which happens sometimes..)

The question is though, why love it simply because they made it?

Well, making something takes time. Sometimes it takes days, or weeks. It takes forethought, planning, and effort. It takes time out of that person's life.

But that time doesn't disappear. It is captured within the finished product. It will forever reflect the person who made it in the eyes of its recipient. A handmade item for a friend is like a time capsule of your soul. So long as its around, you're around.

And that's what friends are for ;)

********************************************

Paris

Paris, Paris, Paris. I finally figured out why I like you so.

You treat me like an adult.

You allow me to make it my responsibility to watch out for the multitudes of scooters and Vélib riders who careen past the line of traffic-jammed cars as I cross the street. You test my patience on Sundays and Mondays by shutting everything down, but it forces me to just simply plan ahead. You keep the lights on at night so if I want to drink wine with my friends at the Seine until the first metro, we can; you know we'll be okay.

Paris, you let us learn lessons along the way of our mistakes. You trust that we have a head on our shoulders. You leave us alone to make our own decisions. And yet, your rain, your clouds, your fog, and your sunshine always remind us that you are the reason for all of this in the first place.

So big'ups to Paris. As far as cities go, you're like a mother to me.

possibly maybe

2008-10-21T18:27:00.000-07:00

I met a man many years ago.

He befriended me, and I him.

We stayed in touch over the years, over the distance.

We saw each other again recently.

We had yet another wonderful time together.

I didn't want to say goodbye.

He said I didn't have to.

Now he lays here next to me.

And I couldn't be happier.

Letting the days slip by...

2008-10-21T18:21:00.000-07:00

Summer is falling from the trees in shades of yellow and brown.

The winds are cooler. The sun is setting sooner. The warm sweaters are coming out to play.

I lay here and wonder if fall will pass as quickly as summer; a summer that now feels like a dream.

So much can change in a season.

Winter is upon us and I wonder what other surprises will tag along.

I'm looking forward to finding out...

Asleep at the wheel

2008-10-17T11:01:00.000-07:00

It's Friday now. Again. It seems that no matter how many there are, it's impossible to tire of them.

I've done a poor job with getting to the computer lately. Rather, a poor job with keeping up with this blog. Life as of late has become almost surreal, and I spend my evenings laying in bed thinking about what I should write, and inevitably forgetting in the morning.

I lay there at night and I think about my day, the people I saw, the conversations I had, the pictures I took. I think about the moments and let them point me in the direction of what I should post about. Everything around me inspires me.

And then I close my eyes. And I fall asleep. And I dream dreams that are soon forgotten.

I trust myself enough to know that there will always be something to write about, always something to express. But how often do forgotten thoughts return?

Some of those late night thoughts have been good ones....

Back on track...

2008-10-14T16:23:00.000-07:00

Okay then, that last week of postings was fun. Looking forward to seeing what this week has in store. So far, things look to be getting off to an interesting start as I lay in my bed and type this with one hand... (It has taken me far longer to write this much than it normally would...)

Seeing that brevity is key then, I shall make but one point.

This world is a crazy place. And I'm not talking about crazy people and the crazy things they do; I'm talking about the crazy things that happen beyond our control. I'm talking about chance encounters, bizarre coincidences, and serendipity.

Oh how the world keeps us on our toes.

Yeah... that's all for tonite. Sweet dreams everyone.