It’s occurred to me that in the recent months, I’ve pushed myself to become as self-sufficient as I could possibly be. Perhaps it was a product of my strong sense of independence, or maybe of my eagerness to prove to myself that I had it all together.
As I slowly tied up the loose ends of 2005, I realized how unbelievably driven I was by the idea of being successful. I finally had a good career that provided me with the sort of stability and resources I wanted for myself and for my future. I strongly felt that I was capable of doing absolutely everything on my own. I was competitive. I was ready to conquer whatever tasks were placed before me, formally and informally.
Quickly I learned that I was limiting my potential by not identifying and embracing those in my environment who had treasure troves of qualities that could help expand my world and vision. I learned that I could not achieve everything I wanted simply by deciding that I could do it all by myself. In a sense, I was allowing myself to be held prisoner by my “do it myself” kind of attitude. I realized that I could achieve more and learn more by reaching out to the caring hands that were willing to guide me onto a steady harbor. I was trying to achieve, alone, that which I could redeem in half the time with help from people around me; and it was during that epiphany where I realized that I could control how big I chose to make my world… simply by the amount of people I allowed into my life ~ I mean, really allowed into my life.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Lola
I tried my very best to tip-toe down the long hallway in an effort to minimize the amount of noise projected by the clash of tile flooring and my high-heeled sling backs. It was only 4:00pm but I knew that by then, she’d already be in bed. It smelled like old people. I hated that smell. Not because it smelled bad, per say, but because it reminded me that Lola was old.
She had been “old” all of my life; old but strong. It wasn’t until her mind was claimed by Alzheimer’s disease when her body began to slowly shut down. I embrace fond memories of her walking up a one mile hill to drop off and pick up my brother and I from elementary school ~ umbrella and water bottle in hand. I remember the rice crispy treats that she used to make every so often, and the home-made ice pops from kool-aid mixes and orange juice awaiting my arrival after school.
Lying in her bed, I caressed her forehead and kissed her over and over again. I reminded her who I was, what my name was, and how my father was her son, Leo. I told her about my new job and how I’m all grown up now ~ and that it was all because of her help during my childhood. I thanked her. Instead of replying “You’re welcome,” she would shout “Thank you!” right back to me. I told her I loved her and told her to rest her eyes so that her headache would go away. “I love you too,” came leaping off of her tongue until she finally rested her head down to rest. Then I left so that she could sleep. Like countless times before, I couldn’t help but to succumb to tears when walking out of her room.
It’s painful to see the cycle of life taking its toll on my Lola… because I have so much love for her ~ even if I fail to visit her often, the love is there.
I can almost guarantee that she won’t remember I went to visit her, or that I’ve been there many times before. But if I could make her happy for the few moments I get to spend with her during my visits, that time I spend beside her is worth every second. I’ll admit, however, that my visits are mostly selfish. I do it mostly for me… so that I can spend as much time with her as possible. I want to tell her that I love her, and thank her over and over and over for being such a driving force in my life… before God decides it’s time to make room for another blessed Angel.
She had been “old” all of my life; old but strong. It wasn’t until her mind was claimed by Alzheimer’s disease when her body began to slowly shut down. I embrace fond memories of her walking up a one mile hill to drop off and pick up my brother and I from elementary school ~ umbrella and water bottle in hand. I remember the rice crispy treats that she used to make every so often, and the home-made ice pops from kool-aid mixes and orange juice awaiting my arrival after school.
Lying in her bed, I caressed her forehead and kissed her over and over again. I reminded her who I was, what my name was, and how my father was her son, Leo. I told her about my new job and how I’m all grown up now ~ and that it was all because of her help during my childhood. I thanked her. Instead of replying “You’re welcome,” she would shout “Thank you!” right back to me. I told her I loved her and told her to rest her eyes so that her headache would go away. “I love you too,” came leaping off of her tongue until she finally rested her head down to rest. Then I left so that she could sleep. Like countless times before, I couldn’t help but to succumb to tears when walking out of her room.
It’s painful to see the cycle of life taking its toll on my Lola… because I have so much love for her ~ even if I fail to visit her often, the love is there.
I can almost guarantee that she won’t remember I went to visit her, or that I’ve been there many times before. But if I could make her happy for the few moments I get to spend with her during my visits, that time I spend beside her is worth every second. I’ll admit, however, that my visits are mostly selfish. I do it mostly for me… so that I can spend as much time with her as possible. I want to tell her that I love her, and thank her over and over and over for being such a driving force in my life… before God decides it’s time to make room for another blessed Angel.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
New Neighbor Orientation
"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."
- Epicurus (341 B.C. - 270 B.C.) Greek Philosopher
- Epicurus (341 B.C. - 270 B.C.) Greek Philosopher
I’m still not sure what tone I want to convey within this entry, but I can’t continue without first stating how unbelievably blessed I feel to be who I am, and to have what I have.
It was only a few years ago when I dreamt of being a big-shot business woman - and now I am writing about the amazing experience of having successfully completed my very first extended stay business trip.
My six colleagues and I didn’t really know what to expect out of our multi-hour drive into a remote (but growing!) town amongst the fields of central Cali. We knew we were doing something right when we each got our own keys to a deluxe suite in the booming Stockdale district of Bakersfield - complete with living room, dining area, kitchen, and separate bedroom equipped with an inviting king sized bed and two TV’s. If that wasn’t enough already, the newspaper at my front door every morning just threw me over the moon!
I tell you, my body didn't know how to react to all of that space reserved just for me. Best of all, my room number was 214... like Valentine's day. *SMILE*
Never mind the long orientations and meetings, what I appreciated most about this trip was the networking opportunities I was able to take advantage of while I was there. I met a handful of amazing people who share a similar drive to succeed in our given industry, and I can’t even begin to tell you how I fell in love with most of the people I met. I was so sad to go!
I always knew that I was working for a great company (fortune 500 and their pick for one of the best co's to work for!), but now I’m reassured that over time, I will fall in love with all that the enterprise has to offer.
Here are my favorite pictures from the four day event…
Photo: The pre-trip luncheon.
Photo: Mexican dining...
Photo: Why do all my pictures involve food?
Photo: Saying our goodbyes!
2/16/2006
I'm back from my trip.
Between family, friends, and all expense paid business trips (bite me), it’s safe to boldly state: the months pass too quickly.
Even now as I try to keep up with the collision of bubbling joy and boiling irate moments, I feel as though my words are stifled and forcibly propelled ~ coming off as grade-school doodle, scrawled and scattered across a plane of meaningless pages. With every taken breath, my lifeline of rapid thoughts and wishes are too much to even be uttered on this here platform. It’s difficult to construct a lyrical prose to project a striking reflection of my innermost thoughts that trace the very pattern of my life ~ the way it is right now, this very moment. So much has happened, yet not so much. My words are fragments of my road less taken… too raw to be fused together.
Between family, friends, and all expense paid business trips (bite me), it’s safe to boldly state: the months pass too quickly.
Even now as I try to keep up with the collision of bubbling joy and boiling irate moments, I feel as though my words are stifled and forcibly propelled ~ coming off as grade-school doodle, scrawled and scattered across a plane of meaningless pages. With every taken breath, my lifeline of rapid thoughts and wishes are too much to even be uttered on this here platform. It’s difficult to construct a lyrical prose to project a striking reflection of my innermost thoughts that trace the very pattern of my life ~ the way it is right now, this very moment. So much has happened, yet not so much. My words are fragments of my road less taken… too raw to be fused together.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Blue Eyes
He started to walk away but came back. Steadily cupping his coffee mug with both hands, words began to spew from his mouth without haste. She reached out her hand as a sign of respect and welcome, and it may have been his wet hand that grasped her own that drew her to him for the very first time.
What continued to draw her to him? Was it the set of piercing blue eyes that made it hard for her to stay sober, and easy for her to lose herself completely, for no particular reason save that they were such kind eyes? Or was it his geeky, quiet confidence that shined through in the way that he would look at her and walk away? Was it his sloppy hair or wrinkled shirt? The sleepy in his eyes… or again, just the blue?
She hated that she was hopelessly and undeniably attracted to him. Her cheeks flushed and she felt ashamed that he haunted her mind, now more than ever.
Her thoughts had betrayed her. What she wanted to feel and what she was actually feeling collided in disagreement. She wanted the flush of her cheeks to turn pale, but the thought of his kind eyes kept on pulling her back to that magnetic other.
She sat there, cold. She tried hard to preoccupy her mind with the unimportant; but she knew that there was no use. She threw her hands up in defeat. Her fragile disposition almost could not handle such deafening prose… enough, she said. Enough.
His blue eyes, sloppy hair, wrinkled shirt, and the geeky, quiet confidence radiating from the way that he would look at her and walk away ~ began to form the silhouette of a goodbye.
What continued to draw her to him? Was it the set of piercing blue eyes that made it hard for her to stay sober, and easy for her to lose herself completely, for no particular reason save that they were such kind eyes? Or was it his geeky, quiet confidence that shined through in the way that he would look at her and walk away? Was it his sloppy hair or wrinkled shirt? The sleepy in his eyes… or again, just the blue?
She hated that she was hopelessly and undeniably attracted to him. Her cheeks flushed and she felt ashamed that he haunted her mind, now more than ever.
Her thoughts had betrayed her. What she wanted to feel and what she was actually feeling collided in disagreement. She wanted the flush of her cheeks to turn pale, but the thought of his kind eyes kept on pulling her back to that magnetic other.
She sat there, cold. She tried hard to preoccupy her mind with the unimportant; but she knew that there was no use. She threw her hands up in defeat. Her fragile disposition almost could not handle such deafening prose… enough, she said. Enough.
His blue eyes, sloppy hair, wrinkled shirt, and the geeky, quiet confidence radiating from the way that he would look at her and walk away ~ began to form the silhouette of a goodbye.
Sunday, January 8, 2006
Some Things
RIP my Averatec laptop which wasn't even 2 years old. You saw the world with me...
There's a scene in the movie Closer where Jude Law tells Natalie Portman of his love affair with Julia Roberts. As Natalie begins to leave the flat in which they shared, he desperately tries to stop her and asks, "what about your things?" She replies...
"I don't need things"
How bold. How profound that statement is.
I have a HUGE tupperware bin in the garage, safeguarding all of the tangible, sentimental goods I have accumulated during my mere twenty two years on earth (or at least the first 18). I still have the clacker (??) toy that Michael Wiley gave me in the fourth grade. Remember those clacker toys ~ cheap little toys ~ where you spun it round and round in one hand letting one ball hit the other ball over and over in the most perpetual of motions? The oranges and greens of that toy scream joyous of times at the tender age of nine. Where is Michael Wiley now? I hope he's had a good life. The clay figurine I made in Ms. Vaughn's 7th grade English class also sits in that bin ~ and I DO mean sit because I couldn't get the man-mold to stand upright, so I had to bend his legs just before the clay dried. Almost every single handwritten letter ever given to me too lies in that bin ~ with the M&M wrappers I collected in the 10th grade, dried rose petals my brother once placed in my room (no, they weren't dry then!), and even the momentos given to me by my first real love. This bin basically encapsulates who I was... am.
So they may be just "THINGS"... but they're my things. And with all of the goodbyes I will be forced to experience in life, it feels so soothing to know that there are just some things I will never have to let go of.
There's a scene in the movie Closer where Jude Law tells Natalie Portman of his love affair with Julia Roberts. As Natalie begins to leave the flat in which they shared, he desperately tries to stop her and asks, "what about your things?" She replies...
"I don't need things"
How bold. How profound that statement is.
I have a HUGE tupperware bin in the garage, safeguarding all of the tangible, sentimental goods I have accumulated during my mere twenty two years on earth (or at least the first 18). I still have the clacker (??) toy that Michael Wiley gave me in the fourth grade. Remember those clacker toys ~ cheap little toys ~ where you spun it round and round in one hand letting one ball hit the other ball over and over in the most perpetual of motions? The oranges and greens of that toy scream joyous of times at the tender age of nine. Where is Michael Wiley now? I hope he's had a good life. The clay figurine I made in Ms. Vaughn's 7th grade English class also sits in that bin ~ and I DO mean sit because I couldn't get the man-mold to stand upright, so I had to bend his legs just before the clay dried. Almost every single handwritten letter ever given to me too lies in that bin ~ with the M&M wrappers I collected in the 10th grade, dried rose petals my brother once placed in my room (no, they weren't dry then!), and even the momentos given to me by my first real love. This bin basically encapsulates who I was... am.
So they may be just "THINGS"... but they're my things. And with all of the goodbyes I will be forced to experience in life, it feels so soothing to know that there are just some things I will never have to let go of.
Monday, January 2, 2006
2006
God has a funny sense of humor.
I revisit the day I pressed my belly to the desk, preparing myself to peruse the web journal of a fellow peer. I sat there for a moment and mentally debated on how I would react if I were to encounter a particularly unfavorable blanket of thoughts; and in the midst of deciding whether or not I was to proceed, my laptop crashed without warning, protecting me from any anguish I was to endure upon myself. I’ve never visited the journal since.
Whether or not such instances are in fact supernaturally induced signs from a higher being, I will always choose to believe that they occur for specific purposes ~ to steer me into a direction I would not have otherwise chosen to embark upon.
And all of these signs have left me onto the very platform I stand tall upon today. Today! The infant break of a new year! And as I celebrate each and every day that I am gratefully blessed with, I am so anticipated to discover all the promises of tomorrow.
2005 was a great year.
*I developed more close (and real) friendships this year than any other year beforehand, and you can’t imagine how thankful I am to be cloaked by an amazingly diverse group of people. They all feed my soul in different ways. I am certain that as time continues to progress, they will all grow to become a great network of support that will define the rest of my days.
*I glowed in the warmth of my solitude and learned precisely what I expected out of myself, learning all of my capacities.
2005, though emotionally uneventful (and we all know I crave the extremes), was overall very good.
2006 gon’ be tiiiiight.
I shiver at what ecstasy I may experience in the coming year. Here’s to carpe diem. Cling steadfastly to your memories and stop dreaming your perfect fairy tail, live it.
I revisit the day I pressed my belly to the desk, preparing myself to peruse the web journal of a fellow peer. I sat there for a moment and mentally debated on how I would react if I were to encounter a particularly unfavorable blanket of thoughts; and in the midst of deciding whether or not I was to proceed, my laptop crashed without warning, protecting me from any anguish I was to endure upon myself. I’ve never visited the journal since.
Whether or not such instances are in fact supernaturally induced signs from a higher being, I will always choose to believe that they occur for specific purposes ~ to steer me into a direction I would not have otherwise chosen to embark upon.
And all of these signs have left me onto the very platform I stand tall upon today. Today! The infant break of a new year! And as I celebrate each and every day that I am gratefully blessed with, I am so anticipated to discover all the promises of tomorrow.
2005 was a great year.
*I developed more close (and real) friendships this year than any other year beforehand, and you can’t imagine how thankful I am to be cloaked by an amazingly diverse group of people. They all feed my soul in different ways. I am certain that as time continues to progress, they will all grow to become a great network of support that will define the rest of my days.
*I glowed in the warmth of my solitude and learned precisely what I expected out of myself, learning all of my capacities.
2005, though emotionally uneventful (and we all know I crave the extremes), was overall very good.
2006 gon’ be tiiiiight.
I shiver at what ecstasy I may experience in the coming year. Here’s to carpe diem. Cling steadfastly to your memories and stop dreaming your perfect fairy tail, live it.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Storm Surf
Clickity Click
We took a detour into Venice Beach this morning to get a first hand look at the record breaking waves. SPECTACULAR! Several minutes before we arrived, the bathroom on the pier fell off. Insane. Glad i got to see something once-in-a-decade-ish...
We took a detour into Venice Beach this morning to get a first hand look at the record breaking waves. SPECTACULAR! Several minutes before we arrived, the bathroom on the pier fell off. Insane. Glad i got to see something once-in-a-decade-ish...
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Clueless
As social beings, we have a carnal, biologically conditioned need to test the people within our social orbit. While the idea might be a bit trite, or even an idea lacking cohesiveness, you must concede that I am not wrong in believing that it has almost become mandatory to turn almost everyone around us into our own personal lab-rats.
We “test” to confirm or reject our doubt in a person and the relationship between us and that person. And we conduct such “tests” by extracting/invoking a level of rise from our clueless subjects.
The “rise” is our method of measure. The inches and meters that magnify both an emotional unrest in activity vs. indolent emotional idleness. A measure conduced by the binary emotions of good and bad, which aid our swim into epistemological conclusiveness: yes you are devoted to me. yes you are my friend. yes you love me. or.. no, you don’t. You have failed my test. My doubt in you has been confirmed. Ennui.
At age 10, we tested our best girlfriends based on whether or not they saved us a seat in the great hall, & if they chose to stand beside you during a playground tiff. Some passed. Some failed. At 16 we tested our parents by pushing the limits: even if I know I’m to be home no later than 12am, what will they do if I stay out past 3am? At 17 we tested our boyfriends by hanging up on them during the peak of a heated argument to see if they would call back right away.. or not.
I promise that I'm not really this cynical. I just got to thinking that, basically, BS happens ~ and we want to see who's going to put up with ours.
We “test” to confirm or reject our doubt in a person and the relationship between us and that person. And we conduct such “tests” by extracting/invoking a level of rise from our clueless subjects.
The “rise” is our method of measure. The inches and meters that magnify both an emotional unrest in activity vs. indolent emotional idleness. A measure conduced by the binary emotions of good and bad, which aid our swim into epistemological conclusiveness: yes you are devoted to me. yes you are my friend. yes you love me. or.. no, you don’t. You have failed my test. My doubt in you has been confirmed. Ennui.
At age 10, we tested our best girlfriends based on whether or not they saved us a seat in the great hall, & if they chose to stand beside you during a playground tiff. Some passed. Some failed. At 16 we tested our parents by pushing the limits: even if I know I’m to be home no later than 12am, what will they do if I stay out past 3am? At 17 we tested our boyfriends by hanging up on them during the peak of a heated argument to see if they would call back right away.. or not.
I promise that I'm not really this cynical. I just got to thinking that, basically, BS happens ~ and we want to see who's going to put up with ours.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Engaged!
After months of sneaking around preparing for the big day ~ it has finally come and gone! My best mate proposed to his girlfriend on friday at Disneyland... CONGRATULATIONS YOU SCHMOE!
Ecstacy
After nearly passing out post-myfirstfieldlossreport in the high desert, I popped in two advils and a cold shower to prepare myself for the drive to MOCA. I've been waiting months to see the ecstacy exhibit since reading about it in the times!
It was aesthetically pleasing and "visually complex".
Pretending not to hear a worker tell the woman beside us "ABSOLUTELY NO PICTURES," Andrew - in full blown stealth mode - hid behind a shroom & snapped away.. only to have the shutter sound go off and give us away. We got in mad trouble.. BUT we got a picture!!! weeee..
It was aesthetically pleasing and "visually complex".
Pretending not to hear a worker tell the woman beside us "ABSOLUTELY NO PICTURES," Andrew - in full blown stealth mode - hid behind a shroom & snapped away.. only to have the shutter sound go off and give us away. We got in mad trouble.. BUT we got a picture!!! weeee..
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Anniversary
“December 11th..” she thought. What about this date seems eerily familiar?
She scanned one page.. two pages.. and then stopped. She realized what it was she was reading, and forced herself to cloak her eyes from the sheer cruelty of those words. It’s become easy to hide behind laughter, change, and time – but that did not mean that she was ready to examine what exactly happened on that night; even if the earthly, humanly part of her sought some sort of resolution.
Those words did not reek of insincerity save they were malicious in result. Those words, both said and written, felt so sadistic, so much so that she could almost taste their mercilessness. Her chest, while pounding with wild gesticulations, felt almost vacuous ~ an aftershock of all that had happened, making her feel the bit most insignificant. But she would not, could not, let the recollection of one night, go ebbing away at her spirit.
She scanned one page.. two pages.. and then stopped. She realized what it was she was reading, and forced herself to cloak her eyes from the sheer cruelty of those words. It’s become easy to hide behind laughter, change, and time – but that did not mean that she was ready to examine what exactly happened on that night; even if the earthly, humanly part of her sought some sort of resolution.
Those words did not reek of insincerity save they were malicious in result. Those words, both said and written, felt so sadistic, so much so that she could almost taste their mercilessness. Her chest, while pounding with wild gesticulations, felt almost vacuous ~ an aftershock of all that had happened, making her feel the bit most insignificant. But she would not, could not, let the recollection of one night, go ebbing away at her spirit.
Thursday, December 8, 2005
A Post Without Substance
not out of malice, malevolence, ill will, or spite..
not out of shock, epiphany, or self definition..
it's just, sometimes, i have the most peculiar desire to..
shave my head.. just because.
not out of shock, epiphany, or self definition..
it's just, sometimes, i have the most peculiar desire to..
shave my head.. just because.
Friday, December 2, 2005
Daniel Siegel – In Your Eyes
[I haven't had much material to reflect upon or to write about as I am currently not obsessing over any one thing or any one person. I've been emotionally sound/fixed/constant within the recent months ~ and we all know that emotional stability is NOT the best resource for a borderline psychotic blog entry drafted into graceful words. eh. BUT I did manage to dream about the last guy to sweep me off of my feet ~ which knocked me over reeeealll hard. and well, that gave me something to write about.]
I had a very intoxicating dream last night. A very heady dream. It wasn’t the first of its kind. It follows a line of many that have managed to ambush my psyche within the passing months. They showcase the same character over and over and over. Sometimes the dreams are good, sometimes they are bad. Regardless the outcome, I am always eager to pen every fine detail of any dream with the presence of this particular person.
What? Write down my dreams? Perhaps I am preparing for the day when I find myself detatched from the emotional baggage of today, and am wise enough to look back in an attempt to piece together that which I cannot begin to understand right now. The feelings may still be too raw for me to digest. Maybe in a year, two years, three years.. I will have taken my head out of the clouds and onto a surface where I am able to see a bit more clearly.
Or perhaps it is my goal to never forget the sheer cruelty of these dreams ~ even the good ones that seem grandiose on a scale of pleasure.
Every dream involving said person feels so real. But this dream ~ this particular dream was warm. Warm like a familiar embrace encompassing everything graceful in the world. An addictive embrace that made my real-world body beg for complete silence in the room ~ as to not awaken me from the trance-like sublime. Because it would be fact, and not a “maybe”, that upon opening my eyes, I would be embracing that which has turned into dust.
Dreams, daydreams, whatever ~ I have to ration myself and regulate my capacity to out-dream. Because when we fall out of trance, we realize that our dreams also fall ~ fall flat of the truth. And what we hoped to be true gradually fades to black.
So, as I do every night, I pray for Sand Man to take him out of my dreams. For when I lie here in bed, the only thing I should be kissing is the sky.
I had a very intoxicating dream last night. A very heady dream. It wasn’t the first of its kind. It follows a line of many that have managed to ambush my psyche within the passing months. They showcase the same character over and over and over. Sometimes the dreams are good, sometimes they are bad. Regardless the outcome, I am always eager to pen every fine detail of any dream with the presence of this particular person.
What? Write down my dreams? Perhaps I am preparing for the day when I find myself detatched from the emotional baggage of today, and am wise enough to look back in an attempt to piece together that which I cannot begin to understand right now. The feelings may still be too raw for me to digest. Maybe in a year, two years, three years.. I will have taken my head out of the clouds and onto a surface where I am able to see a bit more clearly.
Or perhaps it is my goal to never forget the sheer cruelty of these dreams ~ even the good ones that seem grandiose on a scale of pleasure.
Every dream involving said person feels so real. But this dream ~ this particular dream was warm. Warm like a familiar embrace encompassing everything graceful in the world. An addictive embrace that made my real-world body beg for complete silence in the room ~ as to not awaken me from the trance-like sublime. Because it would be fact, and not a “maybe”, that upon opening my eyes, I would be embracing that which has turned into dust.
Dreams, daydreams, whatever ~ I have to ration myself and regulate my capacity to out-dream. Because when we fall out of trance, we realize that our dreams also fall ~ fall flat of the truth. And what we hoped to be true gradually fades to black.
So, as I do every night, I pray for Sand Man to take him out of my dreams. For when I lie here in bed, the only thing I should be kissing is the sky.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Introducing
Samara Lysanne Arenas
And so, as Timmy puts it, my "sidekick" is gone.
There’s always been a deep chasm between she and I ~ and for that reason, my heart feels the piercing impact of losing Helen's company more profoundly than does my mind. Now that she's gone, I am made far more susceptable to the anguish of being single. Haha. Have fun in Japan!
And so, as Timmy puts it, my "sidekick" is gone.
There’s always been a deep chasm between she and I ~ and for that reason, my heart feels the piercing impact of losing Helen's company more profoundly than does my mind. Now that she's gone, I am made far more susceptable to the anguish of being single. Haha. Have fun in Japan!
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Epiphany
Epiphany:
what was once core-shaking
heart-pounding memory-making
is now the quiver of a leaf
and the softest sigh
of avoiding collision
The approaching holiday awakens an ambivalence of emotions within me. Reminding me of moments that I am able to recollect to the most minute of details. I can still feel the change of season on my skin ~ the rain which left diamonds in my hair has long dried, but the feel of wet socks embracing numb toes has taken definite form in my mind. A collection of fine details laced with excitement and appreciation.
I loooong for a bed of Autumn leaves. I wish California had seasons.
what was once core-shaking
heart-pounding memory-making
is now the quiver of a leaf
and the softest sigh
of avoiding collision
The approaching holiday awakens an ambivalence of emotions within me. Reminding me of moments that I am able to recollect to the most minute of details. I can still feel the change of season on my skin ~ the rain which left diamonds in my hair has long dried, but the feel of wet socks embracing numb toes has taken definite form in my mind. A collection of fine details laced with excitement and appreciation.
I loooong for a bed of Autumn leaves. I wish California had seasons.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
London Reunion 2005
The grace and laughter of the past is the ideal source for ultimate reassurance. It is the bungee cord tied to our waste, and the foam underneath our bare feet, giving us the heart to close our eyes and leap into the arms of tomorrow’s uncertainty. It is the memory of faces we’ve seen, voices that compose the tone of knee slapping laughter, and the souls of those who were on our side that serve as constant reminders of how important it is to never forget the path we took to get to where we are.
Venturing into the unknown could have been a risky and taxing habit on the mind and body, but we journeyed uncharted territories anyway, letting ourselves swim in choices that made ‘what was possible’ ~ real. So when reunited, it becomes so natural to stop for one night, look back, and relive the moments when we’d fallen in love (against our soundest judgment, it happened nonetheless), had a pint, then studied for finals.
A night to entangle ourselves on a platter of New Castles and Berry Mimosas, while allowing ourselves to look back and gain perspective on the choices that we made ~ acknowledging the shared understanding that the past is an intricate part of the present. Realizing that our time together wasn’t a fluke. We were a cluster of bodies destined to cross paths in a network of fate, experiencing emotions we were destined to experience… together.
Helen and I circled LAX a wopping 8 times. The final eigth round involved me sticking my "Shalom welcome to our home Jodi" sign outside of Helen's car, and obnoxiously screaming JODI JODI while we played #4 on Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten CD. After a K-Town feast, we presented Helen with her going-to-Japan presents, sang karaoke, and headed to Alcatraz Brewery to reunite with some London folk.
Venturing into the unknown could have been a risky and taxing habit on the mind and body, but we journeyed uncharted territories anyway, letting ourselves swim in choices that made ‘what was possible’ ~ real. So when reunited, it becomes so natural to stop for one night, look back, and relive the moments when we’d fallen in love (against our soundest judgment, it happened nonetheless), had a pint, then studied for finals.
A night to entangle ourselves on a platter of New Castles and Berry Mimosas, while allowing ourselves to look back and gain perspective on the choices that we made ~ acknowledging the shared understanding that the past is an intricate part of the present. Realizing that our time together wasn’t a fluke. We were a cluster of bodies destined to cross paths in a network of fate, experiencing emotions we were destined to experience… together.
Helen and I circled LAX a wopping 8 times. The final eigth round involved me sticking my "Shalom welcome to our home Jodi" sign outside of Helen's car, and obnoxiously screaming JODI JODI while we played #4 on Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten CD. After a K-Town feast, we presented Helen with her going-to-Japan presents, sang karaoke, and headed to Alcatraz Brewery to reunite with some London folk.
Monday, November 7, 2005
Bonnie McKee - Somebody
"November 07, 2005 - You're ready for inconvenient, total, can't-live-without-each-other love, and you're not the only one. Let the Universe guide you; it may take you where you think you're going, but you'll be happy once you've arrived."
UNIVERSE, I IMPLORE YOU, GUIDE ME! GUIDE ME!
UNIVERSE, I IMPLORE YOU, GUIDE ME! GUIDE ME!
Friday, November 4, 2005
Picture
Reality, like the lurking serpent, had bitten back hard.
She sat there with a smug look on her face, trying to conceal the cold and epistemological truth that these pictures had taken all of her crimson-tinted illusions and thrown them away like ashes in the wind.
Funny how she discovers a final candid snapshot. One she herself had never seen before until now. Scanning the crowd in the photo, she saw herself, and the smile ~ so genuine, pure, impromptu ~ perched, not on her face, but his. And oh how every delicious emotion began to come back to her. He looked happy. She looked happy.
But she knew, that this photo, while true to time, was very outdated. She knew it was time to turn the page. That regardless of the passion backed by each savory bite, to continue to lust for him was tantamount to a delicious morsel of forbidden fruit.
And so, to rebel from committing a sin served only to betray herself, she began to dilute her thoughts with other things: career, material things. This is the start, she thought, of letting him go.
She sat there with a smug look on her face, trying to conceal the cold and epistemological truth that these pictures had taken all of her crimson-tinted illusions and thrown them away like ashes in the wind.
Funny how she discovers a final candid snapshot. One she herself had never seen before until now. Scanning the crowd in the photo, she saw herself, and the smile ~ so genuine, pure, impromptu ~ perched, not on her face, but his. And oh how every delicious emotion began to come back to her. He looked happy. She looked happy.
But she knew, that this photo, while true to time, was very outdated. She knew it was time to turn the page. That regardless of the passion backed by each savory bite, to continue to lust for him was tantamount to a delicious morsel of forbidden fruit.
And so, to rebel from committing a sin served only to betray herself, she began to dilute her thoughts with other things: career, material things. This is the start, she thought, of letting him go.
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Haroweena!
Halloween, by far, is one of my favorite holidays. Candy corn conduced by the stir of a witch’s cauldron fills me with exquisite joy so wrenching, and youthfully intense. There must be something potent in that elixir...
The garage serves as archive for the library of costumes I’ve collected through the years. Proof, that even as a child, I would never allow memorable moments to pass me by. Especially the one night a year where it was communally acceptable to careen down a sloped neighborhood runway called Walnut St; not really having to look both ways because everyone filled the pavement like stars filled the sky. The one night a year where my older brother and I would trade candy while mom took pictures of us pouring heaven out of our jack-o-lantern treat buckets. Candy that we thought would last us eons would be gone by November 2nd.
You’d think at age 22, I’d be somewhat over the front porch fog machines and strobe lights. But no. I’m sure that at 32, I’ll use the essence of my future children’s youth to justify the decorations I will hang, the pumpkin I will carve.
This year was to be a big hoorah! Since I didn’t celebrate Halloween last year, I wanted to surround myself with reckless hooligans, costumed fiends, and the best homemade getup EVER. So without haste, my dear friend Helen and I planned out an itinerary to attend party after party. I was sure to get some good use out of my costume that consumed 3 full days of my hard labor, and $14 worth of pleather and vinyl. Drumroll please...
Photo: Tada!
THEN, on October 31st, we took our giddy selves down to West Hollywood Carnaval. Yes, that's carnaval with an A! BIG MISTAKE. Why? Well, let's just say that it's no place for a group of single gals to gallivant without the accompaniment of some strong men. We were too sober to be there. Too normal to be there. Catherine spotted Andy Dick; and may I say, a dick he was. I can only thank God that we stopped chasing him for a picture. Otherwise he may have bitten us.
The garage serves as archive for the library of costumes I’ve collected through the years. Proof, that even as a child, I would never allow memorable moments to pass me by. Especially the one night a year where it was communally acceptable to careen down a sloped neighborhood runway called Walnut St; not really having to look both ways because everyone filled the pavement like stars filled the sky. The one night a year where my older brother and I would trade candy while mom took pictures of us pouring heaven out of our jack-o-lantern treat buckets. Candy that we thought would last us eons would be gone by November 2nd.
You’d think at age 22, I’d be somewhat over the front porch fog machines and strobe lights. But no. I’m sure that at 32, I’ll use the essence of my future children’s youth to justify the decorations I will hang, the pumpkin I will carve.
This year was to be a big hoorah! Since I didn’t celebrate Halloween last year, I wanted to surround myself with reckless hooligans, costumed fiends, and the best homemade getup EVER. So without haste, my dear friend Helen and I planned out an itinerary to attend party after party. I was sure to get some good use out of my costume that consumed 3 full days of my hard labor, and $14 worth of pleather and vinyl. Drumroll please...
Photo: Tada!
THEN, on October 31st, we took our giddy selves down to West Hollywood Carnaval. Yes, that's carnaval with an A! BIG MISTAKE. Why? Well, let's just say that it's no place for a group of single gals to gallivant without the accompaniment of some strong men. We were too sober to be there. Too normal to be there. Catherine spotted Andy Dick; and may I say, a dick he was. I can only thank God that we stopped chasing him for a picture. Otherwise he may have bitten us.
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