those heads, hair reminded me of fall leaves, an array of colors, and the bold ones, of course, bare branches. I never noticed how luminescent white hair is, how it attracts light. Maybe that’s why some old people glow. Some say it’s the wisdom, now I think it has to do with the hair. 

When you are gone, my shoulder is still warm from sitting next to you, the song still resonating in the walls. It’s the moment before you are really gone anyways.

I am not accustom to your tears. My chest cracks open in an attempt to swallow them. 

He said they look like soldiers left on the battlefield, those golden oak leaves. On a sunny, windy afternoon, they lit up and danced a spirited dance, hundreds of them. 

The weight of “yes” and “no”, I sometimes overestimate one and underestimate the other. 

I think I am quite pretty, especially when I smile. 

Dad recalled happily the first time he opened my diaper full of sh*t.

Always here, always ready, always perfect.

see the world through wine glasses

Friday night. Let’s first say, I am grateful for this time for contemplation, but then again, when am I not contemplating? but with words, I am grateful for this time of contemplation in words. There seems lots to be sorted out. Lots to think about. Jess complains that I tire too easily, only if she knew how busy I am in here. But I let thoughts float unorganized, and they occupy and consume me. So I am grateful for this time of contemplation in words, organized words, well, at least I’ll try, organized is really quite a relative word. 

I just finished doing a cleanse. My body feels quite good. Light and unburdened, a bit more energized and it is complaining less than before the cleanse. I want to do a cleanse for my mind, so it, too, could be light and unburdened, a bit more energized, and less complaints. I’ll resort to breathing. I trust that if I do it studiously like the way I took my colon/liver cleanse pills (three times a day with meal, six pills a time), it’ll help flush out the toxins in my mind. 

Last night Eric and I took our turns saying our thanks over dinner (it was a delicious feast cooked by him, of roast chicken with herb butter, roasted potatoes and garlic, stuffing with bits of pancetta, buttered asparagus, broccoli and corn with cheese sauce, oh and gravy, the divine sauce of chicken fat, shallots and mushrooms and I don’t know what else he put in it but it was yum… ten thousand calories later, I wished we had bought pumpkin pie for dessert). Like me, Eric likes to remind himself of the things that he’s grateful for, this is an attribute of his that I am grateful for ; )

They say being with someone is like dancing, this is probably one of the oldest metaphors. It rings especially true for me because I suck very badly at dancing. My body feels awkward in every joint, I lose beat, and involuntarily I make funny faces… There are brief moments of fluidity and before I could finish thinking, hey look at me, I am grrrrroooooovyyyy (granted, it’s not very groovy to say groovy, tricky word…), I step on you again. 

I think I am gonna watch myself a few episodes of West Wing, Dun Dun DUN! and head to bed. Tomorrow morning I am going to the writers’ festival with Mark. It’ll be poetry reading, which is right up our alleys. I haven’t mentioned him in a long time, but he remains one of my dearest friends. There are very few people in the world who make me relax enough to come through authentically and he’s definitely one of them.

It’s a question of whether you are running
on deficiency or abundance
whether you trust or distrust
and if you question
or stay ignorant

Do you really doubt that you’re lovable
when you feel so loved?

I am sorry, I won’t be talking about the three little pigs any time soon. I hope you stay around, but if you don’t, I’d understand. 

I should be working on my second story of the term. The requirement for this assignment is to simply play with time in the story and since I’ve done my previous story mostly on flashbacks, I am going to try something different this time. But of what? I don’t know. I guess I am blogging as a warm up for the “serious” writing. And to be honest with you, I’ve never been too happy with any of my serious writings. Most of my favorite pieces are found here on my blog. I guess part of the challenge is to be able to produce under the pressure of time and critiques.

So I am in the process of applying for the masters’ of creative writing. It is what I want, but it took a lot of pushing from my friends and family for the kick start of this application. I am scared shitless. Every day I am scared when I think about it and it gets worst at night. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking, what the hell am I doing? I would never be able to get this done. I could never get in. The funny thing is, sometimes I wake up in the morning and have total faith that it will happen. I have learned to not take my thoughts at night seriously. 

This act of declaring my desires loudly, of stepping forward, of reaching, and asking is foreign to me. This isn’t the me who sit silently smiling and go along with what other people want. I can’t remember the last time I was so clear as to what I want. But I want this. 

I am asking my teachers for reference letters. Even that unnerves me. I have lived under the assumption that I should be completely content with whatever is given to me, and I don’t really know much about going after things. Do you know how it feels to want to crawl back and hide in a blanket at any given second? If I am the most chicken shit person around, does it also make me the most courageous when I am not giving up and hiding? 

It is such a treat to have his arms to return to when I am depleted, and to have him smile at me and ask me if I know I am so beautiful. 

Anyways, I have rambled enough here. I should get started on my story writing. And by the way, I have decided to apply for non-fiction and poetry as my two main genres. I kept fantasizing of being this great story teller, but over the years, my best works and the stuff that I’ve gotten the best feedbacks on were all non-fiction writings and my poems… So maybe I just need to work harder on my short fiction, but as of now, I am going to be sending in non-fiction and poetry samples for this application. Wish me luck. I need a ton of it.