Saturday, September 12, 2015

The Face of September

We walk barefoot in September
The strange familiarity of the woods will always give me a sense of belonging
We set a flame
A fire
the earth we walk on
Smoke in the distant fog
Guiding us to our next destination
We grew up here
We grew near here
We belong here
Old flowers scattered across the attic floor
Once beautiful
Breathing the lives into summers past
The old guitar plays in the distance
I listen long
I listen with reverence
Playing that old song we used to swing to
Apple ale
Dying cigarettes still glowing on the ground
To that melancholic sound
We dance to remember
We dance to forget
When we are exhausted we sit down and cross our legs
Swaying to the beauty of it all

Saturday, August 8, 2015

The Face of August

I'm a romantic
An idealist
Yet a Cynic
And a Pessimist
Positive thoughts fly though my head
To be shot down by the rifle to stifle

I love surpassing people's expectations
Slowly achieving my goals and dreams
But I also hate that expectations
Means there's awaiting evaluations

I'm terrified to fail
I'm terrified to disappoint
These dreams are more like a burden at this point

Don't try to find the invisible wall I hide behind
You can't withstand the altitude of that climb
Walls are created for a reason
My heart will never be in open season

Intimate relationships start off well
So heavenly, before the slow decent to hell
False declarations of love
True applications of lust
For now, I'm truly the only person I care to trust

I'm neurotic
And mildly psychotic
Yet some people find this combination intoxicatingly hypnotic

So easily I can build a bridge
But I always carry gasoline
All things eventually come to an end
Either by time or catastrophe

I find refuge in solitude
Alone with myself and thoughts
But sometime a warm embrace can mean a lot

This was face one
Now we are done

Face Project

Lately I have been averaging an unreasonably low amount of sleep thanks to the never ending chaos that is my life. I haven't had the chance to write anything in a while, which is truly disheartening, because poetry, prose, scripts, short stories, you name it, anything that involves my mind creating and translating my ideas into a literary work, is one of the many things that give me solace.  So I decided that it would be interesting to write monthly poems about myself consecutively for the entire year. Every month, or I could even say everyday brings something new. Whether it's an entirely new experience, or curious change about the usual mundane ones, life keeps everyone on their toes. I plan to call the poems: The Face of along with the corresponding month. The first poem for August will  be The Face of August. I chose to title these series of poems as The Face of_, because they will be representing a small facet of myself, you could say, one of the many faces that I have. Personally, I think this is going to be really interesting to see the variation in emotions with each poem. I won't have a schedule of when I plan to write, like the start or the end of each month, it will more be going off inspiration and when I feel like writing, and that will be the Face for that month. I could feel sudden inspiration in the middle of a stressful storm like now, or after a nice date with someone, etc. I suppose in a way, this is almost like keeping a monthly poetic diary. I'm sure from re-reading some poems, I will know exactly why I wrote it the way I did.

To the people who happen to read this series:

If a poem strikes your curiosity, feel free to comment. The beautiful thing about writing is that it's open to many interpretations. I think it would be really fun and fascinating to see how someone else could interpret that month.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

The Girl Gang

So this morning I was reading an article on “curating the perfect girl gang” and for some reason I found this to be a bit absurd yet hilarious. When it comes to my own relationships in life, I am more of a let it happen naturally type of woman. I did ponder on the idea of who I would want, if in some alternate universe I could establish such a random group of women (fictional and real), and I thought It would fun to write who make the cut.

Morticia Addams 

The 1993 Anjelica Huston version of Morticia Addams from the Addams Family is one of the most flawless characters to date. I always found her dark allure so classic and charming. She is the independent gothic romantic French feminist vampire which is grounds enough for her to secure a spot. 






Lana Del Rey

She is classic, beautiful, and apologetically herself. Whether in her music, or in life she wears her heart on her sleeve. Opening herself up to such vulnerability constantly is something I truly admire. 


Mindy Kaling 

She is hilarious and lives her life like no one is watching. The funny thing is, she is the same on screen as she is off screen. She completely owns who she is, flaws included, and just runs with it.


Angelina Jolie

Angelina Jolie has just always seemed like one of those rare people in life that everyone loves, but still has no idea who they truly are. She always takes on these incredible roles with such depth and intense female lead roles that I have always found amazing. In her real life she has the biggest heart as well with the adoptions and traveling to impoverished places. 

Miranda Priestly

Merly Streep as Miranda is a cold and ambitious woman who has sacrificed having a life for her craft, something she loves, and truly believes in. 


Audrey Hepburn

When anyone thinks of a classic and Iconic beauty, Audrey Hepburn is the one that comes to mind. She had the charming awkward graceful thing going for her which I always found so delightful. In her real life she was even a philanthropist, and extremely humble.  

Blair Waldorf 

Although embarrassing to admit, Gossip Girl was one of my go to shows in my youth. I think what kept me so hooked, and constantly tuning in was the star of the show Blair Waldorf. She was cruel, ruthless, strategic, and incredibly intelligent. She possessed qualities I had, as well as wanted! Along with her constant scheming, and her flock of doting minions, deep down she was as vulnerable as the rest of us. I always loved the episodes displaying her inner fragility. In my own life, I like to display an organized and motivated facade, even when I am internally falling apart. Blair was strong, sophisticated, and on top of things constantly, and definitely would have a seat at my table for brunch.  


Olivia Pope

Kerry Washington’s character Oliva Pope in the television series Scandal is the last and final character I would need in my carefully curated girl group. She's a fixer, shes strong, intelligent, and always tries to do the right thing even when it tough. Along with all these admirable qualities, she has the perfect taste in wine, and treats popcorn like a food group just like me. With living in D.C. she knows all about the political machine that is Washington and the presidency, and I would love to rack her brain if I could.  

Monday, June 29, 2015

Intended for a Cup of Coffee

And when I realized you weren't my cup of tea
My heart did not take the hit softly
But later in life I realized
That I prefer coffee

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Thoughts for Today

Like I said, I eat pastries and drink coffee like clock work. There is nothing more enjoyable, than finding peace at the bottom of a cup. 
In the words of the great Matty Healy:


"Life's too short to drink crappy coffee, and cry over boys who don't care." 






Pure Reason is to No Avail

Pure reason is to no avail how I wish it did yet how I love thee so
Thy scent is of beguiling witch craft how it lingers how it taunts me
Broken, Beaten, and Battered down by thine love yet I stand up once more for thy's affliction
How my heart wants what it should not want
How my lips water for thy's forbidden fruit
I succumb to the temptation of plucking one sweet delight
The taste
The feel
Is that of unearthly kings
O how I revel in that bite savoring every moment
How I indulge myself in lustful pleasures losing breathe over such bliss
Yet thy fruit is not mine to keep
How you give away treasures so willingly
Thane eye's are those of a wandering wolf
Thine hunger is that of a ravenous beast
Whole body I throw to your allocation
Whole heart I give with zealous inclination
And how you take with greedy hands
No shame in sight of thine action
Thy ways are cruel and ones of self-seeking
Yet how quick I am to overlook
How quick I am to love thee so

Saturday, June 20, 2015

A Diary is a Time Capsule

Rounding out the night, with wine, and re-reading my thoughts of the past has made me come to the conclusion that no matter how hard a situation may be, eventually, you'll be okay. When I was reading over some of my old diary entries I couldn't help but laugh, and cringe  at all the situations, fleeting romances, and anti-climatic milestones I thought I was hitting. I suppose when you're younger, everything holds so much more meaning to you. Your feelings are a lot more intense and pure, because you're putting your whole self into them. To be a young teenage girl, is living life with your heart on your sleeve, and when your heart breaks, it's the end of the world. A few of my entries were about a boy I was "on again off again" with, I did not spare with any of the dramatics in the least. I truly believed my whole world was crashing down when we decided to take a break from each other. I do remember that situation, and crying all afternoon. I couldn't possibly fall in love again, he was the one, my best friend, and my soulmate.  At that point, I believed there was no chance of recovery for my heart. Looking back at this now, I find it so ridiculous that I had been so dramatic.  Re-reading those thoughts. took me right back to that moment. Fast-forwarding to this present day, I feel so old, and hardened. It takes a lot more for me to believe my life is "spiraling out of control".  I've yet to feel so passionately for someone as I did in my younger years. Is it maturity? Or is it the loss of being mystified and curious and open to the prospects love? I suppose when you feel feelings more than once, they tend to lose their excitement and allure. Nothing is ever as good as the first time. 

The Mind Minefield (Short Story)

“I’ll never forget that September day. The sun was out, but it was still cold. I was five years old in the park with my mum, eating ice cream. I begged and pleaded her for that chocolate cone even though I was so cold, I don’t know why” Paul said. He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the window and stared through it blankly. Dr. Hollis continued writing furiously on his clipboard, without looking up.

“My mum loved me,” he said while raising his left hand to his cheek. “I had a bit of cream on my face, and she wiped it away with a tissue from her pocket. She licked it first of course, which I always hated,” he quietly smiled. “That woman was a class act, with the most beautiful heart, I’ve never met anyone who could compare to her,” he said while gradually beginning to sit upright on the couch. Dr. Hollis looked up from his clipboard.

“Are you okay Paul?”

“Yes, I just remember that being one of the last times I was happy.” Dr. Hollis looked back down at the clipboard and commenced writing, as Paul laid back down in the seat.
“I asked my mother where my father was that day, why he never came round anymore. She told me that he had fallen in love with a barmaid, dancer, air hostess, pilot, it was always a different story every time I brought it up. But however she told it, the ending remained the same.”

“And how does that make you feel Paul?” Dr. Hollis questioned while looking up from the clipboard.

Paul paused for a moment before replying “It hurt.”

“Because your father abandoned you?”

“No, because that bastard abandoned my mum. That day when I asked her about my father, for the first time, it wasn’t a joke. I could physically see the joy ripped from her eyes, as she recollected whatever truly happened. All the years leading up to that moment I realized how unhappy she actually was.” Paul closed his eyes without saying a word, and began breathing deeply.

“Would you like some water?” Dr. Hollis asked while extending a glass in his direction.

“No I’m fine,” Paul replied opening his eyes. “It was so long ago, but I can still feel that day so vividly. I remember I vowed to never fall in love.”

“Because you never wanted to feel that kind of loss?”

“Indeed, to be completely honest, I was quite relieved. I suppose in elementary school I had no need for women, and as I grew up, I focused on my studies and my mates.” 

“So you actively avoided creating relationships with women during your adolescence?”

“Not exactly, my mates and my hormones got the best of me, but I would always make it a point to not get attached.”  

“And now?”

“And now I’m a thirty-four year old man with no kids and no family, and desire for either. I’m where I want to be in my career, I would say I’m content. All my friends have grown up, they have wives and families to look after, and I have myself. A man my age should want a family? But I feel…”

“Detached from those emotions,” Dr. Hollis said while placing the clipboard on down. “When you’re alone for so long, loneliness no longer seems like the enemy. You’ve adapted Paul.” 

“What should I do?”

The room was silent for a few moments, and all that could be heard was the whoosh of the ceiling fan. Dr. Hollis began writing on the clipboard again as Paul looked over.

“Have you ever been in love Paul?”

“Love?” Paul questioned.

“Yes,” Dr. Hollis sternly replied.

“I told you, I isolated myself from every relationship I’ve ever had”

Dr. Hollis put his clip board down and scooted his chair closer to Paul. Paul sat up, with a confused stare.

“Have you really Paul?” Dr. Hollis firmly asked.

Paul began to breathe heavily, as Dr. Hollis kept his gaze unbroken. He began to feel nauseous, and held his stomach as his brow furrowed then relaxed. He leaned all the way back on the couch and looked up at the rotating ceiling fan.The pale yellowish fan above him turned in an unceasing motion, creating a whooshing sound with each cycle. He looked up and fixed his gaze on one blade. He could see the remnants of its former white nature spotted around its withered body. In the middle, there was a woven brownish net pattern made from some sort of straw fiber. He looked at how the stich work of one fiber went above, then below the other in a succinct way. The edges of the blade were triangular but rounded and frayed at the top. He took another deep breath, before staring out the window.

“There was a girl in college I knew, her name was Samantha Etherly”. Dr. Hollis began writing on his clipboard again.

“So you loved her?”

“If I was to ever have loved once, I believed Samantha to be the one who gained all my affection. She was everything in a woman that I wasn’t in a man, and left me terrified with vulnerable stammers in her presence. She was like a shooting star, and I merely in her orbit for a few minutes that felt like seconds. She was the queen of hearts and I was no more than a joker. When she would look at me, the momentary intimacy was beyond words.”

“How did you feel the first time she talked to you?”

“Sick, she was asking a question about the chemistry lecture we were just in. As she spoke, I zoned in on her lips, her eyes, her breasts. The palpitations of my heart beat quickened, and my hands grew clammy. At the time I believed I was undergoing a heart attack. I didn’t want to alarm her so I planned on going to the clinic after she walked away. When she did finally leave, the symptoms reduced and I realized they were woman induced.”

Dr. Hollis looked up from the clipboard and gave a slight chuckle.

“Was that your last meeting with her?”

“Not exactly, I saw her in lecture every week, and she was sometimes sit by me or ask questions.”

“Did you have any meaningful encounters?”

“There was this one time I saw her at a coffee shop downtown,” he reflectively said while slowly rubbing his mouth.
“When I walked inside I saw her sitting alone. Her eyes were red and misty like she’d been crying. I quickly averted my gaze and made my drink order. When it was ready I planned on leaving, but she called out to me, she said my name,” he said trying to fight back a smile.

“You were happy she knew who you were, don’t be afraid to smile at that, its okay.”

Paul rubbed his mouth again, as if to clear it from any remaining remnants of a smile.

“Continue Paul”

“Well, I was shocked, I mean, she had occupied the entirety of my mind since we last spoke. She asked me to sit down and stay a while.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, I didn’t know what to say, so I stupidly asked her why she had been crying. Thankfully it was nothing serious, she just pulled the book from her lap onto the table. She said she had been crying from what she had just read,” he smiled while shaking his head.  

You want to know what she read, it’s a real piece of work,” Paul laughed. “I can’t even say it.”

Dr. Hollis looked up from his writing in anticipation.

“Paul you can’t stop now, please go on”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes,” Dr. Hollis enthusiastically replied.

“She picked up the book and read: It wasn’t just him, or me, or the situation. It was everything all at once, the kaleidoscope of fear and doubt that had always haunted me. He stared at me, waiting for my reply. What was I to say to love? I said nothing, and watched those words hang in the air until they faded into the surrounding nothing of the room, as if to never have been there in the first place. To never have been said, to never have been felt.”

Dr. Hollis placed his clipboard on his lap, and looked at Paul melancholy.

“And what happened?”

“I told her it was okay, that maybe somethings are better left unsaid. She stared at me calmly, and leaned in close to me over our table. I knew what she wanted,” Paul quietly stammered while running his hand through his hair painfully.

“Can I have smoke?” Paul asked while sitting up.

“Go ahead, need a light?”

“No I’m okay, thank you.”

Paul walked over to the coat rack, where he dug into his left pocket and pull out a packet of cigarettes. He slowly took one out of the box, and aloofly observed it, before placing it in his mouth.

“We need to continue with the story Paul, what happened after she leaned in toward you?” Dr. Hollis insisted.

Paul grabbed a lighter out of his back pocket, aggressively turned the dial, before a flame appeared. He cupped his hand around it, while bringing it toward the cigarette. He took a few puffs, and sat back down. He watched the cigarette burn in his hand for a few moments, before bringing it to his lips once more, and taking in a long breath, and releasing a cloud of smoke.

“I gave her what she wanted”

“And then?”

“When I pulled away from the kiss, she kept her eyes closed while smiling. She gradually opened them back up, and when she did I could see…this longing in her eyes. We sat there silently for a few moments, before I gathered my things and left”

“You what!” Dr. Hollis queried in frustration.

“I couldn’t bear it, she read exactly what I would do to her. I couldn’t love her, I had to save her from what I would have done.”
  
“Did you ever consider pursuing her, even after seeing her again in lecture?”

“No, I told you love is something I didn’t want and couldn’t give. She would stare at me at times during lecture, but once the semester was finished, I never saw her again”.

“You’re a coward”.

Paul looked up at Dr. Hollis with an offended stare.

“I wasn’t afraid of her, I was trying to do the right thing”

“No, you were afraid of what she could mean to you”

Paul felt hot with annoyance and embarrassment and he rose to his two feet.

“I wasn’t afraid”

Dr. Hollis leaned back in his chair and without looking up from the clipboard and kept scribbling down notes.

“You’re afraid to trust anyone with your emotions, and when you found the one person who could make you feel anything you retreated. That’s pretty cowardice.”

“Listen here Dr. Hollis,” Paul yelled.

Dr. Hollis looked up from the clipboard. Paul clenched his hand, and gradually released it, and sat back down in his chair. Dr. Hollis stood up and put the clipboard on the seat. Paul watched quietly as Dr. Hollis walked towards the bookshelf scanning for a book. After he chose one from the shelf, he walked over, and dropped it on Paul’s lap.

“What am I supposed to do with a phone book?”

Without looking back at Paul, Dr. Hollis sat back down and wrote down more notes.

“I’d advise you to find your girl.”

Cappuccino with an Apple Pear Tart

Sweets and coffee are a definite staple in my daily diet. 

Being a Writer

With being a writer
I can’t keep anything private
Just on paper
People say you write what you know
So with each story
Each character
Each adventure
Each trial
Somehow it correlates back to me as a person
Every story embodies a little bit of me
My personality
My desires
My fantasies
So when I write
I’m actually discovering and uncovering hidden parts of myself