The other to-do list

To forgive

To listen more carefully

To hide emotions that can harm someone

To be thankful and don’t take things for granted

To be brave about discussing situations when they occur

To think twice before making decisions which involve others

To stay kind even when you are not spoiled by others’ kindness

To let people you care about know it with words and actions

To show passion when it will make someone feel right

To stay silent when no words are needed

To let others be who they are

To be yourself

Prosaic things

I take a walk with you
To open up a bit
I tell you sky shots are prosaic

You laugh at me
Because I snapped some
The other day

I tell you sometimes
I snap prosaic shots
For lack of any better

The truth is I am telling you
Prosaic things
Because I can’t tell you the truth

The prosaic image is by me

Pain in the... neck

- Writers are not very fun people to be around from what I’ve heard, is that true?
- Should I read it as a “subtle” hint that I’m not fun to be around?
- No-no-no, it’s just that...
- It’s just that whoever told you that can’t write and envies our awesomeness.

...Just one of our weird small talks in between tea sipping/page flipping/people watching at a coffee shop. Your straightforwardness is amusing. You like to ask strange questions, provide controversial arguments and lead conversations into dead ends. I don’t mind it though, because you unknowingly teach me to handle the uncomfortable and the not-so-friendly, which comprise the majority of the real.

Image credit: arwenita
Currently listening to Cain's Blood by the awesome Lucas Kellison

Do you freecycle?

This nonprofit movement has been around for years, but I’m surprised to still come across many people who have never heard about it.

I came up with a quick list of benefits.

~ It's an upgraded version of recycling, more people oriented and fun.

~ It's great for the environment, keeping useful things out of landfills.

~ It provides an effortless way to help someone.

~ You'll get a lot of free stuff.

~ It's free.

Give it a try?

Dream box

"I put my dreams in a box
so they'll never spoil,
hidden from the sunlight,
underneath the soil.
You can never be too
careful with a secret
as someone once said,
but would it be safer to keep
it locked up in my head?"

~ Music & Lyrics

True friends stab you in the front

Why are you making it so hard to be friends with you? I tape the cracks in this relationship and pretend that I don’t see the mess they create, acting as if it’s whole again. But there is only so much fixing one can do before finding the thing completely useless and throwing it away, right? Is that what awaits us in the end?

Why do you have to pour acid into the drink you are offering me? Do I really evoke that need in you? Do we have to put this strain in our conversations? I force my mind into giving this situation a comical angle (think Coffee & Cigarettes by Tom Waits & Iggy Pop).

Why is this happening, out of competition, jealousy or pure lack of understanding? I was containing myself all day yesterday, but at the end, the emotions I stacked on top of each other reached the tipping point, and I responded to your bitter remarks with my own. It didn’t make me happy. Whenever negativity boils up, I close my eyes and think of the good things you’ve done, reminding myself that minor conflicts should not ruin the major trust we’ve built over the years.

Why don’t I just let this one go? When in doubt, I reach for that (hopelessly naïve but intentionally so) belief that people are inherently good at hearts, but the situations they face in life sometimes make them act, or more often simply appear, adversely. I know you’ve been going through a hard time lately – another reason I should have just let your remark slide by, but I didn’t manage, and there goes my darker side.

Why don’t I write to you? I read somewhere that the best rule of friendship is to keep your heart a little softer than your head. I reach for the keyboard but find that you beat me to it. You feel me, girl, and that’s another reason not to throw us out of the window.

* * *

The title of this blog entry is a quote by Oscar Wilde
Image credit: vassiliki

Abre los ojos

“If your knowledge were your wealth then it would be well earned,” I heard as I woke up this morning. It played in the background of my dream, and those last few minutes in between pressing the snooze button, I whispered along.

Erykah’s songs pull me in, and I keep falling into them, absorbing some new emotions along the way but never really hitting the ground… Just hanging there and thinking, how in the grand scheme of things I still have miles to fly to grasp at least a little something in this world.

It’s good to wake up believing you can change something for better. It’s harder to sustain that faith as you go through the day.

Image credit: vhm-alex


Friday night’s conversation felt like a bunch of needles in a chair. It caused major discomfort in certain places. “No. I like talking about this,” I kept stubbornly saying each time when offered to change the subject. I think questions that are easy to answer are strings of wasted words. It’s that timely uncomfortable query that can make a difference between safe inaction and daring to take a chance.

* * *

- Why do you care about people starving or getting killed thousands of miles away? What is it to you? Why don’t you just want to live your life and build your own happiness?
- Wow. Um. I don’t know. I never thought there has to be a reason. Maybe… Well… I guess… I think there are two worlds. One is carefree and comfortable, where you live for your own good. Another one involves the choice to open your eyes and see the evils of your time and find the strength within you to act upon them. And once you really see that other world and experience it at least once, there is no coming back to that comfortable yet meaningful nothingness. Because… I am not sure how else to word this. Wow, that is such a deep question. Nobody has ever asked me that.

- Have you ever taken care of anyone?
- My younger sister. My parents both worked full time so I looked after her when we were growing up. That’s about it…
- That doesn’t really count.
- I know.

- Would you be able to give something up to help someone? Would you be able to pass your own plate to someone who needs it more?
- I think so. I believe so. Not that I ever had to…

- Ok. How about this: Would you be able to stay in a place where people don’t like you? Racism exists everywhere, you know.
- I know. That’s a tough one. I guess I’d just have to work that much harder to deserve their trust and maybe get them to like me…

- You’ve never done anything like that before. How do you know that you can make it there? Why do you think that you have what it takes?
- I don’t. But I guess there’s one way to find out.

* * *

I needed this, my friend. I want to find out. I am choosing to turn the corner. Thanks, M.



Two months pass by and it's getting cold
I know I'm not lost I'm just alone
But I won't cry, I won't give up, I can't go back now
Waking up is knowing who you really are
Here in the shadows
I'm safe, I'm free
I've nowhere else to go
But I cannot stay where I don't belong

~ Amy

In a city of strangers

Met new friends this weekend. Watched the rain. Explored several new coffee shops, one of which turned out to be a really creepy place. Got lost numerous times although the planning of this town is really simple. Was scared by too much rain on the freeway and must have slowed down the rest of the traffic. Experienced local nightlife and had some stereotypes shattered. Walked in the rain and took lots of pictures. Left muddy footprints on the carpet in the hallway. Stuck a political poster to the car. Took it off as it was obscuring the side view. Thought about putting it back on. Experienced a very unlikely outcome of winning a couple of games of pool. Read a book about writing. Went on a hike and saw striking sceneries at sunset. Danced for the first time in a long time. Decided to try vegetarianism and had tofu, soy milk and an overpriced vegan cookie… followed by a steak later that day. Climbed the house to take pictures of the roof, not sure why. Had an informal tour of the local school’s campus. Wrote. Talked the night away. Chased the neighbors’ dog out of the kitchen. Saw helicopters and tanks. Inhaled the rain. Had breakfast at 4 a.m. while listening to some good R&B and some funky 80s tunes.

* * *
Feeling empty inside.
Missing “old” friends incredibly.
Missing that lifestyle.
Thinking of certain things that are better off left behind for good.
Trying to forget and move on.
Trying not to be too upset about still remembering.
Trying to figure out where I’m going.
Trying to find a way there.

Still listening to Chasing Pavements by Adele
Image credit: hungerartist

Yesterday's rain (watering down memories)

Pain makes man think. Thought makes man wise. Wisdom makes life endurable. ~ John Patrick

You've got to make a conscious choice every day to shed the old - whatever 'the old' means for you. ~ Sarah Ban Breathnach

The scent of bathing grass and dust disturbed by water hits my nostrils. I open the window wider and inhale deeper, savoring the relief brought by rain. I close my eyes and a subtle tune wakes my thinking.

…I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
But love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…

I used to make a step ahead and two back. Why did you hold on to me for so long? When was it, the moment you won over the control that I thought was mine? Was it the morning you wrote to say I was the first thought of your day? Was it the afternoon you yelled about your feeling out loud, making the world hear, making me blush and finally believe you? Was it the sunset on that violet hill, the one I naively imagined to be ours, until a simple note on the wall told me the opposite? I chose to close my eyes and pretend, for the longest time, that I saw a bad dream. I ran away and cried that night, but when you found me red-eyed, I lied about the cause of my tears. I shielded myself from the obvious for too long, fearing the pain it would bring. I let it in slowly, one day at a time, as if giving my body a chance to build up defense against your poison, as if letting my mind come to terms with the bitterness of it. How symbolic, I thought, when they closed our hangout place. I knew it was time for me to leave, long before I had the guts to do so.

…Well, maybe there's a God above,
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you…
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…

I have written a short story, and it’s the first one I have ever finished. Short of inspiration, you were the cause of it. See, inspiration is too good of a word to be in one sentence with you. I have been debating for the longest time between posting it and not, and it’s still in the "not" stage. I don’t think I am ready quite yet, because I still remember.

…And the holy dove was moving too,
And every breath we drew was hallelujah…

I make two steps ahead and one back now, or maybe only half back. This summer has been cleansing, just like that rain. It’s slowly washing away every thought of you, every idea of “us.” It’s been a long time and I think I am ready to feel again.

Please, let me go now.

Currently listening: Chasing Pavements by Adele
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