Mulling Over

My only Burger King memory:

It's been so long - maybe 16 or 17 years, so I won't be able to give you complete details, but because someone asked the question, I will do my best.

He wanted to introduce me to something new. He said it was called a suicide.

He seemed methodical at the time, as he pressed the levers of seven drink dispensers, but thinking about it now - I know he was pressing them at random. Every liquid had its spot in the medium sized cup.

His eyes gleamed as the fizz popped above the browned orange color he had just made.

We walked outside and sat at an empty booth. I was sitting japanese style and he was on his knees. He laughed and told me to try it.

"Poison," I shouted. "That's gross."

He told me to close my eyes and think of something funny. I could hear him drinking the vile concoction and shifting around. I just sat there with my eyes shut and my mouth slightly open. Next thing I know, something very soft, warm, and very wet, hit my lips.

I screamed and pushed him away. I covered my mouth. I imagine he thought I did that to show disgust, but in reality, I did it to hide my excited smile. It tasted sweet and very tangy.

Owen looked at me and threw a peace sign. His face was red and I was happy. 

But... I would never have it again...

First kiss.

Reflecting

It's not that I am suppressed, confined, or at a stand still. I am used to it. I eat, sleep, and breathe with it. It's my fuel. I am happy to have it. If I didn't, I would be even more useless.

I like how it is so near, and so insignificant, like: scrunched jean pockets; a scuffed cell phone case; the white film on your tongue in the morning.

The only downfall: writing and publishing, for some reason it will not give me the green light - I don't even know how to get the "go ahead". BA? The quieting of my mind? The quelling of my soul? I have no idea....

Anyway, it is such a powerful ideal from every and any day and age. Everyone has their own definition and agony with it. I share the pros and cons, too. It is very stifling at times, but I feel that it is necessary - just like dying.

Fear of Failure.

A Thought

I sleep with a king, some nights, it's a queen. Sometimes it's too hot, others, too cold. But when just right: I battle Lego zombies; cook while flying; experience love, experience death; go to school naked, break out of a stomach of a bear. 

The rectangle can hold my mind and body. It's so magnificent. It's my favorite. I wish I had more time with it. 

Beds.

Secrets told about my sky

See Orion up there? Do you see how grand and crisp and amazing he is? Do you see how he shines, shines on others and for others? And look right under his belt. The rabbit dangling there. I used to believe that was me: dead, right by his side. I looked up at the sky every night to wonder what another life would be like. But ever since met you, I haven't had the urge to look up and wish I was there. Now, I just look up to tell him I am alive, and well, and happy that I found someone here on earth. I have someone better. I, the rabbit, have been revived, and is happier and more lively than ever before. And that is because of you. You outdo him in all ways. You push through the darkness and shine your light on me. I now keep my head out of the sky, and I keep my eyes on you.

I am happy. I am here. 

My 5-7-5: Winter '14

Winter's setting is
perfect for the ritual
of one's seppuku.

Grieve like morning dew
evaporating above
an old bamboo sword.

Feelings slide along
the heart like enemy blood
on a katana.

Changing tides - changing
minds? Winter is most brutal
without a partner.

Walls harden as an
oyster shell, yet bear no soul like
a shinning pearl.

Swimming up stream, the
Trout, with broken hook in mouth,
lives it's second chance.

The tiger will use
it's full strength - even when
hunting a rabbit.

The seal will trek for
miles and miles in search for the
scent of the penguin.

Ignorance is bliss,
like taking the first breath
of welcomed ocean.

His words are the logs
that keep the hearth in my chest
from smoldering out.

Sample Ian

Your hair: Its whimsical and natural smell of mist from the forest pine, molds to any and every form. It feels so silky between my fingers. I love seeing how the breeze can cause it to roll over your forehead and ears like a gushing waterfall. I yearn for the morning to come so I can see the curls: turbulent, twisted, fury from the battle of sleep. A wave of attraction washes over me when I see you in a hat. It's easy, sexy, and fits you so well.

Your eyes: Volcanoes on the oceans of visions and emotions. Confusing at times, knowing that hardship and pain have grazed in the scene, but your eyes are still kind. So kind. Such emotion spawns from your eyes. I see you, I see me. I see me clearly through your eyes. When you look at me, I feel that I exist. And I don't think I will be able to look, gaze, glance, squint, or even stare at anything else more pure. I love when you look at things. How is it that you hypnotize me with the way you look at things? You've got the eye of the tiger. They hold a power and I am still trying to decipher what that actually is. They are amazing, Ian.

Your nose: Sculpted by nature vs nuture, it inhales my scent and exhales relevance. The center of your face, at attention, it's manly yet gracious. It holds a variety of actions; from your pre sneeze flutter, to the sound it makes when you genuinely, laugh, supremely hard. And I like using the tip of my index finger to caress the outline of the profile of your nose. So please let me continue to do that. It soothes me. You soothe me.

Your mouth: The portal – the communicator – the lover – and the keeper of that youthful tongue of yours: I am drawn to your lips. I crave the pressure I feel when touching your mouth with mine. And it is versitile! In the blush of the morning, for a brief moment, its a butterfly that lands hesitantly on my forehead, unaware of the lasting impression it leaves for the rest of my day; it softens my night with its mellowed sound of repose; it shapes the top half of a cartoon heart when consuming nutrients and fighting off a smile. It's the curtain to my favorite thing. The buttons!

Your beard: The sexiest frame on a face. It cradles your cheeks and brings a new shade I have never seen to the facial color spectrum. The most attractive facial clothing I have ever layed my eyes upon. I like how it scrubs my face down and tickles the palms of my hands and sensually pricks my fingertips.

Your voice: Oh, how your voice resonates in my cerebellum. It holds me without touch and it keeps me without chains. Yet I want to be engulfed in your words and lay in the lift of your cadence. Though I can't place your accent in a proper mainstream way, I place it safely in my heart. It's so strong and mischievious at times, but also agile and endearing. Your voice is my favorite sound at the moment. It might be my favorite sound from now on. Sidenote: I melt with the simple hypocrisms you give me.

Your mind: Describing something so fantastical is tricky for me, but I will try my best to elaborate on your soul's mainframe. There isn't a device that can track, tame, conclude, or dilute this mind of yours. It is vast and diverse. You can be a comedian one minute and leap to the trance of a true romantic in the next. It amazes me. I love that it needs new stimuli everyday and has an insatiable craving for knowledge. I am lucky to know that your mind can sift through the bullshit of a monoluoge and light up a room with humbled intelligence. I love your mind. It opens up new realms for me and I get lost in it.

Your heart: I strive to match the rhythm. I want to be that open and that strong. Don't get me wrong, it is very complex and can be fragile at times, too. I don't know much about the molten rock that resides in your chest just yet. But I hope to feel it, to hear it, to relieve it, to massage out all the kinks, and as a reward, to reside within it one day. I hope your heart is my future's promise.

Letter from a Japanese Stranger

Someone who has never met me; someone who I have never met, wrote me a letter. Apparently, my parents had a small party at their house in late April. Most of their guests were japanese. One man, a japanese TV network employee, whose name I only know half of, went upstairs to my father's office to write the following to me. No one even knew he did this till the next day when my father found it on his desk:


Erin,
I wrote this piece for my black lady friend who lost her only son to a drive-by shooting:

"Whenever one hears anger or fear from another's voice, whenever one sees anger or fear from another's eyes; does such person crave for an addictive appetite for misery?"
                                                                                                                    Goto
                                                                                                                 '03 Okinawa, Japan

May the flowers of the new year bloom many smiles and laughter for you and your family.

Aloha,
"Jimmy" Goto
4/28/12

I received this August 13, 2012. I have no idea what this means. I want to look for this man. I have so many questions. Why me? Why me, out of all my siblings? What does this mean? Etc....

The Rinse

Almost two years since I walked in the rain to see what I could find; when I soon realized that I was not discovering something or someone, but really, I was finally found.
I waited for him in the rain. I specifically recall there was a meteor shower that night. Though I didn't see a single shooting star, I witnessed the important moments between me and him become literal, not abstract.

A story I wrote 4 years ago when I was hanging with Mary

I woke up I saw an owl that gaped its mouth open right over my chest. Just seconds later (oh, by the way, the owl's name is Zim.) Zim bit my rib and my loin. I tried to build a secret, neat orb to evade the owl. Once I made the orb it distracted Zim with showing him a movie about a coy cub playing with a horn. I had enough time to run away, but my shoe fell off. Stumbling down, I received a late tackle by him and immediately had to pee. Amazingly my pee was wine and the last thing Zim said before I passed out was, "hey, I hide old age teats in a dove jar". After this happened my pager went off. Dots began to appear around me as I scanned the room. Gosh! Wasn't that a crazy story!?

I can say the darnedest things

I was walking to my car from my apartment to go to work and kid from my complex was looking up at the sky. Being an avid looker into the night sky, I got excited about seeing the young eyes gazing the way I do. I popped up behind him and asked what he was thinking about. He turned toward  me and asked what a star actually is. And like I had thought about the answer before, I spewed the following:


Well, if you must know, a male starfish, one day, witnessed the beautiful night sky. He realized he needed to get up there to join his friends. -> He goes on the journey. -> After centuries had past, he understood, somehow, that he didn't belong in the sky, but in the ocean, with his family, all along. Never to return, the starfish began to cry. He cried and cried till one day, he evolved into a glowing, powerful, warm light. Now when you see the stars twinkling in the dark sky, you will know that it was every curious starfish who decided to ascend to the unknown. Sad but amazing, don't you think? 


The child was awe-struck and completely confused. I winked and walked backward slowly, got into my car and drove away.
I still have no idea why I said it. I don't know why I felt like I needed to say such a fib; maybe it was because I would've wanted answers such as this when I was growing up. What ever the real reason was, it felt good nonetheless.

A good plot for a teen book? Can I pull it off? Can I write a book about this?

It's the year 3019 AD. There is only 4% of land above the sea left on Earth due to global warming. Life is critical and unfortunate for the people living in this time. There are roughly 600,000 people left and 80% live on large ships used as floating islands. Each ship has its own way of life and has one leader who delegates, like how countries were 1000 years ago. But not everyone is completely human. Some evolved since the second flood.

Now there is one large island that used to be known as Japan, now called Sector 9, with much smaller land forms scattered around the rest of the planet. It is the center of their world: a kingdom that struggles to maintain life, peace, reconstruction, and hope to the citizens of the watery planet.

The problem - rumors are spreading of the overthrowing of the kingdom. People are getting impatient with the way of life. They want their Earth back. There is only one thing that can preserve peace and eliminate human extinction; the prophecy of the Staff of Terrain. While the King and Queen scramble to find a plan to get the staff, their daughter, next in line to the throne, sneaks out to try and find it herself, so her family can restore the land and create habitable living conditions for everyone. When her parents catch wind of this, a throng of search soldiers go out to find her.

This is a story of a human princess who takes a journey to save the earthlings from the people of their past. She meets several evolved creatures along the way, who recognize her determination, and the idea to regain peace, and join her. She finds herself in sticky situations and goes through trails, games, puzzles, and hardships to get to her destination. As she gets closer to finding the Staff of Terrain, she finds out that an evil and sinister man wants the staff for himself so he can rule the world. It soon becomes a race against time and foe.

Naoto Omori

     I could hear my heart pound over the screeching brakes that announced the train's destination. The overused mechanical subway doors opened up. I entered Nagoya.          I walked across the yellow line and looked around the busy station. I tried to be as discreet about it as possible, knowing he would be looking for me and most likely spot me out in the static crowd. After a good five minutes of circling around the station, I found a place to rest. I picked a spot facing the escalator, the only place where people enter or exit the station, right beside a manga stand.     He told me 5 o' clock. It was now 5:07. I set my bag down at my feet and leaned forward to stretch out my back, twisting and popping to loosen up from the nervous tension brought by the long train ride.      Another five minutes went by and wicked thoughts were being conjured by my anxiety. Thoughts like: he stood me up; he's dead; he played a trick on me; he forgot about me. I sank into the cold, public seat and laid my head in my hands, placing my eyes into my palms. I could feel the pressure of my elbows jab into my thighs as time went on.     I felt someone's hand on my shoulder and I jolted up out of my slump. It took a few seconds for my eyes to readjust. I saw a blurry, small figure to the left of me and she was a little girl who was smiling and twisting her back from side to side while curling her black hair with her right hand. Her smile surprised me. "Daijoubu ka" she asked inquisitively. "Hai, daijoubu desu. Arigatou ne," I replied. Just then, her mother picked her up from behind and scolded her in the air. I turned away in awkwardness.     I glanced at the escalator and there he was. His red fitted jacket was like a beacon to my eyes. Naoto was squirming in the foot of space he had on the step. It was packed with people and he was swaying back and forth, trying to find me. His mouth was moving but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I gripped my bag strap tightly and ushered up the courage to walk toward the base of the escalator.     Both our eyes met. Before I could react to the tension of the reunion, it was broken by a bombardment of apologies and breathlessness. While he was explaining why he was late, I watched as my white knuckles turned red, still gripping my strap. I was listening to his every word but I wanted to interject; tell him it was okay and that I was happy he was here now.     The sun was going to set soon so we left the station the way he entered. At the top of the contraption, Naoto motioned over toward the bike racks on the west side of a Takoyaki stand. I immediately started panicking inside myself, but I forced a warm smile in response to his advances. His bike: one mangled basket on the front; one small black seat; and two yellow spokes on the back of his rusty green bicycle. Where do I sit? I asked myself. How is this going to work?     He clapped his hands once to break me free from my inner thoughts. "Ok Erin, let's go". He sat on his seat and asked me to stand on the back. I slipped my bag over my right shoulder with shaky hands.  What should I hold on to? I lifted one leg over his bike. I straddled until I got the balance to place both feet on the spokes. I took in a deep breath and situated my finger tips on his shoulders.     "Iin desu ka," I inquired.     "Are?" He laughed and quickly pulled my hands out in front of him and proceeded to cross my arms around his neck and collarbone. The action caused me to lean forward, pressing against his back. I couldn't help but think about how long I could last riding in this position. With my chin resting on top of his smooth, thick, black hair; my chest syncing to his heart beat; my forearms feeling his uneven breathing pattern; the moisture building under my arms; the weight of my big purse on one side causing a slight tilt to my balance; and the lack of friction from my shoes to spokes.     Thankfully it was one up hill and right turn type of ride. About a seven minute journey. We arrived at the edge of what looked to be a small forest. I jumped off quickly and quietly. I looked at the falling sun and then my watch. 5:49.     "Yosh," he exclaimed. He hopped off his two wheeler and locked it up. I noticed the jingling of the chain played a subtle contrast to my active heart.      "Ishoniyoni ikimasho ka?" Naoto pointed through the trees.     "Nani?" My jaw dropped. "Hayaku," he yelled while waving for me to follow. I placed myself one meter behind him. Twenty-seven steps through the freshly cut grass. We entered the forest: As I followed his lead, I noticed how lean he was and how agile he could be while moving through the trees, juking their branches. I tried my best to replicate his actions. He would turn around frequently to make sure I was managing his speed. His face was lit up. I couldn't quite figure out why. I began to feel nervous. 5:59.     He stopped abruptly. His body stiffened and his smile ceased. "Hmm...Chotto mata kudasai." In an instant he dashed over some tree roots and disappeared behind the trees.     "Dame. Doko desu ka," I screamed. I took a few steps forward and massaged my lips with the back of my left hand. Where is he? What's going on? And just as he left in a flash, he came back the same way. His hair in his reddened face; I had never seen such a smile whilst catering to his lungs.     "Gomenasai, ok, come." The sleeve from my purple sweater stretched between his thumb and index finger in our final steps to our journey's end. Like before, he was in front, but this time I was being tugged in our final seconds to the place promised in our younger days. As the last branch was brushed away by his right hand I saw a forget-less scene. I stepped above a panoramic picture of his home town.     I walked eagerly to the picnic set up near the edge of the cliff. There was a treeling with its roots in a large potato sack. "Ah, sugoine," I whispered.     He scratched his head. "Ok, ok, let's go. Ready start-o."     "Ano..." I stood at the edge of the cliff for a few seconds then turned to face him. He walked toward me. In broken english and classic hand gestures he began to tell me the story of how and why used to come to this spot ever since he was a kid. It was his safe zone. No one had ever been invited, no one new ever met. But he was always looking for someone he could trust, and that would relate to his passion and connection to this natural place. In his commencement to a fresh face sharing his love; he wanted to plant a tree. A tree that would look out past the vast, and beautiful city, even after his last breath.     After his touching testament we headed over to the maple treeling. It was so fragile and small. I counted nineteen leaves on it. It was so cute. When he started to shovel into the moist dirt, the outline of his arms in his shirt, and the movements of his body, put me in a trance. I couldn't tell where the disheveled ground ended and his brown suede Nikes started. I wanted to help but nothing substantial came to mind. I gradually crossed one leg over the other and proceeded to sit indian style.      6:37 - The sun was touching the city and coaxing the skyscrapers to wake up. Just as my eyes left my watch, Naoto plopped down next to me. He had taken his red jacket off and had his yellow surf shirt representing his style now. He took a drink from his canteen attached to his fanny pack. My mouth had gotten dry as well, but I wasn't about to ask for a sip. I was too busy trying not to wake up.      I felt my eyes roll back. The smell of my pillow made its home in my nostrils as I tried to keep my eyes on him and the skyline. My body warmed and I grabbed his hand. I knew what was happening. These were the warning signs. Even when I opened my eyes to the Ninja Turtle poster, I felt his presence. Though it was a dream, what a wonderful memory I now have. 

He hasn't stolen my heart. I gave it to him.

A friend of mine was talking to me about how her current boyfriend had stolen her heart. Immediately, I burst into laughter. She quickly socked my left arm and shot me a disappointed glare. I apologized and asked her to continue with her heart-felt feelings for her love interest.
Somehow I was able to auto pilot active listening whilst delving into my own thoughts and feelings for the one in my life. 
I knew without a doubt that he did not steal my heart. From what I understand, stealing is the act of taking the property of another without permission or right, especially secretly, or by force. In fact, it is quite the contrary with him: He showed me that I still had a heart. He showed me that it still had a powerful beat.  He held my heart in front of me while my eyes were wide open. He wouldn't let me look away when he triggered my epiphany. He then taught me to rejoice over the understanding of my disposition. Once I gained control over my restless heart, I gave it to him with knowledge and enthusiasm. 
With the love I have now, I gave my heart on my own terms. I took my time. I thought logically about who it was going to, and so far I have made the best decision for my heart. To be honest, giving someone your heart is a large part of what love is. Trust, faith, joy, experimentation, awareness, and passion are strong parts as well. Having your heart stolen is almost a guarantee that either you will subconsciously take your heart back, or you will fall out of love since you weren't fully aware that you were in love in the first place. That is just my point of view. 
So next time you say (or you hear someone else say), "someone has stolen my heart", make sure you really know what that means. 

Hanging with good people.

Finn and Jake.

And After the Storm

The most attractive night is after a storm, when the Moon is brimming with fluorescence, and the rain clouds are giving butterfly kisses. When the air is crisp, the Moon shares its light so I can see the clouds part with their beautiful goodbyes. On nights like theses, I have this feeling if you will...

Clouds - the strangers from near, far, and out of thin air come together to send a message to the beings on the land. Some messages more understandable than others, but all in all a group effort. After their job is done, after the strangers become family and friends, I watch them part and I watch them disperse. I can't help but think that the Moon is their final spot light at curtain call.

Last night was another example of the magnificence nature holds. I just hope that there are others that enjoy nights like these. In my opinion, nature deserves to be praised every once in a while.

I'm a Sagittarius and I like to.....

BT.
Put up peace signs.
Incorporate dry humor in personal situations.
Wear adidas apparel.
Sit Indian-style at the dinner table.
Fantasize.
Make money.
Sing in my car while I drive.
Educate myself.
Look at the Moon and the Stars.
Do the Crab Angry.
Write creatively.
Sniff things.
Create my own words.
Wear my Wizard PJs.
Quote Adventure Time with Finn and Jake.
Always sleep with a fan on.
Make animal noises.
Climb trees.
Watch Anime.
Drool in my sleep.
Cook in my underwear.
Speak japanese to people who do not understand it.
Cater.
Yodel in the shower.
Wear my Dream bracelet.
Hang out with Molly Russell.
Play soccer.
Make love.
Laugh out loud.
Surf the internet.
Watch Jonathan play chess online.
Go on spontaneous missions.
Burp.
Watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Use lots of body language in awkward situations.
Reminisce.
Smell like Halloween.
Write check lists everyday.
Smash on Video Games.
Be myself.
Love my Moon Tiger.

I'm a Sagittarius and I like to.... ;) hehe.

All I Want is You

Dear Moon Tiger,

The words you whispered
separate like and love; please
don't let me forget.


A very special
bond, soaked in new feelings.
I will never dry.

Wrapped up in your belt,
I am crisp towards you. I stare
as long as I can.


I proudly claim my love for you. All I want is you.

"Are you someone who lives or dies for the one you love?"

         With malnourished emotions and an overdose on unsterile injections of distorted views in romantic love, I believed that when you finally met your prince charming, you would revolve your life around him, set aside your dreams to show dedication, live for the moment, and die for him in any circumstance. This view of Love spread through my veins like wild fire at the tender age of nine. 

         I desired this type of love and relationship with the opposite sex. Now twenty-two, I applied my above definition of love to whom I had a relationship with. The sad part about it was the relationship never came out the way it should have and I ended up with nothing. I was looking at a picture of my now unrequited love as I was on my way to the bottom of my soul and outer edges of depression, at a beach in Carlsbad, when a fisherman wearing a pink, feminine scarf crossed my broken path. 

        Long story short -  Tuesday, Oct 19th, the fisherman told his story about the significance of his scarf. It was his late wife's who had died at sea. He too, battled his way through it and decided to live. He became a fisherman and lived on. He asked me if I was someone who lives or dies for the one I love. I couldn't give him an answer. 

         For days I have been trying to think of which person I was. I contemplated many things. But I finally came to a decision. And since the past thirteen years of living love the way I had, has done nothing but give hopelessness and pain, I am finally ready to switch sides.

I most assuredly have my answer: I am someone who lives.

         I am alive. He is alive. I live for me; I live for him. Both of us will restart. Both of us will live. I have faith that we will meet again. I vow to come for him, if he waits for me.

Heartache in Autumn

Go together, all you precious winners;
take part in sharing elation and love.
I, an old rabbit, will mine my last nest,
and there my companion, that's never
to be found again, mourn till I am gone.

Spying: Email.

HI Sweet Cheeks,

I hope you are well. I am under the weather as of late, but there are a few things that are getting me through. For example I have created categories for you to better understand what I do to keep you with me in my mind and in my heart while we are so far away from each other.

Songs on repeat: Roll with it by Easton Corbin, 4 AM by Kaskade, Mine by Taylor Swift, The Space Between by DMB, Love Song by 311, I'll Hold my Breath by Ellie Goulding, and The Reason by Hoobastank.

Shows I watch with you in Mind: Adventure Time!, It's Always Sunny, ATHF, and UFC/MMA stuffs

I tend to say things that you or I would say to each other, out loud where ever I am... my family thinks I am crazy haha: "gooey, gooey, gooey", "gyuu", "pyuu, pyuu", "mao, mao", "meow mix", "nummys", "sniffies!", "jamming time" "I know this", "love, love, love", "Moooon Tiiiigerrrr", "where is my Papa Bear?".... etc.

I notice I am acting like you physically...: When I get overwhelmed, I raise my chin up and tremble my neck the way you do sometimes; I will sniff your clothes you left behind as if I were smelling you directly; In the privacy of my room, I "perch" on my own finger before I go to bed; When something good happens, I put my arm in a 90 degree angle and move it up and down like you do; I will stare in the bathroom mirror and try to make all the cute faces you would involuntarily do to me; I pet myself when I wake up in the morning, closing my eyes to pretend it's you who is petting me; I still jam the air as if you are there to receive the pokey pokes... etc.

Things I miss: I miss your scent, I really do. I miss how you would perch and you would pet me when you knew I needed it. I miss your lips and how they felt on mine. I miss the sound you made when you blew your nose. I miss your sexy, soothing voice that would serenade my cerebellum every time. I miss our cuddle time. I miss your hair. I miss your eyes, oh your eyes are so amazing. I miss your pre sneeze face. I miss your hands and hugs "fishies!". I miss your comedy. I miss our adventure time. I miss our fight for life. I miss your thoughts. I miss your love. I miss my nicknames you gave me. I miss your pom pom grabs. I miss your crazy boob touches in the car while I drive. I miss your feet. I miss your sweet sound of repose. I miss your smile. I miss your friendship. I miss your playfulness. I miss your singing voice. I miss your v cut. I miss you.

Besides that, I have an interview tomorrow at the dermatologist office and I start hosting at Islands next week. I am going to come up with one more job so I can get my money faster and come up to see you. I am on a strict diet now and I have a 24 hour gym pass. I miss you so much and I would do anything just to breathe your air again. I really hope you understand the depth in which my love for you stems from. I need to see you again. 

I hope that you still have feelings for me. I wonder if you miss me... I am so lonely. Please call when you have time.

How ever far away, I will always love you,

Poofy

Scene From the Sky

An Aries and a
Sagittarius live like
Youth on a see saw.

Goodbye Molly

Mumford and Sons - Little Lion Man


I am now one of the millions of people who have had a horrible goodbye moment.
I am sorry Molly. I wish I could have pulled through. I love you. Be safe in your home
land. Come back to me one day. I want another crack at it.

Sisterly Love?

On August 7th in Central Park - New York, an interesting moment took place. Two sisters came together with civil intentions. Picture Time! Can you tell which of us is older?

August Pinch

The American Dollar - Anything You Synthesize (Produced By Onesize)

It's been a while since I have wanted to become a cloud.

With this song and my financial and living situation looking dim for September, it is hard not

to revert back to my thoughts of becoming a cloud. I would be able to live anywhere and

everywhere for free. I would be able to gain knowledge through observation and I could morph

into a white puffy cotton ball (fair level cumulus) and graze across the sky, while leaving shade

to those below me. Or maybe I would change into a altostratus development to inspire the

artists on land. Every once and a while I would shift my attention away from me and give rain

to the Earth, as a Nimbostratus cloud and I would touch the tops of sky scrapers and skim the

valleys. One other cloud I would dabble with would be cirrus. The most playful and closest to

the Sun, I would enjoy the serenity. And the rest is miscellaneous.

But of course this would be impossible, so I will continue with my fight to survive as a student.

The Bonding of Fire and Water

As one would sometimes say, "A picture is worth a thousand words". In my case, I would say, "A picture is essentially saying it all, it just depends on who is looking at it". As the reader of the photo, I feel that I have been captured in the natural state of friendship with my dear element, Molly: They way I am looking at her, the peace sign she holds, our glowing smiles, the heightened sense of bonding... 
In many ways, I feel this picture reflects the people we are and what roles we play towards one another. (Of course, this can only be seen by me.) 
She is fire: The fierce competitor with a warm heart. She is luminous in spirit and lights up rooms, nights, and minds. Always eager to devour the negative and heat up the love. The energy she puts out to help others amazes me. She has the drive to take what she wants and she sparkles even when she reverts to embers. Naturally, she is amazing and talented, as the fire element.
I am water: I am not as powerful, but I know I am needed. I morph into what people need and I supply laughter as a cooling mechanism. I am always changing. I soak the wounded and dilute a bad day with positive sarcasm. I feel that I help people better, battling internal problems, rather than external. I am never too far away.
It was interesting living in the moments of becoming friends with her. Two different elements coming together and working together to make life easier, memorable, loving, and fun is very important for me to understand. I never put out her fire and she never evaporated my spirit. 


P.S. Happy Birthday Molly

Relentless (19)

I watch as you contemplate how to stimulate the life you want to retain.
Like a double-edge sword, it is refreshing and inspiring to witness,
Yet at times, disheartening and harsh to keep up with. But I am relentless.

Seven genuine smiles have appeared within the Moon's past cycle. Changing
Tides, changing minds? Lochmoor can still save your actions and aid my declarations.
I catch a glimpse of you swaying away from the river's side. I'm relentless.

Spring was Spring, and birthed a new life and a new beginning for my existence.
Summer is Summer, and the dry air appears to weaken the flames of passion.
I have the fuel to rekindle and ignite - I might burn, yet still relentless.

Untouched, but switched on and off. Inner circle, yet out of the loop. Secrets born
Within silence. Satellite revolves, predestined to fly out of orbit.
If asked to do it again I would say, "yes" because I am relentless.

Autumn will come soon and I will encounter a fall from grace or fall in love.
Desperate, I fixate on the phrase, "absence makes the heart grow fonder". That is
All I have in this moment. Hope and fear accompany me now. Relentless.



(Relentlessness will pay off one day. I believe in it.)

Discovery of a Portal

Portal: (roughly and personally speaking) a very rare gateway to another place, most likely to a better place, filled with discovery, delight, adventure, intelligence, danger, and pleasure.

Not many are granted with the encounter of portals in one's life. So a battle ensues between the adherent and the agnostic. As for me, I can declare it is ascertainable.

Discovery: Late February, UCR - Rivera Library, 3rd Floor - Cubicle to the left of mine

Copyright: April 21st, Redlands - Mercedes Benz

Passing Through the Gates: There are two entrances into this portal. First: Through the optical organ of the animate gateway - where it is an emotional and psychological field of safety, appreciation, and acceptance, with a hint of resistance cast through the being while crossing the threshold of the gate. Second: The more difficult entrance to pass through because of its more physical and profound nature. It does not welcome strangers or first rate friends at all; you are only chosen, and even so, it will not let you travel through with ease. You initiate the opening in steps: First, you call its name given by its creator. Second, you stare through the first passage. Third, wait for the portal to start opening as a response to the recognized inflection. Fourth, you deliver yourself four inches away from the gate with silence and patience, and wait for it to suck you in. Lastly, you morph into the being given by the other dimension. At that moment, greatness activates.  


Specific Elements:
~In the blush of the morning, for a quick moment, it is a butterfly that lands hesitantly on my forehead, unaware of my consciousness... leaving a lasting impression for the rest of my day.
~It softens my night with its mellowed sounds of repose.
~It shapes the top half of a cartoon heart when consuming nutrients and fighting off a smile.
~It inhales my scent and exhales relevance.
~It educates me through silence.
~It drains my thoughts of immortality and wakens my human nature.
~It demands my personal greatness.
~ Two words: PERCH EFFECT :)

Hypocorism

Good Morning, Sweet Cheeks.
Ugh, dame Baka Chi!
Okay then, have fun, Chess Master Flex.
J. Dang, do you want me to jam you into next week?
Wait for me, JON TANG!!!
Um.. Why do you sniff me, Puppy Loves?
Where is my Moon Tiger?
Goodnight, Papa Bear.

My 5-7-5: Summer '10

The morning sun is
not the only energy
warming up my skin.

Pocket full of dreams
written on a post-it, placed
under a glass cup.

Discovery in
the lighthouse! It shines brighter
soaking up the Sun.

Friendly feline brings
the separated siblings,
together again.

Stay with me: though the
grass has turned brown, we can make
it turn into gold.

In this story, you are
the victim and I am the
yegg. How should this end?

Leading you with a
question, I hope you guide me
with a pure answer.

Paper thin skin for
the black ink in your heart; start
your story on me.

Mountains move in this
world I have created.
Move yours into mine.

Switching from willow
to cactus, I get what I
want, from what I need.

I found a wild
unicorn, not from Scotland,
but in Riverside.

Riding in Cars with Boys.

In picture: Erin, Naoto, Yuki

Learning:

No matter how close you are to them physically, you can be galaxies away from their hearts. 

Just because you caught their attention, does not mean you have gained their respect.

Most look out for "number one".

There is no gentleman.

Burping and flatulence is part of their protocol.

Lovely Short Temper.

Attention span - pretty much non existent unless they start the conversation.

Uncanny filter. (no filter at all)

A language barrier, even when speaking the same language.

Complacence.

They Cheat.

AND THE LIST GOES ON.

But Thankfully:

I had the opportunity to have met someone who has disabled these claims AND MUCH, MUCH MORE.

お誕生日おめでとうございます直人

Happy Birthday.

I promise, I will see you again.

For now, this is all I can give you: a song dedication.

Untitled/テキストメッセージ

Like in Chess: As your pawn, I hope you capitalize on me, so maybe after many captures, defends, and isolations, in your game of life, I could make it to the end, and you can promote me to Queen.

I would be grateful if you enhanced me. Good luck. Have fun.

Win.

Last Day of May.

I let May defeat me, but lets see who has the last laugh in December. I am ready to get back on track and reconnect the cord I severed from life and education. 

I wonder who will answer the door when I knock.

Love/Hate

Reckless and clumsy,

I find myself stuck in the

movement of evil.

Moon Tiger

At the front of my door step, I watch you close and I watch you open. My time is dedicated to you. Without time, I wouldn't be able to formulate valuable memories to assign the enjoyable moments as I watch you grow and prosper, while the space between the times I have with you sink into my comatose of a life. 


Your scent, oh, your smell will never leave my mind. And I see you everywhere; I need you everywhere. I like you anywhere. I hope to see you through every season we are allowed to witness with our allotted time on this earth. 


And I don't mean to be dramatic in the eve of the afternoon, but I used to live inside the shell of a coma: I am waking up. I wake up to you everyday. Don't go away. Don't go anywhere. Don't die off. Don't let the world wither you away. Let's restart. I want to nourish you, bathe you, move you to a better place. Oh Moon Tiger, I know you are striving for your survival, and so am I, but for the sake of mother nature, I will give you all I have to give back to you. I will give back. I am giving myself to you. 


I hope you can keep yourself open to me like you do when basking in the sun. I will fall into you no matter what. 


Restart. Live.

Breathing in Question

I had held my breath for a long time. How was it that you reminded me how to exhale?
I inhale the scent (strength) you lend me, and I let out the future I hope for. It is best tangible in the night when my breath collides with the sky and the stars play in your eyes.
And that is all I'll need.

As for you, what are you trying to breathe?
How would you like to breathe?
Can I even help you breathe?
Will I be able to deliver you a new pattern of breath?

Carve into me the

pain you harbor; I am your

Eucalyptus Tree.

Pause

I hesitate as the hypothesis
To my experiment deteriorates.
So instead, I will observe and respect
The discoveries that fill in the space
Between our movements that match, and our words
That collapse from the pressures of tension.
Be still! You are the vortex of your own
Whirlwind. Your howls under the moon sound
Like whispers. Please don't be afraid to speak
Up for yourself, and stand up to yourself:
What is it that you are really trying
To find; yourself or your future? Or do
You wish to be found? If so, I have found you.

I read you aloud, do you read me at all?
Help me listen; speak to me as you do
Inside your black hole that binds colloquy
To sensibility. And you must
Wonder where I produce the energy
When summoned in the night - It's your laughter
that I seek, and your indecision to
Share it sets me on fire. But just as
Quickly as you set me ablaze, you can
Put me out with the innocence you have
left in your embrace... So strange for me to
Say that I memorized your scent, but even
More so if I with hold that information
From you. Your tongue spreads like jelly across
My mind. It's sticky influence smears the
Path I thought I was predestined to take...

What is relevant, is irrelevant.
I like my feet on the ground, but I sense
You would like to fly. Couldn't I be the
One to watch you ascend to your sky and
See you bask in the Sun with the gods, forever?

Tutored by Orion

It's amazing how a conversation that is either not directed towards you or meant for you to hear, can change a certain, saturated part of your life.

I walked barefoot at the beach two nights ago. I just wanted to practice my senses alone. I had my eyes closed for most of the time while the water skipped across my toes and I listened to the gentle wind whisper into my ear. The sand felt overworked beneath my feet, and the foamy waves smelled of illness. I was well into my practice when I heard a man's voice pierce my concentration. It startled me and caused me to fall forward onto my knees into the ocean. I got up quickly and ran behind a black boulder-looking rock to compose myself. As I hushed my breathing and desensitized my knees, my ears honed in on the conversation the man and young woman were engaged in. I leaned over against the black rock and began to eavesdrop. They were sitting on a black and gold blanket with two feet of space between them; she had his leather jacket and he had his velvet voice.


"So he is your last salvation, huh?" The man paused, shifted his weight to the right, and pointed up to the sky with his left hand.
"Amy, look at the Big Dipper. That's the North Star, and that over there is Orion."
"Orion?"
"Yes Orion and his belt. Can you see those three consecutive stars?"
"Orion's Belt, huh?"
"Those stars look like they are close to each other don't they," said the young woman in a hollow voice, "but in fact, they're actually hundreds of light years away from one another."
"We learned that in elementary school."
"Well, that's Trent and I."
Her voice trailed off for a moment and continued in a stronger tone. "The things you see aren't always real. How hard must I try in order to understand the unseen truth? How far away is the distance between Trent and I?"
The older man leaned closer to the girl,"You want to understand him because you don't understand him, right? You want to understand him because you like him. So reach out your hands so that you'll gradually get closer to him. Unlike the stars, you have a choice to move closer, and strive to see what you are meant to see."


The wind picked up and five minutes later the conversation ceased. Unfortunately, I was unable to hear the rest of the man's advice to the woman. I heard them pack up and move on. I was underneath the sand: My eyes were on Orion. I was drained, finished, cracked, and dehydrated; but a minute or two later, I began making sense of what the strangers had said. Suddenly new emotions formed by the thoughts and analogies injected by the constellation conversation. I stared at his belt for a long time before I got up to make my way home. This was a lesson I was never going to forget; however small or insignificant it is to others, I learned something.

I will never forget it. I cannot forget it because I too, have a similar situation within my own story of life. This lesson won't be tested for a long time, perhaps, but I know for certain I will need to remember this because I am positive I will have to understand the true distance between the special people in my life, and do whatever it takes to move closer when the time is right.

Howls from your Lone Wolf

         I called to wish you a happy birthday, and like every year, I call you and all that comes out of my mouth is, "Happy Birthday" and that's about it. But the thing is - it's not it at all. I actually have so many things to say to you on your special day.

         Two nights ago I purposely set some time to think about you and all that you have done. These words came from my reflections in the moon.
         I lied beneath the moon while I enjoyed consuming the last remnants of winter. I waited till I felt the numbness of my fingers and toes to begin reciting my words born for you on that day. As I sank into the grass, I wondered if you were enjoying yourself; what were you doing at the same moment I was thinking of you? Were you with your favorite person, doing your favorite thing, and thinking your favorite thoughts? I wished to be where you were, though I had nothing to show you, give you, or tell you -- once again. But I hope my deepest thoughts for you can reach you now.

         Further into the night: I waited under the dark, speckled sky till I was just about freezing, so that my thoughts and feelings would come from my core, when churning with heat in its warmest form when appreciating you. In the mist of my celebration for you, my gift of thoughts swept me away to a place where I replayed my favorite memories that I had with you. I caught the visions of US. Oh goodness, I can't communicate these feelings properly, and also, I know there aren't words to describe the way I feel about you because my feelings are above language.

         In short, while praising you and wishing you a happy birthday, I think I was being healed: Thinking about who you are; what you've done for me; what you've done for everyone; sharing your gift of talents and friends; accepting me, and most importantly, forgiving me.
         I'm strange huh Dad?

Happy Birthday Father, Happy Birthday.

Molly: Breathing Comes in Pairs, Except for Twice, One Begins and One's Goodbye.

         There are so many things I want to say into your eyes. I feel that I would get this message through to you easier that way, but this is the best I can do for now.

         In what combination of words would best support my feelings of sincerity towards our friendship in the beginning of our farewell? These words must be perfect, but of course they will not be. This letter will be blurry and uncomfortable, like the way my eyes are as I press my emotions against my keyboard.
         The thing is -- I can't even see. I don't know what to see. But I feel -- I feel all that you have ingrained in my being in the last two concentrated years. They are all with me as I write to you at this moment. And I can't place a finger, a word, an emotion, or a phrase on how you feel about me, and that's fine, but I hope through these words you can understand how I feel about you.
      
         I have had friends ever since I can remember, but you were the first to make me become a friend. Since we became friends, I have seen you smile like the sun, cry like an orphan, shout at the top of your lungs, and smirk like a weasel. I rode on your waves of happiness and climbed up your tree of sorrow. You showed me the way to friendship without even knowing it. And how could you? Because with our peaceful journeys and radical adventures, I kept a sarcastic and comedic vibe between us because I thought that's what you asked of me. But in reality, I nurture the times we shared together. At times I look in the mirror and reflect our friendship and as a result, I finally see myself as a friend. A friend -- something passed around through voice, song, or thoughts; whimsically, absentmindedly, over generously - but for me I can finally see its true identity in the shape of myself. This is all because of you.
         These days I sit and watch the fog climb up my window. I recall the first time I ever cried for you - in December. And during the first time I cried for you, I realized I could not help you.
         And in the land of dreams, I see your nightmares. But this of course is not all the time. Every once in a while I see you smile and hear your laughter but they are hollow and wavered. I know deep down it doesn't go further than the outskirts of your mind.
         And this is where I begin to wish: I wish to see your heaving core as if it is impossible for you to keep your heart in your chest cavity. I wish to see the tension around the curves of your lips as you fight to control your laughter. I wish to hear your smile again; the one that could be heard over the phone thousands of miles away. I wish to see the muscles of your neck strain as you toss your head back in ecstasy.
         This might ... no this will come as a surprise to you when I tell you my most vivid point of our friendship. It actually happened recently. It was in the mist of chaos - the party. I was looking for you among the crowd. I scanned the drunken bodies as I felt the room fuzz and the ground shake beneath my knees. People pushed me left and right. Drinks splashed into my hair; I was lost. Just as I was about to give up - I saw your smile. You stumbled over the crowd and took my hand. At that moment I was shocked. One, I had never held your hand, and two, your hand was ice cold - the complete opposite of what radiated behind your smile.
         Anyways, what I mean to say is that I just have this feeling that you are keeping something inside. I laugh at myself when remembering your palm in my hand. It was my window at midnight; cold, dark, and lonely. And I know that I am just a figment in your weekly routine, but I see the path you walk. Why walk alone? Why not let me walk with you till you fly back to your beautiful island?
         I received a text from you today. Today and on, I will sink inside myself and spin a web of armor to shield from what is to come: Our goodbye.
         As this letter comes to a close, I just want to say thank you. If only I could calm your restless spirit so I could officially say that your time with me was well spent. Your brush strokes across my heart paint a portrait of happiness. Can you see it? I would like you to have it when we say goodbye. It will finally be ready on the day of your leave. And another thing -- I don't want to start over with someone new. So take anything that's better for you. Take anything that's better from me. You were never a waste of time.
         During the final moments of our time together, I would like to feel the palm of your hand one last time to feel the difference from that night. And you will not cry at me like you sometimes do, because you will be crying with me.
         .... As I again recall the beginnings of our friendship, I can remember your smile as my guiding light. As time went on, your light became smaller and smaller until it was a mere flicker of my imagination. So please, before you leave, send me that smile again. Let it guide me to our happy place. As selfish as it sounds, smile for me; into me. And so, my precious light; this is the beginning of my goodbye.

My 5-7-5: Spring '10

To Spring: The more green
I see, the healthier I
seem to be. Thank you.

There are no fires
on these hills, but there is one
burning up my heart.

Constant tears drench her
cheeks, staining her chin. My
wish is for her smile.

Wrapped up in your belt,
I am crisp towards you. I stare
as long as I can.

I brush the dust off
the card you sent me. I read
our promise out loud.

Lying under the
moon, I beat my chest like a
congo drum. Hear me!

It drizzles when the
skies are clear; it pours as the
horsetails fade to gray.

The words you whispered
separate like and love; please
don't let me forget.

Spring's birth is poignant;
and I can feel its needs while
laughing in the rain.

You look up at me,
but then I just feel down. I'm
not the one you need.

Like a new-born star,
you are untouchable and
impressive at night.

A Few Things Learned From the Little Sister

Jealousy


You swore three hours ago you were the center of all attention. Now the slimy, tiny, whiny, shiny, baby is born and your position of top priority is dead. Three years old and a fire starts in your heart. You feel angry but you don’t know why. You feel scared and you can’t figure out why that is. You go to bed that night not well. You wake up refreshed. You run down the stairs to eat breakfast, but to your surprise, there is no apple sauce on the table (in which there always is). You run into your parent’s room and see that “thing” in your mother’s arms. You call out, “Mommy, I am hungry”, and she doesn’t even look up as she answers. “You’re a big girl now, you can get it yourself.” You get that twisting feeling in your upper stomach. And in that instant, as a young child, you realize that this will be your life now. A powerful emotion learned from a young age.

The “I hate you!”

Out of the blue, she can become a demon because your father let you decide what to have for dinner when you promised you would let her pick this time since she let you watch your favorite show over hers last night. You ignore her reasoning and the lovely “I hate you!” happens. A smirk slides across your face because you know tomorrow she will be over it.

A Few Rules

You can use the remote in the allotted time.

She has to ask to touch any of your things.

You cannot cross the invisible line in the bedroom.

If you do something for her then you get something in return.

Friendship

At times you forget she is your little sister because you get along so well. You can laugh with her over the dinner table about what happened at school during 4th period, you can crank call “evil” boys in the middle of the night, and you can tell her your most confident secret. Also, you can go shopping with her, give her your opinion, and cry in front of her.

Connection

You are connected to her by DNA and memories and cellular text messages.

Odd Things About Her

She copies you for the first ten years of her life, and you try and fight her on it every step of the way. For the rest of her life she will be almost the complete opposite of what you are and what you do and you are confused by it.

She can tattle on you for things she does as well.

No matter how old she gets, she is called “my little princess” by your father.

She is the only person in the family with huge eyes.

She gets away with almost anything.

Self Awareness

Before she was born, you hardly noticed yourself as a person. You did not think of your name because there was no need. There was no one else but Mom, Dad, and Baby Girl. You find out about your name at the same second your little sister is born. You become a big sister at that same moment as well. You take a look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself for the very first time; you say your name out loud.

Expectations

You have to protect her. She provides your confidence, strength, and loyalty.

Sharing

This is mine. This is mine. This is mine too.

You can share a room and family with relaxed difficulty at times, but you can have a full blown war when: boys, toys, phrases, bathroom products, pets, space, food and all the little trivial things are involved.

Teamwork

Sometimes two girls are better than one.

When Father is wavering on a certain subject, it is always better to have two daughters clawing at his arms and legs. It is agreeable to have a duet of whining and/or persuasion than a solo in this situation.

Double dates are fun when with the sister because the inside jokes come out the strongest during these times - invisible judgment and teasing go hand in hand too.

When either you or her are grounded, you sneak food, snacks, games, and drinks into your room so you can have easier punishment time: A benefit to sharing a room.

Shadows

You notice you need to choose which shadow to use on your little sister. It is a tough decision because you have to choose between the gentle and reassuring shadow or the overpowering and selfish shadow that takes away all her shine. You ask yourself at a certain point in your life if you can deal with your little sister living in either shadow. Answers may vary.

Limitations

You learn that you do not have a say in what she does at a certain point in both of your lives. You can tell her what is right and wrong but she will decline your advice. She may even call you an idiot and regurgitate all the wrongs you have committed.

You cannot keep an eye on her when you move out to go to college.

The man in her life will be the new guidance for her – usually always bad.

Reliance

Your sister has not talked to you in nine and a half months, you get a frantic call from her on a late Thursday night, and she wants to come over because she needs to sort out her feelings about her boyfriend. You present yourself as a compassionate and active listener. She spends the night and you make her French toast in the morning. She leaves your place with a smile.

Experience

Having a distinct difference in birthdays creates that wonderful feeling called experience. You love knowing that you know better. You love knowing that you know more than her. This “experience” births confidence. This makes you feel mature.

Responsibility

You are to be the best big sister you can be.