priorities

for the first time in my life,

i think i've finally got all my ducks in a row.

there's no boy in the world i love more than my God.

and the truth is,

i would rather be alone, but have God.

and as paradoxical as it may seem,

one day, when i find the boy i'm going to marry,

he's also going to rather be alone, but have God.

jesus, You are everything.

You are my one desire,

the first and foremost love of my life.

& i'm ever, always, all for thee.

and even if you want me to be single for the rest of my life,

for the first time in my life,

i'm able to say,

blessed be Your name,

and feel completely at peace about it.

just as long as it means i have You.

and after You,

there's my parents.

i love them more than words could ever express.

and i get so scared because i know that one day i'm going to lose them and i don't think my heart would be able to handle it. the price of love is the pain of death. i remember that quote from that research paper i did on coping with grief back in the day. ah man, but that's exactly what it is, this ever pervasive sense of other side-ness. in that moment, that paper was my reality, it was then and it felt like it would never pass. even my papers just recently for intro to child development and childhood across cultures. or looking forward to shanghai. or waiting to hear from tufts. or prom. or pilgrim camp. or that weekend my dad visited. in the moment, that's all you know. even now, sitting in this rented living room on the 5th floor in the semi-dark, with the phone ringing and "be kind rewind" paused as i write this. this is my moment in time. and i feel like i have a good hold on it, but i'm going to wake up in boston before i know it and my parents won't be just downstairs. and i'll be starting my spring courses. and. ah God. i can't even describe this feeling. this sadness. this anxiety. this. this.. i don't want the next moment. i don't want to lose my parents. ever. and i know i know, there's heaven. but. i want them here, with me. i want to hug them and hold their hands and have conversations with them. but as morbid as it may seem, one day i'm going to be at their funerals, wondering where all the time went.

God, hold us.

please.

bring the rain

bring me joy, bring me peace,
bring the chance to be free,
bring me anything that brings You glory.

and i know there'll be days
when this life brings me pain,
but if that's what it takes to praise You,

jesus, bring the rain.

give me some time

don't say you love me,
you don't even know me.
if you really want me,
then give me some time.

i'm not petite,
you're not religious,
we have terribly clashing movie tastes,

and maybe, probably,
a little bit,
most of all,
you're not him.

what am i doing?
what have i gotten myself into?

i don't want to hurt you.
i don't want to hurt him.

i don't want to get hurt-
but that's the least of my worries.

you love me!?

up against

never underestimate the power
of kisses on the forehead,
holding hands, and being held
even if it's up against,
well,
you.

your words.

your beautiful soul.

special

when we're little,
we boast about being special.
we revel in it,
splash around in it,
but not too much
because it's miine,
all mine.

then there we are as adolescents
and all we want, our one desire,
is to shed our "special"ness,
to belong, to click, to fit.

&then we grow up and realize,
it doesn't really matter
whether we embrace it or not, because
we're never as special as we think.

he's not the one

but i'm having fun
and i'm better off without you
and i think it's what i want..

i'm getting over you, whoa
i'm getting over you,
most of the time..

if i say it like i mean it
then maybe i'll believe it,
like it's true-
i'm getting over you.

waiting &staying awake

the flowers you gave me are rotting and still i refuse to throw them away
some of the bulbs never opened quite fully
they might so i'm waiting and staying awake

things i have loved i'm allowed to keep
i'll never know if i go to sleep

what beautiful words.
i'm trying hard not to lose faith.
i'm trying hard to wait for something beautiful.

honestly

i just want to be
ravaged.

i'm longing for some aggressiveness,
some assertion,
some sweeping,
some falling
head over heels.

i don't want to wade cautiously in,
i don't want to plan and dream,
i don't want to have time to think.

just do it.

push me over the edge-
i want to fly.

thankful

thank You for the cross Lord
thank You for the price You paid

i meant what i said on the bus.
You're first.
it's all from You.
it's all for You.

but i still do want to write about my weekend,
even though i don't really know where to start.

actually i do.
i'll start with that one name that's been swimming through my mind since saturday.

so after two and a half years. there we were in penn station. and then there we were running around the museum of natural history, pressing buttons-buttons that scared me, buttons that didn't do anything, buttons that lit up. and there was that guy from colombia who was talking to me while i was waiting outside the bathroom for you, praying hoping urging you to come back and get me out of an uncomfortable conversation. there we were at the toy store with the hundreds of dollars giant ride-able animals and that sweet paper airplane-$10 for 3. there we were, walking around new york city dazzled by the city lights, by christmas lights. there we were at the disney store taking pictures with goofy and chip and dale. there we were on that street corner, the people surging around us pressing us up against each other. there we were at times square, more excited for m&ms and elmo than katie holmes and tom cruise. there we were eating sushi and talking about things we didn't eat. there we were at sixteen handles eating fro-yo and discovering mochi. there we were at the end of it all, a quick hug, and then we walked away. there we were. two and a half years after- after what? two dinners and a game of pool? but here we are, mulling over sleepless nights by the glow of our phones.

you: so when's the next time you'll be in new york?
me: hm.. not christmas. not spring break. maybe some point during summer? like if i make a point to :)
you: hm, that's too far away...maybe i will just visit boston one day. when are you done this semester?

<3

that's it for now.

disparate

it's not that i'm not tired-
i am. i'm so weary.
and it's times like this,
that i can't seem to muster the strength to do get up off the bed and wash up for bed so i can actually sleep.

instead, i lie here. with my head down, staring at the screen, in a vague state of inebriation, clinging to this restless imitation of rest, acknowledging that this quiet numbness would pale in comparison to sleep, but yet unwilling to concede because in order to be able to really rest, i must be the opposite. i must leave this vaguely resemblent state in favor of a state so disparate from what i want to be. but it's worth it.

can you guess what this is analogous with,
where the parallels can be drawn in?
yeah, connect those dots.

sighh.

i really am weary.

you're still the one

looks like we made it
look how far we've come my baby
we might've took the long way
we knew we'd get there someday

one day, i'll get to sing those words to you.

ain't nothing better
we beat the odds together
i'm glad we didn't listen
look at what we would be missing

one day.
okay?

one life to love

you only get just one time around,
you only get one shot at this.
one chance to find out
the one thing that you don't wanna miss.

one day when it's all said and done,
i hope you see that it was enough-
this one ride, one try, one life to love.
- one life to love/33miles

flaccid

today, i had lunch with the woman with the weakest handshake in the world. it wasn't so much that her grip was weak, but rather, an absolute lack of any semblance of a grip.

it started out like any other handshake, she held out her hand and i extended my own and met hers halfway. but then things started getting a little strange. i grabbed her hand and curled my fingers around her fingers, but to my surprise, and slight disgust, her fingers remained completely flaccid and uninterested. my fingers were quite offended by the lack of effort her fingers put into this handshake. i was carrying all the weight while her hand was just suspended there as what i can only assume to be a disagreeable formality in her mind.

it seriously baffled me. after all, handshakes are kind of a big deal. they're crucial components of first impressions in the adult world and she is clearly an adult. how has she gotten by? i wonder if she's aware of her shortcoming, if this is something she does on purpose? i mean. it's not that hard to curl your fingers a little to acknowledge the other person's hand. i'm not even remotely exaggerating. her fingers didn't even tilt in a single degree or bend in the least to greet mine! they just. flaccid. that's the only world that could describe her handshake. no. not handshake. there was no shake. just "hand."

come out of the shade

imported from facebook.

was it love, or just something that reminded me of
something that felt a lot like, but wasn't

take a step and come out of the shade
i can tell you're no longer afraid
i'm helpless without your warming smile



take a step and come out in the sun
i can tell it's already begun
i'm helpless without your warming smile

- the perishers

postsecret

i won a raffle! he called my name.
one less thing on my list of things to do before i die :)

my secret:
when i was ten, my dad moved us to china.
i pretended to be upset, but secretly,
i was thrilled-
the police couldn't chase me all the way to china for the pair of little magnetic cross earrings i had shoplifted from the drug store in new jersey i can't even remember the name of now.

broken hearts parade

just another lonely soul marching
just another dragging sole keeping time
for love remembered.

to what beat do i march to,
when the drumming of our hearts have stopped?

though i cannot fly,
i'm not content to crawl.

a taste of happiness

what does happiness taste like?

it tastes like moon cakes in the hotel room with my dad, unwinding to tv after an activity-filled day.
it tastes like california rolls in the food court after a satisfying shopping spree at the mall with jenna and dilys.
it tastes like a creamy pesto grilled cheese sandwich in the campus center with alex, jane, and joe between a play and a movie.
it tastes like dimsum in chinatown with allistair after reading to kids during sunshine story hour.
it tastes like a grilled cheese shared with chris in the campus center at 2 am after walking through the rain and partying it up in hillsides with new friends and old.

but still, the only thing i long for
is a taste of happiness breathed straight from your lips.

all i've got

i've got crumbs in my bed,
and tangles in my hair.

but pray tell,

what, oh what,

is it that i've got in my heart?

all i know is you've got thorns on your brow,
and nails in your hands,

and that should be more than enough for me.

light switch rave

do you ever think

when you're all alone

all that we can be 

where this thing can go?

am i crazy or falling in love?

is it really just another crush?

do you catch a breath

when i look at you?

are you holding back

like the way i do?

cause i've tried and tried to walk away

but i know this crush ain't going away

once again, the question arises:

do i want this to go away?

on and off

on and-

wait for it,

wait for it-

off.

on 

on 

off 

off 

on-off-on-on-off.

we're living a frigg'n light switch rave.

it's me, debra

once again, i sit here on my bed with my fingers poised and my heart heavy and i type away. and then i erase it all because it's all ugly. just like last sentence, just like this sentence. just like every sentence i harbor inside right now. these past two weeks have been. have been. have been what? halloween night conversations and candy. helplessly listening to your saturday night drunken depression. thursday night questioning faith sermon. friday night with my dad and watching changeling. friday night in the hotel room after he's gone to sleep, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, crying on the phone with you. who am i? am i happy? sometimes i feel like i'm pretending to be the very person i need in my life. if that makes any sense. i need someone who has complete and utter faith, someone who will get people excited about God. and since i haven't found that someone, i'm trying to be her. for me. for everyone. because if that's who i need, others must need it too. but is that really me? that's who other people see me as, but i'm not convinced. i'm. it's just.

my entire identity is built up around who i am in Him. in who He says i am. in what He's done for me rather than who i am and what i do. i can't help wonder if i'm just holding on because i'm scared that when i let go, everything will change. my friends. the music i listen to. the way i express my love. the way i see the world. the people i'm attracted to. the way i act to attract people. but even as i say that, i know it's not that i'm choosing not to let go. i couldn't even if i wanted to. i can't even imagine that existence. is it even possible for me to fall away? every time i pick up a guitar what songs am i going to play? when i'm scared or hurting or stressed, how can i not cry out to God and ask Him to hide me now, under His wings. and every verse i know by heart, every verse i know on which side of the bible it's on, every verse i know to be true, how will my heart ever forget them? how can i keep myself from praying, from worshipping Him, from talking to Him. but is it only impossible cause it's habit, it's all i know. it's. is it? i mean, i know life before that. i wasn't always a christian. but that's the other thing. with all this interfaith conversations i've been having i can't help but wonder, had this not been the first religion i tried out, would i be as devout in believing something else? i was okay during the conversations because i knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what i believed to be true and that i believed it simply because i had experienced Him and no logic can ever change what i knew from experience. but. then there she was talking about other religions and how they felt their God's presence, they experienced their God in the same way we did. christians aren't the only ones who have a God that can be experienced. now what? where does that leave me? then there was him who said that christianity was nice and all but it was more of a emotional outlet. and all these questions. all my questions. they clamber up to the surface. but i was still okay until that movie and all the thoughts of death it put in my head. why is death always such a brick wall to me? i get so scared, so unsure, so timid. i crash into it. i fall. and everything unravels. because if i can't believe in heaven and hell, then where does that leave me? it's so easy to have faith here. now. about our future. about what God is doing in our world. our world-here. i want to teach in inner city public schools because i believe that even if i can't make a difference in what i teach them, i'll know and be able to pray for them, and that could make all the difference. it's so easy to believe in His power and His love and His grace and even His sacrifice. but. why can't i seem to believe in heaven and hell? what good was the sacrifice if it was for no purpose, if it didn't allow us, who were all destined for hell, to get to heaven and spend eternity with God. so why is death such a clincher in my mind. i think about death and all i think is the end. full stop. i can't. i don't. i.

who am i?

who are You?

i'm so scared of death

tonight, my dad and i went to go see the movie changeling about a mother whose son is kidnapped and the corruption of the LAPD who returned her a nine-year-old boy who isn't her son and when she insists that it's not her son and begs them to keep looking, they shut her up in an insane asylum until one of the non-corrupt cops stumbles across a homicide involving a farm on which twenty little boys were hacked to death by a man named gordon. and there's this one part of the movie after gordon is convicted of the murders and has finished his two years of solitary confinement and it's time for hanging and he's walking down the stairs from his cell into the room with the gallows and i felt a pang with each shaky step down the stairs as if the steps were extensions of my heart. i don't even know how to describe the feeling. i could picture him running through his head everything he wouldn't ever do again, the grass he would never feel again, the rays of sunlight and the droplets of rain, the feeling of ice-cream dripping down his chin, the comfort of a bed beneath him and the snugness of down blankets on a cold night. i could feel the overwhelmingly trippy notion that right now i'm treading this ground, breaking in these shoes, wiggling my toes in these socks, still seeing faces and breathing the air of this world, but in a matter of minutes it's all going to stop. one second you're here and the next you're not. you can't even wrap your head around that other state--death. and then he had to climb the steps to the gallows and he's practically in hysterics and he's crying and holding on to the railing and the guards are marching him up the stairs and he's crying and crying "PLEASE, don't make me walk so fast!" and even though he's the bad guy, that moment my heart broke for him. "don't make me walk so fast.." his sobs filled my chest. death. it's so permanent. what's on the other side? hell? heaven? it's so easy to have faith about now. about things God is doing and going to do on earth. it's so easy to have the faith to start prayer meetings, to cry out to God, to intercede, to worship Him. here. but i'm so scared of death. it feels like a brick wall and i can't. i can't. i don't know. i'm scared. and then i was talking to my dad on the subway and maybe it was because he was telling me about schindler's list and life is beautiful, but looking into his eyes and seeing the wrinkles on his face, i felt so incredibly sad. i don't want him to die. i don't want to think about ever having to lose him. and what happens after inevitably i do? i feel like that guy walking up the stairs: don't make me walk so fast. because every step i take is one step closer to when i have to lose someone. and a little part of me is going to die. and another and another, until one day, i'll give up that last little piece. and then what?

exactly enough time

everything changed the day she figured out
there was exactly enough time for the important things in her life.

once when i was younger,
when my heart was still situated at a lower center of gravity
and falls brushed off as easily as the dirt sticking to my clothes,
i found myself standing downwind of a conversation.

i retraced the path of the wind until finally,
there i was, standing in the doorway of their words.
in my silent curiosity, i poked my head through
and glimpsed the amused faces of mother nature and father time
trading anecdotes about their children.

the tinkling of their laughter resounded like wind chimes as i,
enticed and unable to resist their giddy amusement,
pushed aside my wariness and stepped in through the doorway.

for a while there was silence,
and the wind no surreptitious messages to deliver.
they stared at me, and i at them.
then they glanced at each other
and a twinkle passed between their gazes.

they sat me down and told me a secret,
a secret of the most classified sort that most people only catch vague snippets of when their lives start to wind down and they find time to close their eyes and pay enough attention to the wind to hear its secrets.
and even then they only hear vowel sounds, for the wind does not dabble in consonants.

abounding with a childish appetite for secrets,
i pinky promised with five gatrillion cherries on top and crossed each and every heart and star under the sky and sucked in my pursed lips to demonstrate the vast control i had over them.
they laughed at me and said with a sad smile, that won't be necessary,
they wouldn't believe you anyway.

i smiled back, not fully understanding
and still convinced of the necessity of my secrecy.
i sat there expectantly until finally they told me with that same sad smile,
the simple secret that changed my life:
there's exactly enough time for all the important things in life.

i began to cry. if this was the case, it was too late! if there's only exactly enough time, i've already run out of what i would need.

again i heard that light tinkling laughter
and i lifted my tear streaked face up,
start now, they told me kindly. and with that, the wind took me by the hand and together we raced back home.

where i proceeded to plop down in front of the television and watch scooby doo then full house then friends then the oc, gilmore girls, one tree hill, pushing daisies, how i met your mother.. until i managed to waste the next decade of my life. and now here i am. haha jk. i just don't feel like writing any more..

but seriously it's hard to be motivated to do work when i know that there are bigger things in life.
and without motivation holding me back, i'm making a break from reality and taken up permanent residence with indulgement. i just want to go out in the world and embrace the living daylights out of it and then photograph them on their way out, down to the last drops.

i feel numbingly good, as long as i choose not to look over my shoulder at the impending descent of reality and all my responsibilities.

now that it's all said and done

sigh, i had to delete everything i typed,
all the inarticulate details.

vague shapes have taken over my mind.
they claim to be my thoughts,
and i surrender to them.

boo.
did i scare you?
when was the last time you were scared?

i typed, then deleted your answer just now,
maybe i've romanticized it in my head-
i tend to do that.

maybe i'm just scared right now
because if that warranted reading into, then
shouldn't this?
and if so,
is it over?

which is ironic, seeing as just last night i explained why i couldn't get over you with the fact that, if there was a chance that you weren't over us yet, why should i have any need to get over you? that would just leave two unnecessary broken hearts. mine, as i tried to let you go. and yours, from being let go and feeling a need to match my letting go. and then mine furthered, from seeing you letting go and and and... there's no end. if there's even a chance of us, i'll hold on. i can wait for you, i can.

but maybe you are over us.

and if you are-
what the heck are you doing?

unhealthy

i feel very very unhealthy.

what gives it away you ask?
maybe it's the hour.
maybe it's the sneezing.
maybe it's the wads of tissues.
maybe it's the swelling and redness.
maybe it's the itch.
maybe it's the bulge.
maybe it's the folds.

maybe i just miss you.

haha okay,
yeah yeah, i know it's not the last one,
but i just wanted to let you know that i do :)

that beautiful somewhere

imported from facebook.

he followed the sun & she chased the stars
& in dreams they listened closely for the beginning of all things,
for that was where they knew they'd find each other.

an image just popped into my mind:
imagine a circle, a race track if you will,
do you see him, can you see her?
they're standing at one point of the circle,
with a glass wall between them stretching up to all eternity,
un-shatterable & un-climbable.

"but at least," they tell themselves,
they can see each other through the glass,
their eyes free to gaze upon the features of their beloved.
& if they close one eye and squint a little, they can pretend
the fractions of inches between their fingertips
are just the light playing tricks on them.
"we'll take what we can get," they think.

but little do they realize,
if only they were willing to walk apart from each other a little while,
if they could take those steps of faith,
they could find each other standing face to face
& then wrapped up in each others arms.

they could, with those meager miles,
& the temporary separation,
trade away those frustrating fractions,
that permanent distance.

i'll meet you there.

love is beautiful

i'm always striving to find those perfect words,
the right tools that will permit me to reach my heart
deep within the mystifying folds of infatuation,
of love.

but maybe,
it's only confusing if you believe it has to make sense.

maybe that's the beauty of it.
maybe that's what's worth living for.
maybe we wouldn't have it any other way.

after all, the bestest most intensely beautiful things in life are never susceptible to the bounds of human language. you can't package it neatly and keep it because it's too much for one person to keep all for themselves. don't you know? true beauty is only ever fleeting, and it must be shared, sustained by an undefinable joint experience.

so when you find yourself faced with that vague intense speechlessness, maybe it's a sign that what you're beholding is something truly beautiful.

and maybe you'll find yourself holding your breath,
hoping that maybe,
without each steady breath
regulating life like a metronome,
it won't realize time is still moving,
urging it along.
maybe it can be convinced that time has come to a stop,
and maybe,
just maybe,
it'll stop too.

or maybe it'll slip away,
just as fast as a breath passes between your lips.

what to say

i don't need an outlet for my words anymore,
i have you again.

:)

i hope this lasts.
i hope this isn't all just in my head.

it probably is,
but i'm a staunch optimist.



7:52 PM
or maybe i need it all the more,
to record all the words you inspire my heart to sing.

deliberation

de-liberation-
the removal of liberation,
of freedom.

and when freedom is gone,
what room is left for chance?

it's not fair.
we have time and space against us.

never will we be thrown together in class to work long hours on a project or spend hours studying together for mutual tests and exams.
never will we eat a casual meal together because we both happen to be in the dining hall or decide to grab an impromptu bite because we both happen to be hungry and free.
never will we share a quick conversation, a snapshot of a moment, because we happen to be heading in the same direction or find ourselves on the same bus.

never will any of these casual seeds of friendship be scattered inadvertently,
effortlessly.

no, for us,
each seed has to be planted
intentionally,
painstakingly,
tentatively.

every act, every interaction
can only exist as the product of
deliberation,
initiation,
intention.

we must will it to happen,
must engineer it out of a mutual desire.

we can't count on getting the least bit of help on this one.

i'm so distracted

and i so can't afford to be.

ahh. your fault
i blame you for not being able to focus on my work

ironically, you spoke those words to me but a week ago.

i'm not sure how i'm supposed to feel.
do you want me to feel this way again?
do you even realize you're eliciting these results?
your words and your feelings never were consistent,
or at least you tried to convince me they weren't.
but once again,
the calls, the songs, the words..

i want to believe.

it's a fact of life

a girl needs to be held.
and although he falls so short of you,

i've been feeling so alone
i keep waiting for you but you never come
is this in my head? i don't know what to think-

but.

this song reminded you of me
and you told me to pay attention to the words
and you pointed out that she didn't wait in vain-
he came.

was that an unspoken promise?
was that a subtle appeal?

that's all i'd need.

as told by interpretive dance

but your lonely nights have just begun,
when you love someone.
- bryan adams

the nights are always the hardest.
even if you're nowhere near a window,
the elucidating reach of the moon can always procure your very being
and proceed to cast its whole heart,
with its myriad of unspoken secrets, up on the walls,
showcasing every shadow in an interpretive dance.
and even if you can't understand the inky story being written out by gallivanting limbs,
there's no doubting its presence.
each movement catches your frenzied eye,
your frenzied heart,
as it dances before your eyes,
making sure its presence is known.

disconnect desired

i want to be selfish.
i want to sever all ties.
i want to forget.
i want to be all here.

you gonna be okay without me?

the thing is,
i'm ready.

i'm finally ready to let go of you.
but the thing is,
you're all intertwined,
smooshed, shuffled, inextricable
grains of sand
of every color and shade,
a fist full of my youth.
and when these hesitant fingers finally lift,
will the wind blow selectively
and painstakingly pick out one shade to carry away?
no, it must scatter all my colors.

and i must find a new pallet-
a new shade of blue for the sky,
a new shade of red on your lips,
a new shade of brown in my eyes,
and eventually, i'll see color everywhere.

pray

the deepest sighs
of the heart
sometimes it's a struggle
when we first start

to wrap our needs
up in words
and trust that somehow
we will be heard

draw near, and know you are loved
God hears, and His heart is touched

pray, when the road is steep
pray, when you're hope gets weak
know the Father hears through
the silence and the tears you
pray, when you don't know how
pray, heaven's waiting now
and Jesus is just a breath away

pray.

unrelenting residues

sew this up with threads of reason and regret
so i will not forget. i will not forget
how this felt one year six months ago i know
i cannot forget. i cannot forget.

i may have forgotten how to knot a tie
i may have forgotten how to do that last layer of the rubik's cube
but the rest,
i can't seem to forget.
i cannot forget.

do you want me to forget?

hey, jealousy

how can something that once instilled in me so much joy
now be the perpetrator of so much sorrow.

i feel so distracted.
i feel so sad.

i need chocolate.

i need to pick my head up.

i'm reaching my hand to Yours
believing there's so much more
knowing that all You have in store for me is good

red follows green

red follows green as my frustration ripens and threatens to explode into forbidden utterances. so many noises. just shut up.shutup. i can't freaking yawn. what the heck. i've had a sneeze obnoxiously stemmed by my un-cooperative body but a yawn? come on. i didn't even know that was possible. i feel so freaking claustrophobic and trapped in my nonexistant yawn and i can't break out of it in a sweet freaking release. letting go is freaking hard. i can't seem to freaking let go of you. why does everyone around me swear so much? red follows green conquering one leaf at a time, setting trees ablaze to distract from the chill that has crept into the air. but only one tree has a head of red, it's completely and utterly yielded to the conquest but no other tree around it. what's the deal? don't fruit ripen faster when they're with other fruit? and don't girls who live together start sharing a cycle? i feel so antsy and restless and all over the place and miserable and frustrated and sad. why only that tree? i relate to that tree. i don't know why. i just feel such firy turmoil in my heart, in my head. do i feel lonely? i don't even know. maybe. maybe if all the noise would stop i could figure out if i were lonely. great there's a lot of different types of cheeses. normally, i'm all for cheese. i'd even go so far to say i love cheese, but i don't want to hear it right now. i want to think. clearly, i'm not doing much thinking or organizing and i'm just doing this ridiculous finger stream of conscious therapy that really isn't very therapeutic i'm just getting even more riled up. red follows green in subsequent blinks, chasing each other around the evergreen. red and green. i never did like that secondary-primary color combination. my favorite would be purple and yellow, followed by blue and orange-but only if it's a light blue and yellow-heavy orange, not a red-heavy orange. red and green is definitely my least favorite. no matter what shade of red and what shade of green, no combination really does it for me. but i'll love any color on christmas. i just want christmas to come and shanghai to surround me once more. the noise has stopped and my fingers stalled but not my thoughts, my thoughts keep reeling without a backward glance. red follows green and everything stops.

why won't everything stop-please, just stop.

this weekend

it was so good seeing your faces
it was so sweet hearing your voice

but oh how much better
but oh how much sweeter
it was to see Your face
to hear Your voice

for i know the plans i have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and i will listen to you. you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. i will be found by you and will bring you back from captivity.

take my love; my Lord, i pour
at thy feet its treasure-store

as i stare at this space and think about all the love, all the passion, all the fears and frustration that tag along, the voice i adore, the smile i melt for, the words that i crave, i feel all this anxiety, all this asd;fka;sldkfjl and it's building up and swelling and swelling and freaking swelling until i can't breathe under the weight of this black glob of human passion and the ugliness of my inability to describe the sheer measure of this love i'm trying to let go of. i'm not giving up on love, no, i'm giving it up to You.

it's all for You
i'm letting go
i'm letting go.

and i am ready for Your life
and i am ready for You now.

leaves

what a tragically apt name-
it's inevitable,
at the end of its season,
it leaves the tree.

oh, parting is such sweet sorrow.

home, sweet home

it's true what they say:
absence makes the heart grow fonder.
but even more than that,
it brings about clarity and helps the heart shed its vague indecision.

eighteen years and i've finally figured it out:
shanghai is home.

i just had to leave in order to find it.

just ask the leaves

imported from facebook.

"there is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven..
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away"
ecclesiastes 3:1,6



a time to hold on and a time to let go.
just ask the leaves.

one foot too many

a wise and beloved friend of mine once told me,

"the feeling of being swept off your feet is nothing compared to the feeling of caring about someone so much that you don't give a damn about where your feet are."

except, i'd just prefer it if they were right next to yours.

take your time

don't jump,
i'm not ready.

don't fall,
it'll hurt.

i don't know what i want yet.

breathe in for luck

imported from facebook.

i'm starting to think that love no longer sweeps in like a whirlwind,
but rather, meek and unnoticed, passed over as something seemingly ordinary,
like a breath, and you just gotta keep breathing in and out,
and in,
and out,

and that will make all the difference.

breathe in so deep.

last one standing

there's something wrong with this picture:
my feet are still very much firmly planted on the ground.

i've never been swept off my feet.

this realization is incredibly depressing considering the number of guys i've fallen for
so what made me fall all those times? what was the mysterious force behind my multitude of crash and burns?

this is the first time i've really stopped to think about this sad, sad truth
maybe they liked me first, but looking back, i don't even think i can give them credit for that much.
and even if they did, i was right there liking them back, and they didn't have to do any sweeping or pursuing or convincing or coercing.
and as much as i hate to admit it, more often than not,
i made the first move-
i took the subtle initiatives to nudge a developing relationship on and set the ball rolling on its grueling trajectory.

and i know it's old fashioned to expect guys to do all the pursuing
and maybe it's too romantic an idea: "being swept off your feet"
maybe it's too disney, too hollywood
maybe it's simply a relic of the past
and people don't get swept off their feet anymore
maybe love no longer sweeps in like a whirlwind, but rather, meek and unnoticed, passed over as something seemingly ordinary, like a breath, and you just gotta keep breathing in and out and in and out, and that will make all the difference.

and sure, "good for me," i know what i want, and i pursue it
but it's not a product of confidence as it may seem,
it's insecurity.

the fact of the matter is,
you can't be pursued unless you're running
and my insecurity never allows me to run,
in case the guy doesn't care enough to follow after,
and often times, i feel like they're not ready to give chase,
we gotta take a few more baby steps,
i gotta lead them by the hand and coax them into letting me a little deeper into their heart.
and if i have to do any coaxing or convincing or any of this subtle facilitation,
my feet will keep hitting the ground step after step.

and the times my feet leave the ground
it's because i jumped.

confrontation

every time i read postsecret,
i'm reminded how short life is,
how fleeting beauty is,
how elusive love is,
and above all:
how it's all worth it.

i feel like we're standing on the edge of something big.
take a leap of faith with me.
either let me love you,
or let me let go.

but it's so hard to let go when letting go of you
means letting go of parts of myself-
the pieces of me,
my heart, my words, my identity,
that i've entrusted to you.

is there even still something left to let go of
or has denial and neglect taken care of it?

no.
i know there's still something
i still feel something
and i'm unable to believe that you don't

dammit, i feel so frustrated with everything that's unspoken
it's always been this way
but the distance has just exacerbated it
why can't i find the words whenever it comes to you
and me

meanwhile, i have all the words in the world to capture the dining hall's serenade of flavors resounding in a symphony of gluttony

we've lost it already haven't we...
is it even worth it, this struggle for words
when the subject i so long to define is nonexistant?
maybe that's why i struggle so

in yet another round of tug-of-war with silence,
i feel my words slipping out of my grasp in a blaze of raw pain.

i think i love you
and to tell you the truth,
i'm scared.

chris

that space belongs to everything i can't bring myself to say to you
everything i don't know how to say
i start email after email, but i can never finish
i hardly even get past your name
and so i duck behind a cover of silence and ambiguity
not because i've moved on or forgotten
but because i'm scared to let you see that i haven't

but i can see the words that belong there
i know them all by heart

considerably blue

when i wring out my blue wash cloth,
the water that trickles down is still tinted blue
this disturbs me considerably

when i wring my hands, standing on the brink of a daydream
your name is still the first thing on my mind
like a reflex, like a bad habit, like an old friend
this saddens me considerably

yesterday

you, i got to talk on the phone with for an hour
you, i got to walk the aisles of target with
meanwhile, you're fading
and i'm torn

do i try to remember-
find the vague shadows of you in my mind
and lead you by the hand back into my heart,
or do i revel in this unintentional release..

catch me?

how could a girl not fall for you,
how do i even stand a chance.

can you feel the love

tonight.

at the comedy club performance tonight, i listened as upperclassmen cheered each other on, whooped, and declared their love to their performing classmates. it feels a life time away right now as we're bustling around picking up and dropping names like they're a dime a dozen, no even that is giving it too much credit, more like a nickel, less, hardly two pennies to rub together. well, at least i finally met you.

and you called me back, which was a super nice surprise. always surprising me. call-waiting is my hero. no way. that was only 18 minutes? it felt like so much longer.

and i get to see my mommy and daddy tomorrow. god, how i love them--enough to get up early even.

learning to wait

those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. isaiah 40:31 (nkjv)

i closed my eyes as i listened to those familiar words and i could feel warmth coursing through my body.

i closed my eyes and saw the vibrant colors of the mural on the back wall. i saw the lake at aurora. i saw hands lifted in the dark, silhouettes of surrendered passion. i saw jostling and mouths opening in laughter. but in the verse itself, i saw something i never noticed before.

it doesn't say, "those who wait on the lord shall.."
"receive whatever they want," not even "whatever they need."
"feel their burdens instantly lifted."
"be rescued without any further ado."

sometimes He calms the storm,
and other times He calms His child.

the storm may not have ceased
the burdens may not have evaporated
we may still be trudging along
but instead, He provides us strength to keep trudging on,
strength to keep bearing our burdens,
strength to weather the storm,
strength to run,
strength to walk,
strength to finish.

la. la. laaaaa.

my emotions are so fickle.
up.
down.
uuuupp.
down.
my inner child is having way too much fun on that see-saw.

up :)
like the corners of my mouth.

that was fun.
harrowing.
intimidating.
at times awkward.
but fun.
and you promised you'd call again later.
you had a presence and a ease in that conversation that was refreshing.
things aren't as cryptic with you beyond the unspoken essential-
are the feelings mutual?

whooosh

that's the sound of the fall.
or the sound of the savior that sweeps in and grabs me by the waist moments before i crash.

i'm doing it again-
that thing where i try to see how long i can go without checking my phone
in order to preserve myself from the pangs of frequent disappointment
but where my plan backfires is that the anticipation builds up,
takes me higher
and i have a longer way down

i definitely jumped the gun.

sigh

maybe i jumped the gun
maybe i came on too strong
i'm praying for God to prompt you.
i'm staring down my phone, willing it to ring.
i feel the same nothingness that i feel when i try to will my ears to wiggle
what part of your brain is it in anyway?
do i know you well enough to warrant missing you already?

12:09 am
exactly 48 hours since that first text
i still wonder why
was it on a whim
were you bored
why'd you think to text me
why do i keep putting myself in this position
why do i get attached so easily
the letdown is not always beautiful :(

you're weird, but i like it

you've reduced me to this:
:)

first you surprised me with a text
you, who don't text

and then you showed me that i was right
we are kind of perfect together
and you gave us the chance to find out

man, i'm still kind of in shock
that we even had that conversation
that that was you on the other end

i mean i felt it in my gut that we'd be good together
but now i have the texts in my inbox to prove it

well atleast we have the randomly imaginary sillyness conversation necessity down
now all that's left is the deep poetic side
and i'd like to figure out if you'll get my song lyric references that i love to sprinkle in

this post has been so verbosely lacking in so many aspects
but i don't even care

my words are yours tonight.

wisteria

talking to you is dangerous
it gets me all worked up in wisteria
no, not the pretty purple flowers,
but a concoction of wistfulness and hysteria.

you pull me back from the joys i find in my here and now
and you remind me of the girl i was by simply having known her
not just her face, her name, or the sound of her voice
i always say this, but i truly feel that you knew my inner workings
you understood what made me tick and what made me talk
you could even predict what i'd say
you understood the things that tugged on my heart strings
and you knew what that felt like to have your heartstrings yanked on
you saw the depths of how i felt things
you understood my tangents-
the deep lyrical ones and the silly play ones alike
maybe i give you too much credit,
but you knew me like no one else

the funny thing with relationships
is you start out invisible to the other person
then you get noticed and upgrade to being opaque- you exist to them
but with time, you become transparent again
though this time, it's a good transparent
they can see right through you,
not all the way through like the original state,
but through, to the very essence of you.

stumped

what do guys want to hear after they tell you you're beautiful?
what's the right response? what reply would make their risk worth it?

i mean it is kind of a risk.
it's the kind of words that after sent out, you hold your breath until you get a reply, playing back your reasons for making the admittance, toying with regret, evaluating this fresh position of vulnerability you've put yourself in

i'm never good at returning compliments because i feel so awkward and,
well just plain awkward,
so much so that even if my compliment is genuine it comes out really awkward and forced

i'm the most awkward recipient of a compliment you'll ever meet.
and that's a fact.

but
beautiful
i've always loved that word
<3

i wish you were here

i've seen your act
& i know all the facts
i'm still in love with who i wish you were

a screeching halt

that wasn't fair of you.

and even though a secret part of me probably wanted you to do this
what i didn't know wouldn't have hurt me.

you didn't have to remind me
how this felt one year six months ago, i know
i cannot forget. i cannot forget.
i guess it was nice knowing that you hadn't forgotten either

but i was trying to
at least forget enough to make things easier
sigh
maybe we'll forget
we're both trying to a little
i know it

but you wanna know something else,
i hope we don't forget.

onward, ho!

god, i feel loved.
oh charles :)
i'm excited to see you too.

i really do have a lot to look forward to.
the most immediate might be friday
with its possibility of ultimate frisbee
and at the very least,
i'll get to satisfy both my strange and my more understandable fixations.
and once again on sunday, followed by dinner with a different set of fixations from a different time and place

and then when i get to boston
there'll be all that new-ness!
and even more than that,
there'll be people from my past, "familiar faces" who i may have known briefly and loved, who will hopefully take on larger roles in my future,
people with whom distance no longer plays a factor :)
i can't really capture that
that
this is so incredibly frustrating
i've been lying on my back staring at the ceiling trying to coax the right words out for quite some time now
yet they just won't surrender and assemble like good little soldiers to tell of these
pseudo "old friends"
i mean, technically,
we were never really friends
we knew each other for but a week, a weekend, three and a half weeks
and it wasn't even that we were the best of friends during that period
there was a general air of aloofness
but emotional attachments somehow caught into the fabric of our souls
we would've been friends given time, i know it
but we never got the chance to
but now we actually have the chance to become friends in its truest sense
go out and goof off together
celebrate birthdays and grab bites together
or so i hope.

appreciation for a prelude

i could really get used to this.
what better way to end a day than curled up in bed with a book eating out of a can of o' spaghettios, with sliced franks of course.
and the day in itself,
:)

mind you it's only a temporary life, with a temporary crowd
the permanent fixtures are yet to come in
but i'm happy.

i'm starting to feel comfortable around them
the sillyness and teasing have kicked in
you of all people have even started being warm towards me

it looks like i'm doing it,
i'm moving on.

and this is just the prelude
oh, how i can't wait to hear the rest of the song
to know the words by heart
and even if it starts out kind of slow
i'm ready for it
and we'll get to the chorus soon enough :)

a thousand times

i've failed.
still Your mercy remains
and should i stumble again
still i'm caught in Your grace

God, i'm trying
please believe me, i am

lift me up Lord,
let me no longer walk amongst the world
trampling underfoot Your gift of grace

no temptation has seized you except what is common to man. and God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. but when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you may stand up from under it.
1 corinthians 10:13 (from memory)

You promised.
it's in Your word,
and all scripture is God breathed.
i wrote it in my heart
i called upon it in my time of weakness
why then, did the devil not relent
why was i the one to yield?

Lord, let me feel Your sweet breath as You tickle my ear with Your whispered promises in my darkness

and once again, i proclaim
never again.

far from reticent

him,
you,
who?

i have a million and one thoughts as i find myself back home
home?
where?

thoughts of the cottage
of you not being able to eat your corn off the cob because you lost your front teeth and the new ones haven't grown in yet
of you and your little hands that always managed to find mine
of your ridiculous unprecedented pickyness
of you calling me s-woman to your e-man and when i pointed out i had no s in my name, you informed me that the s was found in "sister debra"
of your tendency to call me "sister barbara" on occasions and the tinge of annoyance it bred
of eight year old crushes that weren't even bothered to be hidden

thoughts of camp
His faithfulness yesterday, today, forever
His reminder that sure, i'm faced with a new beginning and i can make anything of myself without expectations holding me back, but to what end?
for a smile from God, i'd forsake it all
i do want to live for Him, and recreate that reputation at tufts

thoughts of him
which?
him who always made a point to say hi to me by name when no one else talked to me
you have no idea how much it meant to me
him who i think we'd be perfect together, but you'll never get a chance to find out
when will we even get a chance to talk?
if only you could've been there this period
if only you could've been that him who said my name
him who, what do i even say about you?
give me a reason to hold on

thoughts of tufts
i got back and awaiting me on my facebook was a friend request from my roommate
she seems to have an aptitude for appreciating life too

thoughts of shanghai
i'm jealous
immeasurably jealous
i envy soar
for it gets you
i envy you
for you get soar
and i'm almost afraid of how my heart will react come october retreat and i see those pictures
memoranda testifying that i wasn't there
i'll see beloved smiles and know that i wasn't the reason
it hurts even now
thinking about it

life is all memory

imported from facebook.



except for the one present moment that goes by you so quick
you hardly catch it going.

off again

to be whisked off at 2am in a van of pseudo-strangers
to impose on a group of church kids who all grew up together and went to this camp since they themselves were in the cottage, the village, that other section for teens beginning with "n"
see, i don't even know the terms!
and now, we're all staff at this camp
to them, as familiar and beloved as aurora is to me
i'm so intimidated
it's not just being a counselor at a camp i've never been to
but the fact that things are so different here
they emphasize different things
boys and girls sit on opposite sides of the room in folding chairs rather than strewn about a floor as intimate as those born brothers and sisters
everyone dresses up-
jeans aren't allowed, girls don heels, blouses, and skirts
worship involves sitting down and words are sung under breaths
the only belting is done by leather strips holding up the guys' dress pants
no one claps or grooves to the music or raises their hands in surrender
i know, i know
they're little things
i'm not judging
or at least i'm trying not to
i'm just observing.

and this camp is supposedly even more conservative
the packing list confused me so
what is there left to be worn?

your silence also confuses me
and now i'm off again
my turn to be silent.

forget you.

glass half empty

whenever i see military men and women at airports, i always assume that they're headed home. i guess i can't even say that i "assume" because an assumption involves a second option that has been written off whereas i take it for granted that they're all heading home and it doesn't cross my mind that maybe, they're leaving.

that is until on our flight back from quebec when i overheard the following exchange between the men in the row behind me, two of which were in uniform:
16A- so are you boys heading out or heading home?
16B & 16C- unfortunately, heading out.
and thus my glass half full of naïvité was poured out as i realized that they weren't a flight away from the arms of loved ones who might as well have been holding their breaths this whole time. well technically, they were going a flight away, just in the less favorable direction.
and the holding of breaths recommences.

16B moved to 14F to escape being stuck in the middle, the least enviable seat, placing him across the aisle from an amiable baby girl with big eyes and an easy smile, proudly displaying the few teeth she had, countable on merely one of her soft baby hands. i watched him watch her with a smile playing on his face and adoration trying to hold its ground against the ungovernable advance of sadness in his eyes, beneath his long lashes, for he had long lovely lashes. i couldn't help wonder if he had children, if he had someone he wanted to have children with, and at the very least, he was the child of someone.

he was somebody's someone, a neighbor, a husband
a brother, a father, and a mother's only son
he was an uncle, a cousin, somebody's best friend
and i'm sure at times a shoulder to lean on
he was somebody's someone

the words of lonestar came to mind as i coveted his thoughts. who was he missing? which goodbye was he playing in his head? surely these goodbyes weren't pervaded by an air of lightness founded by transience and tears weren't hard to come by. what did he fear the most? did he regret anything? and most of all why?

what good possibly comes from going through war? the best case scenerio is that you survive, but at what cost? i saw on the news while i was in canada, two brothers who had just returned home from serving the country, maybe even on their plane ride home, they were posed the same question, "heading home or heading out?" and they had been able to answer with relief, home. and the poser of the question would surely have lit up with an irrepressible smile for their well-beings--they survived. only to be killed soon after, the both of them, in a car accident. life is tragic. death is imminently persistent, why tease it further? why poke it with a rustic stick, even one with a verdant leaf breathing some life into it, and provoke it?

prayerfully yours, in the words of the USO, until every one comes home.

what about us

shadows fill an empty heart

as love is fading

from all the things that we are

but are not saying

what if it's lost behind 

words we could never find

baby, before it's too late

what about now?

will we ever find the words

or will we let it pass undefined

as an irresolute specter

selfish vs. selfless

i want to speak the words that'll make your heart yearn
yet at the same time, i feel a conflicting desire to soothe your heart
to alleviate your angst and deliver the sun into your storming emotions

i really don't know which words i'll find

celestial eyes

i see the moon and the moon sees me
the moon sees somebody i'd like to see

i envy you, mr. man on the moon
reach down and grasp my outstretched hands
hoist me beyond the possessive embrace of gravity
just for a night to sit with you
and see what you see

but that's it, isn't it
the point we all glean over
all you can, is see
never to know, never to be known
always at a distance
the most remote of frays
not even a face in the crowd
rather, an inky shadow swallowed by obscuring darkness

you see without limit
but is anything even lovely in your sight
or do your eyes simply skim over this irrelevant world
with all its irrelevant faces that we so love and long for

testaments to impatience

i have a terrible habit of reading ahead
maybe not so much reading as skimming
when things get predictably bad,
when i suspect someone might die,
even simply when things start to slow down,
i find myself casually flipping pages, skimming for names to make sure they stick around, catching glimpses of the future-
"alex rider!" he called out in a thin voice, filled with hate. "you have three seconds to show yourself. otherwise you will see your godfather's brains all over the highway."

you've gotta understand,
waiting is mad hard for me.

pixelated

i feel so much angst
and not the poetic kind
the kind that makes me want to dance, no,
stomp my fingers across the keyboard and spawn cacophonous nonsense.
i try to write things of substance, to be real with myself,
to explain my heart to my brain,
to impose my brain on my heart,
but i can't
i can't
i can't
i can't
i can't
i freaking can't
because every time i try to organize my thoughts my frustration whirlwinds in like it owns the place and i'm back to square one
maybe it's even blown me past that and onto some obscure negative squares

we were pixelated,
how fitting.
but at least pixels have enough substance to abridge a gaping hole

i'm not going to hide behind lyrics this time-
damn, i miss you tonight.
that's one of the few thing i'm sure of.

i wonder

if the checkout lady at borders judged me for buying a magazine.
if IMing on my phone is included in my unlimited texting plan.
if i made the right choice by choosing at&t.
if i need 900 minutes a month; i doubt it.
if the thirst quenching gum they sell at sports authority is legit.
if you've memorized the verse yet and whether you truly liked the verse or if you found it irrelevant like i've found certain memory verses.
if you've lost interest.

301-312-2838
any takers?

first impress-ives

early on every summer, i buy things that i think,
surely this is it. this is the outfit i will wear on the first day of school.
there was that year with the cutesy little red monkey top, XL from the children's section matched with the younique jeans with the grey and red strip and the drawstring.
funny thing was,
not only did i not wear them on the first day of school,
i never really wore either at all.

but i'm at it again.
as of tonight,
i'll be the girl in the bright yellow leggings.
hey, you.

serial killer

(ha.. ha.)

lovely,
the roof of my mouth is all stinging and raw
dang peanut butter mini-swirlz
playing rough

it seems i'm rolling with the big boys now
no more gentle honey nut cheerios
or dainty lucky charms

gripped

i never realized the extent to which i was attracted to a guy who could really throw a football
i can't even explain it in words right now, i'm so gripped
practically by my nonexistant laces like a football cradled in their hands
it's like they just ride their beauticiously perfectly flat spiraling football straight into my heart
it literally takes my breath away when i see a throw like that (yes, winston, it's your throw that has inspired this.)
it's wonder,
rapture,
envy,
admiration,
adoration.

oh, baby.

make new friends

i'd forgotten how hard the creation stages of friendship were
i'd gotten so comfortable left with only the task of maintenance
was it always this awkward?
the conversations this forced?
how long is it supposed to take before we stop having to try so hard?
at what point is the small talk supposed to grow up?

it feels like we're smashing together two pens instead of
one pen and one pen cap
i was thinking more of puzzle pieces but what are the sticky out-y sides of a puzzle called anyway? and how inarticulate would that be to simply call them the sticky out-y sides of a puzzle

maybe we figure it out and turn it around
do a little wiggling
and for a weekend, nestle in this awkward fit

i miss your knowing smile
i miss our friendly banter
i miss the sound of your voice
i miss pretending not to be interested

yea, i'm surprised too
it's you again?

8:18 AM angst

i can't stand machoism
just because you're a guy doesn't make you any more able-bodied than me
don't patronize me

on another note
little things remind me,
this isn't home

explode for me, fireworks
so i don't have to

streetlight people

don't stop believin'
hold on to the feelin
streetlight people

why is that song so popular this summer anyway?
it's not remotely new

i could be streetlight people,
living just to find emotion

jetlag,
i embrace thee.

it still hasn't really hit me that i'm not going back
does that warrant me changing the time zone of my blog?
but that would throw off the essence that time plays in my previous blogs
dates would shift as AMs and PMs relocate

but
by not changing
all present and future times would be off
july 3, 1:27 AM
should i change the timezone on my macbook too?
do i even know how?

these little things,
these traces of permanence,
remind me..

these days-

-the words are so hard to come by
let alone the liquid figments of words uttered directly by the heart

eighteen,
and we begin again

though,
i wish we were flying out at a more romantic hour than 4:50pm

goodbye to you
goodbye to everything i thought i knew

still

i will be still
know You are God.

still waiting

i'm going crazy
the minutes have never gone by so slowly
without you here to help them along
there's a reason i never get to places early
i can't stand the wait
the not knowing
the restlessness that needs to launch me from this sitting position to leap about and pummel the air
the heaviness of the near tangible anticipation
i can't breathe straight
i'm hurting to the point of tears
the first tears since
asd;lkfj
save me

now,
dammit.

these tears taste saltier than i remember..

a lullaby for love

i've always loved that park
it's always possessed some sort of romantic quality for me
it was that park i had in mind when i told you that
i didn't need flashy lights
that all i truly wanted was the modest sheen of the moon and the street lamps
that i wanted to breathe in unison with the night and feel its feathered kiss
that i wanted to listen to music that actually meant something to me-
music that would move more than just my body
music that if i closed my eyes, i would see beyond the darkness
music that would breathe life into fragile memories
and unavoidably afflict the existing moment
it was that park,
with those dancing people,
that i would rather have been at all those nights

tonight i watched them dance and thought of the futile efforts i'd make to try to get you to dance had it been you and i
i watched couples hold each other
in more than just their hearts

i watched an old man amidst the couples, arms extended
dancing alone
and i wanted to go over and dance with him
but i couldn't find the strength in me
and in that moment i realized how often i fail to have the courage to truly follow my heart
i always speak of it, speak of being led by my heart
but it's not my head that gets in the way,
it's my guts

i never have the guts to do the things i really want to do
so, come out with me tonight
meet me under the moonlight and together, we'll sing lullabies to a sleeping city
let's create anthems of our own tonight

does it not pang you that after a year and some, this is it?

gotta live it up one time before it's over
this world belongs to us tonight

run, baby, run

the only good thing about the rain is the way it makes the colors run
every illuminated hue spilling outside their lines
painting stripes on the street, the sidewalk
colors sticking to droplets, sliding down
weaving
cloaking the city in technicolor

i felt sad tonight
with some help from the ataris
and the rain

and when this hourglass
has filtered out
its final grain of sand
i raise my glass to the memories we had

these relics of remembrance
are just like shipwrecks
only they're gone faster
than the smell after it rains
- so long, astoria/the ataris

do you see it running?
like the colors in the rain..

for the majority of today,
i thought it was thursday
and when my disillusionment shattered
i felt like i lost a day
a day i didn't even have to begin with

how did i get so good at losing things that were never mine
i got attached, and you let me
at least you didn't stop me
no, you definitely let me
and now i see i couldn't have been more wrong
i'll keep making excuses, but i'm almost out
and so is time
maybe the timing
is beating our hearts
we're empty

or maybe just me
do you even realize?

goodbyes

a few more
but nothing yet
why?

i feel dead inside
dead dry eyes like marcella

where did this nonchalance even spring from?
the only times i'm even remotely nonchalant is when i'm waltzing into compounds putting on such airs they just let me blow by, assuming i belong

let alone emotional nonchalance
thanks,
but no thanks

i want to feel
sad

now, in this moment
while we retain
relevance to each other

while we remain,
relative to each other

i feel like i'm taking it for granted
being frivolous with my assumptions that
it's not the end

but it is
isn't it?

i won't say i'm in

i read into
and i fall
for the words you don't even have to say
the words my assumptions guide into your mouth
that mouth
that smile

i tell myself
you're scared
you're not
prepared
to be..

that explains the incongruencies
right?

or maybe,
it's just me-
i am silly.

after the sunset

every day should open to a chorus of birds
and close with the embrace of a sunset

i never really thought a shanghai day could
guess i should've given it more credit
had a little more faith

though the birds got kind of annoying after the initial chirps that penetrated my consciousness
after the first realizations of,
hey,
i don't normally hear that
that's kinda special.
then i started noticing patterns
CHIRP! hootHOOoo tweeeeet.
CHIRP! hootHOOoo tweeeeet.
and as soon as the anticipation kicked in
ohh man

but the sunset
there was no rhythmic predictability to sap away its beauty
even the buildings put on new airs of grace
it's a marvel that of the 17 million people in shanghai
not one (ok, maybe one or two might have afforded to)
succumbed to plucking a rose each from the bed of clouds
to hold a whiff of beauty
i would have.

had i not been caged in a car
speeding between those gracious buildings

nausea

nausea.

everything makes me nauseous-
the glowing monitor
the thought of food
the lack of food
the thinking of food due to the lack of food
(oh, the cruelty)
meat in particular
dairy, too
possibly even chocolate

i contemplated writing last night
if even just one italicized word
to keep the dates running seamlessly

i'm
not
ok.

thanks for asking..

better is one day

would you know my name
if i saw you in heaven?

would it be the same
if i saw you in heaven?
- tears in heaven/eric clapton

what if it's "no"
you tell me it isn't
but
what if.

sure, we'll have all the time in the world
but
what if it's we, individually
you, me
we
in its simplest function as a plural
grouped merely quantitatively
i will have all the time in the world
you will have all the time in the world
but we,
together...

all the time in the world
in a state of vague inebriation?
an automatic ecstasy?
after all,
there will be no sorrow, no tears in heaven
but isn't it said:
the joy is not the same without the pain

i don't even know what i'm going on about
i don't mean to doubt

i'm not good at this
i feel so unsure, timid
appreciating life is my forte
that's what i'm good at
i can help you appreciate all the little things
i'll paint for you dazzling shades of silver
i'll pick roses and hold them to your nose

but i need you here when i lift my eyes past the roses,
the faces, the sky, the joys constrained by gravity
i need your confidence to grasp the surpassing joys awaiting
i need to borrow your steadfast knowledge that truly,
better is one day.

this river's ramble

sometimes i find myself feeling like the fourth little piggy
which isn't exactly something to boast about
to identify yourself by what you lack
glass half empty, much?

(ohmygah.
my stomach hurts a little too much to write
maybe the warmth of my laptop will alleviate the discomfort
serve as an over glorified hot water bottle
that's versatility for you)

but sometimes we can't help but lose sight of what we are
and fill our field of vision with everything we aren't
everything we lack
providing for nothing but a blank stare
and who's ever engaged by a blank stare..

i think i'm still a little scared to let myself completely go here
to ramble
to babble

it's like two creeks
if one creek really admired the other creek's flow
the way it rounded bends so effortlessly,
the infallible smoothness of every cascasion
and in its flurry of aspiration and insecurity, attempted to match the other creek in each finite detail
to reproduce each splash in its exact magnitude at an identical location
to replicate each bend, each tumbling of froth over rocks, each splay as it navigates around logs
the harder it tried
the harder it worked to mold its own natural flow
well you can imagine it
it'd be ridiculous, ridic-dac-donculous even
oh little creek, your God-given flow is just as beautiful.
go on-
ramble,
babble.

our beloved Father

our beloved Father
please come down and meet us
we are waiting on Your touch

open up the heavens
shower down Your presence
we respond to Your great love

we won't be satisfied with anything ordinary
we won't be satisfied at all

open up the sky
fall down like rain
we don't want blessings
we want You

open up the sky
fall down like fire
we don't want anything but You
- open up the sky/deluge

the words of this song really hit me this morning

how often do we truly pray for His presence rather than His "presents,"
to be able to say as we sit at His feet that we're there solely as a result of a deep longing to be close to Him, to breathe in His fragrance, to revel simply in His companionship, rather than to bring forth a list of petitions, wherever they may range from a relentlessly itching mosquito bite to a friend's salvation.

how truly intimate and special would it be to tell Him, our beloved Father, "i don't want blessings, i want You," and to mean it without a hint of a hidden agenda, without a trace of any shrouded conception of saving up good graces to expedite future pleas.

the other part of this song that really hit me this morning was the line
"we respond to Your great love"
we respond.
we respond.
yesterday at youth we touched upon whether or not someone would go to heaven if they said they believed in God but then didn't live for Him. my thoughts on this have always been that to be saved, according to romans 10:9, you gotta confess with your mouth and believe in your heart. it's not a one part thing, it's not just confess with your mouth, period. you need that second part, believe, and hearts are not very good liars, so if you truly have that part down, and you believe in this great love, you can't help but respond with your life. at this point, i'd always be stuck for that last concretely analogous piece to complete my point, but i finally got it:

our lives as Christians are but an echo; once His love is sounded in our life, we can't help but respond with our life.

the Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him.
lamentations 3:25 (NKJV)

the first toes

the first toes to dip beneath the glazed pane of tranquility
the little piggy who neglected going to the market in order to go for a swim
and then managed to persuade his peers to-
go out for a change,
take a break from roast beef,
surmount his fixation with his persisting comparative lack of roast beef,
and enjoy where he's at rather than flee from any given point B in a raptus of ear-splitting squeals-
respectively, (what a good influence) and accompany him as the cool rush
washes over
and over
just enough to remind you it's there
never forcefully, never one for ostentation
it'll never force you to remember
but smuggled into each splash lingers
a whisper
please.