November 27, 2009 § Leave a comment

Everything on Thanksgiving seems sweeter.  It’s as if you become more sensitive to minutia, and you live this day unlike other days.  You live this day the way you should every day.  Noticing the small elements that make up your life, noticing the “have” over the “have not,” noticing what moments bring you contentment.  What moments make you thankful.

It’s the way his pillows smell when you wake up wrapped in his embrace.  The way he looks while he’s sleeping, and how, when you quietly leave the bed, his arms try to catch you before you depart.  He immediately feels your absence, and you smile.  How it feels to be wanted by him when he’s not even thinking.  Everything seems sweeter.

The sound of your mother’s voice on the telephone.  She’s happy and excited for the day, and she probably can’t wait to see you.  She just called to be the first to wish you a happy Thanksgiving.

The scent of the french toast and the surprise breakfast you’re preparing for your love.  The way he rubs his eyes open and smiles when he sees the feast.  The way he holds you before digging in.  The way he kisses you after, when you’ve traveled back to bed.

How the train rides home seem swift and the passengers friendly.  How the familiar images between your two cities flash before you, framed by windows and the sunlight of an early afternoon. How your sister’s face lights up when she pulls up in front of you.  How the sounds of your family fill the air when you enter home, and you kiss, kiss, kiss the loves of your life.

And when the night winds down, and you’re in bed on a cloud, the whole world whisks around you, pushing and mixing the past, the present, and the future into one moment.  And that world just seems like it’s yours, and you just feel so lucky to have it all, and all you can think about is everything you have, and in these little things in our every day, there’s nothing but hope.

There’s nothing but hope.

sing to me

November 25, 2009 § Leave a comment

Another “sing to me” because I’ve been feeling really inspired by others lately, and this one hit the head on my struggles with self and ambition and the way I deal with my goals for myself:

“I did have a lot of doubt when I was a young person. And I was always holding myself to a very high standard and failing, thinking I was never perfect, never as good as I wanted to be as a person, as a student, as anything, a musician. And I actually think some of that is quite healthy. I think all of us could do with a dose of self-doubt, always questioning. But if it’s too strong in your life, it can paralyze you.”

– President Bill Clinton, in 2009.

sing to me

November 24, 2009 § Leave a comment

Reluctance by Robert  Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question “Whither?”

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

late bloomer

November 19, 2009 § 2 Comments

Not too many people know this.  Probably because I’m a bit embarrassed, even ashamed, to admit the truth about what I want.  And perhaps I’m ashamed because I’ve been so sheepish about actually doing anything about it.  Because I haven’t been bold enough to truly take that first real step and fall into it.

I know why I want to be a doctor.  It’s not something I ever really talk about in front of people. I won’t converse on the subject at length — unless I think you wouldn’t judge me, or worse, wonder why in the world I would believe I’d be good at something like medicine.

Truth is that I kind of already knew before I even graduated college.  I knew because I’d feel an undeniable rush of jealousy when I’d hear pre-med students cramming on the buses from the Water Street dorm, or when my friends were taking their MCATs and getting into medical school.  Even as I grow as a writer — ghostwriting for a brilliant human being, learning so much about the good work being done in our world — I couldn’t let this idea, hope, dream fly away from me.

Lately, the inaction has been eating at me, and I am ready to stop saying, “tomorrow.”  Good friends push me, and I’m thankful for the ones I feel comfortable enough to speak about this with.  It’s hard to admit that I’m late in blooming, but I’ve made the choice for myself: I will become a doctor, and I will work so hard to get there.  And, once I’m there, everything I really need to know will begin right there.  The real learning will begin right there.  And my impact will be great.

take me with you.

November 17, 2009 § Leave a comment

I’m itching to go back to Colorado with Takafumi… Maybe, this time, snow will be on the ground.

Here are some fun shots taken with my trusty Rebel during my summer trip to Colorado.  The second shot was by Takafumi’s father, a much more learned photographer whose equipment I can hardly bear to hold.  I nearly fell over from the weight.  Figures that his take is perfect.  And so I continue to learn on the 7D, which I hear Mr. Hashimoto has just bought himself.  Maybe he can teach me a thing or two in Colorado next time I come around.  Edited Jamaica wedding photos to come.

sing to me

November 13, 2009 § 2 Comments

Words touch me. I thought to share some. Here’s the first of a series of great poems, excerpts, essays, sentences, quotations that have made their way into my repertoire and somehow made an impression on me — both as a writer and as a person.   To quickly see what’s inspiring me, click on the “sing to me” tab up top.  I’ll let Auden take you from here:

WH Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

a charmed life.

November 12, 2009 § 1 Comment

In the twilight of a breezy night in Montego Bay, under skies where stars shine brighter than in the pink evenings of Newark, I waded in a lima bean-shaped pool, surrounded by the voices and faces of my childhood. These faces seemed only slightly changed from the way they looked back then. Maybe a little older today, maybe more laugh lines and crow’s feet, maybe more experiences weighing down on their shoulders.

Yet the feeling stays the same. This unbelievable sense of safety. This knowledge that, as long as you have these people loving you, the world is going to keep on turning, and you will always be just fine.

I think about my family often. Especially these days, when I’m questioning most things around me, wondering and wandering around, trying to find a home for my mind and my ambitions. I think about my heart’s contentment when I am with them. With people who have never done anything but love me and push me forward, and when I push myself too hard, they’re the ones who calm my restless nerves and my flightbound feet. And they bring me back to earth.

I have always been so thankful for the charmed life they’ve given me, and I will continue to be profoundly honored to call them my own.


November 5, 2009 § 3 Comments


One of my firsts with the new 7D.

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