you and me.

February 16, 2011 § Leave a comment

Right now, I feel so blessed to have you in my life. When I lose my footing, when the walls seem to cave, when everything is a little out of place, you steady me.

Almost effortlessly, you rescue me.

the sound of keys.

December 5, 2010 § 1 Comment

I love the sound of keys at night.

One full counter-clockwise turn and another swiftly around the other way. Click. The door whispers over the floor. The light from the stairwell slowly peeks into our dark apartment, inches further into the room, and finds my resting face.

He’s home.

The distance closes between us, and my blood surges with excitement. For this, I don’t sleep as deeply anymore. To better hear, to better feel, the soft sounds of his return.

it feels good.

October 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

A paragraph from my journal:

“February 17, 2010:

You make choices every day.

I made a choice. And this morning, the choice held my head in both his hands and kissed me, good morning.”

sing to me

May 14, 2010 § Leave a comment

in the world
is usual today.
This is
the first morning.


Come quickly—as soon as
these blossoms open,
they fall.
This world exists
as a sheen of dew on flowers.


Even though
these pine trees
keep their original color,
everything green
is different in spring.


Seeing you is the thread
that ties me to this life—
If that knot
were cut this moment,
I’d have no regret.


I watch over
the spring night—
but no amount of guarding
is enough to make it stay.

— From Izumi Shikibu’s love poems

on your effect

May 10, 2010 § Leave a comment

I leave every weekend with this unbelievable feeling of weightlessness, and I know it’s because I’ve got our days spent together on my mind. Our moments passed still linger on my lips and hands and in my heart, and I taste everything that is good about love.

You remind me about everything that is good about love.

you induce a state of corn.

March 30, 2010 § 1 Comment

You confuse me.  In a good way.  In the best way possible.

I just don’t know how a person could be so good. How a person could radiate the way you do. How someone could be as kind and giving like you are. How someone could be so considerate when no one asked you to be. How a man could know just where to go next. How a man could be everything that you’re made of.  You just amaze me.

It may have taken a while for you to make me fall, but fall I did. And despite all the chasing, I don’t know how I got you. I don’t know what caught your eye, but I’m thankful I had it.  I don’t know how to keep you in love with me, but I can tell you that I will try. Because you’re everything I want. Because I’ve never known any one quite as right as you.

Because you are perfect.

i love this poem.

March 10, 2010 § 3 Comments

Poema XX by Pablo Neruda

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Escribir, por ejemplo: “La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.”

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
¡Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos!

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

¡Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla!
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Yo no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise..
Mi voz buscaba al viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. 

for fear of losing.

December 7, 2009 § 3 Comments

My experience with love is marked by heaviness. It fills every empty space. It grows into something larger than just emotions, and it swallows me up.  When in love, I become a hopeless fool who comes to the frightening realization that she has something great to lose.

I’ve lived my life doing two things: first, going against my mother’s sound advice, and second, ultimately proving that she was right.  Often, her lessons stick, but there’s one that I can’t seem to fully absorb. It’s that I should avoid becoming totally consumed by the experience of, the agony of, the mere thought of love.

To my brilliant mother, there should be boundaries, there should be realism, there should be focus — on myself, my career, my family and friends, my passions and interests, my responsibilities — and there must be some mechanism set in place for my own survival.  Some kind of method for self-protection, self-preservation.

No matter how many times I remind myself to, well, remember my Self while in the throes of love, I have always, always, always wholly surrendered myself to it.  And, when it ends, or when I think of the possibility of its conclusion, I always hesitate and recall my mother’s words. And I wonder whether I should’ve limited the ease and the depth of my vulnerability. To guard my Self for the fear of losing what could be so amazing — amazing enough to want to keep it forever, amazing enough that, when it is gone, a part of me is lost too.

Having felt the bitterness of love’s disappointment in the past, I tiptoe around the edges of the dangerous type of love, fearing the forthcoming fall, fearing the sound of “forever” on our lips. Because, this time, with this lover, if “forever” is betrayed by happenstance, then what would be of what’s left of me?

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?

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.

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