To Have and Not to Hold


In between your coming and your going I struggle

To be kind to myself,

And recall at which point precisely did I open the

Unguarded gates of my heart

To your impermanent but decidedly charming affections.

 

Was it the jokes, the banter,

The immediate exchange of thoughts and pasts,

As if we had known each other for years?

Did I know before I actually saw you that

You would disturb my already cluttered mind?

 

Were you playing one of your games

And did I lose again, unaware of the rules,

Or of the fact that I was taking part in it?

I want to go back and talk to myself

And warn her against you.

 

For what I found irresistible I now

Doubt as mere generic kindness

And an occasional exercise of your flirting muscles.

My only wish is that you do not deny

Any part that you took in this whole mess.

 

There must be a room somewhere

Where I can review not the events but your thoughts,

Your motivations, your real reactions.

For I heard what I wanted to hear,

And it was that you liked what you saw in me.

 

Now, fogged still by emotions stirred

That were long thought dead or protected,

I hear soundbites that pierce rather than comfort.

I remember the ending, the cold distancing,

And the washing of the hands.

 

You who wooed but insisted it was part of the plan,

To whom I acquiesced, too naïve to resist,

You swept me off my feet then put me down.

Such actions should be criminalized, and your punishment:

Severe and permanent solitary confinement.

 

If you were surprised how fast I developed

A liking for our uninterrupted conversations and our

Seemingly mutual joy at each discovery about the other,

Let me assure you that it struck me as odd too.

I watched myself fall as if I had never been vigilant of such madness before.

 

It is up to me I know to uplift my spirits

And believe that you had genuine care and concern for my feelings,

But I have not as yet developed the wings for such freedom.

We acted the way we said men and women often do:

Women feel. Men flee.

 

I will not apologize for not knowing

That I would be this vulnerable,

And I should accept your refusal to participate anymore.

But give me the space to remember

That once, you found me beautiful.

Alone

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Love in the Time of Search Engines (The Lord of the Geeks Part III)


Please read parts 1 to 3, and even the updates, on the link to the Lord of the Geeks series above. Thanks!  – E.

Eddie waited for Stella to reply, while repeatedly banging his head against the wall of his hotel room. Why did he have to sound like a bumbling fool and say all that in one breath? Naturally he scared her off!

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, but in reality just a few seconds, Stella spoke. “I believe I am that Stella, the caffeine addict. I’m not sure about the rest of that bit you just said.” Her voice sounded musical, the kind that brought sunshine to every room. This made Eddie smile. Widely.

“Well, um… Hi,” he brilliantly muttered. “I’m glad I caught you in a cheerful mood.”

“Haha, I was kind of mean earlier, wasn’t I? I’m just not a morning person.  And I didn’t get much sleep the night before.” Stella was determined to show she had a pleasing personality. Because she had a compulsion to please people, even not-so-strangers of whom she should be wary, actually.

“Much as I’d like to ask you why you didn’t get precious shuteye, I won’t.” Boyfriend trouble? Late flight? Insomnia? Eddie wanted to get to know everything about her. It was not his normal behaviour towards women, but he was going with it. He decided to push his luck. “Stella, I was just wondering, why did you call?” Eddie was a simple man. He asked what he wanted to know.

“Eddie, I believe you’re the one who rang me this time.” There was a hint of a smile. He could tell.

“Yes, but I was just returning your call.” Pushing his luck even further…

“Ok let me just remind you that you gave me your name AND phone number?!”  Stella retorted, to Eddie’s amusement. He could almost see her sparkling eyes flashing and he couldn’t help laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Stella asked, not really sure if Eddie found her cute. But she was curious.

“You! It’s like I’m seeing two versions of the same woman. You’re just a powerhouse of emotions, and I should really be careful around you. If your life were a movie, this should be what your poster would say: ‘Life is like a box of Stella. You never know what you’re gonna get.’”

“Either you just compared me to chocolates, or you diagnosed me with bipolar disorder,” she said, beginning to care, despite herself, what this geeky guy she just met thought of her. What was wrong with her?

“I meant it in a good way! You’re full of surprises… And I’m going to change the subject. What did I miss after I left Hobbiton? I really think they didn’t give us enough time to explore.”

“You mean you didn’t get to go shopping for key rings and mugs and other stuff? We had $10 off any purchase.”

“I hate shopping so I waited in the bus while the driver rushed the others through the store,” he stated. This, Stella knew to be the universal truth among men, except Richard. She closed her eyes and willed herself to think of Eddie, not Richard. The present, not the past.

“They sold bottles of the special brew they developed for the dwarves in ‘The Hobbit,” she said. “It had about 2% alcohol, so the actors could appear tipsy without actually being drunk. It had a cool name, I just can’t recall it right now.”  She suddenly remembered that Eddie was in another tourist spot, and asked, “Hey, how are those hot springs you were raving about? Are they as good as you expected?”

“It’s very hot in here,” came Eddie’s reply. “This is a geothermal city, with so many things to explore.” He felt like saying that it was better if he was exploring it with someone. So he did. “I wish you were here with me. I could take great shots of you, while you make love to the camera.”

Wait… whut? Did he really just say that out loud?

For an awkward moment he thought he really did it this time, and said the wrong thing without thinking. But she didn’t hang up!

“Stop wishing and just take me with you. Or better yet, come back to Auckland. You staying here in New Zealand for a while or heading off to…?”

Relieved that she let it pass, Eddie volunteered more information. “I could always go back here. I get assigned for work to Auckland every six months. But this is my personal holiday, a great use of my annual leave. How about you?”

“I have an early flight tomorrow back to Sydney.”

Silence. Eddie immediately calculated that he could not book a flight and be with her the next morning, and he did not own a plane. His mind raced, not knowing what to say.

“But I’m thinking of extending my trip here in Auckland,” she added.

Relief! Oh, there must be a God. Although he had not prayed yet, that was exactly what he would have asked for.

“Wait for me. I’ll cut this trip short. Will you? Please?”

“I’ll have to check with the hotel and rebook my flight…”

“I have a huge room at the Hilton. You’re more than welcome to stay,” he blurted out. “I have two giant beds and a beautiful view,” he explained.

“You’re staying at the Hilton? Wow!”  Stella reacted to what she could react to, and wondered if she should take the offer. She was on a student’s budget, really. But she did not know this guy. She had yet to Google him. His hotel, however, she was familiar with. She had wanted to stay there but it was too expensive, as it offered great ocean views and was minutes away from the newly-developed Viaduct Harbour.

“I used my frequent flyer points. I travel so much for work, there must be some purpose to those miles.”

“Speaking of work,” Stella started the background check, “we haven’t reached that subject at all. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do, Eddie?”

“I’m a software engineer for a Sydney startup tech company, working in the Silicon Valley of Down Under,” he proudly stated. It figured. Stella needed his last name so she could look him up on LinkedIn. She still had not revisited the subject of his age, which she suspected was far below her minimum. Yes, she only dated men who were either her age, or within three years older or younger than her.

“How about you, Stella? Any preoccupation aside from coffee and Tolkien?”

“You just about summarized it. I love books. I always have, so I took up Creative Writing at uni. Then I taught English for many years. Coffee helped me stay up to check all those papers.”

Stella had opened her MacBook, and was ready to do her research. She did not have much search words though: Eddie, software engineer, start-up tech company, Silicon Valley of Down Under.  There were 335,000 search results. She needed to narrow it down, if she was to verify the identity of this man she planned to have a holiday romance with. Yes, it was just going to be a fling. She had no patience for younger men in her real life.

“Which university? Maybe I could sit in, if and when you discuss the ‘Lord of the Rings’?” Eddie had his HP Envy on Google as well. Love in the time of search engines was either getting more invasive, or preventive of heartaches. Either way, he wanted to see her digital footprint, if only to get to know her on a faster pace.

“Oh, I taught back in the Philippines. In Australia, I’m just a student at the University of Sydney,” she said.

“I went to the University of Melbourne. And then got my Ph. D. at MIT,” Eddie said casually.

Stella nearly dropped her mobile phone. Ph. D. at MIT? she mouthed to herself in awe. She also mentally gauged that Eddie could be older than he appeared, and this excited her.

“Are you on Facebook?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Twitter? Instagram? LinkedIn? Google Plus?”

“Yes; yes; yes; no, I’m not a Google employee.”

They both laughed at that, and they instantly connected. Literally, for they exchanged user names and added each other as Friend/Follower/Connection.

After being social media stalkers of each other, Stella suddenly said she had to go.

“But we were only starting to get to know each other,” Eddie complained.

“No, silly. I have to put down the phone so I could concentrate on rebooking my flight.”

But Eddie would not let her go. He called up her hotel landline so she did not have to cradle her iPhone while typing on her MacBook. He helped her to rebook her flight online.

“One month?”

“You wish,” she said. “You’d grow tired of me. One week.” When Eddie didn’t reply, Stella checked if he was still there. “Hello?”

“Uh, sorry, I was also e-mailing my travel agency, that I’m heading back to Auckland earlier than planned. I want to be there tomorrow when you check out of Mercure.”

“How did you know which hotel I’m staying at?”

“First, you gave me the hotel number, and the receptionist said the name of the hotel before connecting me to the room. Second, and this is the real reason – I remembered clearly when I first saw you stepping out of your hotel lobby and into the van this morning. You were a vision in silver-grey.”

“I was not aiming for the Gandalf the Grey look with my winter coat. More of Galadriel.”

“The effect was indeed stunning. You were a black-haired, hobbit-sized, grey-cloaked Lady Galadriel.”

“Sobering thought,” Stella said sleepily. Eddie asked, “Did I just bore you?”

“That’s the name of the special brew being sold at the souvenir shop at The Shire. SobeRing Thought.”

“And did you bring back a bottle?” he teased her.

“Are you kidding? What is the point of 2% alcohol? I prefer mine a little stronger, thanks.”

“You are my kind of girl, you know that?”

“That remains to be seen.”  Stella yawned. She did not realize it, but it was almost four a.m. “I really must get some sleep now,” she almost whispered.

“All right, sleep tight, Lady Stella. I will see you later, as soon as I can find a car that would take me back to you.”

“Good night, Eddie of Hobbiton.”

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— To be continued —

Stella’s Story (The Lord of the Geeks Part II)


Hey, have you read part 1? Please read that, and the rest of this updated story, using the tab for The Lord of the Geeks above. Thanks! – E.

Back in Auckland, Stella regretted not taking the whole tour package that the travel website offered. Had she done so, she would have been immersed in a hot spring with Greek god-lookalike Eddie that night, instead of dining in the hotel’s only restaurant alone. The thought depressed her so she ordered room service, but added a glass of Riesling to continue her exploration of the New Zealand white wines.

It was raining and her room overlooked a park, so she sat by the window, listened to Chopin’s “Raindrop” prelude, and watched the autumn leaves and park benches being drenched, all from the comfort of her warm chair. Her mobile phone suddenly rang, and she wondered whether Eddie had telephatically gotten her number. But she saw that it was Richard calling. Her heart jumped and she grabbed the phone.

“I’m still not talking to you,” she said, in a voice that did not sound convincing.

“Stella, my lovely, how was your tour? Did you get to brush Legolas’ hair?”

“I was in Bag End, you silly, ignorant brute. Legolas is an elf not a hobbit. Call me when you have your Middle Earth facts straightened out.”

“Oh goddess of perfection, what will the world do without all the knowledge that you store in your pretty little head? My world is falling apart. I need you back. I need you to help me figure out the cable and TV remote controls.”

“I’m thinking of extending my trip here, Rich.”

“What do you mean, extend? Impossible. Stella, we both know you can’t live without me a day more than necessary.”

But you can. Live without me. Stella did not say that out loud, but felt increasingly convinced that she needed this time apart from him.

“I want to explore the city more. And I heard the University of Auckland has a campus with heritage buildings and they are within walking distance from my hotel.”

“Do I hear Chopin in the background? Are you writing again? Please tell me you’re writing; only then will I allow you to extend.”

Stella wanted to slap him for his petulance. “Why, I do believe I don’t need your permission.” After a slight hesitation, she added, “And I don’t need to be around while you throw yourself at that new Boy Wonder you just met.”

Richard heard the genuine hurt in Stella’s voice and stopped being playful, for her sake. They were still both getting used to the truth being out there between them, that the reason why they could not be together, even after years of flirtatious friendship and deep conversations, was that Richard wanted to date other men. He had just admitted this to her, one night, to end all the questions. Moving to Australia had allowed him the freedom to be himself. Stella had followed him using a student visa, and left everything behind in Manila. He knew he should have told her earlier, but he still had not figured out himself at the time.

“Ok, Stell. Tell me about your big day at the movie set. I bet your tiny frame fit right into that hobbit-hole.”

“The interiors were shot in Wellington.” Stella could sense the sudden change of topic and took a sip of her white wine to calm herself. “I entered the biggest hole, and there was nothing inside but sawdust. I met someone, though.”

“You mean the movie sets were elaborate on the outside but empty inside? Wait…. What? Met someone? Did Stella meet a hobbit?”

Stella smiled at the thought of a hobbit-sized Eddie. “No, this time I made sure it is a Man,” she couldn’t resist the emphasis. “Not an elf. Not a hobbit. A real man.”

Her friends back home had warned her not to throw her life away to follow Richard, but she was a hopeless case. He had the voice and he played the guitar so well and for a time after he left the Philippines, there was no music in her life. They dated for seven months but he never seemed to be able to commit to her. She thought he was just being the typical musician – impossible to have. So she reincarnated herself to the next best thing, and became his best friend. That way, she became indispensable to him.

She ignored all the signs. How his toiletries were color-coded. How he knew all the Carpenters songs – she even found this cute. How he was the neatest, cleanest, male on the planet. How his kisses were restrained, by the book. How he did not mind going shopping with her, and holding her bag for her.

This went on for nearly two decades. Stella had had other boyfriends, but always ran back to Richard for companionship, endless hand-holding, and romantic comedy movie marathons.

And then he told her he was moving to Australia. She thought she could manage, and it was time to move on. She grew miserable and depressed and wanted to hurt herself after he was gone, so she decided to follow her heart and go to him. She did not even tell him beforehand. She just showed up at his doorstep in Coogee one day, making sure he was home and not in rehearsal by constant email and Viber messages.

Their first few days were bliss. They took long walks on the beach. Stella moved in with Richard, and the world was right again. She cooked for him, did his laundry, and cleaned his apartment, while he paid the bills. They were practically married, she thought. But they still slept in separate rooms. This should have been the biggest warning bell inside Stella’s head, but she still thought he was just being a gentleman.

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“So this man, is he sitting with you in your hotel room right now and did I interrupt something?” Richard’s voice brought Stella back to the present.

Stella was tempted to lie, but Richard would hear it in her voice so she simply said, “No, as my luck would have it, he probably is flirting with another gorgeous Asian in Rotorua.”

“I love the confidence, darling. You seem to enjoy being the gorgeous Asian girl in these Western countries a lot! Now go get yourself to Roto- wherever that is. I have to go, band’s first set is almost starting. I will sing Buble’s ‘Everything’ and dedicate it for you in my heart.”

Stella said goodbye to Richard and did not bother to explain that Rotorua was several hours, and hundreds of dollars, away. Everything was the song Richard had dedicated to her the night he told her of his real preferences. He said she deserved a man who would make her his everything, but he was not that man. Stella wanted to catch a plane back to Manila the very next morning, but she had to finish her Masters of Creative Writing course at the University of Sydney.

Needless to say, the heartbreak Richard caused her made for pretty interesting and distinguished writing, and her professors were impressed. She was going home in a few months, and the Auckland trip was supposed to be their final one together, but he cancelled on her. She knew the band was just an excuse. It was a particular band member, the well-toned drummer, that was the focus of Richard’s undivided attention, she was sure.

She knew she needed to concretize the act of moving on. She checked her watch – it was close to 9 p.m. If Eddie was being a good boy and thinking of her instead of making out with another tourist at that moment, she could risk ringing him. She found the brochure he had given her and dialled his number. She did this and then remembered that: a) he didn’t know her number, and might screen the call; and b) he didn’t know her name. She immediately cancelled the call, but not before it got connected and Eddie’s phone started ringing. Stella disconnected.

Eddie rang back. Stella made a quick comparison of the number flashing on her iPhone and the handwritten figures. He likes me and was waiting for this, she quickly thought.

“Stella here,” she said. “Umm, hi. Stella. What a wonderful name. I got a call from this number and am just returning it. Are you who I hope you are? Stella the caffeine addict? This is Eddie, the guy from the Hobbiton tour. You know, the one who could not get over how gorgeous you looked as you were frowning at him before sunrise this morning?” Eddie spoke quickly with an accent she could not quite place, and she had to concentrate to understand what he was saying. She usually compensated her ignorance of the Aussie accent by lip-reading, but there was no such help available for phone conversations.

Stella could tell this conversation was going in the right direction. Any man who found her gorgeous at 5 a.m., aside from needing an eye checkup, is a keeper in her books.

–To be Continued —

The Lord of the Geeks (A Short Story) Part I


This is the first of a series. Read the updated story using the tab for The Lord of the Geeks above. Thanks! – E.

 

Stella was nursing a bad hangover, was in dire need of decent coffee, and was annoyed that the tour bus that would take her to the Hobbiton Movie Set had picked her up from her hotel at the unholy hour of 5 a.m., so she was not in the best of moods when she first heard Eddie’s voice.

She wanted to strangle whoever it was that was eagerly explaining Frodo Baggins’ lineage to an elderly lady in the tour, who, with her questions, had obviously never read The Hobbit, and, Stella sleepily presumed, not even one of the books from J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. Her best friend Richard had warned her that the tour attracted Geekdom’s finest, and he was right. As usual. She just wished he was with her on the tour to make the long trip more bearable, but he had to work that day.

Noticing her slight movement, The Geek, as Stella’s brain labelled the guy she was later to know was named Eddie, looked at her and smiled. What was he smiling about? The sun had not even risen yet! Stella thought.  “Did I wake you?” he said. Responding to the obvious was not one of Stella’s best traits, so she simply said, “I wasn’t asleep,” before switching on her iPod and plugging the noise-cancelling earphones extra tightly.

It was winter in Auckland and she was freezing. She flew in from Sydney the night before and was supposed to be on the tour with Richard, until a last-minute change in his gig schedule forced him to stay behind. Richard was the lead singer/guitarist of a band that had started in Melbourne and was making it big in Sydney. He was guilty as he drove her to the airport. Upset at being alone, she skipped dinner and helped herself to the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc she had bought from the Duty Free shop. Hence, the headache that morning.

Stella was awakened when the bus stopped. The tour guide used the microphone to announce that they could buy coffee or any breakfast item at 10% off. Stella could not be bothered to look for the discount coupon in her bag. She got off the bus and looked for the coffee shop, but all she could see was a souvenir store. “It’s at the back,” The Geek said, pointing to the arrow that led to the coffee. “Or we could follow our noses to that heavenly scent,” he added. Stella barely nodded at him as she was busy bundling up. Coming from a tropical country, she still was not used to the many layers of clothing she had to wear to protect herself from the cold.

When she finally got her soy cappuccino, she could not find an empty seat in the tiny cafe. Until, of course, The Geek stood up and gave her his seat. Stella had to say “Thank you” and sit next to the Tolkien-ignorant lady. She needed that second cup of coffee to be a human being that morning. The first cup in the hotel was just instant coffee; hence, dirty water as far as she was concerned.

The lady was staring at her. She had eyes the color of aquamarine, if there was such a color. She told her, “The young gentleman seems to fancy you,” and winked. Stella blushed despite herself, for The Geek was within hearing distance, she was sure. She had given him the once-over earlier and was convinced that emphasis was on the “young.” She did not want to waste anyone’s time. Being Asian, she was far older than she looked. People still mistook her as a university student back in Sydney, but she was already in her late 30s. This geek definitely had the early 20s look. It was the long, unkempt hair. And his cap that was certainly creating hat hair and should not be removed the entire day, in Stella’s opinion.

Finally, they were back in the bus. Everyone was awake and the tour guide started telling them about Auckland, its population, its main sources of income, and how director Peter Jackson had asked the now-famous farmer in Matamata, New Zealand if he could build a movie set in that farm. Stella had already read the website and the brochure, as well as googled all the information she could find about the location of The Shire scenes in both LOTR and The Hobbit, that she just preferred to look out the bus window and admire the scenery.

She only thought of New Zealand in association with two things before watching the Peter Jackson film adaptations: sheep and butter. She grew up in Manila with her mother’s favourite, Queensland butter by the New Zealand Creamery, Inc. And everyone knew there were more sheep than people in New Zealand. That was the extent of her knowledge about that country. Hence, she was excited to see the lush green grass and the sheep! She tried taking shots from the bus window but she could not focus in a moving vehicle and while rain was pouring outside.

The ground was very muddy and slippery, and they were given bright yellow tour umbrellas just in case it started raining again, but the sight of the colourful hobbit-holes greatly improved Stella’s mood. As she was holding her camera, and the umbrella, however, she lost her balance and almost slipped. A firm hand caught her elbow and prevented her from sliding on the grass in front of not just their tour group but several other tour groups who had converged at the first hobbit-hole. She looked up to see… The Geek. She had to smile widely and thank him audibly that time.

Ostensibly to prevent her from slipping, The Geek accompanied her throughout the tour. They exchanged cameras, which one only does with strangers when on tour in some faraway country, and took turns documenting the land of the hobbits for their respective friends and family back home. He knew how to maximize each shot, and even taught her how to take good selfies.  He was rich enough to have data roaming and Instagrammed one shot, which she took of him in front of the bench where Bilbo had shared smoke rings with Gandalf. He pretended to make smoke rings. She quickly took the shot before the tour guide could remind them that they were not supposed to sit on to the bench. They were the last to finish all the hobbit-holes, but they did not mind.

The tour ended at the Green Dragon pub, where they had a choice between beer and ale. Stella sat while The Geek got the drinks.  She admired the attention to detail in the pub’s interiors. She could imagine Strider/Aragorn sitting with his cloak hiding his face. When The Geek returned with their drinks, Aquamarine Lady passed by and offered to take a picture of them together. So they gave her their DSLRs and their smartphones, hoping she knew what she was doing. The shots were not bad at all, according to The Geek. Stella realized then that she still did not know his name, nor did he know hers. She thought she’d ask over lunch, as that was the next part of the tour.

But she was wrong. Their bus driver appeared out of nowhere and announced that those who had taken the Rotorua package had to leave immediately, and the rest could go to The Shire Café for their buffet lunch. The Geek smiled at Stella and said, “That’s me. I’m visiting those famous hot springs! I had a great time playing hobbit with you,” he said, “after you’ve downed your extra strong cappuccino.”

“Rotorua?” Stella managed to ask, stunned that he was leaving, and only starting to notice that he had the face of a Greek god. And that he had forgotten to shave that morning, and he had green eyes. How could she notice these details now that he was leaving?

“Yes, if you want, check out this brochure,” he said, and with a killer smile and a wave, he was gone.

Stella was so disappointed that he did not even ask her for her number. She got lost and was the last to join the group at The Shire Café. She made small talk with the group of Americans who were complaining about the lack of good quality merchandise options in the souvenir shop. Then she tuned out and looked at the brochure The Geek had given her.

She noticed at the back, written in heavy black ink, “EDDIE. Call me,” followed by a mobile number.

Stella smiled, and when she looked up, she saw someone smiling back at her. It was the Aquamarine Lady, who had another wink especially for her.

–To Be Continued–Image

Disparity


Disparity

There is a huge imbalance between our time together

And the depth of my reaction;

It surprised me.

 

There is a massive disproportion between my letter

And your reply.

It hurt me.

 

There is a great inconsistency between your words

And your actions-

It confused me.

 

There is a mammoth mistake that I owned

And you did not,

It left me cold.

 

There is a mountain of truths I must climb

And you refuse to-

It seems unfair.

 

There is a terrifying distance

Between you and me.

It emptied me.

 

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Carpe Diem!


I’m back. I was just here, reading.

I recently devoured Happier at Home by Gretchen Rubin, Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, Perks of Being a Wallflower (in one sitting) by Stephen Chbosky, and I’m sure dozens of other books that I cannot recall at the moment.

I have been writing, for work.  I have been dreaming.  I have been planning.  I didn’t realize it’s been three months since my last post.

I must not slack off that long anymore.  I promise to blog more often. (A promise I tend not to keep, unfortunately.)

There are worlds within me. Words. Innumerable ideas and stories and fantasies.  I know I am meant to write them.

I will just finish this Christmas season.  There is much shopping, wrapping, and partying to be done.  My family is having its much-awaited reunion by yearend for two weeks. Then  I’m going to Disneyland with my niece! Exciting times lie ahead.

Change is in the air.  But I want to do old things, too. I need to meet the Jane Austen Book Club again, and to hold another garage sale.

It has been my experience in life that time and money are inversely proportional. What joy it would be if I were to have them both at the same time.  Like love and career.  Ice cream and cake. Bacon and cheese. Coffee and tea.

It is time to be myself again.

Aside

Smooth Talker


Smooth Talker

There and not there
In the space where I thought I had met you,
I have found a pebble.
All my love reduced to a pebble.
Unlike some people, I refuse to talk to a pebble.

Sometimes I see shadows moving,
hear voices whispering,
and think, My rescuers have come.
With tools and spectacles, they study the pebble,
which I insist is not mine, and they leave.

I have memories in chaos.
Words, songs, scenes, moments:
All mishandled; best forgotten.
I look for recognition, and ask
If you have left the key with me.

You made me see beyond this space and time,
Challenged me to reach,
Encouraged me to leap,
And left me in the air.
I should not be so surprised.

With teetering faith and questions upon questions,
I walk back and forth.
Your pebble is a smooth pendant I hang on my neck,
A rock weighing me down,
The universe outside of me.

I am at once a feeling being,
Exposed for the world to see,
And I am free.
What can a pebble do to me?
Nothing.

— Ella,  July 29, 2009

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