twenty seconds.

Sunset in Idyllwild.

There's something I've been wanting to do.  For a long, long time. 

And you know what?  I'm finally doing it. 

I got my twenty seconds of insane courage.  :)


p.s. This is to my childhood best friend "Jude."  He's the Charlie and Sam of my life.  (Clue: Read Perks of Being a Wallflower.) 

He used to always sing this song to me:

Thank you, Jude.  I'll love you always.  - Your twin from another star, your eternal soul mate.

a look back: crossroads

I'm sitting here trying to write a query/pitch letter for my book as an assignment for class.  But I feel stuck.  I don't know what to write.  So, I started browsing through old blog posts, and I came across this post I wrote on August 22, 2010 - almost two years ago.  I think it's poignant for what I've been going through lately, so, I thought I'd re-post it.  Birthdays have a way of making me nostalgic, and sometimes, question the decisions I've made.  But, reading this, I realized, that the choices we make shouldn't confine us.  They don't confine us.  Because we are always at a crossroads.  We will always be faced with choices, where we have to make a decision - one or the other.  Or maybe later.  But, that's the exciting thing about life, I think.  We don't really know what is behind Door A or Door B, until we go through one.  Or the other.

crossroads

The other day, my friend asked me if I regret going to law school. She asked if I could go back in time, would I do it all over again?

We were talking about writing at that time. She is one of the few people in my life with whom I share my passion for writing.

So, I told her the truth. Yes. I would. I would still go to law school. Even knowing how difficult law school was (is), and how that first year was miserable, I would still do it all over again.

Because the thing is, even though I constantly write (here) about how I just want to be a writer, well, I also wanted to be a lawyer. And glad that I am.

Ten years ago, I made the decision to go to law school. But it was not a decision I made hastily. I really thought about it. A lot. I took two years off after college to think about it. And by thinking about it, I did the two things I loved. I worked in a law office doing the only area of law I really wanted to practice. And I wrote. I took screenwriting classes, worked as a reader for a producer, and I wrote. At the end of the two years, I chose law school.

I shared with my friend how the summer before I started school, the producer I was working for told me that he set up a meeting with someone (another producer) who was interested in hearing about the screenplay I was writing. Talk about decisions. Opportunities. Crossroads. But well, being 25 and a little immature for my age (not to mention intimidated and scared), I made the decision not to go. I didn't even finish the screenplay. And for a long time after I wondered what would have happened if this producer had read my screenplay, liked it, and made something (ah, a movie) out of it. Would I have still gone to law school?

And the answer I always came up with was yes.* Because I love the practice of law. Although my grandma often tells me how she doesn't like the profession I chose (because of course, I don't get to spend as much time with her as I would like, as well), I love what I do. I believe in what I do. Yes, I work a lot. Do I feel that I oftentimes miss out on parties and dinners and special occasions? Of course. Do I feel bad? Absolutely. But I also know that a part of life is taking responsibility for our choices. Being an attorney is taking responsibility for my cases - my clients. And if that means having to work even when I'd rather be doing anything other than that, I have to. (And who is to say that I would not be as busy if I chose a career in writing?)

Life is a constant decision. Some decisions are small. Some big. Some life-changing. I think back at my 25 year old self, and although I still think I was quite immature for my age, I also think that even in my immature state, I knew that just because I chose one (law school) did (does) not mean I can't one day pursue the other (writing). Maybe a meeting with a producer would not come as easily now as it did then. But again, who knows? Maybe a better opportunity awaits me later. Whatever my reasons, I just knew that I needed to be a lawyer first. That going to law school and being a lawyer was something I needed to do. Then. And now. So, I don't regret my decision. Not at all.

*So, I know that the decision not to meet with the producer was more because I just wasn't ready to be a writer then. But I think I am now.

Follow Your Passion

I wasn't going to take another writing class until Fall because I wanted to give myself a break, i.e. focus on work.  Then, during Sunday's service about facing the future, about putting things off for a tomorrow that might not be there, I decided, I've put off my writing long enough.  I've ran out of excuses why I shouldn't just do it. 

So, there I was, in class, late last night, tired from a long, eventful weekend and a long Monday at the office.  I know that the reason I didn't want to take another class for awhile was because I was afraid of exhausting myself, spreading myself too thin, and failing.  At everything.  Because I've spread myself too thin.

But, then I remembered, I've done worst than this.  Worked two or three jobs at a time while carrying a full load at school.  Writing poems and short stories at 3 a.m. while I had to be at work four hours later.  Working eight hours a day, then going to class, only to return to work for another couple of hours.  I know I wasn't an attorney then.  I have more responsibilities now and much more at stake.  But again, I also have years of maturity and wisdom that I didn't have at 21.   

The thing is, I told my best friend yesterday during the drive to class, I've put off a lot of things.  Waiting for a certain life that just didn't or hasn't happened.  And there's nothing I can do about that or the time I wasted waiting.  But, I can do something about this.  Right now.  And I just don't want to put it off anymore.  I love to write.  I love to create with words.  I love seeing a story evolve on paper.  I love taking something as simple as a coffee mug and creating a story about it.  I love being able to describe the wrinkles on my character's dress and how it got there.  I love that I can find a story in everything.   

I love art.  It's what fuels the fire inside of me.  And honestly, for a long time, that fire was dead.  I felt dead.  But now, since I started taking these writing classes, being around writers, and just the mere fact that I'm writing, I feel alive again.  Back in my skin.

But I also understand where my dear loved ones are coming from.  They worry that something else has occupied my time.  For years, they competed with law school and then, my job.  And the fact that I'm super-busy also means less of a social life.  Thus, they really worry.  But, I repeated the pastor's sermon: Don't be anxious for nothing.  Don't be anxious about tomorrow.

And, in my own words, I reassured them, I shall not be idle.  And as absurd as this may sound, God has always told me, I'm going to marry an artist.

photo via

Writing. And life.

Replica of how I look most nights and mornings these last couple of weeks.
Minus the fancy wardrobe and decor, of course.  And the beautiful curls.
 

Last night was the last day of my writing class series.  And before we all parted, we read this quote by Anne Lamott:

"E.L. Doctorow once said that 'Writing a novel is like driving a car at night.  You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.'  You don't have to see where you're going, you don't have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way.  You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you.  This is right up there with the best advice on writing, or life, I have heard." (Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life)

This morning, as I carried my multiple book bags (one filled with client files and the other with notebooks filled with drafts of my story), down the stairs of my apartment, this feeling came over me - I have no idea what tomorrow or the next day or the next week or the next year will bring.  I can fall flat on my face.  Completely fail.  Have people hate my work.  Never get anything published.  I can try and fail.  And feel horrible.  And rejected.  Or I can not try at all so that I never have to feel that sense of rejection and failure.  But, I want to keep trying.  I want to keep writing.  I want to keep doing this.  Right now, I'm just loving this process.  Of writing again.  Of being immersed in this world of writers.  And right now, I'm just going to embrace that as much as I can. 

I'm leaving it up to God to take care of tomorrow. 

photo via Everything Lovely

(disclaimer: Not a picture of me.  But I wished I looked that lovely while I'm in the midst of work.)

in need of rest.

I hate to admit this because the proud and stubborn part of me wants to believe that I'm superwoman.  But I'm not.  What I am is tired.  Actually, I think there's another word for it - fatigued.  I'm fatigued. 

I feel weak.  I don't even have the energy to make my morning smoothie.  Sometimes, I feel too exhausted to think.  To breathe.  I don't even want to write.  Writing this is just my attempt to get this off my chest, and to put it in writing: I'm taking a break.  Well, I'm slowly taking a break because, unfortunately, I'm not in any position to just take off (deadlines, deadlines, deadlines) - but, I promised to slow down.  Because, lately, it's been exhausting to even walk up my staircase.  The thought of working out or running makes me want to collapse.  So, I'm going to slow down, and then, take off.  Sleep on a hammock by the lake.  Sleep on a sandy beach.  Sleep on a rooftop garden.  I just want to sleep until I regain my strength. 

I shall go to bed now.

But geez, "Gaslight" just came on.  And I've been wanting to watch this old Ingrid Bergman classic.

But, I should really go to sleep.

Good night.

Sunday wish list: 

via

I've always wanted to live in house that had a porch that went around it.  I want to sit on that bench,
with a blanket over my knees, and a book in my hands. 

via

Now, there's my hammock.  Waiting for me.  Calling me.

Okay, I'm going to bed.  And dream of my hammock.  The "Gaslight" can wait for another day.  I guess, that's what DVDs are for.  :)

looking back, finding the answers, and moving on

I've been working on the story.  Y'know, the one I've been "struggling" with the last couple of years.  Anyhow, in my research through drafts of things I've written as part of this story or in relation to the story, I came across these two pieces that I had forgotten about.  But, I believe I was meant to find them today.  Because, like I said, I had forgotten.  And thus, lately, I have been struggling.  But, in reading these, I was reminded.  And I found my answers.  Here they are:

Love The Place You're In
One of my favorite lines from a poem was written by Lynda Hull in "Magical Thinking."  She wrote, "It is common human longing to want utterly to vanish from one life and arrive transformed in another."  I think I was five when I first wished my life to freeze at a certain moment, and everything that occurred thereafter was just a long dream.  The moment was the day before my dog, Sugar, died.  We were playing in front of my grandfather's house - I was the circus master, and Sugar was the acrobatic dog that could walk on a big red ball across the driveway to the yard.  Everyday, for years, after she died, I wished and prayed that her death was just a horrible nightmare.  Perhaps it was then I learned to live my life in memories of the "good ol' days," or in dreaming about an unknown future.  Somehow, this habit of mine kept me from living in the present, and I went through the next twenty-nine years always wanting to live in some other time or some other place.

But, of course, each time I woke up, I was still right where I was when I went to bed.  In Los Angeles.  The city I hated and loved.  The city I had always wanted to leave, and somehow, could never turn my back on.  I realized that each time the city loosened its grip, I would push my way back in and hold on tighter than ever.  I couldn't walk away.  I couldn't let go.

I just came back from vacationing in Europe, where I traveled through Spain, France, and Italy.  While there, I tried to imagine how my life would have been if I had studied abroad during my last year at USC.  I still clearly remember the day I decided not to go to Spain for the Study Abroad Program.  For hours, I sat near the fountain facing Tommy Trojan, rationalizing in my head that it was the right decision because financially, I just couldn't afford it.  Truth: I didn't want to leave my at-that-time-boyfriend.  But when he started becoming mean, and things didn't work out, I resented him for the decision I made.  And when I met J, I regretted my decision even more, and my resentment grew stronger.  I wondered whether I would have met J had I gone, and maybe, things would have been different.  Somehow, it seemed that J and I had so many missed encounters - two wandering souls meant to find each other but never doing so, until that moment in the library.

But during my trip, as I walked through the streets of Sevilla, I realized that J and I weren't meant to meet then, and we are not meant to have a "now" much more a future.  We were just a moment in time, which is now only a memory.  When that realization came, I no longer wished to be at another place or time.  I no longer yearned for the past that held him.  And my need to run away seemed to have disappeared leaving an unfamiliar, but reassuring, sense of stability.  It was, then, I knew I loved the place I was in - on that street corner facing Universidad de Sevilla, the fact that I was there on vacation, and the fact that after two weeks, I would be going home ... to the City of Angels. 

I thought, sometimes, you just have to stand still on a street corner in a foreign city, and let the life you could have lived run through you.  Then, open your eyes to the life you are living, to the moment you're in on that same street corner, where each block in all four directions are just as unfamiliar.  I decided I wasn't going to let the moment pass me by again.  I only have this life to live.  I may only have this moment to see what's in that next corner because who knows what the next moment will bring.  The possibilities are endless, which adds to the beauty of it all.


Message from Barcelona, May 18, 2008
I probably should be doing something else rather than spending time in an Internet cafe, but it's raining outside and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to email my parents.  Also, I figured this is where "Maya and Dante"* started, so perhaps, this is where it should end.

During my flight to Madrid, where I spent my first three nights in Spain, I anticipated feeling nostalgic, and I feared that I was going to be overcome with "missing-J-syndrome."  I guess it was natural to feel such anticipation since I couldn't help but associate Spain (and a Europe trip in that matter) with memories of him, and with feelings of confusion about an unfamiliar future I was afraid to venture into.

But anyhow, this is not supposed to be about J.  Somehow, reminiscing about him, much more writing about memories we shared, always makes me feel that I'm somehow disrespecting his marriage, which I have no intention of doing.  So, this is about letting go.  Thus, that's why I decided to end the "Maya and Dante" blogs.  Without intending the story to unfold the way it did, it somehow just happened that the last post ends with Maya's own closure because through her story, I found my own closure, too.

I realized that I let J go a long time ago, and what I held on to all this time was the friendship we shared, and the comfort he always gave me.  When we've been hurt, it is only a natural tendency to hold on to what comforts us and what makes us feel better.  When we've been bruised too many times, it's only natural to want to keep close what eases our pain.  Thus, I needed to hold on to him to remind me not to gravitate to old habits of bad and unhealthy relationships.  Because it's easy to gravitate to what is familiar.  No matter how bad.  But J pulled me away from all of that, and it is the comfort he offered that I held on to.  I guess, I didn't trust that I could have the strength to pull myself away from another unhealthy relationship.  I guess, I didn't think I'd recognize when something was bad for me until it was too late.  But I realize now, I can do it on my own: walk away from things that are bad.  Without him to catch me when I fell.

So, I arrived in Madrid, and although the place was familiar with thoughts of him, I was different.  I didn't miss him.  I didn't feel lost and confused.  I don't know how I got to this state of just knowing, and no longer questioning.  But, somehow, I did.  And that, I know I did on my own.

For a long time, I wondered when J turned from the good-looking stranger I had a huge crush on to the friend who caused the end of life as I knew it.  But now, the answer to that doesn't matter so much.  All I need to know is that love happened.

... Most of the time, the answers to the questions that haunts us are really inside our hearts, and we'll find the answers if we only have the courage to look inside.  Love happens when we least expect it.  And that's the beauty of it all. 


*Maya and Dante was my original blog.  It's the story I've been working on.  A story I really finished four years ago.   

this moment.

when you feel like you can do anything,

when fear finally released its tight grip,

and you know,

because you feel it

so strongly

from deep inside,

that great things are

about to happen,

waiting,

waiting is tough.

i feel great things are about to happen.

dreams will be coming true.

and so, i'm anxious.

for things to just happen.

right now.

then, i remind myself,

don't lose this moment.

this moment is your dream

coming true.

berkeley.

I was in Berkeley this past weekend.  For a conference.  The last time I was here, it was for a high school speech tournament.  I can't believe I haven't returned since then.  Maybe it's because I felt ashamed and undeserving of returning.  You see, I really wanted to go to school here, but I didn't even try.  I was one of those girls who was afraid to leave her boyfriend.  The same boyfriend who cheated on me with a so-called friend right before an important competition.  I competed at Berkeley with a heavy and broken heart.  I didn't win, but I didn't care either.  Actually, I was proud to just be there.  That I was one of the few chosen to compete.  It goes without saying I went back to the cheating boyfriend, and didn't go back to Berkeley, but that's history.    

I can't believe that's what I thought about when I landed at the Oakland airport.  Something that happened years (I don't even want to say how many), years and years ago!

The thing about it though is that while I did remember that unfortunate experience, the memory didn't affect me in any way.  During the first evening of the conference, while I sat in this huge ballroom with rows and rows of chairs filled with attorneys from different backgrounds, ages, and levels of experience, listening to the Chief Justice of the California Supreme Court speak to us, I thought, I made it.

I realized that despite the detours, delays, and some setbacks, I still got to where I wanted to be.  Yes, I went back to the cheating boyfriend, but I did let him go.  Eventually.  And okay, perhaps, I made the same mistake again, afterwards, with another not-so-nice boyfriend.  But the great thing about life is that we can get back on track, and go where we want to be.  It's up to us.  Eventually, I let go of the not-so-nice boyfriend, too.  And I'm where I want to be.     

struggling through the "gap"

I've been writing stories since I learned how to write.  Although, I don't think I've finished a story since I was twelve?  So, I guess, I can't really be considered an experienced writer.  Or even a writer, in that case.   

But, as a lawyer, I write everyday.  People hire me to write motions and appeals.  It's what I do.  And since other attorneys are willing to pay me to write, then, I must not be that bad of a legal writer.

Well, yes, but that's legal writing.  My creative work, on the other hand, is struggling.  Has been struggling for a long while. 

Today, I submitted five-pages of prose (the limit was ten) for the writing retreat.  (Did I mention I'm going on a writing retreat?  If not, well, yes, I am.  So excited!)  The thing is, I had over one hundred pages of materials to choose from, and I couldn't even find ten pages that I felt comfortable submitting.  Thus, I submitted five.  Five pages.  Five pages that took me over two hours to revise.  Edit.  Revise.  Until I had no choice but to turn it in.  As it was.  

I still don't feel good about what I submitted.  

But, I guess, this is what it means to be a writer.  A lot of work.  A lot of bad work.  But keep working nonetheless.  Keep writing.  Don't give up.  Even though the material looks really crappy.  Keep writing.  Finish what you started.  Don't give up.  On the story.  Don't give up.  On the art.  Don't give up.  On. The. Dream.  (Things I must tell myself everyday.)

image via      

life as of late

Busy. 

It's what I do when I'm happy.  It's what I do when I'm sad.  I keep busy.  But lately, I'm just keeping busy because I'm trying to make my dream come true.  And be a writer.  

And in doing that, I'm also busy embracing life.  I went out for a night in the city a couple of nights ago, and I fell in love. 

It's amazing what you discover by just opening your eyes.  When you open your heart. 

Love may just make its way in.   

on making the imagined life real + the songs that transport me

2011 was a great year. 

Then, it wasn't.

November came, and my heart broke to pieces.

But, after two days of crying every five minutes (and thus, having to work with my office door shut because I didn't want everyone to see me in tears), after questioning the things I thought to be real, and after questioning myself and my ability to recognize truth versus my own made-up fantasy of a certain relationship or situation, I woke up. 

And I realized, then, that perhaps, I needed to find myself completely broken (again) to pick up the pieces.  I guess, at that point, I had no other choice but to do that.  I mean, I can wallow, feel sorry for myself, but what good would it do?  So, I vowed to make 2012 the year of doing things. 

This year, I am going to live the life I had imagined.

Make it real.

And to report on my progress, it's been a pretty good start.

* * * 

Now, on a completely different note, it's Thursday.  Time for music of the week.  But this time, I decided to make it about music that transports me in time.  Because songs have a tendency to do that.  They are like time machines.  

Wild Horses by The Sundays

Brings me back to afternoons at my desk, when I was working as a legal assistant,

pre-law school, but just wanting so much to be a writer.  So, during my breaks,

I read screenplays for the producer I worked as a reader for,

and feeling, this is the best job ever!

The Reason by Hoobastank

Sitting in the car with someone I loved so dearly, and just wanting so badly to freeze time,

or fast-forward it to when I was ready to be with him.  Again.  For good.

Don't Know Why by Norah Jones

That year of firsts.  First year in my very own place, when I couldn't afford a

coffee table, and dinner picnics on the living room floor was the best part of my day.

Hands by Jewel

Sitting at the park, up the hill from where I used to live.  And writing.  Searching.

I knew what I wanted, but I didn't quite know that I could have it.
That I could be it.

I know it has taken me a very long time.  Sometimes, it takes me awhile

to realize things, but now, I can see it. 

And I could. 

I will.

deciding, choosing, committing.

I walked outside earlier,

after the rain had stopped,

and I was greeted by the smell

of the nearing winter.

I'm wistful for the year that's almost gone,

but hopeful for the days to come.  

For the new year.

It'll be a different year ~

different in many ways.

Because I finally chose,

and making a decision that can

change the course of my life

has got to be the most exciting thing. 

ever!

Many exciting changes. 

Many exciting things to come.

That's what happens when you finally decide

that your life is yours.

And you can choose to take it

wherever you want.

Live.  It.  The.  Way.  You.  Want.

I know it took me awhile.

To get here.

To decide.

To choose.

But, you see, it's not something I take very lightly.

Once I decide, once I choose,

I commit.

And I'm committing!

(to many changes)

(to dreams long overdue)

{smile}

p.s. i love this song.  :)

Photo via

some kind of mood.

I must be in some kind of mood.  I woke up at 4 a.m. today, and just could not go back to sleep.  I stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling.  At the walls.  At the empty space next to me...

And instead of watching clips of the Anthony trial, I watched clips of Felicity.  Yes, I must be in some kind of mood.

Felicity talked about a secret language between her and Ben.  A language spoken without words.  A language I know pretty well.

I am in some kind of mood.  Because doing the right thing is sometimes the hardest thing to do. 

But sometimes, we just have to let the pieces fall. 

And trust, that they will be put back together the way they are meant to be. 

I finished The Alchemist.  And out of its many lessons and messages, this one is still my favorite:

"What you still need to know is this: before a dream is realized,

the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along

the way.  It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can,

in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we've

learned as we've moved toward that dream.  That's the point

at which most people give up.  It's the point at which, as we say

in the language of the desert, one 'dies of thirst just when the palm

trees have appeared on the horizon.' 

"Every search begins with beginner's luck.  And every search

ends with the victor's being severely tested."  

Yep, that's why I'm in some kind of mood.  

true love.

"You must understand that love never keeps a man from

pursuing his destiny.  If he abandons that pursuit,

it's because it wasn't true love ..."

(The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho)

I do believe in letting go.  My grandma always tells me that if two people are meant to be, they will be.  No matter the distance.  No matter the time.  So, don't be afraid to let go.   

And I've always heeded that.  

But it's definitely hard when we find that it wasn't true love.  That the person we let go never returned, and instead fell into the arms of another.  But again, if that's the case, then it wasn't meant to be.  Right?  

So, I still believe in letting go.  Like what the alchemist told the boy:

"Don't think about what you've left behind."

...

"If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil.

And one can always come back.  If what you had found was

only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you

would find nothing on your return."

The man was speaking the language of alchemy.

But the boy knew that he was referring to Fatima.

(The Alchemist)     

photo: weheartit

believe in possible.

So go out there and get it!

Make it happen.

*image originally uploaded by chelseanico via kindovermatter

Go!

Be brave.

*photo by Katie B.

crossroads.

The other day, my friend asked me if I regret going to law school.  She asked if I could go back in time, would I do it all over again?

We were talking about writing at that time.  She is one of the few people in my life with whom I share my passion for writing.   

So, I told her the truth.  Yes.  I would.  I would still go to law school.  Even knowing how difficult law school was (is), and how that first year was miserable, I would still do it all over again.

Because the thing is, even though I constantly write (here) about how I just want to be a writer, well, I also wanted to be a lawyer.  And glad that I am.  

Ten years ago, I made the decision to go to law school.  But it was not a decision I made hastily.  I really thought about it.  A lot.  I took two years off after college to think about it.  And by thinking about it, I did the two things I loved.  I worked in a law office doing the only area of law I really wanted to practice.  And I wrote.  I took screenwriting classes, worked as a reader for a producer, and I wrote.  At the end of the two years, I chose law school.  

I shared with my friend how the summer before I started school, the producer I was working for told me that he set up a meeting with someone (another producer) who was interested in hearing about the screenplay I was writing.  Talk about decisions.  Opportunities.  Crossroads.  But well, being 25 and a little immature for my age (not to mention intimidated and scared), I made the decision not to go.  I didn't even finish the screenplay.  And for a long time after I wondered what would have happened if this producer had read my screenplay, liked it, and made something (ah, a movie) out of it.  Would I have still gone to law school?  

And the answer I always came up with is yes.*  Because I love the practice of law.  Although my grandma often tells me how she doesn't like the profession I chose (because of course, I don't get to spend as much time with her as I would like, as well), I love what I do.  I believe in what I do.  Yes, I work a lot.  Do I feel that I oftentimes miss out on parties and dinners and special occasions?  Of course.  Do I feel bad?  Absolutely.  But I also know that a part of life is taking responsibility for our choices.  Being an attorney is taking responsibility for my cases - my clients.  And if that means having to work even when I'd rather be doing anything other than that, I have to.  (And who is to say that I would not be as busy if I chose a career in writing?)   

Life is a constant decision.  Some decisions are small.  Some big.  Some life-changing.  I think back at my 25 year old self, and although I still think I was quite immature for my age, I also think that even in my immature state, I knew that just because I chose one (law school) did (does) not mean I can't one day pursue the other (writing).  Maybe a meeting with a producer would not come as easily now as it did then.  But again, who knows?  Maybe a better opportunity awaits me later.  Whatever my reasons, I just knew that I needed to be a lawyer first.  That going to law school and being a lawyer was something I needed to do.  Then.  And now.  So, I don't regret my decision.  Not at all.       

*So, I know that the decision not to meet with the producer was more because I just wasn't ready to be a writer then.  But I think I am now. 

*photo by *nacnud*busy

childhood dreams

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. My third grade teacher introduced me to this great idea of creating fascinating stories. She said that one day, I could write a fascinating story, too. And ever since then, I've been dreaming of being a writer.

Last night, while watching Eat Pray Love, all I could think about was that dream. And I remembered what someone once told me: If you want to write, write. Everyday. Write.

In my last semester of college, my writing professor and advisor told me that I needed to find my voice, and release her. He said that the only person holding me back was me. He told me to let go. To sit in a quiet place, my favorite place, and listen to that voice that's inside of me. And let her out.

Everyday, for a month, after that meeting, I sat in the playground up the street from where I used to live. And I wrote. I wrote so much that month. At the end of the semester, I submitted my final poem for our Advanced Poetry Class. And to my dismay, my writing crush* was assigned to be my critic. I remember how nervous I was during the last day of class when I had to read my poem aloud, and he had to give me a review in front of everyone.

But, to my surprise, he gave me a good review. Actually, he loved my poem. But what I'll never forget was afterwards he stopped me outside of class (he never spoke to me outside of class before ... come to think of it, we only had one other conversation before this), and he told me that finally, I let my voice out. (I didn't even think he thought I had a voice at all.) And he said he never related to a girl the way he related to my narrator. I was in Cloud 9! My writing crush actually loved my poem!

The thing is I don't think I ever read that poem out loud again. I haven't read to a crowd since then. My voice actually went back in hiding. Became lost once again. But last night, I heard her. During the movie. I heard her. In a way I haven't heard her in a long, long time.

I still want to be a writer. And I know the only one stopping me is me. So, I will write. Everyday. I will write. Until that voice, my voice, is free again.


*My writing crush wrote these descriptive, eloquent poems with words I didn't know could sound so beautiful put together. I loved his poetry. I still do. I've kept all of them. I remember always feeling a tad bit jealous that he could express himself the way he did. I remember he was always in class early, with his head down, writing in this little book. Our one conversation was when I asked him about that book, and he let me in on his secret - how he comes up with those beautifully crafted and sensually descriptive poems. But sorry, I can't tell his secret. :)

*photo via wehearit

the message

Last night I had coffee with an old friend who I haven't seen and spoken to in years. She had contacted me a couple of days ago, just out of the blue, asking to have coffee and to let me know she had a dream about me. And all day yesterday, I felt anxious and nervous about seeing her. There was a short moment when I thought, maybe I should cancel because I was really busy and had a lot of work I still needed to do. But I'm glad I didn't. Because I didn't realize how much I missed her until I couldn't wait to see her again.

So, anyhow, as we sat across each other ... and she told me about the dream, I thought, it's amazing how God sends us messengers during times when we don't hear him ourselves. And then, today, I came across this, and I knew I had to share the message.

The day you read this.
*by: iwrotethisforyou

On this day, you read something that moved you and made you realise there were no more fears to fear. No tears to cry. No head to hang in shame. That every time you thought you’d offended someone, it was all just in your head and really, they love you with all their heart and nothing will ever change that. That everyone and everything lives on inside you. That that doesn’t make any of it any less real.

That soft touches will change you and stay with you longer than cold ones.

That being alone means you’re free. That old lovers miss you and new lovers want you and the one you’re with is the one you’re meant to be with. That the tingles running down your arms are angel feathers and they whisper in your ear, constantly, if you choose to hear them. That everything you want to happen, will happen, if you decide you want it enough. That every time you think a sad thought, you can think a happy one instead.

That you control that completely.

That the people who make you laugh are more beautiful than beautiful people. That you laugh more than you cry. That crying is good for you. That the people you hate wish you would stop and you do too.

That your friends are reflections of the best parts of you. That you are more than the sum total of the things you know and how you react to them. That dancing is sometimes more important than listening to the music.

That the most embarrassing, awkward moments of your life are only remembered by you and no one else. That no one judges you when you walk into a room and all they really want to know, is if you’re judging them. That what you make and what you do with your time is more important than you’ll ever fathom and should be treated as such. That the difference between a job and art is passion. That neither defines who you are. That talking to strangers is how you make friends.

That bad days end but a smile can go around the world. That life contradicts itself, constantly. That’s why it’s worth living.

That the difference between pain and love is time. That love is only as real as you want it to be. That if you feel good, you look good but it doesn’t always work the other way around.

That the sun will rise each day and it’s up to you each day if you match it. That nothing matters up until this point. That what you decide now, in this moment, will change the future. Forever. That rain is beautiful.

And so are you.

*iwrotethisforyou is a beautiful blog. Genuine. Heartfelt. You should read it some time. :)

Dreams deferred

When I decided to go to law school and become an attorney, I promised myself that no matter what, I will always write. And well, as an attorney, I do write a lot. But when I made myself that promise, I didn't mean briefs and motions. I meant I was going to continue to write poems and short stories and one day, a book or two. That was my dream. It still is.

But the practice of law is a full-time job times ten. At the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is write. I just don't have the mental energy for it. Reading a couple of pages from a book is even a struggle. But I still haven't given up.

I do believe we can pursue anything we set our mind to. Perhaps it'll take some of us longer than others. Sometimes, we have to put some dreams on hold while we pursue other dreams. But I do believe that as long as we continue to pursue what it is we want, we will eventually get there. Even if it takes writing one word, one sentence, one page a day ... I tell myself, I will get there.

We should not give up on our dreams.

Keep going.

Even if some days feel like a setback, don't be discouraged.

Take it one step at a time.

Believe that you can do it.