my space

The guy who cleaned my carpet said that my place speaks volumes about the person who lives in it, i.e. me: lover of books, photographs, travel and the color red.

I never really gave it much thought about what my place says about me, but this stranger seemed to get it right.

The truth is it took me awhile to settle in here.  It took awhile before I painted the walls and hung pictures and even added furniture.  But, I think that's because when I moved in here, I didn't really know me.  I came from a long relationship, where I had lost myself, to here.  So, when I first moved into this place (my first place on my own), I didn't know what kind of art I liked or whether I preferred dark wood to cherry wood to oak wood. I couldn't even figure out what to have for dinner much more figure out what kind of bed sheets should go on my bed.  I know it sounds pathetic, but those were sad and unfortunate times.  That part of history I'd prefer to forget but was necessary in the growing process.

And well, over time, I started finding pieces of me.  As I did, furniture began to fill the space, and the walls began to blossom with color and art, creating a collage of my journey.  I guess what the carpet cleaner guy saw was finally a complete space, a finally complete me.  

my vision board/zen area.

i love black and whites with a splash of yellow.

my summer writing nights.

calm.

Does your place say something about you?  If so, what does it say?

green smoothies, writing and some personal time (-off)

This morning I woke up tired exhausted.  And since I've been falling asleep much earlier than my usual bedtime (I actually passed out on the couch the other night), I knew that something was off.  So, I made the decision to take a personal day (one of the perks of working on my own), and forced myself out of bed.  Then, I dragged my feet to the kitchen, and made myself a green smoothie.

In the last year, the green smoothie has been the best armor in my times of need.  Or those times I just needed a pick-me-up.  Or just whenever.

I remember reading about it from different blogs, but decided to finally try it out after watching a documentary on Kris Carr almost a year ago.  After that, I went to the market, bought a bag of spinach, bananas, blueberries and flax seed.  Every day for four months, I made myself a green smoothie for breakfast.  And it changed my life.  I didn't get any asthma attacks during the winter season and I actually stopped drinking coffee.  Now the latter was not even a conscious decision I made.  Weeks after drinking the green smoothie every day, I realized I had not had a cup of coffee.  And my body didn't crave for it.  I actually had energy.  And my eating habits changed.  I seemed to eat a lot more but my body was pickier about what I ate - I craved for veggies and fruits and more veggies.  I felt like a changed woman.

But, after four months of daily commitment to the green smoothie, I began to stray.  Or just got lazy.  So, I'd have it a couple of times a week rather than everyday.  And lately, I've been having it only once a week, if that.  So, when I felt exhausted this morning, I knew my body needed the green smoothie.  And I was right.  I feel much better.  

Anyhow, just in case you're interested, here's the green smoothie recipe (and I'm not a health expert by any means, but not only did the green smoothie give me energy and immunized me from any asthma related symptoms last winter, but also improved the texture of my skin and my uncle keeps telling me that it has brightened my eyes, which makes me look much younger than I already do):

2 cups (or handful) of spinach (sometimes, I use kale to mix it up)
1 banana (can also add blueberries, mangoes, pineapple, or whatever fruit you want to add)
1 tablespoon of flax seed
1 cup of water (or milk, soy, or Almond)
ice  

... and just blend away.

Okay, I know it doesn't look as good, but it really is delish and refreshing!

And because the title of this blog calls for it: I've been writing a lot more this week.  On Sunday, I had a writing class with this amazing author and after speaking to him, I realized that I had become very regimented in my writing - (what can I say, I think it's the lawyer in me).  I mean this author didn't tell me my writing was regimented, but listening to him and the way his mind just created scenes and characters awed me, and I thought, I think I used to be able to do that.  So, when I got home, I pulled out all of my writing notebooks from college, and read through them.  I was right.  I wasn't as regimented. So, afterwards, I looked around the room, and just started scribbling words that sparked something in me, and then, scenes began to develop, and characters were born.  Before I knew it, I had pages filled of ideas and stories that I wanted to write.  It felt amazing.  My little joys in life.

Here's how my evenings have been looking like lately:

Happy Friday, everyone!

Some things remain the same ...

... like my love for daisies.

I think they're beautiful.

Simple.  Lovely.

Yesterday was awesome!

I felt pampered and spoiled.

Relaxed.  Very relaxed.

I-just-want-to-nap-kinda-relaxed.

So, when I got home last night,

I decided to turn off my phone,

and just read.

No, I didn't work. 

I read through old emails between my cousin and I.

She lives in a different country, so we write.

A lot.  And so, I read emails from 2006.

I was being nostalgic. 

Like I said, birthdays do that to me.

And wow!  I was surprised how things have changed.

I have changed.  A lot.

I'm happy.

I guess, what hit me most was how my heart wasn't

broken anymore.  As I read words I wrote about

someone I loved and lost, I didn't feel anything.

Not longing, not missing, nothing.

And it wasn't the I-don't-want-to-feel-anything-for-him feeling.

I really felt nothing.  Not a pinch in my heart.

I didn't become overwhelmed with nostalgia about him and us anymore.

There was no reflecting.  Nothing.  The words I read

about love, loss and regrets became just words.

And, I really don't know when all of the feelings stopped.

But they did.

Over dessert, my dear, best friend said to me,

I think all of the broken hearts and disappointments

were meant to prepare you for something greater.

I've seen you love and give it your all.

You will do that again.

And the thing I realized last night,

is that things do change.  We change.

But in the midst of change, some things remain the same.

The people I laughed and cried with five years ago,

ten years ago, even twenty years ago,

are still the same people I laugh and cry with now.

And I know that we'll continue to laugh and cry together

until we can no longer stand straight.

Some things remain the same. 

No matter how life has changed us.

And as much I welcome and embrace change,

I also embrace those things that remain the same.

I also know now, that our ability to love

never dies.  It may go in hiding for awhile.

But it'll always be there.

Because broken hearts have the ability to heal.

Our hearts do get restored.

Put back to pieces.

And we can love again.

Today, I celebrate new beginnings.

And an amazing year ahead.

Photo: Kiwi GaL

bouncing back.

Yummy!  Yummmmmyyy!!!

I know I've been quite a downer lately.  Sorry.  Not only have I been privy to the recent heartaches and disappointments of friends, but I've been going through my own disappointments.  And those heartbreaks can be a bummer.  A mood killer.  Just plain ol' sucky.  What better way to put it?

But I'm bounc-ing back.  Because I know that there's a reason for everything, and really, all things turn out for the best.  I believe that.  And as sucky as I've been feeling lately, there are still many things that make me smile ... like the yummy french toast and berries and bananas.  (Note: I tried to imitate the photo above, and although mine didn't turn out as pretty, it was quite yummy.  I just decided to post its inspiration because, like I said, it looks much more appetizing.)

And this post from positively present really made me smile today because I am one of those people that do believe in the science (or art) of being positive.

I also had a good run.  And a good cry.  But crying is good.  It cleanses the soul.  I also had a good ten minute meditation.  Reminded me to be centered, grounded and present: things happen for a reason.  Even though I don't understand it now.  This is good.   
 
And of course, yummmy, fruity, french toast.  Love it! :)    

So, things are not that bad.  Sometimes, it's just a matter of perspective.  Or sometimes, we do need a little jolt, a little push, to get back on track.  And sometimes, we just need to experience the bad to better appreciate the good. 

photo: Yusri Yusof

learning how to be loved

The last post is an excerpt from a story that I wrote years ago.  I call it my healing process story.  Writing about fictional characters, that I could and could not relate to, helped me through a confusing time in my life.  The reason I shared the excerpt last night is because lately, it's been on my mind how many women (and maybe men, but I speak for women) have experienced sexual assault and never report it.  And that can be the most confusing and loneliest feeling.  It takes a lot of courage to speak up.

Between college and law school, I worked full-time as a legal assistant in a law office that practiced criminal defense.  There was another legal assistant that was working in the same office.  She only worked there for a short while.  But she was a hard worker and very intelligent.  I'd always come to the office extra early, before work hours, so that I can either use the computer to write or study for the LSAT.  And I remember that no matter how early I arrived, she would already be there.  It made me wonder if she ever went home and slept.  She didn't speak much to me.  I thought that she didn't really like me.  I asked her to go out to lunch several times, and she declined each time.  She was more talkative when the attorneys arrived late in the afternoon after court.  They thought she was friendly and charming.  I didn't tell them she was quiet and reclusive for most of the day.

But one Friday afternoon, I finally understood why.  It was after I had returned from my lunch break, and I noticed that one of the attorney's office door was closed.  I went to my desk, and just started working on a case I needed to outline when she came out of the attorney's office crying.  Then she just asked me if I can speak to her in the office.  Since we were the only two people there, I didn't quite understand why she needed me to go inside one of the offices instead of just talking at our desks.  But I didn't question, and just followed her.

When I entered the room, she was already seated on one of the chairs.  She was still crying.  I sat down across from her, and just waited for her to say something.  After a few minutes, she looked up, and started telling me about how she was raped a year before, by someone she knew, at the college they both attended.  She reported it, but no charges were ever filed against him.  So, she dropped out of school, and moved.  And applied for a job at our office.

We worked at a criminal defense firm.

And she was working on a rape case.

We talked for the rest of the afternoon.  (The thing about working at a litigation firm, the attorneys are never around because they are in court all day.)  Most of the time, I just listened to her.  I told her I understood.  I suggested that she ask the attorneys to give her another assignment, and not have her work on the rape case.  I told her she didn't have to tell them why.  And they won't ask.

The following Monday, she came in, early as usual but this time, I was already there.  She was back to her quiet self, and didn't say hello.  She placed a piece of paper on the front reception desk, and walked out.  I never saw her again.  It was a resignation letter.

She didn't explain why she resigned.  She mentioned that something happened on Friday that upset her, and after talking to me, she couldn't come back.  Everyone (jokingly or not) asked what I did to scare her off.  But I couldn't tell them her secret.

The thing is, I really understood her.  And maybe, I should've conveyed that more clearly rather than just appearing to be another sympathetic listener.  But I didn't know at that time whether that would've made any difference.  I understood, however, that she couldn't face me.  Again.  Afterwards.  Because I knew.  And because of that, I guess my one regret is not telling her that I didn't think she was a freak.  Because I really knew how she felt.                 

I still think about her.  Actually, she wrote a card to one of the attorneys a couple of years ago, and I think she ended up going to law school, as well.  She may be an attorney now. 

I really hope she's okay.  And that she has found a way to allow herself to be loved.  Because that's the thing about sexual assault by someone you know, especially someone you trusted, you forget how it is to be loved.  Really loved.  And you forget how it is to love yourself. 

photo via