a look back at 2012

It's been quite a year ... wonderful at its best.  And at its ... sad times.  Because I can't really say this was a bad year.  I was sad for awhile but overall, it was a really, really good year.

I was thinking about what the theme of this year has been, and the image that keeps coming to mind is a big wall that collapses down, thus, I call it the "breakdown of walls".  I've been told many times that I had these big walls around me, and that always made me sad because I didn't mean to put up such big walls that no one can get through.  Anyhow, this year, I really worked on breaking down those walls and learning to trust that I'll be okay without them.

Last night, after the movie, my friend and I had dinner and were reflecting on the past year.  I should say, the last ten years for me.  And she confirmed that I did it.  I broke the walls.  And I'm okay without them.  I'm more than okay.  I'm happy.

Anyhow, I think sometimes pictures have a better way of summing things up, so here's just a few of my 2012 adventures:

Secret Stairs hikes

Exploring L.A.

March madness

A new addition to the family!

SF/Napa Trip

Resolved.

Summer fun!

Living the dream.

Happy New Year, everyone!  Have an amazing and blessed 2013.  May it be filled with many awesome moments!

memory lane

One of my oldest friend from junior high celebrated her twins' birthday party at the park up the street from where I lived during high school.  It was the park I spent many afternoons when I just wanted to be away from the house.  When I wanted to think and well, not think.  So, when I drove through the familiar streets for the first time again after many, many, many years, I couldn't help but be pulled back in time.  It was as if I had been away for so long and I was coming back to a small town I had wanted so much to get away from.  I thought, I guess, this is how it feels to come back to a place you grew up in after being away for a long time ... nice.

When I first moved to Burbank, it was like the town of Mayberry from the Andy Griffith Show.  And I hated it.  It was before it had a mall, Starbucks, and IKEA.  I can't recall if the movie theater was even there.  I think it had just opened or they had just built it.  I know it's different now.  Much more commercialized and modern.  But, funny thing is, now that I'm an adult, I miss old Mayberry Burbank.

They've added a much more elaborate play area, but looks like they kept the old swing I used to sit on for hours.

My friend's adorable twins.  And their adorable guests.  But, big brother doesn't look too happy.

Pink balloons always make me happy.

High school friends.

The baseball field that always gave me a sense of peace and clarity.

rememberin' '80's music

There's something romantic about the '80's ~ a cheesy, but incredibly hopeful and heartfelt romanticism that's missing in today's times.   

There's definitely something about '80's love songs that tug at my heart.  Remember this?

travel snaps: sevilla circa 2008

life in pictures: summer fun

my sister's graduation.

Happy Birthday to Mr. Hilarious.

Mr. Hilarious' fancy birthday cake for his NBA All-Star themed party.

More birthdays. :)

Sorry for all the photo posts, but I'm all out of words lately.  A lot going on.  Really good things.  However, I just don't have the energy to come up with anything to say here.  But, I'll be back soon.  Promise.  :)

someone like you

The movie.  Not the song. 

I decided to take the afternoon off.  Was still tired from a very busy weekend.  So, I watched t.v., and I caught the end of Someone Like You.  If you've never seen the movie and do want to watch it, don't read this post because of course, I'm going to give away the ending. 

The ending where Ashley Judd's character (Jane) realized that she was in love with Hugh Jackman's character (Eddie).  You see, throughout the movie, Jane was in love with Ray (played by Greg Kinnear), but Ray was a selfish, self-centered, cheating a-hole.  Eddie, on the other hand, was the good-looking single guy who slept with different women, but was the honest friend.  The honest bachelor as my friends and I called the type.  The guy who dates around but is honest about it.  Everyone knows that he's dating around, including the women he goes out with.  He's really the commitment-type of guy even though it doesn't seem like it but it's only because he chooses who he commits to.  The thing about the Eddies, they don't pretend.  The Ray-type-of-man, on the other hand, pretends he can commit, pretends he's the relationship guy, sweet and showering with charm and promises but he can't commit to anyone at all because he's too consumed with himself.  Well, Jane had the unfortunate experience of falling for the charming Ray, over and over again.  He charmed her until he got her, and would string her along for awhile, then drop her again.  Familiar story?  Such relationships can go on for years.  But like such movies with happy endings, Jane realized that she was in love with Eddie, and ran (literally) after him.  Of course, he ended up loving her, too, and happily ever after.  Real life is not such, unfortunately.  But nonetheless, the movie made me think of the Rays and Eddies.  A particular Ray and Eddie in my life.

"Ray" being the cheating high school boyfriend, and "Eddie" the guy I met in my senior year of high school.  I'll call him Josh since he looked like Josh Hartnett.  Josh and I became instant friends, and since he lived a couple of blocks from me, we carpooled to school.  I would pick him and his brother up, and then, he and I would spend the next thirty minutes or so talking in the parking lot, which made both of us late for first period almost everyday.  He much later than me because he'd walk me to class at one end of the school while his was on the other end.

We spent a lot of time together during the fall semester - talking before school, between classes, and after school.  We talked a lot about everything.  Then, Christmas break came and Josh gave me a Christmas gift, which made the cheating boyfriend upset.  We fought and fought, and he blamed Josh for his infidelities.  And I believed him.  I thought it was my fault the cheating boyfriend was cheating. 

Yeah.  (I'm still shaking my head at that one.) 

So, I vowed not to spend so much time with Josh.  But cheating boyfriend wasn't satisfied.  He didn't want me picking Josh up or taking him home anymore.  I didn't have the heart to tell Josh.  So, one morning, I just didn't show up.  I avoided him at school.  We didn't have any classes together, so it was easy to avoid him.  When I saw him in the halls, I'd walk the other way. 

Damn, I was a coward.

Finally, a few weeks before graduation, Josh caught me in the hallway and refused to let me pass him.  He asked what happened.  "I just didn't feel like picking you up anymore," I said pretty coldly. 

"That's not what I meant," he said.  "Was it the Christmas gift?"

"No," I said.  But I couldn't look at him. 

"I mean, I just wanted to give you something.  I didn't want it to turn you off or push you away."

"It's not that," I said, but I still couldn't tell him the truth.

Then, he asked, "Ok, then, what happened with us?"

"Look, I just didn't want to pick you up anymore.  I have too many things going on, and I have to go."  At that, I walked away. 

I felt him staring at my back until I turned at the end of the hall, and saw a glimpse of him still standing where I left him.  I wanted to turn around and run back to him, tell him I made a mistake, and that I was so very sorry for being stupid and choosing the cheating boyfriend.  But, unlike Jane, I didn't do that.

I stayed with the cheating boyfriend.  Josh and I graduated, and never spoke again.

I look for him every now and then.  Wonder how he's doing.   

My best friend just sent me this text (a few seconds ago), which is probably a good way to end this post.  She wrote, "Oprah's aha moment: choose love instead of fear."  My best friend is a big Oprah fan.

She's right, though.

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.   

Yellow.

I am a huge Coldplay fan.  And after seeing them in concert a couple of years ago, my love for them (esp. Chris Martin) was sealed.  And although I absolutely love most of their songs, this song touches me in a different way.  It claimed my heart the moment I heard it.

But, I was a delayed Coldplay fan.  I discovered them after they had already released their first two albums.  I discovered them the summer I was studying for the Bar exam.  I remember I was sitting in my car, in the parking lot of where my review class was held, and trying to concentrate on another set of 10 multiple choice questions, which I routinely did before each class.  But, I couldn't concentrate.  My mind was at the upcoming Bar exam, whether I had time to go to the bank, whether I had money in the bank, my Europe trip after the Bar, and the "boy" I was (unknowingly) falling in love with.  My mind was everywhere except those 10 questions I was supposed to answer.  And then, this song came on the radio.  Immediately, a sweeping calmness came over me.  Everything that was crowding my mind disappeared, and I was left with this song.  And for the first time that summer, everything was clear.  Everything made sense.  My heart spoke, and I heard it.

So, every time I hear this song, I remember that day.  I remember that feeling of clarity.  Of love.  Of undeniable, life-changing, exciting, silly-can't-stop-smiling, breathtaking, don't-want-to-be-without-you kind of love.  The kind of love that needed no words.  Just a look and we knew.  The smile in our eyes said it all.  This song reminds me that kind of love is real.  It is possible.  It exists.

It reminds me that no matter what happened, I became a better person because of that love.  And that I am forever grateful (and feel extremely lucky blessed) to have experienced it.  All.  The confusion, the messiness, the tears, the anger, the disappointments, the heartache, the lowest lows and the highest highs, the excitement, the happiness.  And especially, the laughter.  We laughed.  We talked.  A lot.  But boy, did we laugh.  That's what I remember the most.  How much we laughed. 

I believe people come into our lives for a reason.  He came into mine to make me realize what I needed.  What I wanted.  Every time I hear this song, and I think of him, I remember: the man I marry will be the one who makes me laugh even when my heart is breaking.

childhood treasures

When I was in the sixth grade, one of my best friends was my sixth grade teacher.  She had the whole class write in journals at least once a week, which she'd collect on a specified day so she can respond to our entries.  I used to write in the journal everyday.  I have several volumes of those journals.  And anyhow, through our journal-writing, Ms. M became my confidant.  My big sister.  My best friend.    

I recently found those journals, and this is a portion of Ms. M's last entry to me (written the day of my sixth grade graduation):

"Life would be nothing without our dreams.  Our dreams and goals challenge us and make us better people.  I know that you will be successful, my friend.  Just keep the high expectations you have for yourself.  What is meant to happen in your life will. ... You will always be remembered.  Congratulations!"

Looking back, I have been blessed by wonderful teachers.  They got me through many difficult times in my life.  They gave their time selflessly and never expected anything in return but my success and my well-being.  I thank God every day for them. 

Photo: Tina

give me five minutes.

via thresca

For the last couple of years, I've worked really hard on looking forward, moving on.  And I'm happy (and proud) to say that I've done a pretty good job doing just that.  But there are moments, when I get this need to look back, and remember ... lessons learned.  When I need to look back and return to a safe place (i.e. my "cubby hole"), where I felt ... loved.  

But I chose wrong.  Because I didn't follow my heart.  And not only did I lie to someone I loved, I lied to myself. 

It took me years to get over that.  And perhaps, since I'm writing it here, you can argue that I still haven't completely gotten over it. 

My defense, however ~ it's the lesson I never want to forget.  The lesson to be true to myself.  And the lesson to not be afraid to take chances.  The lesson to speak my heart.  And the lesson not to be afraid to fall in love.  Because putting it all out there ... I do need a lot of reminding when it comes to all of that.    

 

On our first date, I told a guy that I had issues with commitment.  Now, I know better than to tell someone that.  (But he asked, so I answered.)  But I learned and discovered in the last couple of weeks that my answer was premature.  Because what I've also discovered in the last couple of weeks is not so much that I'm afraid or have issues with commitment, I just don't want to make the wrong choice who I make that commitment with.  So, let's just say, I'm a little more cautious.  And slow when it comes to evaluating all of that.  I take my time. 

I also told him that I loved my life as it was (before he came in it), and it would take a pretty awesome guy to make me change my life (because that's what happens when you go from single to a couple - your life changes).  Those words I guess were not too premature.  I still stand by them. 

I guess, the question is what does this have to do with my lesson learned?  And why the need to go back to my "cubby hole"? 

Well, like I said, it's the reminder.  Of lesson learned.  The reminder of the feeling of loss so great that it nearly broke me.  That broken feeling that was a consequence of rationalizations and fear. 

Because, of course, what happens is that when you start to value and be excited about your together time more than your alone time, that can be scary for a single person.  And fear can make one rationalize what is difficult to rationalize - your heart.  So, my friend told me to stop rationalizing.  Stop rationalizing my feelings.  She said that's the lesson I need to remember.  To feel.  And not be afraid of that.  If anything, she said, be afraid of that feeling of loss again and that loss because you didn't tell him you thought he was awesome.  (Okay, there were a lot of lessons there.)  But basically, it comes down to this: "Don't screw it up because you're afraid.  Just prepare yourself and understand, however, that he's free to screw it up himself."  

So, that's why I look back.  Because for those five minutes I wallow, and I remember, so I can move on.  Move on a completely different direction than the one I previously took.  Because I don't want to screw it up again. 

And I didn't.  :) 

But like my friend said, he could. 

nostalgic L.A.

I've always found it fascinating how foreigners view Los Angeles.  I'm always curious about their expectations of Los Angeles, and interested in how to some extent Los Angeles does or does not live up to those expectations.  Talking to foreigners about L.A. always reminds me of why I love L.A. and why I dislike L.A.  I guess you can say I miss the L.A. I knew growing up, and that I do not care so much for this trendy-Hollywood-brand-name L.A. 

I miss the blue collar neighborhood I grew up in where ice cream trucks were the best afternoon treats, and the two-dollar double-features at the Clinton theater was the happening spot.  Way before the Beverly Center became a trendy tourist attraction, and when Shatto Lanes and the college arcade were the coolest places to go to.  The time when LACMA and the La Brea Tar Pits was the favored after-school hangout.  And when taco trucks just served tacos and burritos at unknown/unpopular neighborhoods. 

I'm nostalgic for old L.A.  I miss the old L.A.   

I miss the old us - the neighborhood kids that came from different cultures and backgrounds but saw no difference in each other.  The neighborhood kids that naturally bonded because we came from similar immigrant-working class household, and we understood how it was to have limited means but big dreams.  I miss the old us that appreciated the smallest treats - a quarter for a scoop of Thrifty's ice cream, or a Big Stick popsicle, or a Caramba soda.  I'm nostalgic for the time when our interracial neighborhood was the most fascinating place because really, it was.  I miss the old L.A.  I miss the old us.   

*photo via americanimages      

goodbye to you.

"Songs and smells will bring you back to a moment in time
more than anything else.  It's amazing how much can be conjured

with a few notes of a song or a solitary whiff of a room. 

A song you didn't even pay attention to at the time,

a place that you didn't even know had a particular smell." 

 - Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin

i'm reading something borrowed for the second time.  and i've found that

although i still love the book, i feel differently about the characters this

second time around.  maybe it's because i'm in a different place in my 

life, and thus, i don't relate to the character(s) i once related to.

this quote from the book hit a chord (no pun intended) with me.

yesterday, i walked into the market, and a song i haven't heard in a long,

long time was playing.  it was a song that used to tug at my heart. 

used to make me stop in the middle of whatever i was doing because

the absence of what i once had just overpowered all my other senses.

but yesterday, the song didn't make me stop.  didn't tug at my heart.

just made me smile.    

are there any songs or smells that transport you back in time?

that make the memories so real that you feel like you're back

there - in your distant past?  or are there any songs or smells that once

did those things, but now, have no such power? 

* photo by K~Dobbins

almost paris.

I've been thinking of Paris a lot lately.
Guess I'm going through my nostalgic for Europe-phase.
Seven years ago today, after leaving Amsterdam,
my friend and I made our way to Paris.
It was the last stop of our month-long European adventure.

And I remember how I didn't sleep a wink

during my last night in Amsterdam.

I just didn't want to waste my last hours

in the city I had fallen in love with.

And honestly, I was just so excited

to see Paris that I couldn't sleep.

(I was like a kid the night before her first Disneyland trip.)

Then, when I saw the Eiffel Tower light up,

I knew I was in love.

Although I was told that the French actually dislike

(or did they use the word hate?) the Eiffel Tower,
(something about it being an eyesore) 

I couldn't help but be mesmerized by it.

It was amazing.  And I didn't want to leave.

Anyhow, my cousin took this picture,

and made me nostalgic for Paris even more.

It's as close to Paris as I can get right now. :)

And I just love this picture!

She's an awesome photographer. 

Almost feels like Paris.

*photo by Karin

remember this feeling.

Seven years ago today, I was in Amsterdam.

I'm not quite sure why that thought came to me today.

But in the midst of reading another transcript,

Amsterdam came to my mind.

And then I felt that warmth in my heart that always

follows when I remember Amsterdam.

It was there that I realized everything

was going to be okay.

It was there that

I chose me.

And I knew I was never going to settle.  Again.

Amsterdam.

*photo

when it all began

My first experience blogging was on Friendster (or was it MySpace?). Now, honestly, I'm a little embarassed to admit that, but well, before there was Facebook, there was Friendster and MySpace. And before I even knew what the term "blogging" meant, I was blogging on those sites. At the time, I thought it was a good way to practice creative writing. Or to simply use as a "R&R" (rantings and ravings) page. Well, the reason I even bring up that rather embarrassing confession is because for both sites, I called my page "Coffee Moments." That phrase or combined words always had some connection to me. Perhaps it's because when I think of writing, I think of coffee. Or because I always had the best conversations over a hot cup of coffee. Or simply (truthfully), it was those "coffee moments" that got me through bar review ... and the lawyer-me will always be grateful to them.

Anyhow, tonight, I was looking through old files ... old blogs (again) ... and I found my very first post of Maya and Dante. Whether I will ever continue or finish their story, I don't know. But for now, I just had to share this first narration ...

Maya and Dante

Where were you when I was looking? she wondered, as a swarm of green balloons flew by. Nothing like a quiet country road where you can watch everything moving past you ... but you, yourself, is still. Where were you when I was looking?

Maya stared out the window. Her life awaits her in New York - a new job, a new apartment, and hey, maybe new friends. But there is only one thing on her mind - where were you when I was looking?

In four hours she will step into her future. The salted almonds she purchased from the bus station will be the last to see the old Maya. She should make sure she doesn't finish the whole bag ... or there won't be any witnesses at all. As soon as I step down, I will start over, a new thought finally entered her mind. But the square outline on her jeans still remain to be opened. The creases of his folded thoughts burn against the thin lining of her XOs. Is she willing to risk turning back her heart for the few seconds it will take to read his answers to the questions she has been asking for five years? She has 3 hours and 56 minutes. Maybe in a little while ...

It was five years ago when they first locked eyes at a conference. But she didn't see him again until months later. And when she did see him she was mess in the elevator - hair up in a ponytail, Starbucks coffee on one hand, and computer bag on the other - she did not expect he would walk in. But he did, and he smiled at her. She never believed in love at first sight. For those who thought they knew her would tend to differ. But she didn't. Until she met him.

What is love at first sight anyhow? Romeo killed himself for Juliet who he rarely knew ... but who he swore he fell in love with at first sight. Is it your eyes that becomes disillusioned, making your mind fixated which then makes your heart pulsate so hard that it rings in your ears, and you think you're going crazy? If so, what is so good about it? What is so good about feeling like you're losing your mind?

Well, it's when he returns your gaze, and he smiles. All of a sudden, you're not losing your mind. But the once smoggy air is clear, the honking and screaching cars are a distant song, and the space between him and you is merely evaporated air locked in a bubble of emotion.

Where were you when I was looking, Dante?


Re-reading this post brings back so many memories ... where I was (mentally, emotionally, physically) when I wrote it. A long time ago. A very different me.

But more than anything, re-reading it now has made me realize how the story evolved over time. I guess it's true what I've heard about the process of writing: sometimes the story (the characters) begin to have a mind of their own and go on a completely different road than we had planned. What's interesting about that though is that in the end, we all still arrive at the same destination - the one we're meant to go to. Even though we took a completely different route to get there. Now, if you followed my M and D blogs you'd know what I mean - that this first post actually (unintentionally) picks up from the last one I wrote. It seems like I found the ending I was looking for. The beginning became the end. The story went full circle without any intention or planning on my part. And sometimes, those unexpected journeys are the best! ... Oh, the adventures of writing ... :)

a little reminder

One of my favorite things to do is drink a warm cup of coffee early in the morning, while the air is fresh and crisp. The sky is still gray with only small patches of blue. Barely awake, still covering the clouds.

It is during these early mornings when I read. And try to find inspiration to write. But lately, I just sit. With my hands wrapped around the warm cup of coffee. And I breathe it all in.

Today, however, I decided to go through old blogs. Old stories. And came across this ...

"We had something real, amazing ... undeniable ... and complicated. It was complicated from the start. With each other we knew no reason ... sometimes, it's the best kind of love."

Sometimes, we need little reminders -

"to remind myself never to take for granted time ... and true feelings." Because "we took for granted our feelings for one another. We fought what was there because we wanted to abide by rules that did not exist. We tried to be practical and logical when nothing in love is really practical or logical. We were so afraid to lose our way but what we didn't realize was that we already lost our way the first time we said hello."

Sometimes, we need little reminders ... so we can move on, and embrace today.