Flinching ticks of REM. Eyes moving under the cover of his lids. A nightmare or a dream? What is it that bothers his mind as he slips into the unconsciousness of sleep?

What is it indeed.

The look on his face tells me nothing as he just lies there sleeping his sleep, dreaming his fevered dream.

The sad look in his face tells no story of how he is feeling. His happy tail betrays his sad face. Swaying back and forth, to and fro, his happiness he cannot suppress.

He disappears into the night as I do my usual finger tapping. A little “snap snap” he comes to my call. Such a good dog he is, such a good pickle.

Up in my bed, laying there, getting to his level of comfort ness before he succumbs to his unconscious state again.

I just have to wonder what does he really think about me? I can never tell. Is he bored to have me as his master, his best friend? I don’t pay enough attention to him as I should, and I don’t play with him enough for him to actually bond with me. But for some reason, I feel that he does like me. Always attached at the hip he always is.

We have our fights like anyone. I’ll leave him for hours on end while he’s stuck at home. I wonder what it is that he does to pass his time. Does he play with the large selection of tennis balls that I have laying around the house or with the little dirty stuffed squeaky sheep that he likes for me to throw at him.

I guess my fascination with him has come and gone. The novelty has worn off and now I’m with him. He’s just another being that keeps me company as I pass through my off hours at home alone.

Such a nice dog he is. He has the greatest temperament I’ve ever met in any dog. Quiet in his own way, rarely barks unless there’s another canine around. Always over anxious to play with other dogs and whines when I don’t ever let him.

Nowadays you can never trust other dogs and even your own.

Trust.

That is always an issue. Stress. That is always an issue. Where will things go? What will happen? I don’t know. I have no idea where things are going to go. I guess I’ll know when it gets there and either one of us have to make the decision as to where we want to go. Will we go our separate ways? Will she can’t stand me or vice versa.

I’m a difficult guy to get along with. Many of my friends and even family know this about me. Sure, I’m very laid back and easy going, but I’m also very stubborn and more selfish than I like to be. This causes me to be very very particular and difficult.

I just like things to go very easy and smooth. I’m just the type of guy who likes to understand everything and if I don’t understand something, that just frustrates the crap out of me. That’s just me.

Sometimes I just don’t understand why people do the things they do, and hence, I just don’t get along with them, or I’m just too inquisitive and ask them a billion questions or just sit back and let things unfold, hopeful to get some answers to the mystery that is them.

And once I have and inkling of understanding and I don’t agree with what they are doing, I can’t do anything about it. It’s not my life to change, and again, I’m very particular. If I don’t agree with something, I’ll just ignore it until I finally get use to it and just move on. Sometimes I just can’t move on that easily.

Life is kind of crazy that way. And the shitter is that there’s nothing that I can do. I just have to live with it or make a decision that will change things. It will have to be discussed and come to a mutual agreement of sorts. It’s just how things work. It’s just how things are going to be. A series of compromises from both parties to come to a decision that changes their lives forever.

What will happen? I have no idea what is going to happen. I honestly don’t know. I have an inkling as to where things are going to go, but I don’t want to be thinking about that just yet.

Alone.

Come to think of things, I’ve always enjoyed my independence. I’ve always enjoyed living on my own schedule and never having to facilitate other people’s demands to match my own or vice versa. I love the fact that I could go and do anything I want without having to discuss it with another party. I like the fact that I could go out and do this just because I want to and not because someone wants the company.

But, now with Pickles, it’s kind of difficult sometimes. I would love to go out and write more often, but I just can’t. I leave him at home alone for about 9 hours in the day. I come home walk him and try to take a nap or watch my movies or television shows while trying to catch up with my web surfing, then I’ll fix myself some dinner and then it is time to unwind with more movie watching or tv watching before I have to write.

Not so long ago I would just go out and write at Tanner’s or my much beloved bridge, but now I can’t. I just feel so guilty that I leave Pickles alone so much as is. I’m rarely home on the weekends anymore, whether I’m going to work or going out. I guess life just gets in the way of responsibilities.

Responsibilities.

That’s something I find myself losing as I get older. I’m becoming more and more careless with my actions and my spending and I just find it disappointing. I am disappointed in myself for letting it get to this circumstance where I am almost broke and I’m making the most I’ve ever made. But again, life gets in the way.

I have so many aspirations and it seems that all of them seems so out of reach because life is getting in the way. I would love to write more, but company and outings and sheer fatigue or laziness keep getting in the way. I would love to make another short, but money issues get in the way. There are just so many things I would love to do, but I just can’t do it because of one thing or another. I envy those who are able to manage everything, to make everything work in their favor. I need lessons on how to get my life together. I just need life lessons in general.

I look at my brother. He has his life already. Good solid job and a nice house while I’m in a decent job living in an apartment. I’m sure he may think that he’s envious of me, but there is no godly reason for him to be. To each his own I guess. To each his own.

Life escapes me with every breath that I take. Life just escapes me and I wonder where I will be.

Looking in the cloudy future, I do not see where I will be.

Looking into the misty silver, I can’t make out who will keep me company.

I’m not a lucky guy. Everything that I’ve done and gotten I’ve worked for. Nothing was ever handed to me on a silver platter. I’ve either had to work for it or buy it or kiss assed for it and I rarely, if ever, kiss ass. I’m just not the type.

The lottery, gambling, things that I suck at. I’m not lucky enough to have the free money handed over to me like that.

Maybe I just don’t make the effort or maybe I’m just full of excuses to bring me down to the level that I feel comfortable at and to keep me away from the level that everyone thinks I’m on.

Life escapes me. With each breath. Breathe.

The slow methodical breathing. In/Out. In/Out. The limbs twitch and flinch as he dreams of chasing dogs through the park, playing their little rough games of housing. Like us, they dream. They dream of happiness, games, play, life. They dream of life.

Where will he be with me in the future? Will I be a good owner to him, keeping him in a healthy state long enough for him to see his 100th birthday?

I’m not a perfect person. I never meant to do those things to you. Not even close. Damaged goods in a once fragile container that is now just broken shards. Pieces that can never be glued back for I am too messed up to fix.

So jaded and cynical. I just can’t seem to see the light in things anymore.

I never thought that it would happen. I never thought that it was possible. I am at a place where I never thought that I would be.

Life has come full circle, from the wide-eyed innocence, to pure anger, bitterness, hatred, and back to the naive nature that I once had.

What happened? Where did it come from? What changed?

Looking back at the not so distant memories, I can’t come up with an answer. Everything seem so far way, so out of reach. What happened yesterday feels like it happened before my lifetime. I can’t put a time or a place to a memory like that.

The only thing that matters is what is happening now and the major wishes that I want of my life. They are so far ahead, so out of reach that I believe it is impossible to reach, but the thought of achieving it still lingers in my mind.

Back into the old habit, out writing and finger tapping that I once done so many times before. My hand is rusty; my fingers atrophied and are deadwood. Stiff.

They don’t type with the same dexterity that I once had. It comes with old age I guess. All muscles lose a little something without being used. I haven’t used my fingers in a while.

I work and work at it, slowly, like a paraplegic training to get his legs back. It is their life to get their legs back as it is my life to get my fingers to work…but my mind freezes with its lost thoughts.

Searching for words never came so difficult. Searching for words usually came easy with tasks like these. I would write whatever that comes to mind and usually it’ll have a place in what I’m writing.

But now it seems like a puzzle of a million pieces. Each word and punctuation fit specifically where they need to fit. But the only thing that I don’t know is that there are a few pieces missing.

Lost in thought in the middle-of-the-night, I sit here in this strange place in this strange land surrounded by strange people alone. I sit here alone, like I’m so use to, but I feel like I fit in here. I am a nameless soul in this impersonal franchise.

Where did all of these things come from? Busy weekends of entertaining the other. Walking around hand in hand with a little PDA to boot; it just feel all so natural, so comfortable.

Click. Chemistry. It’s all we have and all we’ve done from minute one. Long nights on the phone to long dates together. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.

I don’t want to lose you love tonight. I don’t want to lose you love at all, not just yet. There will be a time where I will come across the proverbial crossroad and I will have to make my decision.

You already know this. You already know that I will have to make a decision sooner than later. Hopefully it will be a decision that will be easy to make, a decision that will suit us both. Hopefully.

Who would have thought that things would have come to this? Just two strangers thrown together because one of use sent out an email and the other responded. Now we are like peas and carrots, together like we’ve always been.

Ups and downs. Downs and ups. What relationship doesn’t have these moments? The best ones are the ones that work these out, and I guess we have worked out our kinks.

But to look toward the future to see where we will go is something that I don’t want to do right now. Just enjoy the moment, the time and let it be and let it transpire. It will end when it is time for it to end. It will come no sooner and no later than it has to. It will just be and we’ll deal with it when that time comes.

Life. It just creeps up on you when you least expect it. Funny how that works. The good and bad, just mysteries and little curve balls that just come and you have to swing. The count is full and you swing and hope you make contact to stay alive or you strike out with the rest of them.

Lost in thought in this tired life that is now refreshed with what is transpiring. Nothing feels out of the ordinary, nothing feels out of placed as everything feels like it’s been there from the first minute.

Strange how that works. My life has forever changed, yet it feels like the life that I ever had, sans the depression, the anger, the hatred of course.

Because of you I never life is good.

Life is good. Everything. Every facet. Things are just good. Same small complaints but they are complaints that I’ve lived with all my life. I could easily change these shortcomings just by becoming more responsible, but knowing me, I need to learn a lesson before I become the responsible being that I know I can be.

Slowly I am learning my lesson. Slowly slowly.

Mangina is something that I don’t have; unlike a relative of mine who is one. Successful and young, yet so sensitive and unreasonable. Too young to understand what it means to be in this family and too young to understand what it means to experience life. Not everything has to go your way, and not everyone has to see things exactly the same way that you do.

If people criticize your point of view, you don’t shy away from the debate, you take part. You don’t hide behind the mangina that you have, but you step up and prove your huevos. You step up.

You would garner the respect more. At least from me.

How can you be one of us if you can’t take a joke? How can you be one of us and not be able to take criticism? How can you go on living life if you just can’t deal with people not seeing things the way that you do? How?

I respect you as a person. I respect you for what you did? It is admirable, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to pucker up and kiss your ass. I’ll treat you the same as I’ve always done, I’ll treat you the way that I’ve treated everyone else and that is being who I am.

But I guess with the distance, it’s hard for those who were once dear to me to truly see who I really am. Everyone is so wrapped up in his or her own lives we miss out and pay no attention to the other. I am guilty of the same.

With distance we grow apart, no knowing or understanding where the other is coming from. I guess the generation gap doesn’t help matters either. Maybe I’m just older, wiser, and see life in a different life than you do.

My cynicism, bitterness, jaded nature hasn’t rubbed off on you. You are so bright-eyed and naive, you just don’t understand how life works. Ironic given where you came from. I thought you would know better or actually understand. But I guess with your certain situation, you see things differently.

I wish I could see things through your eyes, but I don’t think I can. I’ve never been the type. My eyes aren’t the rosy shade but of the deep gray. A darker shade of pale.

Back in the mind, back in the game, back in the spirit. Toe tapping rhythms that lure my fingers to tap along. Tap tap tap. Tappings that I haven’t done in a while.

Tap Tap Tap.

Searching for the words, searching for the inspiration to write…back in the habit, back in the game.

Words escape me as I type and compose this lyrical nonsense. Words escape my thoughts as I think of the things that I want to say and search for the things that I NEED to say.

Leap of faith, jumping blindly into the gold rush of yesteryear. Pants and sleeves rolled up screening for the magical specs. I’ve been fortunate so far, small nuggets make me come back for more. I want to strike it rich. I want this to be enough to last a while.

This kind of pleasure doesn’t come easy. Beaten and bruised from being the push over to being stubborn to even being mean. Consequences we all must face as we sift hopefully for all the glory. GOLD.

* * *

Dear Yoko where did you go, why did you leave?

* * *

Back to business, no more games. Nonsensical whimsy to straight thoughts to lyrical nature. Back to business, back to my roots; searching for the words and composition that I know I am more than capable of. Back to me.

Long nights on the cryptic airwaves; we share our moments, our lives, our thoughts. Discussing nature to fashion to movies to life in general and all things in between. Philosophy and nature. We discuss and our airwaves get broader, our signals connect with greater frequency. Soon we fall into a familiarity of comfort. Comfort.

Things we share are no secrets to us. Things we share are truths about who we are. We are we and there’s nothing to hide. From cryptic airwaves to overcoming the distance. We made our approach.

We landed in some far off place, shortening what was between us. Officially the connection is made. Officially I misconnect no more. From 80 something miles to 15,000 miles, we often made our connection. Through airwaves, the empty numerical void of 0s and 1s, and even overcoming the hard concrete, we made our connections. There is something there….something special.

Sweet talk whispers
Longing in the night
Stretching out, touching
Shivers of joy and excitement
Embrace of heat
Wet from sweat
Long into the night
Time after time
Wake indiscriminately
You
I

* * *

Walking in the night, waking in the sun, through the blurry crowds I cast my gaze. Jumping through the herd, I come out alive, full of life. I’m not afraid of the mass no more. No general apprehension of being swallowed by the mindless drones and becoming one of them.

I wake in the sun and I see clearly for the first time. Life has changed to a lighter shade of gray, evolving from the ever blackness of night that I’ve been a prisoner of. My shackles fall loose from my mal nourished wrists and ankles and I walk steadily through the pearly gates of light.

From hell to purgatory, where I now journey through the trials and tribulations of sustainable life. A life that is actually worth living, co-mingling with the ones who were once there with me and even those who were always there…each of us seeing a brighter shade of pale.

Sturdy I stand in a foreign wonderland of comfort and familiarity. Everything new, seen through virgin eyes, yet things have a old comfort of familiar ness that can only come from life. A life more ordinary than a life less ordinary outcasted by your own desire and alienation.

Sleeping peaceful with the crowds that never once visited your dreams. Alone no more! Experiences shared with people that once were never there, yet here they are now, keeping me company in my crowded dream.

With a Bah Bah Bah I jump into the sky, over the crooked moon drawn without care into the free flowing fantasies of childish playfulness that once held my innocence. Oh so long ago that I’ve lost it; but to be back and be its acquaintance is a dream in itself.

Fresh views, fresh eyes. Blurry no more. Bleary no more. Clear as crystal without the prescription plastics that block things from view. I see naked of what life is to bring me. That is a pleasant worldly surprised that I know.

Comfortably, comfort of life, comfort of self. I’ve finally found comfort in the stretchy organ of yellowness; covered in the silky texture of hide. This shell is empty no more…now filled with joy and success. Life finally comes together and makes sense to a mystery that could never be solved. All that is left are shadows that run from the chasing sun. Soon they will be gone leaving all to the incredible lightness of being.

From the Atlantic Starr to the Ziggy Stardust, I’ve traveled to learn the true meaning of life….come as you are, go as you are, and be pleasantly surprised as to who you are. Just look in a mirror and lo and behold, a new found stranger staring back at you.

It’s been a while. Can I go back? Can I do it again or have I lost the touch forever and ever? Here goes.
* * *

It’s been a long while since I’ve written something that isn’t mindless rambling or cryptic. It’s been a while since I’ve written something that was from the heart; something that was direct without censor. I don’t know why I haven’t written of the such lately. Not sure at all. Maybe because when I started this journal, it was mainly for therapeutic reasons. To help me heal and get my feelings, my frustrations, my anger, and my emotions out. But lately, this hasn’t been the case.

Lately it’s just been mindless rambling of nonsensical lyrical whimsy; of head scratching “huh?” to philosophical jib jab.

My new found cousin Jun has made a comment about how “boring” my journal is because it lacked the “emotions” that she likes in journal writing, or blogs of this manner. So I thought I’d try to give it a try again..just to see if it’ll work. Just to see if I can find that part of me again.

I don’t know what exactly it is that made us “click” so well. Ever since we first met with our awkward “who the fuck are you?” hellos, we’ve been getting along fine. We are like long lost siblings, twins maybe, who were separated at birth only to find each other after 26 almost 27 years and realize that we never missed a beat. Strange how we just connected.

We hang out often at her place, just having dinner, eating, and recently drinking, and just having a good time cracking each other up. It’s funny how this familial stranger knows more about me and what is happening in my life than anyone else in my family that I’ve grown up with. Neither my mom nor my brother knows me as well as she does. She knows about me being burned, my current infatuation and crushes…..and my cynical romantic views of love.

We’ll talk about everything. Nothing, no subject, is a taboo to talk about. We share our thoughts, our opinions so freely and abashedly that there are no secrets between us. No thoughts that we ever held back…or so it seems. We are just comfortable around each other, and the funny thing is that we met about two months ago.

And again, she made a comment about my journal writing. She made a comment about how boring it is because it lack the feelings and the emotions that she knows that I’m so full of. So I am here giving it another go.

Maybe I’m just all fixed. Maybe there’s just nothing left in me that feels broken or feel the need to be dealt with currently. Whatever that was wrong with me is either fixed or repressed to awake at another time. I’m not sure, but I would like to think for the most part, I am fixed. For the most part.

I’m not going to lie to you. I still have some issues here and there. Some bitterness in me that has grown for reasons unknown, but it’s just there.

Where it came out to her that I was bitter, where it became so apparent that I am still bitter was when we were talking about my dad and how he passed away. I told her how my dad, the stubborn man that he is worked his poor body to death. Working two full-time jobs and not caring what the lack of sleep did to his body. He just worked. Again, like I stated before, maybe it was just to fill the void of having both my brother and I graduated and being on our own, or because I moved down here, or because it is his own suicidal mid-life-crisis? I don’t know, but when talking to her, my anger that I believed to have gone surfaced, my bitterness about the situation reappeared. And I do have a right to be bitter about it, but she has the point….what’s the point in holding onto this anger? What’s the point in being so bitter about something I have absolutely no control about? What’s the point?

I told her that most of my “emotional” writing in the journal are mainly the earlier ones, the ones I wrote in the first yean and a half of the blog’s inception. I held nothing back. No feelings or emotions were masked by the lyrical whimsy of a mad man where he rhymes to his own reason. All that was in the first half of this journal was me and my therapy.

This past weekend after hearing her talking about my journal, I reread some of the entries that I told her to read. I’m not sure if she read it yet, but I’m sure she will. I read the entry where I confessed my guilt toward my father’s death. That was the first entry towards my therapy. Even now, almost three years after his passing, almost three years to the day that I wrote that entry, tears still flowed. I couldn’t stop those tears from falling.

Those words I wrote touched a part of me that I thought was lost a long time ago. It touched feelings that I hid away. It opened up a part of me that is better left unopened. That is all in the past and I need to focus on what is happening with me now. But, there’s still a part of me who feels that I shouldn’t forget. There’s a part of me that feels that I shouldn’t hide those feelings away forever because they will always be a part of me, a reminder of who I am today. That I am my father. Very much so, as much as I don’t like to be compared to him, I am my father.

Reading words from friends and family who replied to my email, who replied to that entry, tears start to flow too. I guess it was just a cry that I really need to cleanse the soul. Everyone needs to cry from time to time right? So he knows that he can actually feel. I guess.

May 10th is fast approaching as my birthday is fast approaching. I wonder how I am going to take it this year? Will I actually be okay this year or will I feel depressed, angry, frustrated like I did last year? It was surprising to me what I felt about that day last year. It was a really really rough time for me last year, but I was really okay with it the year before. Strange how feelings work. Maybe because it was his memorial the year before, it was easier for me to deal and because last year was just a year…with no memorial, a year where we went on with our lives. I hated feeling that way; the anger, the pain, the disappointment, the guilt. Even now, writing it, I fight back the tears. But none will spill tonight. None will fall.

After reading about my father, I read the entry about my dear grandmother. I find it fitting how it still touched me. I find it comforting to know that she’s still constantly on my mind. I’m writing a script right now that has a storyline that deals with a grandmother that lives in a nursing home. In a way it is very autobiographical, but in a way it is pure fiction, pure drama, but the heart of it is still there. I read what I wrote, and again, tears flowed. Remembering how weak and fragile she was in there. Imagining how depressing it must be to know that your kids couldn’t do what they needed to do and abandoned you to someone else’s care. A convalescent home where no one speaks your language…a convalescent home where you just wait to die.

I remember writing and I remember how angry I was at my father for not telling me that my grandmother passed away. Again, I had to hear it from my cousin, and I thought that I deserved to hear it from my father when she passed away. But I didn’t. I was so angry at my father. I remember the next day after I heard, I went into work and just broke down in front of my new friends. I never cried like that in front of people before, especially people I’ve only known for a month. But I did. The tears wouldn’t stop falling and my anger kept boiling inside of me.

Stephanie said I should talk to my father about how I was feeling. She thought it would be good if I told him that I should have known about my grandma passing away much sooner. But I didn’t talk like my family never talked. We just kept things boiling inside hoping they will go away because we don’t want to bother other people with our own personal problems because these problems can be dealt with by ourselves.

But looking back now, remembering how I got the call from my brother that my father passed away, I could understand now. There were people that he needed to call first. I could wait.

It was a Saturday morning. I was at Blockbuster thinking about renting a movie, but nothing seemed to have interested me. I got to the H section in the new releases and I got a call from my brother. He was crying on the phone. In my life, I rarely see him cry or show any emotions of any kind, so I was taken back. I heard my mom crying in the back and hear him say “Dad passed away”, but it just didn’t register. I kept asking him to repeat it and he just told me again with a bigger wail.

It was a mean joke of some kind. It has to be. That’s what I thought, but it wasn’t. It still didn’t register. I stepped outside because I know I’m getting loud, thinking that will get me the answers that I needed. “What happened?” “How?” “Why?” the barrage of questions fire and fire, and he answered the best that his emotions can. Again, he rarely cries. I hear his sobs and my mom’s wails but it still didn’t register. My dad died of a heart attack. I still don’t believe it.

I walked back to the car and just think things through. I hear it, I processed it, but I still couldn’t understand. My brother told me to call all of my relatives down in California because I lived down here. I knew my job, but I still didn’t understand why. It was just a mass confusion and a jumbled mess of thoughts. I sat in the car, just processing everything and planning out what needs to be done next. When I thought it hit me, when I thought that it finally hit me it really didn’t. The tears that flowed seemed forced, seems fake, because it was. It absolutely was because it hasn’t hit me yet. It was like I was playing a part and that I was supposed to cry because the part asked for it.

I got home and made my first call. It was my Great Uncle. It finally hit me when I the first words out. “My Dad passed away” as I told him in Chinese. The tears and emotions that flowed after the first word was real. It was true emotions because it absolutely me hit me like a large semi truck running over a bunny rabbit; and I was the bunny rabbit. My father passed away. Me calling family confirms it. It’s no joke anymore because it is involving family that is other than me. I lost it. Couldn’t gather my thoughts, couldn’t hold together. Hearing my Great Uncle crack didn’t help either.

One call down, and many more to go. Once call down and many more to go. With each call, the more together I got. With each call, the fact sunk in. With each call, the shock wore off.

Now I understand why it took so long to call me. My dad had to make the same calls to my uncles and aunts and my cousins. He had to do the things I did. Though with my Grandma, it was partly expected, but still, the process is still the same.

With understanding, comes healing. With healing your anger subsides and you move on in life.

I remember those days clearly like I remember most days. Some of the details may blur, but I remember.

Bitterness. Anger. Why is it still with me? I don’t know. Maybe it’s what Jun feared, to have a goal and to die right after you reach it. Maybe that’s why I am still so bitter about my father’s death. It’s like that ultimate life long wish to only die right when you get that wish; to never really ever truly enjoy that wish, that goal. Maybe that’s why.

I believed I wrote about this in one of my many entries. In fact, I’m sure I did. But my father was a very distant father. My family was very emotionally closed off. Cold and distant. We never really talked about our emotions. The only emotions they ever showed was anger when my brother and I would do something wrong. Scolding. Overprotectivness. They did it to protect us from the world. What I really wanted was to able to just talk. To be able to talk about how I am doing, to talk about how he was doing, to bond the way family is supposed to bond. To build up that connection.

I finally managed that when I moved down here. My father would call me weekly just to check up and see how I was doing. I miss his calls. His weekly “what’s up man”? I truly miss them. What I wouldn’t give to hear those words from him again. We were bonding. My goal, my wish was achieved and then just like that, on Saturday morning right out of the blue, it was taken away from me. Bitterness.

It still lingers with me. Bitterness. From his death, from being burned, from life.

But like Jun said, I shouldn’t be bitter about that. There’s no reason for me to be bitter about his death. It was out of my hands. It just happened. Me moving down here didn’t cause him to have a heart attack no matter how much I believed it did. It just plain didn’t. Life happened. Life took its course. Life took my dad away. Life.

With that that bitterness will just “puff” and disappear. “Puff” Gone. Just like that.
* * *

All that is left if a bitterness of a different kind. All that is left is a bitterness that goes hand in hand with not trusting women. It was my fault really. It really was and I just let the situation got the better of me. I just hope that I don’t let this lack of trust get in the way of me finding truly something that is worth giving my whole heart to, instead of giving only half my heart because I just don’t want it to shatter again.

Bitterness from being burned. I hope it doesn’t happen, but sometimes I just have to go all in and see where things go. I’ve taken that chance before with all of my heart and I have survived. Just some mending time and look here I am, back on the saddle. So I should truly trust what is happening now and not be my cynical self and question it. Just go all in again. You’ll survive.

There’s nothing I need to protect. I’ve been hurt quite a few times with unrequited love. I been hurt by a relationship that I thought was more than what it really was. So why not with this one. Trust when she says that there’s no one else. Trust when she says that she hasn’t written me off just as a fuck buddy yet. Just trust her. Even if she’s seeing someone else, why does it really matter? It’s not like we are exclusive. It’s not like we are actually boyfriend and girlfriend. I think I’m just going to go with the flow like I always try to do.

She knows where I am coming from. She knows that I not looking for strictly the physical. She knows because of my “innocence”, my romantic ideals of what relationships should be, she knows I want the intimacy, she knows I want the relationship. She knows.

But it’s hard especially if I am the only one feeling this way. Relationships takes two people that feel the same way to work. Maybe we are just too different; in different times in our life, looking for different things. Maybe.

Jun feels that I should find someone with the same intentions as mine. She doesn’t want me to lose this “innocence” that I have, this sweetness that is me…the romantic ideals that I hold so dear. She doesn’t want me to lose that. She knows that I might if I get burned too many times, leaving only the bitter old man that I am capable of being. But my dear cousin needs to know that I must go through with whatever it is. Maybe I am a masochist and that I know this will go sour, but I need to go through with this because maybe she is the “one” that my cousins talks so hopefully about. Maybe this girl is my one true love and I can’t be sure about it if I don’t go through with it. I am willing to get hurt to try and see if it is meant to be.

If it wasn’t meant to be, then it truly wasn’t meant to be. Then I will get up, dust myself off, and try again.

I know I’ve said that I am done looking for that someone. I am finished. With this one, if it ends, it ends. I’m not looking any more. I’m not going to actively search to find the one that they call “my true love”. I give up the search, because things like this should never be sought after. It should always just happen. Again, maybe that’s that innocence talking, but it just feels right.

I know I am a big romantic at heart, always idolizing what love should truly be, but the cynic in me just makes my beliefs in love to be realistic. And I’m just torn between my idealism and realism, and sadly it just seems realism is winning out. Relationships happen and it never ever truly is what it is portrayed in the movies and novels. Love will always be Life, where it’s a mixture of good and bad.

Again, my search for love is done. It will not happen again. If this fizzles, I can truly imagine myself be all right being a bachelor for the rest of my life. I can also see my life content with someone in it too. I can go either way. This doesn’t mean that I am closed off to any relationships of any kind. No. If I meet someone who I get along with and develop those feelings for, I would bet that I would take that risk again, and hit or miss, I don’t know. But I’m willing to take that shot again. But, again, I’m not going to actively go out searching for it. I’ve come that that decision.

Fading. Fading. The light fades its once bright shiny ray of savior until it is just blackness. The Star that once shined so brightly shines no more. Dead. Silent. Cold…an ever expanding ball of fire that burned it’s last bit of gas, leaving nothing but a empty vastness of space, sucking in all unsuspecting souls too blinded to see her black hole.

Fading. Fading. The light fades from the once clear blue skies and fade into the darkness of night. Here the predators comes to find its prey. Only here do the strong survive. Survival of the fittest.

We move on. Our eyes adjust to the darkness. We feel out our surroundings. We adapt to the environment. We just be our bettered selves in the unconscious sun’s glory.
* * *

Typing away, sitting away, watching the screen as my once dexterous fingers type away the words that I think the second before, trying to come up with something worthwhile to write.

I cannot think of anything as I sit here, just watching. Just watching as things just go and go, never passing me by because there is nothing to see that can pass me by.

I am all caught up in all standards of life. I am all caught up on what is necessary to be a person. I am all caught up. I have a heart and a soul. A mind and a body.

Looking deep inside this little mind that is mine, I reach, I grasp for things to write. I struggle to find the all-echoing thought that once haunted my daily existence. The philosophical proverbs that ring so true and sounds so cryptic. I struggle to find the words to describe how my life has changed. I struggle to remember the things that I remembered just second, hours, days, weeks, months, years before. I struggle.

Life wouldn’t be anything if there weren’t struggle. Life will be one boring moment after another…no learning curve. Struggles make us wise, help us grow. As we learn to cope with these struggles, we become better people.

A fading star that shined so brightly has brought upon other connections that seem to be much stronger.

Never have we met but I could feel the bond we share. Words exchanged from the cold void that I am so familiar with, to the cellular dialogue that goes between us. Laughs, jokes, taunts, secrets and lies. Conversation. Light and deep. Enlightening and heartfelt. True.
* * *

Done. Search no more. No more. No more. These feelings of searching, the unnecessary needs of finding, of connecting once again exists no more.

I am done. I am through. I call it quits in this little game. There is no point. Things like these should never be sought after. Things like these should never be hunted down. Things like these should never be forced. They should just happen.

Things like these should just be for the sake of being. They should exist out of obscurity because it feels truer this way. There’s no point in searching, because all in all it will just end up being a DESPERATE search. Exhausted desperation that leads one to find a treasure of fools gold.

Again, The Alchemist wasn’t successful in turning lead into gold with the good ol’ Philosopher’s Stone that Van sung so joyfully about.
It may look like the real thing, smell like the real thing, feel like the real thing…but all of these things are just surface, just face to fool you.

Through trials and tests, finding the mass, displacing the water, we find that deep inside it is only black lead, painted with the shiny valued exterior that we all craved about way back in 1849.

Gold like this is something that you come upon out of the blue. Not looking. Not wanting. Not needing. A pleasant surprise that turns your fortune around. It just happens.

Once you get that inkling…once you find traces of gold dust, then you go searching for it. You go and work for it, to find the riches that are beyond your imagination.

You go to the river, you sift through the boulders, the rocks, the pebbles, the sand. You sift and you sift…wash and wash. Aching back, bloody fingers, creaky knees. It’s a long and hard task, but if you are ever so fortunate, if you are ever so lucky, you strike it rich. You find the most valuable gift known to man.

But only if you are ever so fortunate. For some, even though they never will strike it rich, the feeling of being only a step away to economic freedom is all they need. Others aren’t so fortunate. Turning bitter and angry, one step from glory but never tasting glory is just too much to bare. They could go on no longer.

Out of hope and with nothing but desperation, some do drastic things; become a outcast to society, left with nothing but that feeling of lost glory. They are a lost cause. There’s nothing in them anymore. Bitter to the end.

But would being one step away from glory and never reaching it prove my fate as a lost soul? Only time will tell. For the time being, I am content with gold dust.
* * *

How can this be? How can this happen? Where did this connection come from?

How can we be so close, yet we’ve only met a little over a month ago? It seems like we’ve always known each other….maybe from a past life or something…or maybe we both are sheep. Strange how astrology works sometimes.

Open. Close. That’s what we both are to each other. I am close to her than most all family that I’ve grown up and hung out with. Shit, she knows more about my life now than any family. I am more close to her than my brother. We talk about anything, joke about anything. Open. Close.

It’s just strange to share this connection with someone who I only just met. It’s strange indeed. Friends from a past life, I’m sure.

Maybe we are just two open people, unashamed of being ourselves, each accepting our faults and our virtues and presenting them to the other whole heartedly, not holding anything back because we both know that the other will accept us for who we truly are?

Words, thoughts, feelings, secrets, life flow between us without censor. She knows more about me in this short time than most family know in my lifetime. Just strange how the universe work sometimes. Strange.

But maybe I just got to the point where I am comfortable with who I am; comfortable with my faults and my insecurities; comfortable in my own skin to just be myself to each and all. Open enough to share my personal secrets for everyone who have open ears…maybe.

It sure feels that way to many down here.

Who knows what this sibling relationship will bring me…who knows what this sibling relationship means…who knows?

“Sex appeal”…apparently that’s what we share. Genetics maybe, but I disagree. There’s just no sex appeal in me. I think the thing that she can’t pinpoint, the thing that she struggled to come up with is genuiness..openness…comfort.

We have that much in common. We don’t try to be more than what we are. We don’t try to be less than what we are either. We are just who we are.

Humor. Personality. The same through and through. Sure she has more life experiences, but we are still the same. Different upbringings, yet we are still the same. Maybe my science and her God ran out of personalities in that part of Vietnam in 39 days and I ended up with the same predisposed personality that she had? Possibility…the world is full of them.

My new found family. My family away from family. My new life. My new skin. My new me. Me. Me. Me.

It’s all about me.

It’s late late or is it early early? I cannot tell as this is the lastest I’ve been up in a long while trying to come up with the next scenario in my marriage proposal.

I haven’t figured out what it is that I need to do. I haven’t figured out who this life will end with. Who will be the one that I ultimately end up with…the wild shot gun marriage or the single mother that I am so dear to?

Who is it going to be? Who?

So I sit here and the type the words to unwind this little mind, getting into the mindset to feel intelligent again; to fill my head with the witty charm that seems to come out around people now and not with my arthritic fingers. What a shame, what a shame.

Touch me gently as I type these words to fill the empty void, typing away as Pickles lie still, sleeping on the carpet instead of the bed that I got for him.

Such a playful goob that Pickles is. So young and mature at the same time. A old soul youngin like his father is.

Going away, going away, typing away, typing away.

Flowers galore, flowers a plenty, sending it to and fro with the sunny brightness of rhyme and words. Bright Light. Blush Crush. Words that string together….(some taken out here of course).

Cute and cute, funny and interesting. Words I wrote and a personality revelation to the one who was pleasantly surprised.

That’s your cousin. Ewwww are the thoughts. Mine too. Flattered to say the least, but c’mon….gay?

Feminine Feminine. I couldn’t help it that my mom wanted a girl….could I?

Sensitive. The mythical sensitive man that all women wish they had….but are too drawn by the bad boy drama that they love so much. Ever alone, ever alone.

Done done done. No more girls. No more relationships. Whatever comes will come my way. Not looking. Not attempting. Things could go either way and I’m fine with it.

Company company, all I need is very little company. Companionship of the four legged kind is all that I need at the moment. Something distracting from the daily grind of sleeping and napping.

Write write write. I need to get my ass to write. I can’t put the important words down on paper. I’ve lost the ability to string words together…to make a sentence, to write dialogue, to write a scene, to complete a script. Lost and gone. Lost and gone. My limited talent is limited to little bombs going pom pom.

Life just kind of empties out when you strive to do so much but are too afraid to do anything about it. The expectation and the yearning to do something more, but you are too afraid to take that first step. Empties Out. Nothing more.

Don’t expect anything. Don’t look forward to anything. Just let things come to you. Just let experiences come find you…and you will experience life as life was meant to be experienced. Don’t let new experiences come and go without jumping on board for the ride….who says you can’t jump on the bandwagon…jump on and scream Geronimo!!!!

Less of a disappointment. Lessen the pain. Don’t expect anything. Let things happen.

Whatever will be will be. C’est la vie.

sunny sunny glimmer shimmer
falling falling drop flop
splash splash tread dread
fear fear something nothing
live live cry die

Gibberish jibberish nothing makes sense nothing makes sense nothing flows right nothing is true nothing is real all of reality is lacking of punctuation as this sentence is words just crash into other words and other thoughts until it becomes a nonsensical jumble mess of jibberishness gibber jabbing of gib gab fan dab

Pickles on my floor. Pickles in my sandwich. Cut up pickles in my relish on the hot dog that I consume. Pickles here Pickles there Everywhere a Pickles Every Pickles there.

Lickity lick of wet nose and slobbering tongue. Jumping and jiving as we chase each other around the coffee table playing keep away and snapping at my arm because he thinks that’s play. Foolishness and just plain ignorance.

Tea tea, so late in the night makes me ramble like a goose in a gander falling prey to the crocodile in the water with flock of seagulls watching the consumption as some people go take on me with the a ha in the worlds.

Just been asked if I want to stay online. Yes I do. Yes I do.

Wide awake in the caffeine coma of oolong and water. Wide awake into the night with my 1s and 0s. Wide awake with my sleeping dog all stiff and still, waiting for his master to go into the bedroom because it doesn’t want to leave his side.

Night will turn into day and day will go into night and the cycle goes and goes as the world turns and turns like the tv soap opera on that television network.

RENT sings its little songs to my toe tapping ditty of joy and amusement as it makes me smile from ear to ear for its catching rhymes and tempos.

Light my candle will you?

Short and loud. Are you it?

Twin. What a coincidence.

from me to you, it’s something….cool
hope it’s bright like the light
it makes you blush like a crush
from the meanie that called you names

bright as your eyes
sunny as your smile
as frangrant as your scent
and beautiful to boot
hope it makes you smile like your use to

Here I am, standing in the mist…well actually I’m sitting in the mist. Sitting in this new coffee shop that I’m visiting, checking up on the wifi service that they provide. It’s a quaint little place, quiet to an extent, but the hours aren’t to my liking. Closing early, closing early. 9 9 9 9.

This past month has gone by in a blur. These past couple of months has gone by in a blur. Ever since, September. A blur. Things come and go, come and go. It’s been only 5 months, almost half a year, but it seems so much longer. It feels like years has passed since then.

Now we come to a new year. A new lunar year. The year of the Dog. Bow wow.

I don’t know how much writing I’m going to get done. I don’t know how my writing I need to do. I don’t know much of anything anymore, but that I like family. For the most part I miss family, the loud get togethers, the big “hey how do you do’s” etc. etc. etc.

Being at my Great Uncle’s this past weekend to celebrate the coming of the new year is always a great treat. I met family I never met before. I get to be the kid that I always am, chasing the little adorable little girl around the garage. I had fun.

Maybe it’s just my age, or maybe I’ve changed so much, but it just feels that I’ve gotten quite comfortable in most social situations. I felt comfortable being with the new found cousins that I never met before.

I picked up right where I left off with that ol’ high school crush I just connected with again.

I am who I am with the ol’ strange internet stranger that keeps writing me back.

I have grown up, I have reached a new stage in my life. I am comfortable with who I am, I am found.

Now, it just seems that my new found self is getting me in trouble. Nothing too unusual. My words flow out of my mouth, tingle down my fingers; my verse comes out so smoothly and offensive.

Pissing people off is the lesson that I will learn to cope with this next year. I’m a month or two deep in this new phase, but I’m still learning and feeling who can handle the smart ass that is me.

Not many can. They just don’t have that thick skin. Others can, for they know me. But it just seems that I’m just getting myself in trouble with my “smooth” mouth.

My humor is crude, rude, and at most times hard to swallow. My humor is my humor. Dry. Sarcastic. Witty. Smart Ass-y, if there is such a term.

That’s just me. That’s what I’ve always been. I’ve just refined it as I became more comfortable with who I am.

Now that things are done and done and done, it’s just time for me to focus on the things to come. No more of these searches for these unattainable and not worth my time girls.

Now is the time to just focus and enjoy the life that I lead. If that means not going out weeks at a time, then it’s not going out weeks at a time.

I don’t know what I want to write tonight. I don’t know what I want to say here on this blog, but I know that I need to write. I thought about poetry, but nothing comes to mind, no words rhyme.

Most of my writing seems to be a free verse poem anyway, so that’s my poetry for the day.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a poem. A decent poem, and I have no inspiration to write. The last poem that I wrote was to the Starry Flower that will never be, and it has been deleted and forgotten. I cannot search for the words no more, put them in place. It is lost.

Now, I just write and write to fill the void. I just write and write to get my exercise. I just write and write.

I came to the conclusion this past weekend, after being told so so many times before, but I’m really good with kids. Strangers ask if I have any and they tell me that I’m good with them. I am good with them. I’m just a kid at heart. I guess that’s where our connection lay.

It just makes me feel that I really want kids. I really do. Now will I be married when I’m having these kids, that’s a different story. Should I adopt or should I go about the old fashion way or some derivation of it? I don’t know.

Maybe I’m just a big kid, never grown up to realize that life is passing me by. Just too stubborn and too childish to realize that life is something more to my meager existence…but I know it’s not true. I’m an old soul trying to recapture his youth and succeeding at it with the right people.

Gone, lost, but not forgotten
You cloud my memories
You jumble my thoughts

I stand encompassed by your silvery mist
Searching for my way
Stumbling into humility

You were always just out of reach
There’s no point in connecting
Any attempt is an fruitless effort

I can’t shake your essence
I am forever changed
You will always be my history