Kai

He lay on the couch, feet sprawled out and one limb reaching out over the edge.  It was a lazy Sunday morning and all seemed in order, but he was still restless.  The night before had been a crazy adventure - he was being chased by some young punk and he nearly missed throwing punches, thank goodness for his agility and strength. He was able to get himself and his brother away without being hurt.

But this morning he wanted something more.  Since moving down south, things seemed more foreign than ever.  He no longer heard the wailing of sirens or yelling on the street. Those noises were replaced by loud cicadas and birds chirping happily. He wasn’t sure which was better. At least there was no longer that dank smell of marijuana wafting in from the hallways, thanks to inconsiderate or defiant neighbors.

The bedroom door opened and he lifted his head to see his dad coming into the living room.  He’d recently had surgery and was up and about after a week and a half.  It was nerve wracking for a while as his dad was in a lot of pain.  He made sure to be by his side to offer emotional support.  But now his dad was walking around and doing things on his own. 

He stretched and stood up from the couch and went over to the window. That was one of his favorite places to visit in the morning.  Birds and lizards and insects passed by the window and made for a interesting study. He sat watching and following them for a while before he noticed his mom come in from the garden. 

She always smelled of tomatoes when she came back in.  He didn’t like tomatoes, they reminded him of tunafish because the can made the same noise. But she smelled so good when she smelled of tomatoes. He made sure to greet her in the hallway and smelled her hands. Such a sweet smell, mixed with her own scent that made his whiskers wiggle with delight.  He watched as she replaced her garden shoes for her warm sock slippers then headed for the couch. Next to looking out the window, the couch was his number one favorite place. 

She swung her feet onto the couch and adjusted a pillow behind her back.  Next, she threw a blanket over herself then picked up her iPad. She was going to work some more on things humans use computers for.  He waited for her to get comfortable, then jumped up onto her lap and circled twice to find the right spot. A few more moments kneading the blanket and he finally settled in for the remainder of the morning.  What a wonderful life to be a cat he thought as she gently stroked his head and under his chin.

nyc writing (Harlem's Hollowed History)

inspired was i by a walk down 137th street.
castles past their prime stared down at me with curious eyes.
'would she see us, would she care' they cried to each other.

i touched the wet bricks that water wore away.
some would claim the pipes had leaked, but i knew this damage.
these buildings had seen better days, the grooves were from tears.

in a time long ago and sadly forgotten, this used to be a kingdom.
grand lords and ladies danced in each hall and celebrated life like none other.
oppression couldn't reach them here, or so they thought.

the tides rolled in and things changed for the worst.
living became a burden and the kingdom was slowly fading from sight.
each proud building was left to deteriorate like their spirit of celebration.

the wonder of how things were consumes me.
there is a hunger for knowledge of the past while trying to preserve it in the present.
just think of all that could have been offered if the celebration always continued

why the hate?

she paces back and forth with her fingers tangled in her hair. one moment she wants to pull as hard as she can because she doesn't know what else to do. the next moment her palms are cradling her throbbing head. the feeling of hate just won't go away.

it all started when he came into work. his "i'm always mellow" façade fooled even her, until she disagreed with him.

"We can easily do it this way..." she started to suggest.

"NO. We're doing it my way," he grumbled on the phone.

Not used to hearing such tone from her managers, she agreed for that moment. But why was he so mean all of a sudden?

'That was the beginning' she thought. Now she had to sit down. Her stomach was starting to rumble and she didn't feel well. Before she lost her footing, she made it to the couch and lied down.

"Deep breaths.... just breathe and let it go."

Her passion for living was so great it intensified feelings toward others. In love, this was incredible for her partners but for her enemies, it was a burden you wouldn't wish on anyone. Once someone showed a sign of irrationality due to power given, it was hard for her to take that person seriously and her rebellious nature to prove she is right comes out.

Which is what got her in trouble the week before. Some unusual activity started up at work that kept her busy for quite some time. As always happens when she's bombarded with requests, he comes over to ask generic questions expecting very specific answers. She let him know she'd look into the issue as soon as she can.

When she didn't get back to him in a reasonable matter of time, he began to slam her with emails asking for status updates and other requests. On a dare of her own conscience, she shoot back an email telling him she'd email him when she was ready. Then she prepared for the tone of voice, the disapproval and the condescending attitude. She could take yelling and insults, but having some idiot with a high ranking title talk down to her was unacceptable. She'd have an attitude all her own.

She was wrong, perhaps sinking to his level, but what right did he have to treat her this way? It wasn't as if he didn't treat others this way. She's heard people in his office disagree and the tone would come out. If only she had the wisdom to fight him with intelligence and not emotion. This was just too close to her pride and she couldn't let it go.

"i want..." the tears are streaming down her face now, her head buried in one arm. "i want to let it go. i don't want to let this get the best of me. I know i'm the stronger one, but i have to learn to let this go... i have to let the hate go before it destroys me."

freewrite - letter found in a bottle on the east coast

feelings are like waves. they make you sway back and forth, choosing one side of a decision in happiness and another in anger. Sadness breaks your heart as you discover yet another path... maybe that's another reason Buddhists suggest making yourself into an island. no matter how hard the waves pound back and forth, you're still an island.

i'm stuck on a boogie board in those waves. they are taking me in one direction one day while i try my best to paddle away from the current. am i foolish to go against the grain? it's always taken me to my goals before. why is it so difficult to do it at this time? perhaps because the feelings are so much stronger now. so much more...

there's never a time for a clear head or a safe assumption. everything must be weighed and counted. i won't let the waves drag me under. i'm still afloat. i can be that island and that is where i intend to stay.

free write - realization

blah... don't like my writing tonight. i just want to paint a picture of someone in the shower. the walls are dripping with condensation as the hot water runs. drop after steamy drop splashes against her forehead and cools as it runs down her cheeks. this time is her time. she turns around to let the water hit her back - the heat and constant pattering massage her tense shoulder and neck muscles. without thinking, she smiles.

how easy it is for her now to look back to see how foolish she was. he couldn't use her anymore. his flowery words told her she was the only one to help him. she could see now he only meant to use her up until she had nothing left. it almost happened, but she got away.

the water burst a bit more as she turned the knob. somehow tonight the water couldn't get hot enough. she thought about the call he made earlier that day. she didn't pick up, she didn't dare. he never cared what she might have been doing, so long as he could get in touch with her. not leaving a voicemail also made it easy to bear. this was one chapter she wanted to close and never revisit.

it was amazing how she could see it all now. especially how she could put it beyond and not cater to his needs... even if he really did need her, it wasn't her job any longer.

write or die - the past

1000

32

lab.drwicked.com

okay well here we go. i can't believe how much i've wanted to write recently. i was so afraid i'd lost my ambition, but i thought if i wrote every day, that would get the juices flowing again.

yesterday i wrote about a red door. today, who knows what i'll write about. hopefully it won't just be blogging... right, here we go.

eyes closed, she listened to the whisper of the drapes. a warm breeze swayed them back and forth over the radiator. it was hot in the room, how she hated the stuffy room. flowers surrounded her bed like a funeral parlor. well didn't they want her dead soon anyway? it didn't matter. it wasn't their consistent bothering that made her worry.

all her life she struggled to make sure everyone around her was comfortable. if money was low or bills had to be paid, she gave up her own bills to make sure everything worked out. she didn't want to see others suffer. she knew that beyond all else, she could take on the burden of their suffering - she was strong enough.

what worried her now was her leaving this world. her brothers and sisters were all grown up and her parents moved on with their lives too. but what would happen if someone needed money or emotional guidance, or just a shoulder to lean on. had she been too concerned to let them live on their own? were they capable of taking care of themselves, or did she always give them an easy way out.

"why do you worry about such things..." the question hung in the air for a moment. Suddenly, she realized it was spoken aloud.

"who are you? how did you get here?" she was neither scared or shocked, but amused that someone was standing before her reading her mind.

"i'm here to guide you to your next life. You cannot make it on your own because of attachments you refuse to give up."

she stared at him curiously now. it was young man in a loose white shirt and black slacks. his hair reached just below his ears and he had beautifully trimmed sideburns.

"what attachments," she smirked. "i cannot leave until i know they are okay."

"That's not why i'm here. That's not your true worry." he picked a flower from one of the bouquets.

"of course it is, why else would you be here?" this time, she was surprised.

"because you are still linked to your husband." he dropped the flower.

her body stiffened and she looked up to the ceiling. blinking quickly, she tried to get rid of the tears that were forming, but at this stage in her life, she couldn't blink them away any more.

"i want nothing to do with him. nothing, do you hear me? i've had enough of worry and what-if's that i can't run my mind through any more scenarios. please leave me al..." her last word faded into a sob and she covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"you don't have a choice. this is your last unresolved attachment that must be faced and resolved. if you refuse, your life will be spent attempting to fix it..."

"no, yo-you can't ma-make me." she wiped the tears away but they wouldn't stop.

"you have no choice. i will try make it as painless as possible, but it won't be easy. come, take my hand..."

his hand didn't seem the least bit comforting. the thumbs were nibbled on, cuticles split and raw skin showing, and the veins popped out of the back of it, as if he didn't eat enough. still, she didn't want an eternity of trying to fix the relationship she let fail. she weakly reached out her hand and touched his...

she was back in the year 2002. before her stood a judge, her ex-husband and his brother. she gasped and started to shake, this was her wedding ceremony. she shouldn't be here, this happened already. she tried to speak but noticed she could only see what was happening through her own eyes. she couldn't control her body or voice.

"why am i back here?" was all she could think.

"this is where it started. the guilt, the joy, the feeling of belonging to someone and being stuck with them for the rest of your life: the regret of not having a real wedding with the excitement of not doing things traditionally. sure you were with him far before that, but the attachment started here.

you see, having a boyfriend was a bit of another babysitting job for you. it was another person to take care of. he didn't compromise to take care of your needs, so you felt he was incapable of doing so. you put it out of your mind and just took it one day at a time. then you got married. deep in the back of your mind, something told you that this person that was incapable of taking care of you would need to be cared for on a 24 hour 365 day schedule. you let parts of yourself go at that moment to make sure he had what he wanted. you forgot the most important thing..."

"what is that...?"

"what you wanted." he tightly gripped her hand and they moved onto the next memory.

~~~~

not too bad for half an hour. i almost made it to 1000 words. perhaps in these 39 seconds i can make it all the way up. don't know. think i should write down my life story, someone's bound to read it. even if i'm pictured as the enemy, the person to hate, wouldn't it be interesting to see how many people like my life?

freewrite

The silence stiffened her. Every second was another empty hiss in the receiver. She could open her mouth and say something, but what was the use, it wouldn't make her feel any better. She was here in New York, he was far away, beyond the reach of her unmoving hand.

"yeah, i'm okay." it was a lie. nothing was okay. her feelings for him were slipping with every phone call they made. she couldn't touch him, he was becoming a memory and all too quickly. he wasn't there to comfort her, he wasn't there to tell her he loved her. empty promises meant she should let go. to protect herself.

"okay, i'll talk to you tomorrow then." and with a sentence, any last remaining hope of being saved was broken. the frayed rope just snapped in two and now she was going to bed alone. again.

she felt angry, sad, lonely, and empowered. it was one more nail in the coffin - something else to help her become stronger to live on her own. each time her feelings went unnoticed she became a pillar of her own strength, building the metaphorical wall around her heart. someday, she knew that wall would be too high for any man to climb. but maybe that's what she wanted all along.

but for now, the wall was only five bricks across, two bricks high. was it unhealthy to count the amount of times she was ignored, probably not. but she did. the calculations remained in her head like any good aquarian has an instinct to do. she'll hang on to that calculation for dear life because if she couldn't grasp that, she would fall apart.

now the doubt set in. was this really what she wanted? why had things changed so drastically. did she notice them change at all, or did she never really see clearly how things had been in the first place? he listened to her, complimented her style, looked past the body and into the mind. but is that how all men seethe their way into sex. was she completely take in by charm? it couldn't be that. if only for the reason that she was just as sexually charged, if not more so.

after doubt comes insecurity. maybe she's changed, and hasn't realized it. maybe she was better, or more appetizing when she wasn't the main course. isn't it true that you always want to try what someone else has? is history repeating itself? he's getting tired of her. there's no need to write stories or poems or tell her how much he loves her because he's already got her. what if she just doesn't have staying power? is that what happened the last time? is that why it didn't work out. she just wasn't good enough.

her mind is pacing back and forth, like she would do if she had the room in her small apartment. why couldn't she see that before? why does she think she can have what other women have? the face and body only lure them in, no matter what they say with their sweet talk.

she'll go to bed crying tonight, lonely and determined to live a lonely life in the end.

the red door

this is a story all about how.. no that's just will smith now. funny how the past comes back do you... isn't it? i started this dr. wicked lab thingy to see if i could get myself back in the habit of writing. i want to write stories again. now the screen just started turning pink. think next time i'll do kamakaze mode.

but anyway, on to my story. i'd like to write about the red door. i should start off small, but then i never know where to begin a story. when i was younger, it always seemed to come much easier to me. but now, it seems like a chore to remember all that stuff. it just shouldn't matter anymore right? just start typing away with a story and see how far you can go with it. and stop with the damn backspace!!! grrrrrrr....

i thought someone was trying to get me. walking to work is such a bore. the same streets, same subway lines, same everything when it's a daily occurance. i'd rather just take a different adventure every day, until i wanted something normal again. we all know what happens to girls that want something different. they get it in a way they didn't expect, then they realize how much their previous life was what they really wanted. in the end, they all get to you.

so one day i noticed something different. i couldn't believe that i never saw it before... a door under the stairs was bright red. Not a nice christmas red, but dark, living red. even with my ipod on, i stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at it's living presence. it wasn't breathing, yet it moved as if a wind was carried through it. i thought that maybe my tired eyes were seeing things. i'm never my best in the morning. but then i heard a lock click and i started on my way, not wanting to stare. the day progressed as every day had for the last year. i went to work, took in calls, resolved issues, stayed later than i should have, and walked home. the door was completely forgotten.

the next morning, taking my normal "follow the traffic lights" route, i came upon the door again. it still seemed like it was moving, but this time, it was inviting and warm. for some reason, i couldn't take my eyes off it. my feet stumbled forward and i was standing beyond the gate. with my next breath, my hand was caressing the painted wood. and as i exhaled, the door closed behind me.