What is lost will be reflected back whole again

A blood-red moon.

A beautiful phenomena that occurs so rarely when Earth casts off the blue spectrum of the Sun's rays into infinite space, leaving behind the red ones left to travel towards the moon and reflect back to us. This occurrence is the third one in ten years, and combined with the recent volcanic ash activity, we are gifted a rich blood-red stained moon.

Many cultures view it as a bad omen. Me, I see it more as a reflection of life, something that haunts me... colors that belonged as part of the same rays are separated by an obstacle too big to avoid... one part is infinitely lost, leaving the lone survivor to traverse on and reflect in anguish.

There are so many good things happening to me now. Yet I feel incredibly isolated whilst surrounded by people who love and care about me. I prefer solitude, perhaps in acknowledgement that what makes me whole has been lost to an eternity of endlessness. I am that lone survivor reflecting in anguish.

But a small part of me... a teeny tiny part of me hopes... like anything that was one part of a whole knows... A sense that what is lost... isn't.... It is out there waiting to return. As destined it was one once, what is lost will be reflected back whole again.

Sex and intimacy

The minute I say I have stories to update from Europe, my friends all ask if I hooked up with someone... Hmm... I mean, interesting stories don't always encompass action does it? Having said that, a male friend argued that there is always the perennial tension between guys and girls that usually includes sexual tension, which I guess is true. But no... I did not hook up with anyone there. Not the Paris guy, nor the Italian guy, nor the London guy...

I look at the box of rubbers my girlfriends gave me at my farewell. I brought it with me this trip for a laugh, but in my heart I just don't think I'm capable of random sex. I'm hardly a goody-two-shoes, but I have never slept with a stranger I just met. I may not have been in a relationship with the guys I've been with, but they were at least friends. I do think of it as love-making you know? And well, sex is a form of intimacy. When you're comfortable with the person, being able to explore the body the way it sensually deserves...

God. I miss a slow languid love making session.

Only when you give it a chance

Tomorrow will be my last full day in London. I am reminded that I would travel back here many more times but I still feel a sense of loss. If I put these 3 months together with the rest of the time I lived here, it would amount to 7 years. Yet this trip is special. Because it belongs to me and me only - not like when I was in college and there was a huge community or when I was working here and living with LC. They were amazing times, but this feels more intimately "me".

Hmm... to explore London, to walk the small lanes, sit in those tiny gardens alone... To find the small things that make the place unique to me... I think I understand why I call this place home. It is not because I know everything there is about the city, but that the city affords me a certain peace. It never makes me feel like I don't belong.

Being here brings me back to the time when I was 12, when everything was ok. It is a very special feeling that can't be explained. Most people view London with disdain, but when you experience the quiet that is London, presented to those that give it time, you will be rewarded.

Like with everything, you need to give it chance. Do not expect to be wowed or impressed for those things flash away and never last. It is what you spend effort knowing, understanding and loving that will be rewarded. After all, nothing good comes at the snap of the fingers. The only heartwarming things come when you give it a chance.

Being alone... and an epiphany from a rabbi...

There must be something about being a girl alone. Like the other day in front of National Gallery, where an old man asked if I was OK because I looked pensive. I was actually there with someone who was sketching away, but I smiled and shook my head. And then there was the other time at a cafe when a Scot-American started chatting with me. He was lovely. He was an ex-fund manager that is now managing a small theatre in LA. I had tons of fun talking to him about art in the UK and in California.

And there was today. When I was seated quietly at one corner of another coffee joint, an elderly man with another male companion suddenly turned to me and asked "Are you OK my child? You look sad." I smiled, but could feel tears forming at the corners of my eyes and he continued "We have lots of time if you want to talk." He continued asking me questions, and I felt compelled to answer. A waitress looked at me to see if she should intervene but I was able to indicate otherwise.

It turns out he is a rabbi. And I poured my soul out. From how I felt I had ventured far from my own faith, to how I was emptied. I didn't know how to continue being myself, because I was hurt each and every time I cared and invested every effort I could muster. I didn't want to be petty, I didn't want to keep anything back for myself. But I felt that if I continued the way I was I would die of pain and hurt.

And he said, "You love. It is the most elusive thing in the world. It is obvious your circumstances allow you to give love so freely and so openly. It is a gift. I could tell from your smile earlier that there was a light about you. Don't stop. No one can extinguish that light. Keep on loving, even though it hurts."

"It's what makes you special.."

Under the darkened skies...

You sneak into my room past midnight....

Our gazes catch and you slide beside me. Our tongues touch, softly and then tangle in wild abandonment.

We hear noises of drunken louts staggering through the corridors but it does not distract us from peeling each piece of clothing from the others' body deliberately.

And then it is quiet except for our quickened breaths on one another. As you touch me I gasp. I take you in my mouth. We pleasure one another and our murmurs spur us on and on, spiraling us into oblivion.

You stay with me till 4am before you go back to your room.

I wait for you to come by tomorrow, as you always do... Our secret. Our intense fling.

Why it is called lovemaking

Met up with T last night and we started discussing if my recent posts made me sound like a slut.

There is no doubt that I am comfortable with my sexuality, and I can understand why some people might term me one. But what if I'm married, and still open and comfortable with being sexual?

I have never thought of sex as a means to an end. It is a sensory connection, of touch that speaks of words that do not need to be voiced out. It is about getting close and pulling down barriers. After all, it is not called lovemaking without reason...

And no... suggestive words and visuals in my writing do not make me a slut. They only indicate that I have a vivid imagination. C'est tout.

Naked.

The minute I close the door I kick off my shoes and place my keys on the ledge next to the wall. One hand begins to unbutton the top of my dress as I move towards the living room. I place my bag on the old leather armchair and shrug out of the dress.

I catch myself smiling at how you used to love watching me do this daily routine each day when I get home. Except you're no longer around. I stand naked and bare as the twilight breeze brushes past.

I cling on to your body...

Your skin on mine, I breathe in your scent. Our tongues touch in a kiss. Did I ever tell you how sweet your tongue tastes? I wonder if mine tastes of honey to you...

But that's just fleeting... True intimacy is fingers grazing, then intertwining... laughing over the smallest things... holding on innocently... teasing the other... nuzzling the nape... silent gazes... and comfortable closeness.

That's what I want. That's what I've always wanted. And I need to cling on to that, not all these fleeting moments.

Husband or Lover?

Crossroads.

I never thought that when I prayed for someone to love and cherish me, I'll be thrown three men who are definitely looking to settle down, who seriously scare me a tad bit when they look at me. I want someone I want to love and cherish me. While those blokes are good lads and make sense on paper, I don't know if I'm quite there yet. I don't know if I want them.

Yet, it feels like an opportunity to be grasp. Can love be quantified as an opportunity though? They would make great husbands.... A lover? To me? I don't know.

I know it sounds completely selfish to say this, but I wish I didn't have these options. I know when I don't, I whine about the lack of options. But the emotional turmoil I've been in for the past few days has been overwhelming.

I need to stop exuding pheromones. For the third time in a week, a friend thrusts his tongue into my mouth as we said our goodbyes. I'm too polite to push him away. Actually, how does one react to being kissed by a friend whom one wants to keep?

when you prepare for the worst

good things some how happen....

I was derailed, at a low point for a good many months. And, the moment I decided enough was enough... well, more like come to terms with the situation, things have never looked better.

But it will not derailed my London plans.... I'm headed there in October to check out how I'll spend time there in 2011. My London/Europe sojourn is a year late. I was to be there now as we speak, but I waited, I waited on a guy to my big mistake. No more. No more.

Funny thing is that just when I'm looking forward to running off to London, everything falls sweetly into place here.

Babe knows me best....?

"You can't reveal your true feelings??? You're so full of shit. I give you to the end of the year, and I promise you'll have made your feelings known."

Perhaps. But what happens if it is different this time?

Looking out

Feeling no different from seven years ago.

Sitting by the window, looking out, hoping something good will happen. A different place, a different window. The same wish.

Sad, pathetic? Or just the knowledge and experience of what life is?

Probably, one of my most honest posts in a long while.

It's all in the mind.

We were perched on a cliff looking towards the purple orange hues of the sunset. We were still not talking. He was no different from a stranger who decided to come by this favorite haunt of mine. It was only when I heard an explosion and saw a plume of black smoke at a nearby island that he muttered, "It's some military exercise."

He turned towards me and touched me. I looked at him and he quirked an eyebrow suggestively while his hand continued up towards my breasts. I said, "You don't have the guts to see this through." That only encouraged him as his hands started exploring me intimately. I told him "You're going to do this and after that not talk to me again. Just disappear like you always do." His reply? "That's not important is it? The question is do you want this?" I bit my lip and nodded, but couldn't help adding this jibe, "I know what you're like aroused. You'll need to put in more effort for this to be worth while."

He did. He rocked slow and deep. We cried out as we came together at the same time. His cry was deep, guttural, animalistic. Our bodies shuddered against the other.

I came so hard my panties and sheets were wet when I woke up.

Every time I take you out for a spin, I realize how much I've missed you

I'm such a bloke....

Hijacked the 3 series today and floored it on the expressway... There is something about sitting so close to the road with the trees and buildings whistling past, listening to the inline 6 cylinder engine growling away....

I've missed you....

Girls (ok, maybe it's "I") just wanna have fun

Seriously, people are way too obsessed with me getting married.

I'm not looking to marry. It's so out of context, its like "?!?!". See, it's been a while that I've connected with a man intimately on a emotional, mental and sexual level, and when that happens I'll like to enjoy this connection. I want to have fun and live in that moment. I want to enjoy spending time with the guy exploring the world, or simply what home offers. I want to live life and fall in love and not feel that I'm wasting precious time together thinking about whether the guy is a suitable husband or to plan some ridiculous future together.

I may be a free spirit, but don't people just fall in love anymore?

Everything in its time

Laughing my ass off with a pal and recounting horrific tales old and new....

Blardy insomnia from all the oxygen ingested, breaths gasped, hip-cups endured. Yes, but above it all, thanks for the only thing that mattered...

"Everything in its time."

A silhouette in the dark

As I stand at the corridor smoking my cigarette, I notice a dark shadow beneath my favorite tree. It is a man sitting by the curb. He sits so still it takes me a moment to realize that it isn't a shadow cast from the tree, but that of a Bangalore construction worker sitting and contemplating the passing traffic.

I wonder what he is thinking. He is all alone. He has no friends. The working conditions for Bangalore workers here are appalling, but he is doing this to aid his family back home. He is perhaps doing this so that his family can transcend their caste that they were born into. And, as I see him sit quietly, and so alone, I cannot help but feel the longing he has in his soul, his spirit to be with his love ones... that he might not see his love for another 5 years, that maybe she will forget him. Or that their love will stand the test of time, because it is one borne out of real bonds. I don't know. I can only speculate.

But as I look on, I can't help but feel incredibly small. Weak. That I am suddenly feeling a longing, a missing for someone... someone that I haven't spoken to for only a few days. Strange. But yes, I miss him.

Revelation from a friend

You know, "I love you" is a sentence that is always taken out of context. When and if I say "I love you" to my girlfriend(s), I really mean that they have touched me some how, to a certain level. It is not a promise of any kind. I can't promise that I will always love her, that I will not do callous things, that there will not be any difficulties or that I will be there for her. All I'm saying is that they have touched my heart and for that mean something to me, however small it may be, for the rest of my life.

How true.

Looking back, Looking forward

My last vacation marked the beginning of a new chapter. It marked a season of disappointment. Now, when I look back to the moment where I was at, packing my luggage last year, I realize how naive I was about so many things.

Perhaps it was a mistake on my part and I let my emotions get the better of me. I wanted to see where my immediate feelings would lead me to. I had no idea what would happen, I had only wanted to explore the sensations that were coursing through my skin, my brain and... my heart.

I didn't believe in posturing then. I still don't. It's not my nature to play games or strategize. What you see is what you get. No one else. I cannot begin to fathom why the world prefers to hide beneath layers of forgeries, of fake emotions, while shunning all that is real. The pain cuts deep.

So here I am, embarking on 2010's vacation. I have the cutest fedora to wear with my sundresses on this Baltic Sea cruise. I'm going back to Europe where I've always felt at home. The feeling of going home is comforting. But beyond comfort, I'm strangely hopeful. At the pit of my gut, I feel this trip marks a new beginning. A new beginning of acceptance...

I promise, this will be the last I write about the disappointments of the past year. I've had enough looking back. Onward, I say. The air reeks of promise.

Frisky

J and I started our most recent relationships roughly the same time in 2004. The difference is that she's still with the guy while I'm not with mine. And the only thing that came to mind when I thought about it is that that it means that she's had at least 3 more years worth of sex than I do. Oh man, I miss having sex. Especially the kind that curls your toes and sends shudders down your spine with pleasure.

I obviously woke up this morning feeling damn frisky.