Juxtapose

If someone were to ask me what I love about you, I would certainly mention how much you are the opposite of me. The funny instances how you kindly call dumbass people ‘weird’ then I chime in with my claws out, sink my nammer fangs in, and fill in all the expletives.

You are water. I am fire. You are calm. I am chaos. You are birds chirping on a sunny day. I am firecrackers at 6am on a Monday morning. You are a field of spring meadows. I am a dark alley after midnight. You are an upbeat rnb song. I am a melancholy indie track with side swept bangs. You are a slow and steady walk in the park. I am a maze in a rush. You are pretty easy going. I am ocd and stubborn af. You are unwavering positivity and patience. I am the middle finger stuck in traffic…hungry. You are simply so thoughtful and kind. I am … well lucky. hahaha

It’s in the power of these opposites that my darkness meets the spectrum of your light. That my circle of trust and valuable relationships are born and relishing of connections grow. And it is in the few similarities that we meet, hold hands, and are able to understand and wholeheartedly embrace all the contents our palms have held on to and let go of. It’s in the contrast that I learn most what we are about together and as singular individuals. The moments we drive each other bananas are also the most fruitful of ones. :p

Of all things that have scraped and scarred my palms, of all things my palms have learned to let go of, you make up for everything that wasn’t worth keeping and holding on to (and then some.)

From day one, I appreciate that I didn’t have to chip away at a single layer of ego or issue to get to your heart or to learn your story. It has always been wide open by choice, all accepting smiling back at me. We never had facades, just our flaws and raw honesty upfront: I adore how our imperfections sit comfortably in it’s own skin.

You are like my favorite pair of sweat pants, pj pants, legging pants, buffet pants, anything with an elastic waist band really. You lovingly accommodate my extra extra when the stretch is needed and are the most comfortable emotional attire I wear proudly. You make me feel like the most special pair of pants in a room full of dresses.

Above all, as I write this, I realise you are my heart’s most beautiful juxtapose. I am grateful knowing the other (very) different part of me is you.

Happy 34 my Alibae, wishing you another beautiful birthday and year ahead. XO

 

#34 #birthday #celebration #you #tna #manchestertan #lettuce #201

33

🎈33: thanks for the extra white hairs coming in, the assortment of fine (frown and laugh) lines in my expression, my molasses like metabolism, and the little surprises with the ache in my joints and spasm in my muscles. talk about body party. thanks for the humble reminder that everything I do to attempt to keep you healthy, is really to delay deterioration and how eating spicy ass food has it’s dire consequences. on a side note, thanks for my extra durable colon. Inspite of all the visible signs, I wouldn’t trade you for my teens nor twenties because teenagers smell weird and growing as a 30 something has been the best and most valuable years yet. You’ve taught me plenty in 2016. As a result, I feel more ‘planted’ than ever because my feet knows where it consciously chooses to stand, with my head and heart assertively leading the way.

I looked into the mirror this morning as you whispered softly “dim sum chicken feet” into my ears. With bated breath, I made it happen and chicken feet is what was had. dreams do come true. you’re welcome. :p

With no makeup and morning breath that can kill a house plant, it was still a solid feeling simply being able to recognize my own reflection not for it’s shell or external condition, but what I know to be true on the inside deep down into my bones. you’ve grounded me.

above all, the best (and hardest) lesson you teach me every single year as the years add on is that “the only way out is through.” there are no shortcuts and if there is one, it’s likely a cliff ahead without a warning sign, lol

here’s to another beautiful 365… Thanks alistair for a day of obesity eats & these blizzard cupcakes. xx

Power of The Wallflower

 

 

Happy Birthday Coco G ~ My favorite Ninja!

It may be known that you wear a lot of black but I hope you are aware of how colorful your personality is. Like good art, it doesn’t need to be displayed for the world to see but will happily hang where it is appreciated and understood with it’s many layers, textures, shades, and depth. You remind me of the museums you love to seep yourself in: Clean and understated: Less is always more. You carry your qualities like you do with your drinks: extra strong, overflowing, and two at a time. All three can keep you up for days. Hahaha! What a year of happenings it has been for us both – Too. Many. Jokes. It’s comical what has made us connect this year: our passion/addiction for milk bbt, eats within the bbt radius, FRANCHISE DREAMS, dilated pupils, brunch lineups #alwayswaiting, feng xeis and wong fus, Cambodian ghosts, a whole lotta bullsheit, and above all, taking out the trash… and it’s lid.

Thru it all, I have come to learn and respect your integrity, silent ninja moves(it’s a lost art), uncanny impressions, sharp observation, foresight, but more than anything else, how you have a solid sense of who you are and what you stand for – bowl slammin’ included. :p

As I get older, I see how significant is it to be among quality souls that have the innate ability to see other quality souls with values that align and a mutual level of respect to match.

In true introvert fashion, I know you don’t like to stand out but the qualities above are what set you apart from the rest…to me. Because your surroundings are vital to your energy and peace, I hope you continue to surround your world with people, places, things, and of course, art that fills your heart with inspiration and life like a classic Bob Ross painting and his gorgeous afro.

Wishing you a beautiful year ahead that hopefully *feels* like it’s October all year around!

#birthday #celebration #you #powerofthewallflower #guhaweh #⚫️

Muscle Memory

 

 

They say muscle memory is when a movement is repeated over time, a long-term muscle memory is created for that task, eventually allowing it to be performed without conscious effort.

It is also known that the hardest working cardiac muscle is the heart and it has the ability to beat over 3 billion times in a person’s life.

Now before this becomes all science – You my love, are my heart’s muscle memory.

From the very first “hi” on that rainy Thursday afternoon, I chose to use my heart with conscious effort (…with the help of my girls gina and tonicqua. :p)

You showed up and further molded and reshaped my heart. To my surprise, I found myself exercising and conditioning it in a way I never had it functioning before.

It remembers what you wore the first day we met, the first words you said, and how like me, awkwardly nervous you were too.

It remembers how I threw out my neck the day before our first date and it was stuck to the left, to the left, but nothing like beyonce.

It remembers our second date at the movies and how we saw Gone Girl… going in blind unaware of the plot and how I asked you afterwards “You sure you want another date?”

It remembers our third date – that time we went ice skating at Robson Square and you held your hands out to support me as I got an awkward view of your crotch the entire time and how ‘West End Willy’ tried to pick you up circling you like the ice fox that he is. Little did I know… your support would go far and beyond the ice.

It remembers the time we signed our renter’s lease and how our landlord spent a good hour telling us about her complex case of gout. Let’s never get gout please.

It remembers those dirty b*tches that lived there before us who made bleach my best friend. lol

It remembers and laughs at our newer-ish traditions especially ‘Story Time’ : How I chose a super serious somber excerpt and read it in my most Vietnamese accent possible.

It’s difficult for me to write these chapters of our story to you without sharing a ‘muscle memory’ because I use these as the weights I use to lift and strengthen my heart.

Only now, I do so without conscious effort.

Thank you for showing me that when used to it’s full potential and purpose, the heart is indeed the most beautiful and strongest muscle one can have.

And I’ve learned that living is just that, putting it to work until it feels what it was made to feel … one heartfelt muscle memory after the next.

I am feeling enormous gratitude for the past two years ~ Happy 2 Alibae. XO

 

#tna #201 #manchestertan #musclememory

Junkie

Hi, my name is Terry and I am a recovering feelings addict.

I grew up craving for a fix every single day.

I was hungry for sentiments not expressed.

I was starving for the physical evidence & emotional proof that I was loved.

I didn’t know how hungry I was until I painfully realized I didn’t have the heart to stomach what I was not being fed by those responsible for me.

Perhaps I was fed, but it was barely enough to sustain and nourish my heart’s appetite.

If I was loved, it must have been spoken in a language I could not speak, read, write, nor understand.

I felt illiterate and intuitively knew this would be a subject I will be struggling with in life.

If it was sent in a message, I must have not received it, or received it too late, too soon, or in a way my self worth interpreted otherwise than it was intended it to be.

Then one day I looked in the mirror and it dawned on me: I had to find a way to fend for and feed myself.

And like all junkies do, I binged and got addicted to all things bad for me.

I got lost in chasing a feeling leaving all of my common senses behind.

I didn’t listen to my pain or admit that I needed help.

I abandoned anything that was honest enough to tell me I deserved better …and more.

I abandoned the one person who needed me most: Me.

It wasn’t until I got very sick that I had to learn what was unhealthy for my heart and my soul.

And so, I committed myself to sit in a chair 5 days a week and spoke honestly about my addiction, about who I was, … and I wrote about it.

I learned to pursue my purpose, not people.

I learned to stop chasing the false sense of security that never was, the so called “highs,” and how to embrace my sobriety in my own skin.

I learned to choose myself.

I learned how to choose love.

And above all, I learned how to choose to love me first.

I am now 32 years old, and 3 years clean.

V Day

… I’ve never been big on Hallmark Holidays (at all) but if loving you makes this day mean anything, then today means everything. Thank you for loving me in the subtle ways my heart didn’t know it needed to be. In the softer, cozy, smell good dryer sheets kinda way an abrasive girl like me needs.

I reflect often & find our love in the most peculiar of places: In puddles staring back at me when I look down, calling on me to be the best self reflection I can possibly be because you deserve that much. In the sky when I look up, on days when the sky simply can’t decide if it wants to be a beautiful clear blue, grey, or both. I see you…us… in the weather down to the dew drops. On paper when my hands take on a life of it’s own in an inspiration’s notice and I have the write of way. In the quiet moments when noise surrenders to sound letting feelings speak for themselves. When clouds kindly give way to sunshine exposing your warm smile, … and in the every day we choose each other. You make me see life & beauty where I least expect it even on days my glass feels half empty, & I’m moody, bloated, & bitchy. :p

We are a reflection after all, of who we choose to love and the people who choose to love us back is simply a mirror with a beating heart.

… And with you, I am never too shy nor afraid to bring the giant cheese platter no matter how lactose intolerant you are. :p #seewhatididthere #cheeseforcheese #fondueparrttyyy

If I’ve learned anything about love… if it doesn’t scare me a little or a whole lot, surrender to the bowls of breakfast bullsheit I serve myself on a daily all thanks to that sly hoe known as fear, make me a better human being, challenge my insides, and make me wanna shit in my pants a little on occasion… it’s probably not that potent. :p I choose shitting in my pants over and again if that means you are the reason.

~ Happy Hallmark my Love.

To love… to cheese… good smelling dryer sheets… and pants shitting. XO

Learning The Ropes

When woven rope becomes the thing in which you use to climb instead of a game of tug of war you can never win.

When the force of your own stubborn grip, leaves your hands completely scraped raw and scarred, baring the honest resemblance of all the reasons why you should no longer hold on.

You bare it.

Bare the familiar sting and you accept the nature of the injury as some sort of everyday comfort you breath in and out suffocating, as if the discomfort that was trying to tell you something worth learning wasn’t enough.

Pain whispers little grains of salt into your wounds challenging your heart’s threshold.

Did you learn?

Did you even listen?

When the illusion of the fruitful climb, is really the laws of gravity telling you the higher you climb, the harder you’ll fall.

When truth smacks you dab right in front of your face and tells you it’s who you climb for… more than why you climb.

Know the difference my dear.

Know that you can climb a mole hill or an entire mountain for someone and they still wouldn’t appreciate your efforts if they fail to appreciate you.

Here’s the thing, you have the be the reason you climb. Let the reason be you – For when you hold on, you know you’re holding on to your needs.

Respect yourself enough so that your knees won’t fall to beg, you will fall because you needed to learn and the rope was there all along to help you pull yourself up not intended to tie you down.

Is that enough reason for you to let go when it’s no longer worth holding on?

Or will you just loosen the grip until the pain forces your hand to release?

Will you release? Or will you wait for the pain to release you?

Whether the rope is used as a noose, the pull, or the climb: How hard you stubbornly choose to hold on, how gracefully you choose to let go, or how determined you are to use it for the climb… is for you to decide.

That’s the beauty and also the beast: Our decision is always our own to make.

So learn the ropes and use it accordingly.