It's that time of the year when I look through my journals and planners and review my collected thoughts. I've been playing around with the idea of putting out a book for so long that in my head I already did it. When I was in grade school I remember looking up love poems on google. I stumbled upon a website taking submissions for a poetry book and I wrote my 11 year old perception on love.
"it's not how much you take but how much you give, it's not something you make but something you live.." something something I have no idea it was years ago on our first computer, e-machine.
It made sense to me! I received an email a few weeks later that it was going to be included and featured in some magazine. I even had an alter ego. I definitely didn't think it was real though. Remember how people would post their public cries on there in the away messages? I remember having a collection of short poems ready to go for every angsty teenage emotion paired with a song and *action word to signify just how much I was really feeling. I've always been into blogging and writing, since Xanga days. I wish I could track down that heal of an html mess. Lately I've been thinking about what it would be for me to really publish something. I have my physical boom with "KMPS" engraved on it from my 25th birthday given to me by Nene and Tay. I'm still thinking about publishing that. Or cause I want to save the trees, dropping a website of all my writings and doodles in one place.. I'm contemplating on this project heavy.
Yesterday Ed and I left the house at 6:30am and drove to Lake Tahoe. Our first plan was to kayak. Great idea. I learned how to row a small wooden boat in the Philippines before I learned how to drive. I also learned how to steer and boat before I got behind the wheel of a car. So me and water have this relationship. Intimate and full of history. She was my first teacher. I was angry yesterday morning. I don't know why, something stemming from childhood I'm sure. I could feel my inner child yelling "no one is listening!" and so for a moment on the water I requested we stop. And so I listened to my heartbeat and I slowed down my breath and did all the things that you do to calm anxiety and I realized how much beauty was around me. I felt a sudden calm, and heard a small but powerful voice say "it's time to write this story" So I began to open up to Ed about my plan. I've never been in a space with someone, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually the way that I am with Ed. And I want to celebrate that. But I also want to honor all that I've learned in the process. I believe I've been holding on to these journals for a reason. The entries, 2-3 lines sometimes full on poems or rantings are like placeholders for moments I had a hard time letting go of. I'll go