Amelia: "Esta servilleta es tuya"

Hola Clara,

Te escribo esta carta en una servilleta estampada con el logo de  mi bistro favorito. El de la esquina de la calle Magdalena, ¿recuerdas? No ha cambiado mucho desde la última vez que frecuentamos aquí. Bueno, te cuento que aún está el mismo florero turquesa con margaritas blancas y amarillas. Clara, decidí regresar porque me hacía falta el aroma del té chai y las conversaciones que tuvimos en nuestros años universitarios. Quise regrasar porque en este bistro lo recuerdo a él. A Xander. Qué cosa como todo eventualmente me revela como aún no lo olvido. Qué ridículo esto Clara. 

Disculpa esta mancha de té. Ahora mismo un chico con cabello rojizo oscuro pasó por mi lado y tuve que mirar. Lo extraño demasiado Clara. Te extraño a tí igual. ¿Qué nos sucedió? Eras mi amiga, mi hermana a quien podía llamar aun a las horas de la madrugada. Te alejaste porque tomé decisiones distintas a las tuyas. Perdóname. Sí, perdóname porque por primera vez no quise ser una sombra tuya. Por primera vez quise ser conocida por mi nombre y no la fama de ser tu amiga. Creo que ambas fuimos ramas de un mismo tronco, pero después de todo, nos separamos. Yo necesito mi propio sol, quizás eso me hace egoísta pero totalmente humana.


Querida Clara, espero que encuentres la felicidad. Yo la tuve y aquí en este bistro recordandote a ti y a él la sigo teniendo. La felicidad no depende de las personas a mi alrededor, depende de mí.

Así que esta taza de té chai es en honor a tí. Y este beso color rojo en la servilleta es mi manera de decirle a Xander, "Te sigo amando, idiota".

Xander and Amelia: In the world of women and mortgage loans

   It was a rather uncommon day in mortgage loan affairs when all projected cases closed. The time was exactly three in the afternoon and it served as an opportunity for casual day dreams. She thought of Xander and heard his boisterous voice across the hall. Amelia chuckled and wondered how anyone had such constant energy, considering where they were working.

Amelia took the chance of low "productivity" and walked for a while. She noticed that in every corner there was a woman. The world of mortgage loans is ruled by pure estrogen. Amelia thought about how women are the most loving and giving creatures, and yet the worst when it comes to competition. Amelia was aware that she looked strange staring casually at people in the 18th floor of the building, however, she sincerely did not care.

Women everywhere here.

Sasha was a mortgage loan underwriter. She had the clearest blue eyes and graying hair. Her lovely and delicate features made a smooth canvas for her rather difficult story. As if sensing she was being watched, Sasha smiled at Amelia and asked her to sit next to her. Some days, their conversations would be strictly business like how to know when a client qualifies for a federal mortgage loan without appraisal. But today, they both had a lot in their minds.

Sasha was 60 years old and Amelia 27. They had become close friends. It was Sasha who first mentioned to Amelia that there was more than meets the eye with Xander.

"Amelia, you are too closed up when it comes to love. Give Xander a chance"

"He makes me feel reckless sometimes. Like if I should loose control. It's so out of character for me".

"Given, he is a wild ride...but maybe he is just what you need"

Amelia smiled warmly at Sasha and dropped the subject. In that silence, these two women with decades apart from each other, found comfort. Sasha was still in love with her deceased husband. It had been ten years since his death from a heart attack. Amelia found it amazing how her friend surpassed the pain of loss and chose to remember the man she loved.

"I admire your peace, Sasha. I admire your courage on love and hope. You know what I've been through...maybe Xander just came at the wrong time"

Sasha was working on some figures in her computer but stopped abruptly and gave Amelia a "you're so full of shit"look. Amelia laughed hard and the sound surprised her. Everything about Xander always made her feel things. Feel again. Yet she found it so funny how Sasha could see right through her.

"Amelia, you're a sweet girl, but honey,cant you detect your own bullshit? Ever since you met this guy, I've seen you come alive. I feel as if with Xander, the real Amelia comes out. I'm not sure what you are waiting for".

Amelia shrugged but then looked at Sasha as if remembering a fun fact

"well, he did ask me out last week". Sasha extended her arms in the air in victory, but only to be slightly disappointed.

"And?! You told him yes, right?"

Amelia left the conversation in the air. She loved teasing Sasha like that. But truth is, she had decided a long time ago. As she made her way back to her cubicle, she stopped by Xander's desk. He was busy analyzing data and the frustration had him red in the face. Amelia always found this ridiculously cute in him. She wanted to stay a while looking at him without being noticed, but it was Xander, he always knew when she was near.

Amelia went up to him and in her most decisive tone yet, looked into his eyes and said "Yes". She smiled as if she couldn't believe what just happened, and quietly left.

In the world of mortgage loans, some people didn't make the cut, others got a great deal in the new federal mortgage loan, and two people spent the next two hours day dreaming of their up coming date.

Xander and Amelia: Kareoke Madness

5:00 p.m. San Juan, Financial District



Amelia Lockhart stared into her office watch. She tapped her foot on the carpet, as if counting the seconds.  A few more minutes and she would clock in eigth hours of labor dedicated to a career she never studied for. But more on that later, because today was different. Today, she found a reason to stay a few more hours in the city. Amelia smiled because she had wanted to see him ever since that day at the parking lot. But he also scared the living daylights out of her. How could someone have such a dual reaction to her?

Amelia still had no idea what she felt for this person, whom she detested and was so curious about. This person who was from another world. After that infamous afternoon, Amelia had asked her friend Aiden  to walk her to her car. And every day, she would see him in his sleek Volvo parked next to her  blue  SUV. Her pink taser was always charged and ready for action, yet this person was moving slowly. He would only steal glances at her and smile...Amelia hated that she loved his smile. She was only dissappointed that her taser was left unused...to use it meant He would have to come closer.

So terrified and well, let's face it, PARANOID was she, that even her other co-workers knew about him. Some called him "The German" other's prefered to call him "the guy with red hair who scares Amelia".  Her friend Mikaela made the effort to talk to "The German" about her.

                                                     One month ago......


Mikaela and the german/red head guy/guy that scares Amelia/ had met with other co-workers for a few drinks. After a few minutes of analyzing him, she realized that Amelia would really like him. As if keeping a naughty secret from her (which she did), she showed him a photo of the "girl of his dreams".

Xander's expressive eyes enlarged even more when he saw the photo of the mysterious weird girl from the parking lot. "Nooooo way!!!!!!" "I know who she is!!!" "I have seen her, your telling me she is a singer? "Her name is Amelia?". Goal oriented Xander made a mental note that now he had legit reasons to speak to her, that girl who always looked away from him. He kept smiling all night.


                                                        Present day 

                                                         5:25 p.m. San Juan, 
                                          St. Martin Train Station kareoke

The shuttle bus made an abrupt stop. The neon lights sparkled everyone. Anticipation in their eyes. Hearts beating fast. Amelia step out and was face to face with Xander. It felt as if he was waiting for her. Amelia made serious efforts not to freak out and scream, or throw herself right at him.  She was leaving, or so she had decided, but Xander would not take it. He followed her to the parking lot, and after all those months of thinking what to say... "You are the singer, right?"

Amelia, not knowing about Mikaela's trick, was even more festered and scared. "How does he know? Oh crap! I knew it! He has been following me!!" She could only muster a mumbled "umm yeah, uhum.  In that moment you would have never guessed she had a master's degree under her shaking belt.

Xander, on the other hand, was growing even more with confidence. Tonight was the night he would begin to know her. He had no idea why so much intrigue over someone so quiet. But he felt she was different and special, and coming from a past like his, he was searching for the real thing.

"Dont go away! Im coming back. I have to hear you sing"
Amelia nodded
Xander gave her one last smile and chuckled.

Amelia, quickly walked towards her coworkers, all smiling and asking her what was that all about. She couldn't even speak articulately. The DJ was playing the song "Madness"from the band Muse. She suddenly gave in to melody and heart thumping rhythm. The lyrics made it a fitting environment.

"I need to know, is this real love, or is this madness?" She sang out loud and with a drink in hand, she decided it was time to sing and let it all out. Music has always been her escape, her resting place. She looked around for Xander's face amongst the crowd. She was surprised to find out, that he was doing the same. At that moment, eyes locked, she finally smiled, truly from her heart at the exact moment the song said "I have realized, that I need to love".

She took the mike and sang with her heart out. People looked around searching for a face to match the edgy voice, and were surprised to see it belonged to "meek"Amelia. The crowd kept growing, Amelia cheered on and felt so free. When she finished the song, she suddenly so brave, searched for Xander. He had never left her side.

They found each other and began laughing for no good reason. After exchanged names and all, Xander couldn't stop saying how wonderful she sang. Amelia couldn't believe that she loved the sound of his deep voice. He wasted no time and asked for her phone number.

"Oh, you can ask Mikaela for my number. I was about to leave".

Xander's heart beat faster....

"No, please...I really would love to call you".

Amelia's eyelashes batted.  Ohhh, now what do I do? Oh screw it, i cant go on denying. 

" If you want you can put me under Amelia Bank so you wont get confused".

Xander chuckled, "You are the only Amelia in my life. You, what you did tonight. It was unforgettable, like that time in the parking lot with your shirt".

............ Wait, What?. "Y-you remembered that?"

"Like I said, unforgettable".

Xander, I like your name... I might even like.... 

Amelia's drive back home was filled with unsaid words. Her past called, but she ignored it. All she could think of were the color of Xander's eyes, his voice and this desire to know more. Xander saved Amelia's number. He would call first thing. He never felt more sure about anything before.

Two strangers...Two different worlds
One story to tell. Minus one pink taser.

Amelia's Letter

Oh, so this must be how it feels. I have often heard my girlfriends speak of such silent endings with despair. This is how it feels, this calmness. This is how it feels to me when I lost you. Nothing. Empty sounds. Vacant looks and glares. 

I lost you the moment I met you. Remember that day? Place crowded with expectations, me being the weird one, you being the loud one. Yes, I remember how drawn I felt to your light, the sound of your laughter, the color of your eyes. The color of autumn. Truth is, at the risk of sounding extremely stupid...I could have stared into those amber eyes forever. 

I lost you that day, because I was afraid of loving you. I was scared to take a leap of faith and begin again. But I did, for a while. For a while I knew the meaning of a love so strong that it changes you. Your fire, your intensity, even your voice consumed me. I felt transformed. I felt more of me, so many hidden feelings were exposed and I felt naked, and I loved it. But, how can I tame a fire? Can it ever be controlled? 

You. Me. Us. It made sense. For a while. I am lying right now, as I write this I realized that I am hiding once more. You and I made absolutely no sense, because it never was about logic or arithmatic's. Truth is, we drove each other insane. But in that storm, there were moments of true calm when we would look at each other and find peace in our love. We were each others balance. And I loved you.

 Yes, I loved even the bad in you, the sorrows, your eccentric past  and your inability for forgive and forget. So again at the risk of sounding like a fool, because I was a fool...I still love you. I don't ever want to stop loving you, even when I can. As crooked as you are, you are the missing piece in my puzzle. 

I lost you the moment we kissed. The moment we embraced each other. I lost you the moment you saw me cry. I lost myself the moment I stopped  seeing what you saw in me. If this is our story, then I don't want to turn the page, I don't want to finish it. 

Do you?

Love,

Amelia

Días de Enero 2007: The Letter was not sent

Estas son las palabras  que nunca te dije. Los deseos que dejé pasar mientras abordabas tu avión hacia lugares que yo nunca podré ir. Cuando pienso que te quise, lo hago de una manera tan seca. Quizá no hubo tiempo para la pasión y sólo la conducta observable. Me gustas, Te aprecio, Te...quiero? Te quiero, no te vayas, Te quise...

Es cierto que en cada amanecer
Busco recordar tus miradas
En mis sueños, Te busco siempre a tí.

No voy a negarlo esta vez. Extraño tanto de tí
Tu manera de tomar el café
Nuestros debates sobre ciencia ficción
La dualidad de tu ser...arrogante y dulce.

Extraño la mano que sostuvo la mía hasta el atardecer
La mirada llena de sentido del humor y, 

¿amor?

Los sonidos metropolitanos, la arquitectura, tu vestimenta negra,
El día en que buscamos por toda la ciudad el lugar perfecto para nuestro beso.

Extraño que nunca supe lo que  significa mirar en la misma dirección juntos, un futuro.
Siempre miradas misteriosas. Siempre corazón de piedra. siempre una chispa de esperanza.

Extraño el momento que no sucedió. El decirte lo cobarde que eras, y lo mucho que me enamoré de ti. Todo recuerdo contigo es incompleto, y aunque quiera esconder lo que siento. 

Sé que te quiero. Te quiero con cada gesto, con cada palabra y aun cuando pasen los años de ausencia, te quiero sólo a tí. Creo que nuestro amor, fue destinado a nunca ser. Lo nuestro son ventanas  del tiempo donde nos volvemos a ver y diremos, "Quizá contigo es mi vida".

Y nada, se hará. Somos iguales y arrogantes. Somos dulces y misteriosos. Somos la dualidad más exacta e idéntica.

Pero, quiero que sepas, creo que contigo hubiera sido  feliz.

Extraño a alguien que no es...
Te extraño, sólo a tí...y a mí 

Xander and Amelia: Summer Heat

The day the heat was unbearable. The day makeup melted away with worries from moments past. It was the moment when working for a financial institution, actually became interesting. The day the most extremely different people had their first encounter.

He was boisterous. He was tall, slightly hefty and had reddish brown hair. His skin was pink and his eyes were the color of amber. It seemed that everyone knew his name, or better yet called him by the name "colorao". But, lets just call him... Ginger? No, that is lame. His name was Xander.

She was weird, or so they said. Long brown hair, big eyes, even bigger personality. But she was hiding behind a routine that ate away her fire. Mostly quiet, mostly thoughtful, mostly desiring an escape from it all. She had music in her lungs, her lips, her fingertips. Her name was Amelia.

Every now and then, they would bump into each other during lunch breaks. His eyes always scanning her, in a naturally curious way. She couldn't give a shit. She simply stared into nothing, always hoping but not searching.

It was a hot and humid afternoon. The steam rippled in the air and made their eyes tear. The financial institution they worked for had a shuttle bus that transported its employers to their significant automobiles. As Amelia stepped down and walked towards her blue ford escape, she became agitated. Blame it on the heat? The loveless relationship? Who knows. Only, she looked around feeling a desire to be free. And in a second she was. Her office blouse was out of her chest in no time. She could breathe again. She untied her hair and let it fall naturally. She felt like herself. With a smile on her face, Amelia walked feeling like a victor. No one was there to see her anyways. Or so she thought.

There he was parked right in front of her, sitting inside his sleek Volvo. A pretty confident car for someone equally cocksured. Yes, I just did. He had his eyes wide open and a smile of approval was spread all over his face. Xander  had always seen her so quiet and meek that what he witnessed seemed surreal. He kept thinking that there was more this girl than meets the eye. And he wanted to know.


She, stared back at him, challenging his intentions. Feeling the heat of the moment rise to its tipping point, she decided to break it and give him her most fierce "screw you" looks.  She felt confused as to how his reaction made her feel. Part of her wanted to say nasty things to him and send him to hell where there are surely no Volvo dealers. Another part  wanted for him to keep staring and wonder what would happen next.

Amelia  quickly got into her car and drove away, not before looking at him straight on and mouthing the word "douche". Xander kept laughing and smiling at her. Amelia bought a pink taser to burn his ass if he ever got close to her. Xander couldn't wait to get a chance to talk to her.

Oh Amelia, first impressions...first impressions. How wrong can you be?

Chasing Time

She, was waiting for time. She had been waiting for four years, and yet silence is all she always had. Her hands were sweating, and her heart  pounding hard. The wind kept on singing, and leaves fell everywhere near her. She had flowers in her hair and feet. She wanted a future, but decided for an end. Her companion sat next to her licking her cheek and waiting just as anxious. She looked into her eyes and felt she was, heart broken, but not alone. She breathed in the smell of sea breeze and felt comfort. "This is what makes me", she repeated until truth echoed in her entire body. This moment would change her, this she knew. To let go of familiarity, his scent, the feel of his skin. She was letting go a life of one sided passion.

The gates opened, and four years walked in. He made noise as he ruffled the fallen leaves. He was always so poised and calm, she was the wind, the earth, the sound of laughter. He was the stillness in the night. What do you say when confronted by such a face? The face of a child man, the face of innocence. As they stared into each others eyes, he couldnt help but smile and she couldnt stop the tears.

Life passed through their minds. Their life together, was never a clean canvas. It was color mounted into color, the thickness of it all always made it impossible to start over.  He was realism and she was post impressionism. None, could have found a way to merge. When passion from color wanted to dance with his classic lines, they realized how incredibly odd and different they were. Classic lines, classic needs. Passionate colors, diverse sorrows. He wanted a Vermeer painting, all dark and sullen. She desired Edvard Munch, an emotional experience, a physical trance, to ride naked, to be naked to the world.

Finally, He walked closer to her, seeing how this ruffled her like a tree in the mercy of a tornado. Cruelty comes in all shapes. His was likea soothing  balm. She waited for his body and desired no longer his heart. As he came closer, she closed her eyes and said "This is how you made me". He embraced her, and the proximity took her by surprise and chilled her bones. So many years without passion can leave you numb and when you finally feel something, its intense.

"You know what I'm about to do, dont you?"
"I do."
"Can you give me a reason to continue waiting?"
"I have nothing. Nothing to give you."
"Always so still  and cold"
"Always so emotional and passionate"

Nothing.... 

Without a word. Without a touch. Simply gazing into their past and no future. They had no future to call upon. No hope to save them. Could you have saved them? Could you have convinced them to try? To fight for what used to unite them? What would you have said?

She was waiting for time. But she decided time should try to catch up with her. After all, she is the wind,  the sound of singing leaves, she is the moment someone decides to move on. And that moment, is now.

Art from www.artmajeur.com

                                                     

Windows of Time

WINDOWS OF TIME

No time for words

Who am I?

No time to think

Tears of a lover

Drifted and shadowed

No time for the past

Who do I love?

He turns his back

I see the way no longer

Which road to take?

No time for mistakes....

No time for regrets

                                                                No time to rest

                                                         Never a moment to forget

He turns his back

My arms extended try to reach

He has no time

Has he gone with the setting sun?

No time to wonder......

Windows are caked by dirt

No time to cleanse the amber shadows

He turns his back with the dying sun

No time for my tears

I have simply, no time....

                                                        

What blood and tears dragged in...

These memories cling to me like my own skin...

I found myself waking up in the middle of a cobblestone street. I felt as if I had fought the longest battle in my life. Dragging myself towards time and memories. I looked at myself and saw that I had a wedding dress on. It was very ethereal and ivory. My long dark hair was braided and decorated with flowers. My vision in a glass door told me that I looked beautiful, but again I felt as if my soul was dragging and losing its focus. It began to rain softly and felt soothing almost like kisses from above. The ancient streets felt alive and moving as well, as if rushing me to get to where I was supposed to be. Music played all over, the same angelic voice I have always heard inside of me. She rushed and told me “you will see a trail of your past, it might seem tempting…but you must not follow”. So I ran and ran. I became familiar with places I had visited with past faces and everyplace hit me like a bee sting. But I kept running because suddenly I also felt that need to find my destiny. Rain drops fell across my cheeks, until I noticed that they were tears, I looked everywhere for a sign. Run, Run, Run…..

And then I saw the biggest set of stairs, all ancient and covered with moss. To the left I saw the old harbor with boats and lampposts. I cringed when I saw them but kept running towards the stairs. Music kept playing all around the skies. She kept urging to continue, that sometimes what we want the most takes time, tears and faith. As soon as I took the first step I almost returned. Because every stair was the face and body of my past. There they were all staring at me, some glaring, others regretting and others loving still. I screamed and sobbed as if my very breath was taken from me. I knew there was something for me at the top of the stairs, there was light and peace. But to get there, I had to confront the darkest moments in my life.

I was barefoot and flowers decorated my feet, I remembered the light and decided to take the first step.  Diomedes stared at me in awe and with that same youthful face demanded me answers that I never had for him. “Diomedes, don’t waste your youth waiting for me”. He cried and yelled and all I could do was let go and follow the next step. With every step I took, tears followed and flowers were left behind for them. I just kept looking up towards the light. Again, I felt so unworthy because of who I was and who I became for all of them. But the voice urged me to continue.

I saw Peleus blue crystal eyes staring at me. I see blood from his chest being spilled and my ivory dress stained with our past. I became afraid for I remembered his curse, my curse… our beginning and our end.  Hatred came from his eyes as if trying to hurt me as I did him. “You were always meant for greater things. But I can’t help but hate you for it”. He screamed and held to my dress but I pushed him towards the end of the stairs and screamed back. “You never had my heart”.

I heard him sob but kept going. And so fast was my pace that I tripped and landed in a dreaded step. Archangel Michael was there looking all innocent and broken. I remembered I always pictured him stronger and more knowledgeable than me. But this time around, I towered over him. In his eyes I saw every time he made me cry and close to ending my life. I cringed once again at the memory. Suddenly I felt as if I had the strength of a titan. I took Archangel Michael in my arms and folded him into a box. He seemed serene, as if he knew this was his destiny, to be put away in a box. I embraced the box to my heart. He felt  heavy everywhere, but I became stronger than our past. I left him on that stair and with  a flower next to his cheek. He smiled and urged me to continue. “Fly away, Arwen”.

Almost reaching the top towards the light, I felt my soul flare up into hope. My dress was covered in blood stains and moss but I didn’t care. I saw the warm light and took a brave step…but what seemed like light was abruptly changed into an illusion. The one who hurt me the most, the one who I imaged strong and wise. The older one… my mentor,  lover,  religion, my demon…my lawyer. He stared at me so confident in his power over me. Right then and there…I felt I couldn’t continue, because in his eyes I would see our story. I saw my eagerness, his lies and soothing voice. I saw tears and question marks all over my face. I cried and felt so scared that I wouldnt  have been able to surpass this step in my life. He leaned forward and touched my raven hair covered in withered flowers. He inhaled the fragrance and said words my heart learned to need years ago. He embraced me and covered me with his honey words. Every word was imprinted on my skin and it glowed with artificial light. I felt myself being slowly transformed into the woman he wanted and not who I was. I slowly cried as I felt defeated and weak to his charms. Willow softly kissed my cheek and I moaned because it hurt. His touch hurt my entire body like acid. He was melting away who I was. Slowly he began to take my wedding dress off and his words became my clothing. “You never had a chance with me by being yourself . All you can do is resign and let me transform you.” Willow repeated these words until I felt almost drifting into sadness.

I was ready to close my eyes and accept my defeat when the real light from above the staircase  burst into flames and burned Willow slowly. He let me go as he burned in light. Suddenly he was stunned because a power unknown to me was lifting me up and covered me in flowers as a new me emerged from the battle scene. I recognized that I had a destiny to fulfill. I took a step closer to a flaming willow, his features almost gone. He echoed pain but it was so distant. I take my flowery hand and touch his red face and said “You never knew the power of my love, because it was never yours. I resign to ever wanting to be yours. I let go of any power you had over me. You will torment me no longer, because to me…you are dead. You are just flaming willow, now burn. I am healing while you hurt. “. His ashes were taken away by the wind. And I leave a flower in the final stair.

A desire to look back was trying to convince me. But the angelic voice, always present, sang to me. She said “A battle took place here, flowers and ashes, honey and blood. Tell me, why would you wish to look back?” I couldn’t find any reason.  But I sang back to her, shocked that her voice was mine all along. “I don’t feel worthy of this eternal light.”
Suddenly, the rain drops stopped. Right there at the top of the stairs was a path of light that shimmered with love. Tears fell and I felt this sense of unconditional love. I walked barefoot touching the soft petals. The wind played with my hair and my past was less heavy to carry. I saw all these creatures of light at each side of the pathway. All looked at me with love and happiness. My chest moved at a rhythm until I realized I was laughing. The sensation felt too foreign to me. Then I stopped dead on my tracks. At the end I saw a face I had never seen but that my heart recognized as mine. He smiled and tears fell again from my eyes. Where did this sense of healing come from? My scars were healed and I ran towards Edvard in great haste.  He was there clothed in white, hair long and dark, face happy and eager. He also ran with great grace and when we reached one another, we stopped in order to gaze at our future.
We embraced each other fiercely as if never wanting to let go. The entire place covered in warm light and merry melodies. I finally let out one last cry . All the layers of blood and moss were eliminated as I was transformed by love into me. I was always enough. I took Edvard’s face in my hands and sang a melody. His hands on my waist, his eyes filled with love, he said “You were worth the wait. I always knew it was you. My warrior…my love”.

I breathed in happiness at last. I myself said, “Edvard, you were worth the pain, the tears, and the battle it took me to get here”. We took each other’s hands and walked towards the eternal light, while the staircase disappeared as if it never existed.


-Arwenlyn 2012

Diary Entry May 3rd 2007 Coming Home

Diary,

  I am sitting on a bench on the Braddock Metro Station. The skies are still gray. It shouldnt surprise me, however, they still do. These gray skies, can there be any beauty in them? I stare at the many faces in the metro and cant help but wonder. what are they thinking of? What do they see in me? It's amazing how writing in a desolate bench can help sort out my feelings. Life here in D.C. has clearly taught me to be more independent.  I am alone here, without my family, my friends, my boyfriend...or so it seems soon to be ex boyfriend (yes, I told him about the Kiss). It seems that within these solitary moments, I have gotten a glimpse of what my life would be out here in the open, in the unknown. 

I have known myself more than I did before. I responded and did certain things, that I probably would never have done in Puerto Rico. The weird work relationship with Ulysses is probably one of them. Hanging out with him and other friends till the early hours of the morning drinking wine and  talking about film making...and all sorts of makings. 

If anyone from my home would catch a view of this new me, would they recognize me?  In a few days I will return and its strange how home to me is D.C. Home to me is now snow, ice, Cherry Blossoms, Politics, blackmail, media, kissing Ulysses. It makes you wonder where was God in all of this? He was never to far for me to hear, but I do recall closing the door. I guess, too ashamed to hear myself pray. 

Which version of myself do I want to keep? Oops...lots of movement from the metro. I hate it how its almost always underground. Brings out the claustrophobic in me... The Metro Diaries... has potential. 

What if this was really me all along? What if always innocent "me" was just a cover up?  I am coming home diary, but what am I coming home to? I keep remembering Ulysses last night. How he wanted to hold me and touch the curls in my hair. He didnt want to let go, and all along he kept saying how much he will miss me. He said "Dont go, I want to be with you". His eyes, something I will always miss. His eyes are different, they look at me differently. Like an artist he sees me strong, willful, beautiful... not like Jared who thinks I'm a wilted flower. 

Even for all his words, I cant seem to see myself with neither of them. No Jared, no Ulysses. I just see myself for this time, and I know it might seem careless, cold and cruel. But it's me for now. I let Ulysses go, without a kiss...he looked with so much longing. But I didnt respond. Tomorow, I am coming home. Diary, tell me, what awaits for me tomorow? 

Sincerely,
ArwenLyn 

Diary Entry October 20th 2006 The Prince round II

Diary, 

  Well, well. If you must know and i am sure you are dying to know the Prince called the writer today and asked her out on a second date. This time the date is in the conservatory of music. After giving it some thought (remembering the previous awful date) I, the writer decided to go with him. Was it a pitty date? Im not sure. The only thing i know is that today in youth meeting he was acting all suave since he kind of...actually very explicitly let everyone know that he was going on a date with me. He even said to a few people that we were dating. Hmm..the question is very simple... "are we dating?"...I had no idea. Today my brother told me that I couldnt go out on a date with Edward because and i quote "I am Marcus's girlfriend".... 

On that thought...I will let you know how the date goes...I dont expect much. 

Sincerely,
Arwenlyn

Entrada Diario 18 de Octubre de 2006 El romance de lo antíguo

Querido Diario,

  Se fue la luz eléctrica, y pensandolo bien, es de beneficio para estos momentos. En muchas ocaciones nosotros estamos tan apegados a la tecnología que olvidamos las pequeñeses que inspiran. Mi ejemplo más real es el escribir en diarios. Sabes, he estado escribiendo en diarios desde los 10 años, y siempre me han fascinado el tener mi historia en fragmentos. 

Mientras escribía mi ensayo para la competencia de Washignton, me di cuenta que Anais Nin fue una escritora y diarista francesa para los años del 1940. Osea, que lo que llevo haciendo por 10 años se considera como una profesión. WOW!!!! 

Siento que estos cuadernos van a ser uno de los libros que escribiré en el futuro. Para mi es un consuelo tener papel y bolígrafo. Me encanta expresar mis sentimientos en papel, pues la palabra jamás morirá. Qué pena cuando reemplazamos la escritura por otras actividades, como el internet. 

Bueno, la verdad es que no me quejo, pues de esta manera es que Marcus y yo nos hemos conocido. Claro nos comunicamos a diario por teléfono. Ambos estamos un poco nerviosos porque sentimos una atracción inmensa, y para ser con alguien que jamás hemos visto en persona...pues... es algo diferente. Orita estaba pensando en como seria estar con el y verlo cara a cara. Acabo de mirar el reloj y sé que ya mismo me va a llamar. Aquí la situación es sólo esperar.... 

¿Puedo esperar? 

Sinceramente,
ArwenLyn 

Diary Entry September 21, 2006 The Prince, The Artist and the Writer

Diary:




Today I will recieve all of my things from Gregory, and to put an end to this situation. I dont want to write about it anymore. I know I said that I was scared of giving my heart again, but the truth is that I do want to finally be with the man that will become my husband. I dont want to date or be in so many relationships..one after the other a nonstop marathon of "I love you...But i Love him now". Truth is, lately there have been two guys that in their own way have captured my interest....I just feel a little guarded is all.


They are...Edward the Prince and Marcus the Artist. Prince Edward forgot to call me to arrange our "date"....its safe to say that Prince Edward lives 20 minutes from my house. On the other hand, Marcus, the charming Artist lives in the  United Kingdom and he calls me almost everyday.  Honestly, I am getting fed up with Edward's ambiguious feelings. 

Marcus is truly something else. He is everything Edward is not. He calls me, which brings us closer as friends first. We write emails to each other. Yesterday he said that he enjoys our convsersations because we have been very honest with each other. If you are asking yourself..."How did they meet?"... Well, for now i will keep this a secret. 


If you ask me...yes I do like who he is. I admire him and he considers me a very intelligent girl. We are both praying that I get that Washington DC congressional Scholarship. He has mentioned that he would like to return to Puerto Rico with me so he can spend the summer here. That would be so much fun....I am never bored whenever I talk with him. Speaking of talking....my dad and Marcus talked over the phone the other day. Hmm..getting cool with the in laws? I think it's safe to say that Marcus the Artist from United Kingdom has the lead ...and the writer is ever more curious as to see what will happen. 

Sincerely,
ArwenLyn

Diary Entry: July 10, 2007

Diary: 

Just so you know, Im watching the movie "Bridget Jones Diary"which has inspired me to continue writing in diaries. It's a wonderful story of love and second chances. It makes me wonder... I hope my love with Jared's lasts forever. I wonder if I will be married by my 30's or like Bridget, be lured by the lives of parties. 

Sometimes it think about the way Jared's  is with me. I wish I could remember our nasty arguments ... now that's some legit bathroom material. But it's as of I dont intend on writing it all here. He says I have changed into a more cheerful person in comparisson to the nasty, bad tempered, rebel girl he met five month's ago. While for some this might sound as good news, for Jared's  I have a slight inclination that he is not entirely happy. 

Sometimes I dont understand this idiot. One simply matures and last year I was not Ok and my emotions where darker and lonely. He just happened to have met in that time. The really crazy part is that in the middle of this confusion he still has the balls to tell me "Just be yourself". Tell me this, how can I be myself and still feel that for him something is missing?  I dont want to be that girl anymore. Life is about moving foward... learning... blooming into a masterpiece. Why cant he understand that? 


Mom get's it. She often has compared me to a book with colorful pages. I cant always be predictable, and I have figured out that it might be alarming to Jared. He probably thought he had me all figured out and found out that he was wrong.  


What I noticed is that this relationship has been based on me making changes....but what about him? Up to what point do we stop being ourselves to have some "love"?