Little Star & Little Bird

Since when does it matter that it might not be good enough?

Since when does it mean something so big and huge and important that you might not win?

Have you ever seen someone inspiring?
What inspired you?


Certainly not the way they took everything out of their way, leaving nothing but a straight path.
Certainly not.

So why do we think it should be so easy for ourselves?

I want to inspire.

Maybe I do.

You know, I love fashion but I'm afraid of it.
I wonder why that is?

I follow so many fashion blogs. They start my day and often finish it.

I want to take photographs and write about them for a living.

I want to draw.

I want to find love.
I want to find that one person who makes my stomach feel like I've swallowed a million mexican jumping beans.
I want to find someone who will come over when I'm sick, and who won't care how nasty I am.
I want to find someone I can look at everyday, and everyday know that he is beautiful, and constantly find a new way he is.
I want to fall asleep on someone's stomach again, waking up only because time is always an essence.

I want to have someone I think is a gift

[all people are gifts, am I right? All persons are something to value, never mind have something to value.]

I want to not just have someone, but be had. And have it not matter how many came before or might come after for either one of us. I want to breathe in and act on impulse. If I want to kiss someone, damn it, why don't I? Why haven't I?

I want to go to Europe this spring break, and finally DO the fashion thing! WHY NOT?

I want to go for walks in the rain and come home and take a bath. I want to get soaked in these puddles. I want to have Ester home; she'd dance with me in the rain.

I remember one day before school, Ee and I were at school really early. We ended up walking to Starbucks in the POURING rain. And I mean, within 5 minutes we were so wet, nothing mattered anymore. We jumped in puddles, and screamed and laughed and got coffee that was so watered down it was ridiculous. We got to school drenched. We changed into gym clothes and missed the morning classes, as we waited for the dryer to finish with our clothing.

I'm fine alone.
But that doesn't mean I wouldn't prefer the alternative.

I can't picture me without you, even on the days I am.
And that sentence goes out to two different people, oddly enough.
Two different loves, two different kinds.

Love?

It's so easy to spend my days upbeat and "big" (as Longtin would say, BE BIG!)
It's so easy.
But I love sitting at home with my notebooks
my scrapbooks
my cameras
my guitar
my books
my paints.

I love sitting down, talking to you on the phone.
You know me. A few sides
You say I still surprise you, which is great.

I love being so calm when I'm with you.
What is it about you that makes me take a step back most of time?

Once upon a time there was a little star.
It lived so very high up, in the sky.
Little star had a friend named little bird.
Little Bird was little, but she was able to fly up just high enough, and Little Star was able to sink just low enough, that they were able to spend lots of time together.
Little Bird and Little Star loved eachother very much.
But Little Star was a star, and as the Earth turned, it took her away from her Little Bird.
Little Bird cryed and cryed and cryed, she was so said.
She tried to fly after Little Star, but her wings were too weak to keep up.
So, Little Bird accepted her place in the world.
She waited patiently.

She had faith that one day, the Earth would turn again in her favour, bringing her Little Star back to her.
And by then- her wings would be strong enough so that she'd never be left behind again.

MAYBE THIS MEANS MORE TO ME THAN I EVER WANTED;
NINETY NINE DAYS

Part II

all pictures by me

May 15th, and May16th are oddly absent.
I failed to write that day

May 17th

Sing me/ Sometimes brave from your mouth

Maybe I didn't belong there fully
[don't]
but a piece of my aches for it.
Calls for it in loud brave tones.

I am not a deb.

I am me.

A writer. A storyteller?

I did learn about myself there. I did.
About family.
About being alone.
About storytelling.
About words and stories in general.

I learned it's okay to be alone, if you're okay with yourself.

from the first day on the beach, to my final lonely walk
i learnedsometimes, it's okay to be what other people want
-- as long as you remain yourself.

I scrubbed with pink fragrant soap.

The kind he hates.

AND I LIKED THE SMELL. I ALWAYS HAVE.

and i like the Dixie Chicks sometimes too.

I'm sorry you made me forget that.

Present day


As some of you know, I am one fourth Arabic.
I read a book recently.
In Arabian Nights, A caravan of Moroccan dreams.
This book changed my life. I want everyone to buy it, borrow it, get it, READ IT.

It talks about finding the story of your heart.

And it tells in it, wrapped around a central plot of humor and self discovery, a true story following a man in Casablanca.
And in it, are many stories I've heard or faintly recall from my grandfather.

I'll relate one for you.

There were once three men, all of whom wanted fruit though none of them had ever seen any, since it was very rare in their country.
It so happened that they all traveled in search of this almost unknown thing called fruit. And it also happened that, at about the same time, each one found his way to a fruit tree.
The first man was heedless. He got to a fruit tree, but had spent so much time thinking about the directions that he failed to recognize the fruit.
His journey was wasted.
The second man was a fool, who took things very literally. When he saw that all the fruit on the tree was past it's best, he said: "Well, I've seen fruit, and I don't like rotten things, so that is the end of the fruit as far as I am concerned."
He went on his way, and his journey was wasted.
The third man was wise. He picked up some of the fruit and examined it. After some thought, and racking his brains to remember all the possibilities about this uneatable delicacy, he found that inside each fruit there was stone.
Once he knew that this stone was seed, all he had to do was to plant and tend the growth, and wait for -- fruit.