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Who do you tell?

I have just broken up with Nina.

And she may not yet even know.

I sent out the email yesterday, just a few minutes after leaving Sunday Worship at CCF. Yes, I go to church now. I can even say I'm a Born Again Christian without any qualms or bout of angst-ridden giggles.

But I had to leave the relationship that has been with me for a year. Our time was simply up.

For a year, majority of our time together I felt as if I were lying through my teeth.

I loved her, yes.

But who was I kidding?

I'm not in love with her. And perhaps never was.

I have a problem.

I have difficult saying 'No'.

Why is this?

I know that I'm as straight as a rod and yet my playful carelessness and curiosity is now about to come to be a world of pain for somebody else.

At the Christian center yesterday, I had only begun going there around two months ago, I had asked to speak with a councellor for the first time. Tamila was great to me, she did not tell me what to do. But I gathered by reading her that it was probably not in the rules to do so, anyway. She only told me, or rather reminded me of the essentials.

I felt as if I could no longer hold .. This, ME... inside: my seams were bursting and if I did not let it go then there would be a combustion of madness set newly forth into the world from the portal which was my conscience and my being.

I wanted to tell her: Look, Nina. I just want to love God more.

My atheist friends (and in this world we currently live in, there are plenty of those) would snort derisively I'm sure at my expense and my current beliefs and tragedies.

But that's what this is, releasing myself from a relationship that feels and has always been wrong is my Relief, Grace and Tragedy.

I know that I did the right thing. I just feel it in reverberating in my bones. But knowing that Nina would hurt when she reads what I'd written makes my bones feel like ash.

I have difficulty saying No, Tamila observed.

Yes, I answered. Yes, I know that.

So now, that's another thing I am going to have to work on.

I know that God is living in me.

He sees through my actions that I want to live my life for me, and that would in a very direct way once you think about it - be living for Him.

I suppose all I really mean by writing all of this down is:

I wish Nina would not hurt.

If there was someone to blame then it would be me. I would rather she despise me than hurt because of me.

What I pray for today is that God will take care of both of us. That He take care of her and that He would give her everything that she needs.

Dios mio, ayuda me!

Para Siempre.

Once there was a ball of blue gas which manifested itself in the darkest place anyone has ever imagined: the Center of the Universe.

This blue gas was a wanderer, nearly a vagabond...it travelled everywhere, burning a brighter blue with each eternity that passed.

One day as the blue gas sifted and flowed silently, growing fainter and fainter - it heard a voice that was deeper than the depths of the human soul whisper in its ear:

Surprise.

And a meteor shower came down raining upon the vibrating ball of blue gas.

A thousand stars gathered around it and shimmered brightly, the most poetic applause creation has ever encountered.

Slowly, slowly, eternity was locked inside a single, shattering moment.

At the center of the sphere of blue glass a light has appeared. With each second it grew and spread out like a fan, a blush, an ocean...and suddenly there it was. Beautiful, it had become:

Fire.

Thank you for turning me into fire.

..... My whole family, my friends, and especially to my glorious new family in Mexico: Eric y mi nueva amigos. (I hope that I said that right!) - I was so thankful and inspired that I wrote down this story for you.

I would like to thank you all for the wonderful gifts and greetings that you have given me on my 21st birthday. You have made it a world more special than I expected it could be.

It was made even more special with Eric's amazing gift: http://ericrkl.blogspot.com/2008/12/sapo-verde-sasha.html

Eric, that was totally great of you - please kiss your beautiful little Ianna for me (she is a princess)!

Viva la Mexico y mi amigos! (I still hope I said that correctly!)

Gracias. Gracias. Gracias.

With time is Rememberance

What’s amazing to me is that 21 always seemed… you know:

“God, Sasha, you’re OLD.”

And there it is.

21 is staring at me. Eyeing me as if looking for the slightest movement. A flicker of eyelash. A cease in breathing. The hesitant looking thrown over the shoulder.


21: It’s nice to meet you, Sasha.
Me: Uh. Hi. Isn’t your arrival a tad bit… too soon?
21: This is merely an informal introduction. We shall save the grand ceremony for the 10th of December, shall we?
Me: Oh. Ok. (muttering) You just seem a litte too anxious to me.
21: (smiling) And should I not be?
Me: No. I don’t know. No. Not really.
21: And why’s that?
Me: Because I always thought that when I’d meet you I would be in a different place.
21: Is that so? Which place would this be.
Me: A place other than here.

And so I’m turning the big 2-1 on Wednesday.

Let me see.

It would be my first birthday without Uncle Bong greeting me. Without him there to tell me how much of a lovable fool I am. How I should never ignore inspiration. How I should not war against my imagination. How I am on the verge of that freefall which is success. How I should give it my all. How I should never stop running. How I will win the race just by being true to myself. How I am going to make it. How I am going to survive the inflaming passion of my dreams. How he much he loves me and how the world will come to love me too, once I take that crucial step to fulfill my dreams.

“Happy birthday, Sash. I love you. Take care, dude. You are one cool dude.”

“writing that million dollar bestseller is your best chance. keep the dream alive and reach for it. i love you.” - Uncle Bong Japan 8/12/2007 3.09 PM

Just examples of random SMS messages from him that I will no longer receive it seems.

Don’t worry, Dude. I still have your messages and your smile alive and burning clearly in the reddest part of my soul.

I just miss you, that’s all.

And I think about you. Forgive me that.

I love you, you see.

And I’ll go on like this for oh… the rest of my life, most likely. Til I see you again. I expect that great big hug and the giddy rush of heat to my cheeks from your proud pat on my back.


21: You still have that promise to fulfill.
Me: I know. I know. I know I promised him. I’ll do it. Ok?
21: (laughing)
Me: (annoyed) What?
21: Sasha.
It is not your promise to your Uncle.
It is the promise you made to yourself.
The day you were born, when the first breath of air rushed in to fill your lungs, a promise flowed from the earth’s lips and met the one which manifested deep within you on the upon the nanosecond of your creation:
And that promise is what you should keep.
It has been a promise you made to God Himself the moment that he configured your existence.
Me: …Yes.


So now I’m turning 21 in two days. And during the years and mad moments that I’ve encountered and that have encountered me as I write this, somewhere down the road, Life had managed to give me the ride of my life. Upside down and inside out is fun and apparently the ride isn’t over.

There have been more things I haven’t expected to happen that did than those I had foreseen.

I am not the College Graduate I always thought I was going to be at the age of 21.

My family , whom I had lived and grown up with in the same big house the first 14 years of my life is now scattered across the globe.

Two of them, Uncle Bong and Lolo Dad, are now…elsewhere. But hopefully (and I keep my fingers and heartstrings crossed on this one) still watching over us.

I have a thousand manic and mercurial poetry in my books – none of which have yet been properly compiled and sent to a publisher.

I have yet to begin to search for a decent publisher to which I could submit my works to.

I have yet to even begin to burn down my quiet fear and try.

I have not begun to edit and in some cases complete the stories which I have written. (This is bad. And for those who are lucky enough to know their true passion, Having No Time is not a valid excuse.)

I have now come to love World Music more than the popular kind, the ones people had me listening to growing up. Meaning, I love music whose lyrics and beats are set in languages that I don’t verbally understand but which resonates and reverberates within the white of my bones. And shakes my soul to stillness: Italian, French, Cuban, South African, North African, Celtic, Mediterranean, Balinese, every color in the world’s palette have now been painting my soul and writings because of it. (This is one unexpected situation I don’t find myself complaining about so much, if at ALL.)

Maybe this is my way of preparing myself for fulfilling my dream of travelling and discovering the world.

Speaking of which, I am now saving up for that.

I still despise being subjected to other people’s rules.

I have become a cliché. More often now I love to put on the candles, turn off the lights, pour myself a glass of white wine, melt dark chocolate into a cofee mug half filled with almonds, turn on the laptop and turn up the Opera.

God I love opera.


Oh, 21! I am ready for all the mad endeavors and fruitful blessings you will bring.
I’m aware that I have to put out my share on the table.
I will fulfill my promise.
I will take out the old guns, the ones that I thought I have left behind me in a past life.
I will take out the old guns and take a deep dive into the world.
I will not go down.
But I will go enveloped in my own fire and with guns blazing:
Take on the world.