Tag Archives: Present

Coffee

To say “I miss you”

Seems silly.

Bitter aftertaste upon my tongue

Lingering like morning coffee.

 

Speaking of coffee,

You never showed up

For that date three months ago.

My pride sits patiently by the window of that coffee shop.

 

….95 cups and counting….

 

The morning chill crept in through the windows last night

Into this awfully big house.  Awfully barren. Awful.

Empty rooms mocking the lone resident.

Faceless picture frames giggling at the bleeding heart within.

 

I needed you,

But you never came for me.

Did you get my letters?

Did your answering machine mimic my desperation

 

…and spread it like wildfire in that apartment of yours?

 

A need to hear your voice,

Yet I’d have no taste for talking.

But just to hear your voice:

Nectar of the Gods to my soul.

 

Each poem spells your name.

Driven by the caffeinated veins within,

Heightened senses,

Grandiose plans.

 

….I’ll get through to you one day….

 

You’re the only one

Who keeps me dancing.

Inspiration flowing through me,

It is magic.

 

Coffee shop dreaming.

Hearty laughter with my desires,

Shaming the thought of ‘reality.’

This is the life I’ve always wanted,

 

….right?

 

 

 

 

—Original Poem—

Say Anything

If I could say anything exactly one year ago yesterday – I can assure you, I would not have uttered a word. My head was crowded with thoughts; my heart, corroded by fear. I was crumbling. Screaming, yet you heard nothing. Crying, but you saw no tears rolling. I was hiding, clinging to the demons that quieted my dreams and fed my fears. What a mess I was. A mute, suffering mess. If your eyes met mine, I’m sure the fog was too thick for you to feel me, to know me. If we chatted, I’m sure I lied. I told you I was fine. I told you I was strong. I told you I didn’t need you. I didn’t need anyone. As I said, I lied.

Even if I could say anything one year ago yesterday, I didn’t know how. No motivation, no courage, no confidence. I was shivering; I was sinking; I’m surprised my bed didn’t swallow me whole some mornings. When you called, I didn’t answer. When you wrote, your letter collected dust. I wrote you off. I wrote me off. Nothingness was bliss, for a time. Faith in nothing. Fear of everything. Darkness dug my grave, shoveling the heavy dirt that would suffocate my existence. I wasn’t living. I was sleepwalking in daylight.

What a beautiful time to start a blog, eh? I don’t remember the who, what, when, where. I don’t remember who encouraged me to write again. I don’t remember much. But I do remember the overwhelming sensations that rushed my body as I felt the sudden urge to brainstorm ideas for the blog. The creative flow flooded every inch of my being. Appearing like a sharp winter wind, line after line, word after word bit my flesh, awakening my senses to the core. It was the most intense experience I had felt in months. My heart raced. I began to cry. It just kept coming. The thoughts. The ideas. My spark. I felt it again. I was alive. I had a purpose. I had a duty. I had to share, with you guys. Something woven in my soul had had enough of my bullshit drone of an existence. It was my time, it said. And for the first time in years, I listened.

So I started a blog, and for twelve long months I cried, I wrote, I was frustrated, I was happy, I was terrified. Publishing a post felt like I was running naked in the streets of my hometown. Eyes upon me, judging, laughing, snickering, joking – or so I thought you would. I never thought anyone would take me seriously. I never thought anyone would see beyond the forced smile that I painstakingly painted upon my pale, sunken face each morning. I never thought you would look at me and hear what I was not saying – the desperate cries for a connection with YOU. A longing for support. A desire for acceptance.

Each new post was a little less scary to publish than the previous. I received wonderful feedback, and you have your favorites – but it wasn’t until Weeks Like This that I truly started to feel your warmth. It was as though my chilly, morning air was lifting – allowing for the sun to rise again. Peering through the blanket of trees that surrounded me, I could feel something more just beyond the brush. Within reach I felt something so familiar, yet so foreign. Something lovely and terrifyingly close. My dream was being realized. I called out for help, and finally my answer arrived.  

You guys trickled in through the cracks, my wonderful readers. I was broken, and you snuck in somehow. You took my hand as you witnessed my struggle. You celebrated my triumphs; we’ve laughed together; we’ve cried together. You know I doubt strongly and love passionately. You know I would do anything for my son and family, and I continue to take care of myself lastly. (I’m working on it! I need your reminders!) You guys know it all, and you still come back – to this day, this is not real to me. The reality of your support is something I am learning to accept and understand. It is difficult for me to accept that which I am not sure I truly deserve. I am indebted to you guys, really.

A year has slipped from my fingers again. Like sand through the cracks, it has disappeared forever, kidnapped by Father Time. I’m left alone with memories, burnt quietly into my flesh. I sit here just as I have many other afternoons during nap time, thinking quickly – pondering my next post. I’ve thought for a few months now – what do I write for my ‘one year’ post?? How profound do I need to be? Gosh, there are countless people to thank, where do I begin? You guys – I’ve cried over this, I’ve laughed, I’ve obsessed – as always. Yet now as I sit here, it’s funny because I’m just sitting here like an idiot, smiling. Grinning from ear to ear. In this moment, I am so thankful. I know without a doubt that in the end, I can say anything. And you guys will continue to support me. You’ll come back for a post here and there. I know that as long as this blog is a labor of love, you guys will be with me. Along the way. In the end, I just need you with me. I don’t need a thing from you. Just knowing that the passenger seat next to me is warmed by your presence is all I need to write my next post. I don’t expect much from others. I don’t expect a massive following with this blog. Honestly, I don’t even put faith in humans. I put my faith in love…  and as long as I’m sending love out there –to where you guys are – I know you’ll send it back, in whatever way you have to love.

That is what is so crazy about this life, my life – I receive so much love from you guys in many different forms. From ‘likes’ to ‘comments,’ emails to Skype phone calls – hell even some of you ‘argue’ with me until 1AM insisting that my views are limited (you know who you are – and you know I appreciate your efforts) you guys are with me, encouraging me to say anything. To always say anything. So for you, I am thankful. This outlet allows me to love and to be loved; to share and be shared with; to connect once again with my heart and now, yours. You know….. you really don’t break when you decide to let go. I am living proof. As I shed these layers, I feel nothing but a warm embrace from each of you as I continue to say anything.  

One year ago today, I opened my world to you guys. I started a conversation about love, parenting, sex, religion, challenges, sacrifices, fear, you name it. As a friend of mine often reminds me, I am an incorrigible dreamer. I love that, but I can honestly say I never could have dreamt of the adventures that this blog would take me on. I have met some of the most intriguing people around the world. I have reconnected with long-time friends over issues first discussed on this blog. Support from my family is astonishingly pure. And quite amazingly, some of my best friends are people I’ve never even met in person – people who at first simply connected with something at LifeofKi.com, and who over the months have grown to be a part of my life.

 

A year ago yesterday, silence ensued.

Today I can say anything.

There is nothing left to say now but Thank you.

 

-Ki

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Runaway

Do you think of me often, like I do you?

Catch wind of your name

Fire ablaze within.          

Painted pink, heavy breath, wet palms.

Infectious thoughts, they are.

 

Do you remember the day I let you go?

Airplanes lending our secrets to the clouds.

You think it shows?

You could be happy now.

I’d rather not know.

 

Loved you first when we were children.

I don’t want to waste another minute

Reminiscing.

God, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow

To tell you how I’d feel the rest of my life*

 

Do you remember the look in my eyes?

The one for you, and you only?

You left me upside down, you know that?

Now you sit warmly behind the walls

You’ve built. Shame, I didn’t see them then.

 

 

Can you recall the endless conversation

Over dinner that changed my life?

Words dancing freely from my mouth to yours.

Yours to mine. God my cheeks burned as I grinned.

High above the world we were. Eastern city lights admiring our bliss.

 

And now? Strangers, you and I.

I sit bitterly with my fairytales and firesides.

Intimate with the love you never gave.

God it feels good to dream.

The idea of you silencing my truth.

 

Your pride looks good on your arm.

You two make a great pair.

Does she laugh with you too?

Can she love you as I always do?

Dining for one suits you well.

 

Check, please.

 

 

——Original Love Story——

 

 

*Inspiration: Lyrics from Mat Kearney’s City of Black and White

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Harvest

I don’t know when I lost my mind.

Sometimes I really wonder if what goes on in my head is normal. These thoughts, these dreams, these insanely absurd fears – where do they come from? Why do I have them? Why do I feel them so strongly? Why do they speak to me just as a lover whispers sweet nothings: So faint, yet I feel them so deeply, within myself, resonating in the pit of my stomach.

Often it is the fear within that corrodes my heart. My ambitious dreams are always present, yes, but those damn fears – they are like the lingering sweat on my flesh after a playful night’s encounter with a stranger. I shamefully carry them with me each day. They are the morning dew that lay gently on blades of grass alike – cold and obnoxious, transparent and dissolvable. Their residue lay heavily on my mind, always.

In my most recent post, I touched on the topic of modeling and the energy that is injected into my soul surrounding each experience. Modeling opens the door to knowing me better and allows me to hurdle over those difficult comfort zones. Lovely, yes.  However, I would like to dive into the difficult issues surrounding modeling for you, readers, now.

Why do it, Ki? Why put yourself through such stress? I receive the same questions from family and friends. If I have such overwhelming anxiety each time, then why do it?? Why? Why is it so stressful for you? What are you seeing that we are not?

I think a seed was planted years ago. By whom? By what? That, I can’t answer. I’m not sure. All I can say for sure is a seed has grown exponentially over the years and is now seen wildly overgrown in my mind. That seed — stubborn and proud — has flourished, reproduced, and conquered. Where there once lay a small and immature seed, a forest lush with lies and untruths now stands firmly in the ground.

Today, I look in the mirror and see nothing similar to what you – my readers – see. No, I do not have an eating disorder. I am very healthy and active and take care of myself to the best of my ability. When I say I see something different – it is as though my mind tells the looking glass what to show me – an overweight, flawed, ugly human being. Each imperfection is amplified. Where you see a nose, I see a mountainous error that will one day be ‘fixed.’ I see hideous breasts, abused and battered by pregnancy. I see wide hips and chunky thighs; I see all features as shameful extensions of a less than worthy body. As I said, my lies and untruths are very firmly planted. This post is not for pity, but for strength. In sharing with you, I shed yet another layer of myself. This moment, I thank you for being with me as I do so.

Compliments from others are appreciated, yet it changes nothing about how I see this body that walks with me each day. There is nothing a friend, a relative, or a passerby can say that will allow me to see the truth that stands before the mirror. My truth is distorted and manipulated by the inner, deceptive workings of my brain – and I am slowing pulling the weeds and tilling the soil; desperate for a harvest one day soon. Maybe my heart feels so heavy because it is growing. Maybe the holes are filling in, repairing themselves. Hey, not a bad thought.

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Are you struggling? Does your soul feel lonely at times? I know, it is so tough to get past those moments of insecurity, doubt, and fear – and I’m talking about all aspects of life – personally, professionally, everything readers. Let me offer you this: Realize that you cannot hide forever. Make it a choice each morning as the sun kisses your skin to greet her and choose life, to live. If that is all you can do, then hold onto that tightly. Wake up each day, choose to live every moment, and you have taken the first step. You see, with time this will become natural, a habit of sorts – and you will see that the less you think about ‘doing,’ the more you will simply ‘be.’ I promise you, you will slowly become less of an observer and more of one who chooses to be active in the world again.

Quiet the incessant thoughts that tell you to use caution; silence them as best you can. Sometimes the heavy confusion within is really just our way of denying the natural course of our lives.

For twenty-three years I have been a victim of my mind’s deception. I have listened to it, obeyed it, and continued pursuing a life without imperfection. If you can relate, I beg you to stop. Now. You will never be perfect. You will never know perfection. Remember that ‘perfection’ is simply a word. It is not achievable. It is a word that carries immeasurably high hopes and devastating upsets. See that word, visualize it now, erase it, and let it go. Never use that word again.

Life is not beautiful despite imperfections. Life is beautiful because we climb, we fall, and we choose to overcome. There are many days where you WILL be on top, and there are many days where you will not. Take it all in. Take every moment. Accept the ‘bad’ just as you would accept the ‘good.’ Life is not meant to be continuously ‘happy,’ ‘joyful,’ etc (insert your favorite adjective here).  Let go of the emotions. Let go of thinking. It is in this release that you will begin again. We can always begin again.   

 

I don’t know when I lost my mind.

But I’m so thankful I did.

I’m feeling again. I’m loving again.

And I’ve only just begun,

Again.

 

 

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Musical inspiration behind this post — “Miss You” Ed Sheeran

Lucas’ Life Lessons

I’ll just say it now – Mom and Dad, you were right. All those times you scornfully looked me square in the eye and preached, “You’ll never understand until you have children,” well …. I couldn’t agree more. Luckily for me, I’m saying this in a positive manner – as Lucas has yet to test the waters and challenge my strength of discipline. Perhaps this blog post is for you guys. Perhaps it is for all of my naïve friends who have yet to experience the joys of parenthood. Perhaps it is simply an opportunity to reflect upon what Lucas has taught me thus far.

Three years ago, I knew nothing about what it truly meant to be a parent. I assumed it was all about teaching the child — raising him to be an intelligent, responsible, loving adult. Fast forward to three years post childbirth; I smile at the beauty of my ignorance. Only a fraction of parenthood is about teaching the child. What most new parents cannot know is that an even greater piece of the equation involves forgetting what you know and beginning to see the world anew – with curious eyes and an awakened mind. We don’t have all the answers, and sometimes it takes new beginnings – even a new life – to truly understand this.

I love the thought that ‘we can always begin again.’ As Lucas takes my hand, I am beginning to appreciate the absurdity and preciousness of the present moment.

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Enjoy the simplest of lessons Lucas has taught me over the years!

 

The best snuggles require drool and lots of snoring

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Imaginary play surpasses toys/games any day

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The messier the play, the better the day

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Always give something/someone a second chance — first impressions are NOT everything

Copy of no sanks

It is OKAY to cry (thank you for reminding me of this)

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No dream is too big

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Have no fear

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If you need help, ask for it

Big and little

The best days are the ones we never planned

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I love you, my little man. Never stop inquiring. Never stop exploring. Never stop dreaming. And never, stop teaching.

Mommy and baby 

Love,

Mom

 

 

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Related:

My Birthday Wish

To Want

Have you ever thought about not wanting, just for a second? Have you ever thought about what would happen if you asked about the world, instead of just asking for it? Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am? Why would you think you have any idea of what you want? Most nights you still go to bed confused, angry at yourself. When are you going to start considering the possibility that you are exactly who you want to be?
 –-Paraphrased from Charles Yu’s – Sorry Please Thank You
 
I came across these questions a few months ago. Up until that point in my life, I can honestly say I always assumed my life would be more – I needed to do more, be more, give more, love more, ask more, live more. More, more, more. But at what point does more melt into enough? Is there a finite ending?
 
Is life about continuously asking these questions of ourselves while filling our days with compulsive activity, only to avoid the real issues? Is the real issue ourselves? Are we the answer? I am told I want to be a certain type of person…. And yet I have never considered that who I am, at this very second, is exactly who I need to be, want to be, ought to be…
 
Who tells us we should do better? Know better? Be better? Who are they? Who are those people? At what point do we stop asking those questions and accept that who we are at this very second is exactly who the world needs us to be?
 
It’s an interesting spectacle – living with a child. He does not know anything but his own life. He does not covet, does not envy, does not fear. He is exactly who he needs to be. He is exactly what the world expects of him.  He is exactly what I need him to be. So at what point can we live like a child and expect nothing more of ourselves than who we are in that exact moment? Is that ever achievable?
 
Some answer no; I answer yes.
 
“An adult is one who has lost the grace, the freshness, the innocence of the child, who is no longer capable of feeling pure joy, who makes everything complicated, who spreads suffering everywhere, who is afraid of being happy, and who, because it is easier to bear, has gone back to sleep. The wise man is a happy child.” – Arnaud Desjardins
 
Sometimes, when all we have are questions, the simplest answer is to wake up. Be awake in this present moment – Love those who are right in front of us – Taste the kiss that is offered and gone in a heartbeat’s second – Breathe the air for a moment longer.
 
Be exactly who you are in exactly this moment.
 
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