The Warm Hours

  When the warm hours rust over and slowly turn to the steely sounds of rushing and of cold and water droplets leaking from dusty pipes
I will remember the nights we sat on my old apartment floor reminiscing and pressing our toes together to show that we understood.
I will remember the beach and the way that sand carried through the wind and how your laughter echoed across the paths of gulls as she ran out to play.
I will think upon those days of light footed exploration where foggy ponds became magical landscapes
Where we ran through the docks head on into our futures.
I will remember the way you laughed as you skipped gingerly across those mossy rocks. You always had a way of making everything worthy of a smile.
And I will remember all the nights you called me and told me, “Honey, everything will be alright.”
– It will be alright
just so long as you will always be my happy conversation
The one who forgets to put the chicken in the freezer
But that has never stopped me from loving you –
– it never has-
It has only ever made me love you more.

On the Line

empty hallways cast blurred images over the pieces of my heart left shattered by

weekends and holidays spent lying in someone’s arms

only a few shadows left in the dust of eyelashes, the slow blink and disappearance of

dancing, of promises and foggy Sunday mornings

i reach for the line when i need


-anything to burn through it all

Your sleepy voice and the presence of your warm heart

fill the empty spaces as we share stories, the things we love and the things that make us afraid

I ask you why you always pick up when I call

and the memories stream out of my heart

and the shadows turn from grey to gold

when I hear you say

“Because I like hearing you laughing with me on the other end.”


It doesn’t quite feel like Christmas this year. The air is cold and frigid, and it’s impossible to go outside without wearing a few jackets, a scarf, a hat and some gloves to feel comfortable in the icy temperatures. Oceans of people race around downtown San Francisco making their last minute purchases, and the sounds of carolers float ethereally in the atmosphere. I walk by a familiar scene in Union Square – the tree is up, and couples cozy up to one another while they wait to skate at the holiday ice rink. But for some reason, despite the signs pointing to the holidays, I’m having trouble getting into the spirit of things this year. Each December, I enter the holidays with high expectations. I envision Christmas spices, gingerbread cookies, mulled wine, cranberries and hot beverages in the evenings. I want to feel scarves, wooly hats, gloves, Christmas sweaters and the conversation of good friends. The brisk air outside usually reminds me of the excitement of the season – parties, gatherings, and the rush that comes when you try to see everyone before they all dash away for the holidays until New Year’s Eve. This year, the season crept up on me so quickly that despite seeing all the signs, I barely noticed until it was upon me. And now, while we are in the thick of the season, I still struggle to get the “old Christmas feeling” I used to feel so strongly when I was a child.

Is losing that Christmas feeling just a part of getting older? Do we gradually lose that “magical” feeling that used to come around like clockwork at the end of every year? As I struggle to get that Christmas feeling back in my life, I am focusing on making sure that I am 100% focused on what truly matters to me – my friends, my family, my relationship and my health. In the end, that will have been all that has ever really mattered.

Are we getting older, or just wiser?

It’s been a while since I last wrote. At the office today, while scrolling through my latest emails, I came across an email from Buzzfeed titled “Going Out in College vs. Going Out Now.” Here’s the article, if you’re interested:

The article showed images of how we partied in our college days – drink in hand, triumphantly sticking our tongues out, boasting about how we were going to “party till dawn” and “shut this club down.” In stark contrast, it presented images of “going out now,” represented with bleak images of us saying things like “But it’s so late though” and “It’s too loud in here, can we find another bar?” Admittedly, we spend more of our time these days feeling especially pleased with ourselves when we don’t have to deal with the parking nightmare that is San Francisco, when we don’t have to pay a hefty cover tab, and when we find ourselves warm in bed, ready to sleep and not in the least bit inebriated at around 12am – at the latest. I’ve noticed this trend amongst my friends lately, and though the change was gradual, it really starts to hit you when you notice yourself hearing the same things over and over again.

“I can’t drink at all anymore. Now I know what it’s like to have a 3 day hangover.”

“I’m so tired. Let’s just stay in and watch a movie.”

“Do you really¬†want to go out tonight?”

And the truth is, I know exactly how they feel, and I share their sentiments. While I used to go out partying at 10pm, a few drinks in before even heading out of the house, now I feel completely satisfied staying in and sharing a glass of wine and a nice meal with a friend. I remember the days I used to start getting dressed at 9:30pm, be dressed by 10:30, out the door and in the bar by 10:50 or 11, and partying till 2am. After closing the bar, I would be in a cab by 2:30, off to a late-night pizza place or late night diner. I’d then gorge myself on carbs and butter until about 3:30am, stumbling in the door at 4am, only to brush my teeth and pass out without showering around then. All this, and I’d wake up in the morning with nothing other than a slight headache and a need for a glass of water. At the very worst, a tylenol or two. I remember a night in college where I woke up with toasted bread in my hair and a trash can cradled in my arms. I felt better by 2pm that day.

Now, that very same night would have cost me my entire weekend. I would have ended up lying in bed til 3pm the next day, feeling like a useless bag of crap. At which point around 3:30, I might muster enough energy to make a bowl of top ramen and spend the rest of the day lying in bed, moaning in agony. The following day would be about the same. I don’t know what happened to all of us, but we might be getting a little older. I wouldn’t say that we’re old…we’re not. But things are changing, and I’m starting to take note more as time goes on.

A perfect night to me now would be a nice night in with a friend (or two or three), a delicious home made dinner, along with a bottle of wine or two to share. It’d include great conversation, laughter, music and warmth. No parking battles, no cigarette smoke, no freezing night air and no pain from wearing heels all night. Perhaps a few would call me old, or worse, “lame”, but as I put the dishes away this Friday night in and smiled as my dog so diligently sat at his post, waiting for his nightly piece of freeze dried beef liver – I felt warm, whole, happy and satisfied. And that’s not something a night of inebriation has ever brought me.