Life as the Finish Line (an excerpt fr my novel)

It’s a way for you to get to the finish line. Just think of it like that. Some races are a joy the entire time. You have fun, laugh, it’s easy, feels great, maybe even lovely views. Others are a struggle. But the ones that are a struggle, well, the finish line, the ending is so much sweeter, so much more meaningful in the end. We want our finish lines, our endings, our entire lives to have meaning.

Happiness: An Excerpt from my NaNoWriMo Novel

            “And love. Love is something you cannot control. You fall for bad people, and then you let them go. This is smart. If you hold onto bad people, the love turns black, decays, destroys you, destroys them. It is good when you let go. Are you glad to be free? Free from that sadness?”

            Audrey had not told The Old Man much about Rishi, but he was very astute. He picked up a lot with the few words she told him about their demise.

            “Yes, I’m happy. It’s weird – you think you’re happy with someone and you’re not. You’re happy with the habit. You’re happy with the familiarity. Of belonging to someone, and of someone belonging to you. You are scared of the unknown, so you convince yourself you are happy. You are happy with someone finding you pretty, finding you satisfactory, happy with someone else being happy.

            “Then you realize that after the initial pain, you’re so much happier. I had surgery years ago, and it hurt like crazy, but afterward, I was so much better and all my problems were solved. That’s what it’s like when you’re in a bad relationship. I finally know what it is to be happy. The other day, I was walking to class, and I just suddenly got all excited, and said to myself, ‘I am so happy.’”

            “So you are good. You understand that being happy is about being honest with yourself.”

            “Yes, and it sometimes it’s hard to be honest like that. It hurt when I was honest, when I saw how awful things were, but the rewards are much better in the end.”

            “Now, Audrey, being happy is about staying in the present moment. So I’m glad you let these bad things go, but don’t constantly focus on them, especially things outside your control. Things you can control, good. Like you ended that bad relationship, good. But your sister, let her be free. You tell me your aunt has problems, too, I don’t know them. But she can worry about them. School, you worry about that, but that’s you. When you study, focus, it will go well. It will all work out in the end. Just always remember that: things always work out in the end.”

            They were all silent, thinking about what The Old Man had said.

Cobblestones: Fiction

She walked alone through the streets of SoHo. It didn't matter which streets, it's just that these were streets she had once walked before with much different meaning. These were streets she walked when she felt like she was untouchable. She felt slightly nauseous at a memory of herself telling a good friend,

"I can't believe it, but my life right now is practically perfect."

It was way too late. The party she was at -- streets behind. Slightly sobered, but still, a taste of salt and lime on her lips from her last margarita. She stumbled on the cobblestone streets, glad no one was around to see the tears. 

"I am not crying. I am fine. I am good. I am better off alone."

She pushed on. Two drunken girls passed her, not noticing the devastation on her face. Their laughs echoed in the street, and a full cab sped by her. 

"I couldn't get into that even if it were empty." 

Her tears left her outside.

A glowing 24-hour bodega ahead; she pushes on, pushes past.

The subway ahead; she walks past.


She pushes on, walking dozens and dozens of blocks, sobering up, the tears drying up. When she arrives at her new home, she shoves the key in the lock, trudges up the stairs, and tosses her purse on the table by the door. Her cat meows.


"That's right, Sinda," she tells the cat. "I'm home. I'm going to make us some food and I'm so glad to see you. There's no place I'd rather be."


She remembers what her tears and drunkenness prevented her from remembering earlier, remembers reasons why she had ended everything.


It's not perfect, but it would be again - someday. She knew it, she just had to walk there, walk her way all the way to perfection.

fiction/not fiction

She waited until she heard his car turn down the drive before making any rash decisions. Once the sound of the car faded away, she set to work doing the things she had always wanted to do, always for the past eighteen years. She opened the blinds, wide, to let the sunlight in. (“And the heat,” he would say.) She cut a slice of apple pie she made for last night’s desert, plopped a large hunk of rice pudding on top, and ate it for breakfast. (“Dear, that is not even an acceptable dinner.”) And then she stretched out completely nude, on the sofa (“Dear, please! Dress yourself!”) and slept.

When she awoke, she knew what must be done, and decided to finally do it, with her entire heart, with her entire being, with herself for once.

she said

she said, it's been a lot hot day. a sweaty day. the kind of day where things just hum along as you scrub and scour and sweep and dust and vacuum and give the cat a flea bath and answer old post and finally pay those bills and smile at your neighbors and wonder when the last time you were able to just relax on the couch, watching the sunset while you curled up, petting the cat, sipping herbal tea, and just breathing. sometimes you need that time. sometimes, sometimes, you need to just be.

she said

she said, "sometimes i want to stop living this lie. sometimes i just want to start over. i want to be something else. i want to be someone else. like, you see that red lipstick? sometimes i want to smear it. smear it all over my lips, in a thick and sexy way. like something i'd never do. and i'd look at the mirror, and think, 'who is this?' and it wouldn't be me. so i'd do things that wouldn't be me. like i'd finally go home with my pizza man, smearing my red lipstick all over his face and all over his pillows. i'd flirt with bus drivers, drink cafe lattes with extra foam. maybe i'd even smoke cloves again, like i did when i dated that painter for two weeks in college. i'd wear all black, strappy heels, laugh in a sexy manner. i'd be someone else. it would all be to the red lipstick. but in the end, it would be me. the me i want to be. the me i need to become. and i'd really be me all along, and i'd buy that red lipstick by the case, and i'd never stop being the daring me i'd always wanted to become."

kissing

i wake up your in arms. i'm warm, feeling good all over. the cat is purring, sleeping, at our feet. your breath is soft and gentle, caressing my neck. a breeze, gentle, comes in through the window. i do not want you to ever wake up because i want this beautiful moment to last forever.

i shift, the cat meows, and you wake up. your eyelids flutter, big blue eyes sleepily stare into mine. we don't waste time with small talk; we never did. we always were deeper than that.

and you kiss me.

you kiss me.

it's the kiss i can feel in my toes, the kiss that makes me lose control--were we standing, you would have to hold me upright because i would not be able to support myself. i taste you, i taste myself, i explore sections of your mouth i swear i never knew existed. your fingers run up and down my back, my fingers comb through your blonde curls...

i kiss you back.