My Attempt at Poetry

Lost in Writing

Scattered papers, shapeless stars

Endless words, unscripted scars

Numerous tales of woe and disaster

Life in effect seems ever faster

Bringing its noise to a sudden halt

It resonates in the ever after

Where I discuss my melodrama

I choose death before dishonor

Yet everything at last fades

Into silence, endless shades

Rebelling as I speak

I sense this world to be unique

Yet at the peak of its own fate

Lies the line between love and hate

The mind is muddled with hysteria

The body rots and life gets wearier

Laying upon this bed of leaves

I dare to challenge your beliefs

From here and everywhere

Undeniably aware

Unequivocally rare

The room now fills with air

Deep in Costa Rican Territory (Day 6)

March 16th - Woke up at 7:30am, wanted to head out and walk on the beach, clear my head and take it all in. Already the heat was evident, a gorgeous day. Took my sunglasses and camera and out the door I went, headed straight towards the beach, intending to at least walk the entire right side of it.

The water was calm at this time, while everyone still slept, recovering from the prior night's debacle. It was a tranquil walk, and I felt very relaxed; listening only to the sound of waves and just taking everything in; breathing deeply and feeling lucky to have come to this part of the world. My only encounter eerily enough was with a vulture who sat steadily on a rock and saw me wander around. I managed to take a picture of it, which I'll post later. It was as if to say, if you decide to die, I will have you for lunch. I picked up some gorgeous seashells and headed back after a cool walk. It was time to surprise the kids with seashells in the morning.

As I made my way back to Hotel Giada with pockets full of seashells, I spotted Jason, nonchalantly sitting on the porch, reading. He seemed tranquil and I didn't feel like disturbing his reading, but he spotted me, and asked me about the walk to the beach. Waking up the kids was a joy; they were so surprised about the seashells; I could see a sparkle in their eyes, as if a newly discovered comet had been observed. Their reaction coupled with the walk on the beach, made my morning.

The rest of the day was spent on the beach, taking in the sun, fighting the surf, boogie boarding, and snapping pictures at every turn. Great sunshine, great day to spend on the water.

By nighttime, after dinner, we made our trek back to Locanda Bar and its alluring arms. Salsa in the air, drinks, and just truly feeling as if anyone who was anyone was at Locanda's, and there was no one else in the world, but us; thoroughly enjoying a rich and glorious time at the shores of the Pacific.

I Seem to Have Forgotten Your Name

I see you. Between the waves. Smiling back at me, relentlessly. I recall your long blonde hair and your enticing eyes yet I don't recall your name. The sun was at its brightest on that day, and God decided it was time to unveil you in front of the world. You spoke to me from afar, and every once in a while, you smiled, and the world was a better place because of it. Beneath the clouds, the sun, and those fantastic waves, you spoke about where you were from. You spoke about your past and about your day to day. It was one of those encounters, where you look back now and think to yourself, I wonder how she's doing. I wonder what one of God's greatest creations is doing. On that day, that bright sunny day, we spoke about waves, and about wind. We spoke about music and what is best in life. All the while, I wondered where you had descended from; one of His very own angels, lounging around the surf, dancing to your own beat. Seemingly oblivious to the world around you. Your attention, simply, on me. Inquisitive yet playful. Perhaps my perception changed on that day. I realize now that encounters such as these are few and far in between.

Wherever you are, sun-kissed, green-eyed, and angelic, I hope you are doing just fine. I hope perhaps you remember me, brash and cocky, yet stunned from the mere sight of you. A boy, who remembers you, and wonders how you are doing after all this time.

I seem to have forgotten your name. Then again, angel would suffice. I hope wherever you are, you remember me as I remember you.

Interview

As I stood there waiting for my interview, thoughts came to mind; random thoughts that sparked fires of paranoia and delusion. The room was devoid of any furniture, aside from an old desk and a chair. Though the room lacked windows, the air was cool and electric. In a flash, something out of nowhere startled me – it led me towards that desk and that chair. I sat down slowly, with my head down, unsure of what would happen next. Upon lifting my eyes a person sat in front of me, looking at me intently; gazing into my soul. He did not speak, he did not budge; he simply looked at me, intently.

In amazement, the first words came out of my mouth. “What should I do?” “Where do I go from here?” The questions kept bubbling up, to the surface. Questions about myself, about my future, about life.

No answers. Simply that gaze, fixed and unequivocally familiar.

As time ticked, the questions subsided, and I focused my attention on this person in front of me. Familiar yet strange. Silent. Unyielding.

Anger. Perhaps a result of frustration, of his unresponsive nature. I struck him. I lunged at him with force, crashing through the mirror. In an instant, I knew. All along it had been me on the other side of the desk. My own reflection. Questions unanswered. Responses that shattered through the air in a million little pieces. The interview that never was, concluded with cuts on my face and arms. A reminder perhaps, that the truth can be as painful and severe as the silence of a windowless room.

Deep in Costa Rican Territory (Day 5)

March 15th - After our incredible stay at Arenal Paraiso, our travels would take us down a different path. This time we were headed towards the Guanacaste region, which ultimately meets the Pacific Ocean. Our ultimate destination would be a sole beach by the name of "Samara". Just thinking about Samara brings smells of salt in the air, sunshine, surfboards and the great Pacific.. Wish I was there now.

On to our trip. We boarded the trusty Caravan and headed west, zipping around Lake Arenal, a vast pool of turquoise waters. Along the way, we observed vibrant European nuances; houses built like suisse chalets, and luckily, a German bakery. That's right, I said it, a German bakery, in the middle of Costa Rica. And even better it serves beer.... my God, what is this place??? Are you kiddin' me?? Okay, where's the hidden camera... But, no joke, a German bakery hosted by Germans who serve beer...German beer.. Fuck me sideways!!!! I actually had the gall to ask our lovely German hostess if they served beer... her response was like a slap across the face with a wooden sandal.."Of course we serve beer, it's a German establishment?!" Really she was saying to herself... "What are you a fuckin' idiot??" Yeah I laid a huge goose egg on this one.. but moving on, we proceeded to enjoy great German beers on tall glasses and stocked up on more for the road. I bid adieu to this fine establishment, with the reminder that someday, sooner rather than later, I would come back to this very spot, and order a German beer from that very hostess, before I even said hello. Prost..!

We caught our first glimpses of the Pacific upon our arrival to Samara. After unloading and catching a quick meal at Hotel Giada, we walked down towards the beach. I was overwhelmed after seeing the Pacific for the very first time, regal and sparkling; white foam rushing all around. Palm trees stretched out near us as the only shelter against the sun. It was late afternoon and after taking several dips, we hung around until the tide came in and swept away our bag, towels, kids' toys, etc... clearly a welcoming sign from Samara. Aside from the wild waters of Samara, the area itself is very cool. Clearly, a surfer's town, with many surf shops and souvenir kiosks and your share of new and repeat tourists, you just can't get enough of the coolness of Samara. Wicked high cool factor.

The late afternoon was not complete, until we decided to mount horses for a ride by the beach. The girls went over to negotiate prices with two fellows aptly named Napoleon and Pollo; characters who live and die by the beach. Their ocean breeze and salt blasted faces tell the whole story; these guys are legit beachbums. Drunk ones at that; but I digress. We mounted our sturdy friends and yours truly decided to bypass the lesson and take off to higher ground. My horse did not agree with this decision and decided not to follow directions or listen me, after numerous requests. He came and went as he pleased, to the thrill of the crowd and one Shirley, who could not stop laughing... more on her in a bit.. Finally I made it back to Napoleon and crew, a beaten man. Getting back to Shirley though... she was on a horse for a max of 5 minutes. Fear and loathing soon took over and she proceeded to dismount, feeling safer on land than on horse.

After returning to our comfortable digs and cleaning up, we walked out into the evening to explore our surroundings. We weaved our way around souvenir shops in search of a decent place to eat. At first we arrived at a bar, devoid of people; a dark and dreary place where the dead go to drink. We passed on the chance and to our surprise, a bar named Locanda loomed near. L

Locanda is one of those places on Earth that is not bound by the same rules as other places are. What I mean is, this place is magical; literally glowing, enthusiastic, energized, life resides here in bundles. The soundtrack? Simple. Salsa. All night. That's all. No other form of music. And you know what? It works. Especially if the place is but feet from the ocean, the wood carved tables are surrounded by palm trees decorated with Christmas lights, and the ocean breeze takes you away to some other location. Out of sight, out of mind. We pass the night here overwhelmed by the most amazing night sky I've ever witnessed. The first time I see the milky way, over the Pacific Ocean, what a sight. Great night amongst friends, the drinks and food kept coming until it was time to close shop for another day.

Lessons from the First Grade

Where has the time gone? Alex is now 6 years old and in first grade already?!! This past Tuesday I took him to school to meet his teacher and scout the surroundings, and it struck me; it wasn't that long ago that my own mother was taking me to first grade. As I recall, she took me by the hand on my first day and once I was seated, she bolted. Here I was in this strange new world of boogers, whiners and newness. In retrospect, I should have never punched Johnny in the nose. Weird times.

So as I let go of Alex in class this past Tuesday, those memories rushed back, and I observed him, seating there, no longer a baby, but a kid, with his own curiosities and view of the world around him. I lingered intently, to observe his movements- would he talk to anyone, maybe a hi here or there. He seemed content. He had arrived. And I felt at ease, as he caught me lurking, and waved at me from afar, smiling as if to say, "it's ok Daddy, I'm good to go".

As I drove back to work, I felt relieved. Perhaps this is how my mother felt. Here he is world..! Release. Life goes on. As I get older, I tend to appreciate moments like this more so. Nothing is trivial. These lessons became evident, as I lingered and watched my kid step into the spotlight. The first of many grades in life.