dendritic arborization • I like that phrase

disordered thought processes

hidden in the seeming chaos is beautiful, elegant order—at least, I hope that's true.


posted on November 23rd, 2014

It has been more than 14 years since I started writing down my thoughts and posting them. It has only really been in the last year or so that I’ve chanced to look back and trawl through the vast tracts of ephemera and melodrama. And it occurs to me that I only write here when I am sad and anguished. I rarely write when I am happy and joyful, or if I do, usually it’s tempered by melancholy. So these blog posts provide a skewed picture. (Although I haven’t really chronicled the grimmest moments, either.)

Although one of the things that surprised me was how optimistic even some of the more painful entries are. There’s a reason why I’m still around, I guess.

A lot has happened this year. Travel. Celebrations. Mourning. But there’s been more.

About three months ago, I met someone wonderful, someone who has changed my life in a drastic, positive way. I wasn’t quite able to convince her of my virtues at first, but in the end, she chose to be with me.

I try not to question it too much. :D

Three months ago, coming back from Hawaii after burying my uncle, I would never have imagined the joy and wonder and happiness I have been experiencing. My life has expanded in ways I would have never have foreseen. For once in a very long time, I look forward to the future with hope.

feelings of inadequacy

posted on November 22nd, 2014

Everything that happened had to have happened, because I wasn’t enough. Some lessons are hard and painful, but live and learn.


posted on November 22nd, 2014

Only in silence the word,
only in dark the light,
only in dying life:
bright the hawk’s flight
on the empty sky
—Ursula K. Le Guin The Wizard of Earthsea

a bird flying over Bahia de Banderas

it's always darkest before the dawn

posted on November 20th, 2014

Hyperbolically speaking, it does seem like things have a tendency to end up working out for me once I’ve lost all hope #LetItGo

Interestingly, today’s top target for spambots is a (long meandering) post about (ultimately) The Art of Not Wanting.

time traveling

posted on November 15th, 2014

“This weekend left me thinking about the nature of courage: To stay in the fight, even without any hope of winning, and let yourself be destroyed ingloriously? Or to look at the darkness with both eyes wide open, and realize, it’s time to let go, there’s no point in hanging on and tearing the whole thing down with me? Each to their own, I guess.”

from November 16, 2009

cleaning up a little

posted on November 6th, 2014

Deleted a bunch of spambot comments. It’s interesting which posts they’ve been hammering.

There are things I’ve kind of forgotten about myself. There are things that I know all too well.


posted on October 2nd, 2014

Lately, though, I can’t help but think
that this is the way things are meant to be
once the probability wave function collapses
you can’t uncollapse it, I suppose
really, though, as I grow more aware of this, I
have begun to stop wondering “what if”

panning for gold

posted on September 24th, 2014

Every day that I survive is a small victory

Yet somehow I have to lay my shattered
dreams to rest, and face the world,
empty-handed yet still brave

Despite this hollow feeling of incompleteness
I have come to realize that whatever I am
right now is good enough for the present


posted on September 24th, 2014

No, the darkness never left, I suppose
still remembering lying awake at night
choking on my reflux
my bloated fat body conspiring to kill itself

The days filled with terror and exhaustion
and frustration

faint mockeries of hope glimmered wanly
there was nothing, there would be nothing

Only the bottle and sweet oblivion

There will be no answers, no consolation, no resolution

“…his heart heavy in a certain way….”
“She smiled at him, gently and with acute tenderness, with the answer no.”


posted on September 23rd, 2014

September is when I set sail
under duress
amidst the crashing waves of disappointment
driving me far from shore

The wind always turns
the last days of summer fade
into hazy memory

And happiness is only a dream
a word

I am free. And alone.

soul mates

posted on August 25th, 2014

After all this time by myself, I’m fairly certain that the common idea of soul mates is bullshit. If there is such a thing, they are made, not born. You tell yourself a story, weave together a narrative, and you just hope that you meet someone willing to tell a complementary story and that your stories mesh together well. It’s not going to be a perfect fit, but you can strive to make it so.

The thing that is true, that has always been true, is that stories are made more real in the re-telling than in the telling. All narratives need editing and rewriting and revising. And love is a process, not a finished product.


posted on August 7th, 2014

Thinking about the last three months, it’s kind of crazy how much has happened to me.

I’ve visited a lot of places, some of which I’ve been before but hadn’t been back to in a long time, others which I’ve seen for the very first time. I’ve met up with a lot of people—old friends, family members who I haven’t heard from in a while, and some really cool new people whom I wish I could spend a lot more time getting to know.

From the highest highs of being inspired by someone to keep dreaming big and to never lose hope to the lowest lows of worrying about my mortality and the mortality of everyone I have ever loved, to the bittersweetness of knowing that someone really liked me once upon a time but I totally failed to act upon it, and to the joy and sadness of getting to hang out of my oldest friend in the world because his dad had just had a stroke, to being witness to the happiness of my college roommate getting married and to getting to be part of my cousin’s wedding party and his multiple celebrations, and to helping bear my uncle’s body to his final rest in such a beautiful place, it’s been a wild ride. I never want it to end, but I’ve been around long enough to realize that all good things must eventually come to an end.

I’ve had some crazy hopes that I know will never come to pass, but that’s OK. You can’t lose what you never had in the first place. I am learning to take things day-by-day, hour-by-hour and trying to be present in the moment and be present for everyone I care about. I will fail at times, but I will always try.

I’ll always have regrets, some over things long since past, some more recent. I am also still learning to take chances and go with what feels right without thinking too hard and overanalyzing. After all this time, I’ve realized that it’s better to regret screwing up than to regret not doing anything.

As I’ve been reminded, there’s still time. It may be running out minute-by-minute, but I can’t lie down and stop just yet.

“Only hope can keep me together. Love can mend your life but love can break your heart.”

summer waning

posted on July 29th, 2014

The end of days
of summer waning
(the wheel turns and turns)
hoping for all manner of impossible things
hanging suspended at 30,000 feet in the sky
and chasing the fleeting sunlight


It’s obvious the Universe is not eternal
(though the void, the vacuum
from which the Universe is generated
may very well be)

Entropy ever increases
T.S. had it right, the end
(at least the end we can foresee, beyond
which it is literally impossible to imagine)
comes as a whimper, not a bang
though disorder ever increases still yet churning
it is the mundane disorder
of dust motes drifting and colliding
in a beam of sunlight

Will I ever be able to read this
dreadful scrawling (Entropy ever increases)
when I pick up this notebook again
and flip through its tattered pages

These languid, torpid drip dripping thoughts like the drooling of an idiot
squeezed from an overwrought mind
seeking portents everywhere
when what I should be looking for
is humble serendipity
wonder in the mundane
a place to lie my
weary head
for wondrous
amazement in unlooked for places

growing next to the garbage can
unsought for, unhoped for
suddenly blooming into blazing orange flowers
the color of the dress of the girl
no, the woman I chance met
in some dreamlike place
she gazes up at the stars
and apprehends the universe with
her sharp, dexterous mind
but not enamored by wild flights of fancy
grounded in the reality of this harsh and barren world
though knowing adventure still lurks in hidden places

She told me that which I ought to have already learned
on my long meanderings alone through trackless deserts
and unforgiving wastes
through gnat infested marshes and bogs
and jagged passes through the
grey granite mountains casting long shadows

That time is of the essence
is the essence of existence
That time and chance conspire
to create inevitability

My heart did flare
long did I believe the embers had long burnt out
that dust and ashes were my eternal lot
(Do not weep for me, for I am already dead)
Like searing acid or scouring flames
this longing erupted from my heart
threatening to overwhelm my senses
and overthrow my reason
leaving me in madness, trying
to thread a needle through
a collapsing wormhole
my only hope of getting home

but you can never go home
time means change (entropy ever increases)
the paths are obscured by shifting sands
and memory is a treacherous thing

The Roads, the Seas only run in on one direction
Mission Control can ping and
message you, but you can never answer


You learn soon enough that you carry home
inside of you
Fragments of memories, songs echoed and
to your erstwhile fellow travelers

(For what are we but the stories we tell
an integral summation of all the
infinitesimal trifling griefs and joys

The fragments, the moments, the pixels
blur together, and sharp edges
wear down to soft curves
And the Big Picture emerges
but only bit by pit, in furtive glimpses)

and I’ve wandered far afield
I cannot see the way
Perhaps–I have dreamt or even
hoped for–this is the last leg of the
journey. My road ending at the
horizon. The landscape unchanging
as I chase the fleeting sunlight

I think this might be the place
It’s a little lifeless and barren
but it’s home
And even here, I might tend a little garden
and live a little life of small dreams

for vainglory is senseless
especially as the time trickles out
in this age at last
I would rather win some small victories
than fight an endless futile war
doomed to defeat


Nevertheless, I cannot escape time and chance
the Road goes ever on and on
and ever the heavens whirl and shudder
as suns are torn asunder
and comets come crashing down

I am just a dust mote
floating aimlessly, careening, jostling
in an infinite sky full of dust motes

But even a dust mote can have
its moment in the sun

dreaming of morning dew on rose petals

posted on July 1st, 2014

April was the cruelest month
long buried memories disinterred
like a knife wound to the chest
bittersweetness, chances unfulfilled
time lost to sorrow and despair
and yet there was no chance
time transforms chance to inevitability
all hope is lost
Yet I remain

May always harbors potentiality
may, might, could’ve, should’ve
the wounds reopened
but cauterized by the sunlight
hoping for chances but changes cannot come
dreaming of morning dew on rose petals
and my sad, simple folly
but the embers were rekindled in my heart
to know pain is to know I am still alive
So I remain

In June, I still heeded my heart
trying to find the right turning
the right pathways
yearning for that which was long lost
and maybe I surrendered too soon, always
let hope fly from me, crumbling to dust in
the brilliant summer sun
But maybe I am listening to the wrong call
and maybe my heart desires something greater

Something I cannot see the shape of
more wondrous than my clumsy fumbling and grasping petty aspirations

Maybe the fire in my heart was awakened
for some greater purpose
the final fulfillment of my destiny
there is more than one way to love
and there is more than
one way to make dreams come true
fire and flame can consume, can destroy
but fire and flame can give life
I will give my life
and expect nothing in return


posted on June 30th, 2014

In the silent hours ere the waxing light
I know I will meet her some day soon
and she will be with me
and I will not remember
what life was like before I met her

But that was just a dream
dissipating in the drear of the morning fog
and the light of day dawns
and I dare not hope