how

how?

Something about us

A reminder of us...

So I realized that it's been virtually half a year since we've spent some real time together. And maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe the time apart has allowed you to forget what we are, what we have. So This is my last and final post before I leave for Chicago tomorrow. I leave you with a few reminders of what it is that we have together. Yo te quiero mi skirls. I pray to see you tomorrow, but will surely see you tonight...

the other bad news...

There are a few other things which I failed to mention a few posts ago, things about me that will most likely be (or never change) that need to be directly addressed. It's not that I am trying to scare you away (rather the opposite really) but it's just that you need to understand these things about me, or perhaps you need a reminder =)

Though I am in New York now and will be for likely the next 2-3 years it is also NOT where I want to be. I love the city and think it is an absolute world class one filled with wonderful an amazing things. It seems that everywhere I look and go I encounter some sort of mysterious or interesting or different or thought provoking or repulsive or beautiful or entertaining thing. This city is truly one of a kind. And yet I find myself hating it. The longer that I live hear the more I can feel it hardening me. Each day I seem to get a slight bit more snarky, a little more salty towards the world. I can't remember when the last time was that I bumped into someone and actually said "excuse me". In fact, I can't even remember the last time that I bumped into someone and didn't give them some sort of nasty glare. I am thankful to this city for the opportunity that it has afforded me with BA, but I do not like this city. It simply is not where I want to be.

No matter where I end up, I will always be a wanderer of sorts, an adventurer. I love exploring, and though I do alot of exploration both within myself and within my social existence, it often times takes me to Lord knows where.

I'm always going to be hairy and pudgy. No matter what it's how God made me, and short of drastic surgery it is how I will most likely remain.

I am white, and no matter how much I love you I will probably never turn Hispanic. That means that your mother, brother, and most of the rest of your family, along with a good amount of your friends, will never quite like me. Or at least never quite like me for you.

I'm petrified of children. Not scared of kids, but scared that I'm not any good with them. More and most importantly, I'm terrified that Anthony wouldn't like me.

I snore in my sleep.

I sweat alot, sometimes even when I'm not doing much at all.

I have a serious sweet tooth. Lately, I have been known to put awy a half gallon of ice cream in a few nights (often times even just in one night). Maybe that's part of the reason I'm a chubby bunny.

I like to do puzzles, even when they drive me nuts.

Im happy without money. It's not that I do not want money, nor that I do not like money. It's just that I've come to a point in my life where I really find that the simple and often cheap/free things are the ones that captivate me the most.

I am a diehard sports fan. And it makes no sense why sometimes I get so worked up over it. But I do.

I love to almost a fault. I give my heart away fully, and when I do it often makes me vulnerable to a degree that I never thought possible.

I love my back being scratched and rubbed, but am too timid to ever ask for it.

I sometimes eat in my sleep (please see chubby bunny reference above)

I worry when you aren't happy, even when it's none of my business.

There's alot more that I am surely forgetting to mention. But these are some of the big ones. The point is Bonita, there's a lot of things that you inevitably would have to deal with, from my current spacial separation from you to my smell. And I know that each one of these things are in their own way a hurdle that gives reason to steer clear of us. But what I also know in my heart of hearts is that with me, you have the chance at happiness. And when it comes down to it, it's all I have ever wanted for you: to be happy. I know everything that stands in our way.

All I can ask is for the chance to make you happy like I once did, and if given such a chance I promise you I will spend from then on out doing my absolute best to simply see and hear you smile.

I love you like crazy Bonita, and I cant wait to come back to Chicago.

thoughts on an early morning

what I know

No one has known me like you do.

My time in New York

I live in New York. I will be here in New York for at least another year. Odds are, I will likely be here two if not three more years from now. And this is why:

As you know I got my job with British Airways in April, and as time goes by I find myself loving it more and more. For the first time in my life I have a job that isn't just a job but rather a career. Whether I end up in Chicago, in Paris, or in Timbuktu this is an opportunity that will get me there, and get me to the rest of my life.

I will be in NY fir at least a year because I was just drafted into another airline (so I am still employed with BA but do work for Cathay Pacific) which means that I am locked into Cathay for a minimum of a year. The reason that I say I will most likely be here in NY for 2-3 years is because I want to move up within the company. Over the next two years I will be able to make the connections necessary to advance within the company and make my way to virtually wherever it is that I want to go.

I tell you all this now because you deserve to know what my future holds as I hope it to also hold you. It's not that I want to stay here in New York - in fact I actually know that I DO NOT want to stay here in NY - but rather that because of the career opportunity that I find myself in it is imperative that I do stay.

This post is the bad news. This is the reminder that yes,I am hundreds of miles away. And yes, I will be hundreds of miles away foe at least a couple years. But this is the bad news. And in the grand scheme of things, this pales in comparison to what else we have...

making sense of things i thought i knew

From pillar to post

I left for work yesterday morning at 320am. I walked in from work this morning just a few minutes before 1am. From the moment I can remember - Im still not sure whether I was asleep and dreaming it or awake and thinking it - I have thought of you. And now as I lay my head to my pillow you once again swim in my head and in my heart.

I know it's been tough Bonita. I know that if you give us a chance that it will continue to be tough. But I believe in us. And most importantly, I believe in our love. Maybe the time apart has given your memory dust to collect, for indeed it has been far too long.

We are at the precipice in which things can and will be drastically different. It is the difference in seeing you every three months to seeing you every three weeks (and likely more so than that). I just beg you to hold on. I beg you to follow your heart. I beg you to give us a chance.

I love you mi skirls, and it is the mere possibility of seeing you in less than a week that will inspire my dreams tonight.

The sights and signs everywhere

Yesterday when I got out of work I headed home to do some work around my apartment. The day before I decided to retouch the blackboard painted on one of the walls. When I had finished I was left with a black patch.

I began to see you in it.

In a space black and void of anything at all, I could see your face, your eyes, your skirls. That sly smile you make when you're faking being mad and really are blushing. The way your lips move when you get flustered and breathe in ever so rapidly. I could see it all. Where I stared off into bleakness I could treat my eyes to you.

I couldn't believe how vividly I could see you.

I thought about all of this as I rode the air train home from JFK after work tonight. When I looked down I noticed the shoes on the woman standing next to me.

There's signs everywhere. We just have to pay attention to them.

Today is a good day because you read these words.

Maybe how i feel in new york...

I listen to this song every day.

I know, I feel.

I know how you feel because I feel it too.

In a little more than a week I will be embarking on a plane headed to Chicago. That gives me a little more than a week to express what it is that I have in my heart, in my head, in my plans, and in my soul for you. If i am a writer - and hope to one day have a voice that others can hear - there is no better way to create one than to have the courage to give a voice to your heart.

In a little over a week when I come to Chicago I may not even see you. In a little over a week I may leave Chicago heartbroken in the same way as I was the last time I left Chicago, and as I was the time before that that I left Chicago. You may want nothing to do with me. I may fail at letting you in to what I see for us.

Bonita, I love you. I will spend the next week sharing with you what I think and feel about us and us as it pertains to the future. I will tell you what I know, what I don't, what I fear, what I want, what can be, and what may not.

I know you're scared. I know you don't want to let your heart out to me in fear that it will only be hurt more than it already has been. I know if you are to have me in your life it is to have me for the long run, and that most likely entails being together in Chicago. I know you're worried that I will ultimately be unhappy being there. I know these things because they are the same thoughts that I have.

What I do know is that I love you. And I know that you are my blue moon. Our lives together will be much different once I get my flight benefits. And ultimately, I would rather have you in my life in some way, no matter how much effort needs to be exerted, than to not have you at all. I feel my heart beat for you, as if I have never breathed before you.

All I can ask is that you read these words and hear these songs, and I can only hope that you will understand.

Follow your heart mi amore.

I love you Bonita.

Always

-Kyle

vulnerability

The woman from Egypt

A few weeks ago, maybe a month or so, I was checking in for the morning flight - the 8am JFK to London Heathrow. About 630 or so I called over the next passenger and was greeted with a small clan. Husband, wife, two kids, and the mother. When I asked for their passports and how much luggage they were taking, the husband informed me that just his mother would be traveling and that she was taking with her only one checked bag.

The son placed his mothers bag on the scale and I pulled up her ticket information by swiping her Egyptian passport. When I looked at the meter on the scale it read 28 Kgs, 3 kilos more than we are allowed to give as an allowance for checked baggage. I informed the son that his mother's bag was weighing in a bit heavy, and that if they could not get the needed 3 kilos out of the bag that I would have to charge for the heavy weight.

It was then that he, the son, explained why the bag was heavy. His mother and father had come over from Egypt for one last visit before the father passed (as he, the father, was on his death bed). While they were in New York visiting the father passed away, leaving the mother to travel back alone to Egypt with a few more personal effects.

A sense of sadness sunk in. I immediately apologized for the family's loss, told them I would see what I could do, and headed over to my manager to get the ok for an exemption. When I returned to the counter I again apologized to the family and explained that the extra weight wouldn't be a problem, that I had gotten the "ok" from my manager to take it without charge.

The son thanked me and we continued on with our transaction to get the mother checked in to her flights, first to LHR and then onwards to Cairo. As I extended my arm to reach for the woman's passport the mother leaned forward and began pointing at my left arm and speaking very fast and in an agitated manor. In the process of reaching for the documents my bracelets had slipped out past the cuff of my shirt and were then exposed for all to see.

The son did not hesitate to begin to explain that the bracelet on my wrist was one with all the patron saints of his mother. He explained that his mother could name each and every person depicted.

It was then that the mother began to say something else and search through her pockets. The son turned his attention from me to his mother and began to argue with her - plead really- but to no avail. The mother grabbed my had and put this in it...

It was the father's. The mother had given it to me because she was so touched by my bracelet, the one that you gave me.

I was floored.

There's no real reason that I tell you this story other than the ordinary beauty of it. Of all the bracelets I have ever owned and worn, the one you gave me is the only one that could produce such a beautiful and touching moment.

The universe works in strange ways to remind us what it is that it desires for us.

The choice of agony...

When you sent me that message yesterday I was floored. I couldn't believe what it was that my eyes were reading. Seven words, and my heart was set afire.

You sent me another message, that you wanted me to text you. It was then that I met it. As I tried to read the note on my phone it re-directed me to the facebook website, to your profile.

"In a relationship"

I was devastated. To be faced with the reality that someone else was holding your hand, touching your skin, seeing your skirls and tasting your lips was utterly heartbreaking. And to compound it all it was as though it being facebook official made it all the more real and significant.

My heart raced as I had known it to before when faced with a "fight or flight" situation, only instead of shaking (as I had whenever my heart raced to such a pace before) I couldn't catch my breath; I was breathing as though I had just finished a mile sprint.

Yet here I am. I still write these words because I promised you that I would. But even more than that I write these words because my heart wills me to. My brain tells me that it is therapeutic, that verbalizing what emotions and thoughts I have is a good way to address them. Yet my heart screams that it is for the faint hope that maybe somehow, someday I can vocalize my love in such a way that will bring you back into my life.

I can only follow the passion I feel in my heart, and I have never known it before I knew you.

It hurts to think about you. It hurts to miss you. It hurts to picture you in another's arms. But I cannot help but to do these things. No matter what pain I may feel it is drowned by the love which you inspire within me.

So here my heart stays, with you as it has been from the moment you captured it. My love for you only shines a light on how pathetic the words that describe it seem to be.

Yo te quiero mi amore. Je ne sais pas quoi d'autre je peut dire a cote de ca. C'est seulement que mon coeur n'est pas un coeur de tout sans toi.