Nom Nom Nom.. 

(via catherinehepburn)

Strive!

(via juliasegal)

It was just one of those nights where we all drank and sang our hearts out. Kudos for great friends!

Been so busy with work. So when I play, I play hard. Laura and I at Boulevard 3 

(Hollywood, CA)

There’s a catch with this purchase— gotta find her first.

(Source: faggotsexual, via myawesomesmile)

I send you a text, but I quickly cancel it out. I figure I send you a picture instead, that way you’ll be able to remove all doubt. I wonder what you’re thinking, “Maybe he sent it to the wrong person; I’m sure of it. There can’t be any other reason.” Then I sit and contemplate. I hesitate; I wonder why I even did that, but it was too late. So much anxiety building while I wait. Those seconds seem like an eternity. Will you even reply back to me. Why would you even want to. After all, I’m sure you remember what I put you through. I look out the window lying to myself that I didn’t crack first. I see my reflection and realize that I really am hurt. A smrik replaces my empty face and I do anything to kill time— like tie my shoe lace. Then I finally get that reply. A sigh of relief quickly turns into a moment of grief. Should I even open it? I’m scared I’ll be hurt from it. Why not just be happy that I made it. I sent a text and she definitely reciprocated. I close my eyes and press view. It was a simple photo of a list of things we were supposed to do. I wonder why she kept it. I wonder why she sent it.

Then I picture you doing the same. Looking out the window contemplating if you should play this game. Your reflection from a smirk turns into an empty stare. It suddenly hit you that it really is unfair. I treated you wrong and now I’m trying to repair what has been gone. You walk around your apartment in a steady pace, not even caring that you have an untied shoe lace. Happiness fills you up because you know you didn’t crack first. Your moment of grief turns into a sigh of relief. You look down on your phone repeatedly. You know your heart beats excitingly. But rather than send me a text of how you’re feeling, you send me a list of things we were suppose to be completeing. From skydiving to home shopping. Our list was endless. But nothing stood out more than number 323. It was circled over and over, “To grow old with each other and live happily ever after.”
To Be Continued…

I can do this all day

It’s been a long time since I’ve uploaded photos of me and the crew. I guess today would be an appropriate day for this. This is me driving on the 57 freeway. Not a smart thing to do, but it turned out okay. Gotta love instagram.

It is a calm and mellow night here at Thomas Burton Park. I’m sitting at my favorite bench listening to my favorite songs. They mostly consist of classical piano and orchestra pieces. This is the place where I go to gather all my thoughts. Like an old man who prefers to sit near the window at his favorite diner, I love sitting next to the swings. The park is well lit and caters to a lot of local residence who enjoy a nice night walk. It is 8:42PM here and something interesting always catches my eye. I’ve been coming to the park more recently these past months and every time I see this, it gives me hope that true love is still out there. I suppose this is the real reason why I come here.

Every night, I see the smiles of an old couple walking together side by side. The husband is a short gentleman with a minor slouch. No doubt in my mind he reached around 6’5 in his earlier days. He is well around his 80’s and yet seems as strong as a 40-year-old man. Most times he would be seen wearing khaki slacks, a brown belt, button-up shirt, and a maroon jacket with the word Vintage on it. He holds onto his wife with his left arm wrapped around her, giving her that protection and warmth she never asks but gets. She is a short woman as well. Most nights, she would be seen wearing a beige cardigan, blue pants, and white new balance shoes. She walks with a gentle and delicate limp on her right ankle; but you would not be able to recognize it since her husband walks just as slow. Maybe it is just old age the way they walk together. Then I realized something. As they were walking past me, the husband’s right hand was molded with hers. Essentially, he was providing balance for her. What a sign of love. What great illustration of dedication and patience. What a pair they are. What a thing I envy and can’t wait to have: To grow old and always be there for my love.

I wonder how it would feel to grow old with someone; to wake up in the morning of everyday and see your soul mate resting beside you. I can imagine slowly waking up. My eyes are not quite open, but the suns raise pour in and I can see it even though my eyes are closed. My sense of smell and touch are acute. As I slowly open my eyes, I can see her. She is so beautiful. She is a constant reminder of heaven on earth. As I stare at her softly, I can smell the shampoo from her hair on both our pillows. I can feel her hand on mine. I can hear her breathing. And then like a flower blooming, she wakes up slowly and smiles. Who wouldn’t want that?

Through the course of time, I could imagine the memories I would build with her. It would start off with picnics at the park, movies in the dark, and her sleeping next to my heart. I could see her walk towards me wearing white and even walking away from me, collecting herself after we fight. I could imagine kissing her and saying I love you before we go to work; and we would call each other saying we’ve just arrived every time we pass the mail clerk. During Sunday mass I would always hold her hand. She would reciprocate by playing with my wedding band. I could imagine the day we have our first child. I could see us calling up all our family members on the dial. We would teach our little angel to walk and behind each other’s back, teach our little angel to talk. I would emphasize on trying to teach our angel to say Dada. And when I wasn’t looking, she successfully taught our angel to say Mama. When our angel would fall asleep, we would go to our backyard and look at the view of the city street. We would lie on the grass, and she would complain about the size of her ass. I would change the subject and tell her how much I love her. Then I’d point to my right and say, “this will always be your shoulder.” We would dress each other, always trying to match one another. We would take turns picking out which movie to watch. But we would always enjoy each other’s selections since they’re usually top notch. We would watch our kids grow and become the person they so humbly believe in. And as they leave the nest, we realized we really did win. We would be at our lowest when our parents would have to say good-bye. That’s a pain we would both alleviate by saying, “it will be alright.” We would travel the world and take pictures wherever we go. My favorite places would be anywhere with you, just to let you know. We will be visited by our grandkids and they would take after you. And the times they’re bad, you would point and say, “See that? Those are things you used to do.” We would watch them grow up and buy them things like a Sony PS-12. We would be confused reading the description asking, what the hell? Then when time seems slower, we would find ourselves back to where we became each other’s lover. We would have picnics at the park and take walks right when it gets dark. I’d keep you warm by wrapping you with my arm, essentially keeping you from harm. You would hold my hand reminding me that I am still your man— this I’m so thankful. In return I’ll hold you up knowing the pain you have on your right ankle. I’d kiss her forehead and wish her a goodnight. I’d stay awake and make sure she was alright. I would thank the lord for the wonderful life; blessed with children, memories, and especially my loving wife.

Now that is a life I want to have. I say this after every entry, but this time I genuinely mean this: C’est La Vie. To grow old with your soul mate/ significant other/ best friend/ bestest person you’ve ever met, C’est La Vie.

-Erik Alicante

Aucune école ne peut vous apprendre sur l’amour. Seule l’expérience. Et la meilleure expérience est un cœur brisé. C’est la vie.

( No school can teach you about love. Only experience. And the best experience is a broken heart. That’s life. )