Hopeless Romantic (ish)

This post may or may not be the direct effect of my consumption of the sappiest young adult book ever, a solo session watching the movie, and finally playing the soundtrack on loop.

Yeah, it may or may not be…

Anyway, my whole body is like soft tissue now and I don’t know what to do with myself. My heart is caught up in soothing, and yet, terrifying waves that is a love story.

Olly and Maddy* just made it look so effortless, like floating.

My problem is that I can’t float. Like, at all. I panic and soon enough water starts entering every hole in my body until I sink like the Titanic, except there is no Jack and Rose and on this ship– it’s just me.

I do this to myself. Gladly.

I KNOW, that I KNOW, that I KNOW that I’m a hopeless romantic. Yes, I believe in soulmates, Prince Charmings,forbidden love being the best kind of love, and the craziest of all, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

Yes, I am a sick human being. Sick with sweet, sticky, artificial love and I’m kind of okay with that.

Soon the heat of the book, the glow of the movie, the beauty of the music will fade away and I’ll see love for what it really is…

nothing that I truly want.

*The main characters of Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon


falling in love at a concert

i just felt
in its neatest,
easiest form

i’m not alone

and i believed it.

looked around to see similar bodies
chests building and
eyes wide & alive
like a child
mesmerized by how much the sun
loves them
follows them home
by their side;
awestruck at his mother’s
tummy when she said
there’s a sister inside
–that love exists even when
it’s not seen

similar bodies
by time
by knowledge
by similar bodies

and yet,
built back beautiful again
by all of these disasters.

are monuments for everything

how could we feel

how could we understand loneliness
when our bodies are this close

this is love
in its easiest and neatest form:
our bodies
this close.

Tender Heart

i’ve been known to fall
like dead leaves
heart first into
and their fragility.
feast on cheap
one-second-too-long glances
their half-hearted therapy sessions
with me
never the lover
never the hand in theirs
just the empty space between fingers
the dirt–forgotten
underneath the nails,
the impenetrable, thick skin
not the blood
not the bones

i fall
every time

but now
i’m trying to forgive myself
rename the falling.
call it something
more beautiful,
more intentional

reshaping my mouth
(with my own hands)
call it:


And i didn’t cry over him anymore//even though you do not love me

and all his skin
up the same space
am in. the same
air i am breathing–
for once
not begging
not gasping for
someone to love me back
just sharing this space
like two
full beings with abled hearts
full being,
abled heart
(even still)
(even though you do not love me)
because it’s mine
deserve some room
without having to ask
you first
you want me

Unrequited Love

I fell hard and fast
like I usually do.

I thought he was perfect.
A gentleman
One of those personalities that everyone gets along with
A warm soul that smiles from the depths of his heart

Yes, he had his flaws, but I was ready to take them in as long as I had him, too.


Hopelessly romantic?

He’s one of those few people I truly feel comfortable with.
I could be myself and not have to be afraid.
or be timid.
or overthink.

He made me laugh, smile, burst into a billion goosebumps, blush, glow

now I just


of course
but every meet up I end up looking for his heart
and leave with my chest

My Little Black Princess

I have the most beautiful, sassy, intelligent half-Black/half-Thai girl in my class. She is magnificent, but the people here do not notice her amidst the sea of white skin. She is the Black shadow: disappearing in the back of the class, sinking deep into the ground, evaporating into thin air. On her best days she is ignored, on her worst she is noticed and treated differently than her peers.

As her ebony-emboldened big sister I have to remind her every day how beautiful she is, how intelligent she is, how valuable she is. I willingly hold every inch of my body to her as a mirror, showing her that she is not alone–Teacher Kami looks just like you and is fabulous, honey!

It frustrates me that this is the culture my sweet girl has to grow into, that all of her magnificence will try to be leeched out of her skin. I do not care how different our cultures may be, any trace of racism needs to be acknowledged in every nation. Racism needs to be sniffed out, called out, then burned to the ground. I want that ish extinct.

It has no place in a world that celebrates color and difference. If flowers can bloom in their own unique way, why the hell can’t humans do the same?

Some days the ignorance regarding Black people here makes me want to hop on the next plane back to America. It is nauseating the things I have to see on a regular Sunday. For example, this Sunday, I am walking in the grocery store minding my own business, as I always am, and following my movements are snickers, stares, people clutching their bags as if I don’t have a job, which by the way is teaching their kids English in order to provide a better future for them.

Some days I want to say screw you and your ignorance! I teach your damn kids with all of my heart and this is what I get because I’m not white. Fine! I’ll leave. Keep your white men with their lack of experience and lack of true concern for your child’s welfare. Bring them in with open arms as they take your women and leave them. Smile as they box up your culture, then sell it back to you–

What has white man created that he first didn’t destroy?

But even through all of the poison this culture tries to give me, I drink and do not die. I drink and piss it out. Make every one see how resilient this Black body is.

Black people do this magic every day.
We take the insults, the violence, the poison,
and yet, still love, still create, still smile,
still breathe
still breathe
still breathe

I am teaching my little Black girl how to breathe. So every day while I am telling her that she is beautiful, intelligent, and valuable, I am also pushing her like no other student because one day she is going to see the brilliance she brings into every atmosphere and people will be begging her to stay.

On Realizing I’m A Solo Traveler

A couple of weeks ago I went to one of the most beautiful islands Thailand has blessed us with–Koh Phi Phi.

Everything about that place brought well needed rest to my soul: the dark silhouette of mountains in the night; the kisses of light rain on my skin in the morning; the multi-colored ocean, changing from turquoise, to sea green, to a dark, mysterious blue.

IMG_7487IMG_7481Every sensation around me birthed tranquility… except the people I went with.

Let’s just say my next trip will be a solo one.
Anyway, things got so bad that we split our ways, and honestly, it was one of the best things that could’ve happened.

5:30 A.M. my alarm goes off signaling that it’s time to get ready for the hike up to Viewpoint; I knew I wanted to catch the sunrise, gasp as the sunlight slowly melts down the island’s landscape.

It was a tough trek through the bushes: I was alone, it was dark, rain was just beginning to fall, mosquitoes were lurking in the tall grass, and my body had not experienced walking on an incline in months. I wanted to quit so many times, reserve this hike for another time when conditions would be better, but I was already so far and if I had given up I’d probably never try again. I kept going, putting one foot in front of the other, remembering a wise lesson I learned a few years back when I was climbing an even bigger mountain in Ecuador.

Anything that beautiful is worth climbing for.

When I finally reached the top I was sweaty, exhausted, and stinkin’ proud of myself! I looked out on the horizon and drank in all of the beautiful natural miracles I would’ve missed out on if I had quit, if I had listened to my body’s weakness. After a few slow, meditative inhales and exhales I picked out a good rock and made myself lotus.

A few minutes pass by and in the corner of my eye I see my two former travel bodies plop down on a rock to my far left. We didn’t acknowledge one another. We just sat. They talked for most of the time which made a small smile tickle my lips; I was thankful to be free from idle chat.

They stayed for about 20 minutes, just when the sunrise started to pour down the tips of the mountain tops.

I stayed for the next 2 hours soaking in everything, after all, I don’t think my body could’ve handled making another trip up. The tummy-tickling smile returned: if I’d stayed with them I would’ve missed out squeezing every second of this wonder.


While I’m there I witness waves of people coming up, also sweaty, exhausted, and in awe like I was; I strike up some conversations and even made a few friends like Suzuki.


And the sunrise just got better and better,
so did my soul.

Eventually we all made up and enjoyed the rest of our time together, but that morning I realized how much I love solo travel, how much I love the sweet space of individual exploration.


In many ways life is better together, but perhaps travel is one of those tiny exceptions.
At least for me.

Third Way

I care about what others think. That’s just it.

I’ve tried not caring, then when that didn’t work out I tried the complete opposite–caring too much. Both failed. Miserably. And in the meantime made me feel miserable.

I should’ve know both of these extremes were not going to help me reach a place of “soul-solace”. I kind of live by this quote a professor of mine stated often, very often: all extremes are dysfunctional. 

(Perhaps my professor meant this to be taken in a particular context, but I think he would smile at this interpretation).

This epiphany of middle ground, third way, gray area smacked me in the face today during a small talent show my school was having. Now, I take performance very seriously, even if it’s a group of adorable, motor skill-challenged kindergartners: it needs to be stellar!

So as my students were heading up to the front and I’m getting in my place as their mirror to watch for dance cues, one of my American coworkers taunts, “Why do you look like a stressed parent?” or something along the lines of that. I’m instantly hit with panic because in that moment I realize how insane I looked.

Here’s when the two choices loom over me, both pulling for my attention: “Care about what they think. Deeply. You, after all, work with them. No one is going to be your friend now, weirdo.” The other makes it case, “Kami, you don’t need them. Who cares what they think. Just stick to your students. You already have friends, you don’t need them.”

But both of these arguments are not convincing: I don’t want to be stoic and I also don’t want to be spineless. There is a middle ground, there is a third way, there is a gray area that I can drape over myself.

I’m not entirely sure how that looks like yet, but I believe this space does exist.

I choose TO care about what others think, but I also choose how their thoughts will affect me. Caring makes me soft, and now sifting and sorting through each care will make me soft and strong.

Be Present.

peppermint tea nestled in a little yellow mug
hot oil burning over a small candlelit fire
soft lamp on
native american flute music and rain drops filling the space

today i was so busy working that i forgot to play with my students. i’m so thankful my co-teacher ripped me away from lesson planning because i got to see our precious students use math for the first time.

(i almost missed it)

i love my students and respect my co-teacher which is why i’ve been slaving away behind my desk prepping lesson plans weeks ahead.

i’m doing so well so far
i don’t want to let anybody down

but if i continue like this i’ll end up letting everyone down

i need to remember to be present
with their laughter
with their learning
with their love

so now i’m enjoying the company of myself, words, sweet smells, warm tea, and music. reminding myself presence is a tender space meant to be cherished

Delicious Life

The Thai have a saying: gin khao khondiao mai aroy, which basically means “eating alone isn’t delicious.” I’ve found this to be true with many things beyond the dinning table–living life, mainly.

Life is so much more delicious when shared with others.

My past work experience was a feast with the most beautiful, kind, hilarious, compassionate, helpful, and hard-working people I’ve ever met. Our friendship extended beyond the confines of our school gates; we were family on and off the clock.

We ate together, laughed together, cried together, played together… If anyone was in need we all chipped in to help. If anyone needed a shoulder or a friend, there was always one available a few doors down. We had the uncanny ability to communicate with each other from across the room with just a simple look. (We were pros at nonverbal communication, especially during meetings). We held hands, hugged, and kissed. We had feuds, but faithfully came back together. We had girls’ night, enjoyed a round of bowling, and even ran the Color Run together! We made so many memories as a family in just one year.

Honestly, I can’t imagine surviving my first year of teaching without them.

I appreciate our closeness and hold it close to my heart so much more now that I’m fighting to create that same feasting of life here in my new school. I was shocked to hear from a co-worker that the foreign teachers weren’t super close. We live in the same building, how in the world could we not be close??

Thankfully, I’m starting to see the legs of a table building: yesterday night I went out to dinner with two of my co-workers and we had great conversation, this afternoon one of the teachers helped me prepare crafts for my lesson tomorrow, and recently a teacher and I talked about taking a trip to Hong Kong together.

I love and miss my BGIS family so incredibly much, but I can have a family here, too… after all, there is always more room at the table.

So, dig in.


my family ❤