the good and bad

There's never enough hours in a day...

I've been extremely busy. I suppose that a good thing. Idleness drives me insane. Work has picked up tremendously, and I've been involving myself in several freelance projects, with and without pay. And it keeps life more interesting.

Living with the boyfriend for about a month now and we've gotten into a routine. I find security in routines, the assurance of predictability is comforting. This is not to say that I cannot deal with change, randomness, spontaneity, or chaos. I actually seek those out when there is a need for them. All in moderation of course. Having someone to say "Honey, I'm home" brings me a certain joy. As is having someone to wake up to, having someone to cook a meal for, or have a meal prepared by. This has been the most natural I've ever felt with anyone. It helps a lot that we're both very similar in our lifestyles, which makes for an easy living environment.

As great as everything sounds though, I've been feeling rather uneasy for a while. At first the string of misfortune that happened upon both of us got us rather foul in mood, then one morning I had forgotten to validate my train ticket which resulted in a citation which summons me to appear in court. And if I choose not to appear, I must pay a fine of $353. This really puts the cherry on top of my sundae of doom. On top of transitioning to a new routine and schedule, my emotional stability was rather shaken, which explains a lot of my anxiety. Digging deeper though, I realized that there was an anxiety in me similar to guilt or resentment of self. Where it stemmed from was rather obvious, but was not clear to me until I gave it some serious thought, which was that the New Yorker in me was conflicting with my recent decisions that might make me more permanent of a Californian: the recent partnership in a start-up company, my moving in with the boyfriend, living in an awesome lofted apartment, essentially starting a life, growing roots. This will disappoint my friends back home and let down my parents hope of me returning home anytime soon.

My default plan prior to moving to the West Coast was to give it a go for two years, and thereafter return to New York. What I never could have guessed was that I would find a relationship that worked so well, and finding a job that suits me, and living in a more-than-perfect apartment. Lo and behold, time slipped right by me and my two year mark is just around the corner. It baffles me how quickly two years had gone by. It has been awhile since I've visited home, and it made me nervous. As if the ground beneath my feet, the very ground that I knew to love and hate were slipping away from me, and I must jump to this other new ground. In essence, since I have many attachments to home still, New York inside me was fighting for attention and resented that I chose California.

I hope my visit in July would quiet that part of me. And I'm also hoping that by appearing in court would reduce my fine. And also I hope to finally settle in some and find more time to take up some leisure activities.

Otherwise things are dandy!

lose to gain

My recent disappearing act was the result of an accumulation of many small mistakes, mostly due in part by my lack of care, lapse in judgment or simply fate. But according to my mom's fortune teller, they're all supposed to happen, just be glad it wasn't worse. Whatever the cause, I am glad to slowly regain my strength and sound of mind, because changes are coming, and they're coming on strong.

About two Fridays ago, after picking up M from the airport and getting the rental back to the city, we met up with the rest of my friends for a movie. We parked in the parking lot of the theater and moved our valuables to the trunk (which to many, is a pretty safe way to deter theft). But to our detriment, we hadn't noticed our laptop bags were stolen until we had arrived home. Suffice to say, we both lost our laptops, and all the other tech/gadgets in our laptop bags. Whoever stole them hit the jackpot, because after we tallied up our loss, total was worth more than five thousand dollars. After much grief and moping around, we filed the proper reports, called the proper authorities and mustered up some will to just keep moving on from that.

Never in my life have I lost so much in material value in one shot before. It took some time to shake off the shock I was in. Not that I wasn't upset about the amount of money I had lost because of it, but I was even MORE upset that I had lost my backup drive, which stored in it was all the work I've been saving from freelance gigs, personal work, resources, ideas, inspirations, and many of my photo/video backups. Poof, gone just like that.

To protect ourselves from identity theft, we made the arrangements to keep our credit safe with some credit protection agencies, changed passwords, and switched handles around. Just. In. Case. And so that I don't lose my clients, I've requested extensions to the jobs with deadlines still pending. So when I get paid for these jobs, at least I can pay for the new tech I have to replace... like this new laptop I'm typing on.

All the while, the past two weeks or so I've been battling with the most insane allergies I have ever endured. I am also positively sure that somewhere along the lines of allergies, I caught a bug that manifested itself into a sinus infection. Lacking adequate knowledge of such conditions, I've began a loosely armed war again what I thought was mere seasonal allergy attack, when quite possibly it was an onslaught of a head-cold, sinus infection, and the said allergies. I took various drugs to no avail, allergy medication, cold medication, specifically targeted medicines for whatever parts that cause me grief. Then one night, I hit a peak of infection and got a fever. Ah ha, finally something I'm familiar with. I took the proper meds and hit the sack for a night of full-on sweat session. I grew up learning that whenever I have a fever, with the right medication, one sure-fire way to feel better is to sweat it all out under a ton of blankets and plenty of water (to counter the dehydration). Lo and behold, the next morning, I began my way to recovery. Though the recovery has been slow, I am finally beginning to feel better. I still have the occasional night cough and morning loogies, but otherwise full strength gained. Now enabled with new laptop with top of the line apps to get work going again, healthy regained, prospective jobs upcoming, I am starting to feel a lot better.

As for the changes that are ahead, M finally got a job offer he had been waiting for, and glad we are to have waited. He'll be transferred back up to the Bay Area, most likely San Jose, with a pay cut, one he's happy to take because at last he'll be back up here. And as for me, I will be moving in with him. It's a big step, one that took me awhile to arrive at, but am confident to take. I know the logic behind moving away form the city in which I work to another city just to be with the boyfriend, but logic never was my ally much of my life anyhow. I will commute to San Francisco from San Jose, I'll be close to a Caltrain station so I can easily stay mobile. And if all goes well and as planned, I may even consider buy a car to make my California life complete.

There are many benefits to moving in with M. Most of which we both agree will make our lives better. A main component to it were the amount of money we'll save, the ease of living, and quality of life we will improve upon. This will effectively be the first time I ever live with someone I am dating, but since we have discussed this at length, I see it wise to finally take this step.

So what did the fortune teller say exactly? That I turn thirty this year (in Chinese astrology, first year of birth is counted as one), which will affect my luck for the next few years. But before my luck turns better, it has to turn for the worse. I was to lose a lot of wealth, face painful health issues, and endure shit-talk, gossip, from others. I am to work hard, but be wary of health and fitness, and for the rest of the year joy will be plentiful.

Whether or not I should believe, I know honest hard work always brought me results. I know karma will work her cosmic ways and the thieves and shit-talkers will get theirs.

edge of 17

It was the end of my junior year of high school, classes ended and Summer break had just started. I wrote his number down in my sketch pad on the last page, and he wrote mine on his hand. We agreed to meet up once Summer starts and hang out, skate, chill at park and do whatever. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but there was something in the air that made me giddy, or it could have been the Summer approaching. He was my classmate and group partner in Illustration Art Studio class and known as the class clown. The rest of our group would often get in trouble by association. I didn't mind though, it was entertainment to pass the time. He was two inches taller than I was, had a short cropped tuft of thick black hair, medium build, and a smile that's worthy of a photo at any angle, thoroughly well liked and an incredible illustrator. He would make fart jokes, penis jokes, pop references, often with drawings, doodles, or voice imitations. He would be Beavis and another guy in the group would be Butthead. The jokes sometimes repeated, for an entire school year, but that didn't stop us or the rest of the class from laughing aloud each time. There was a charm to him that drew us in like an audience awaiting the punchline. My attraction then wasn't of the sexual kind, I was still too naive to know. It was an admiration like the kind you would a pretty flower, or cool toy, or an awesome friend. He was a cool guy to hang around and a source of laughter for me. He was likable and I felt at ease around him. When Summer came, we started to hang out.



Summer break went by rather quickly. It was the only Summer that I didn't have a job, or had family obligations to tend to, so I spent it by doing what I figured all the other kids would be doing, nothing. We sat on apartment front stoops in the East Village and played spitting games, stole refills of coke from McDonalds on Broadway, snuck into movie theaters for matinees. We would go skating at Central Park and chill there until the sun went down. He was excellent on roller blades, and I was clumsy and awkward. He flew around gracefully around me but never once taunted me about it. We just laughed and laughed and laughed. On days we didn't meet up, we would talk on the phone just about anything and everything there is to talk about at seventeen. TV shows, movies, cartoons, games. In his case, he would go on end about his new roller blades, the new barings he had gotten. We talked about our families, our history, what we wanted to do with our lives. All the while I laid on the floor in my bedroom, staring off into nothingness, dancing around in my head to the sound of his voice. Days like this would pass, and each day that floated by, my feelings for him grew stronger and more intense.

The weekend before the first day of our senior year, we chatted on the phone like we normally do, about how much we hated the idea that classes were starting, about what classes we were going to be in together, what design schools we were considering, and a whole lot of other nonsense. But something was different. My heart was pounding, a pain in my throat the size of a baseball was welling up, my entire body shook from nervousness. That afternoon, I decided to tell him that I liked him... in a more than a friend kind of way.

In hindsight, we had never talked about dating before, about girls, or boys, about relationships, or sex. Our collective seventeen year old minds never once went there. How could I have assumed that my attraction for him, and my subsequent declaration of it, would amount to anything that would be advantageous to a developing relationship? I just knew I simply had to... to just tell him. And that's what I said. "You're probably really shocked and confused at what I told you, and I'm not asking you to respond to it or anything. I just really wanted you to know." My voice quivered to the shaking of my body, and it sounded alien, like a small dying animal. He was silent. For what felt like hours. And to save myself any more embarrassment I said "Anyway, I'll see you in class. Bye." and hung up.

In school the next day, I feigned excitement at the dawning of our senior year. One more year and we're home free, officially the oldest in school, the prospects of college, and preparation for a whole entire new world ahead of us. The energy was in the air. But something else was on my mind. It was him. And what was to become of us. I went along with the motions and headed to each class. In my backpack was a letter I was to give him. A sort of apology letter, or reconciliation letter, or explanation, or whatever it was in hopes that he won't hate me forever. I felt ashamed, confused, and conflicted. I regretted that I had told him anything at all. Above all that, I still liked him. Each class I sat in, the ones we were to have together, there was an empty seat. When the teacher did role-call, no one would respond when his name was called. As the day went by, every class I went to where he was absent, the weight in my heart grew heavier by the minute. I fell silent at dinner that night, ate little and did not sleep. Playing out in my mind every word I said on the phone that afternoon, recounting each second he was silent, while a darkness grew inside me.

I found out weeks later from mutual friends that he had dropped some classes and switched out of the ones we were in. Since no one else knew what had happened between us, no one questioned why he switched. That day I found out, I went home sobbing on the bus. The walk to my front door seemed to take forever. It was the most intense heartbreak I had ever felt in all the seventeen years of my life. It was the worst outcome that could have happened. Had he joked around or laughed at me, or said "I can't be your boyfriend, but I'd still be your friend." I would've accepted happily. But I guess I expected too much.

Senior year went by and I eventually got over it. I started going to a youth group in West Village for LGBT city kids, acceptance started to finally sink in and I was growing into myself, physically, mentally and emotionally. That year I also attempted coming out to my family, which failed miserably, but I'll save that for another story. We passed each other more than several times in the hallways through the year. He would always avoid my gaze and pretend not to know me. Even when our old group would meet up, he'd hardly even look at me, let alone have a conversation. It was as if the entire year of friendship was wiped clean and I no longer existed. So I shelved away those feelings I had for him and forced myself to grow up.

{}-annie lenox- no more i love yous

He used to comically mimic the song "No More I Love You's" by Annie Lenox, where at the start of the song that goes "doobee doobee doo doo doo... ahhh" The rest of us would laugh and sing along. He did that so much randomly that it embedded that very school year and that Summer break into my being forever. And I grew to love the song, it represented a time of my life where things were forever changed. Whenever that song comes on the radio, I would be transported back to my old bedroom, in the summer time of 1997, on my bedroom floor, staring off into nothingness, dancing around in my head to the sound of his voice, wishing I were his.

++

And it feels like I'm seventeen again
Feels like I'm seventeen again
Looking from the outside in some things never change
Hey hey I'm a million miles away
Funny how it seems like yesterday
- eurythmics 17 again

好事多磨

從小到大，媽媽會跟我說，“做人不要驕傲， 不要聽小人說懷話， 不要自豪”。 我長大了之後才終於明白為甚麼。無論如何， 去到那裡，小人總是會令你失望。認識甚麼人， 總會有人說你的壞話。 我小的時候會想為甚麼一定要做好人， 為甚麼平靜， 為甚麼心定？ 現在才明白。。。無論他人說甚麼壞話， 只有自己可以控制自己的心情， 自己的神態。 現在才知道， 吃過苦才常到甜。

佛在心底。

＋＋＋

我的漢文很差。。。 三年級後來了美國重是沒有學到太多，認識字多一些，寫就一點不會啦。

KumoMix 0309

Spring Mix 2009



Enjoy. :)

june

I don't remember the last time I walked in the rain. Intentionally. To feel the drops become a blanket of wetness glide against my skin. The sky dimmed to a haze, and the people scurried to find safety, I walked slowly home with a silly smirk on my face. It was the last day of school, and Summer had just started. When the Summer heat in New York City is unrelenting, a thunder shower is the most liberating and relieving thing to happen. The minutes before the rain falls, the air becomes quiet, everything is hushed, and all around there's a stillness like time had stood still. Then the smell of wet concrete, a distinct smell of rain, of Summer, of Summer break.

I miss Summer break. The energy. The possibilities.

++

I think I need a vacation.

I like elipses

Maybe it's the wine I'm drinking, or maybe it's the rain outside my firescape, I can't seem to shake this mood I'm in. Waiting for the laundry to dry in the drier, with a wool blanket draped over my back, I'm huddled over laptop trying to piece together something cohesive.

I've had four breakups to date. They were the more serious ones, ones that lasted more than 2 months. The longest being two years. Each one worthy of note, each one I believed to have been the one to grow old with, sign papers with, raise children with. In my book of love, each chapter etched its lyrics onto my heart, burned scars into my skin, with the words of each shouting match, each sugar sweet whispers, each pillow talk crowding my mind, and every unsaid word hanging at the edge of my lips. I miss them. I miss every one of them. Each moment, each step we took, each song we sang, each thought we conjured. And most of all, I miss who I was when I believed in them, all of them... So naive. So green.

And as if to say "hurt me now, so that I can get over the pain and move on with my life" I stopped believing in forever. Preemptive, I know. I'm in a happy, loving relationship now. But from time to time, doubt still rears its ugly head, and I wonder. We're never sure are we? I guess that's part of the fun? Not knowing...

No idea where I'm going with this...

I think I need a new perspective...

++

I should consider myself lucky to be alive, with loving, caring friends and family, a job that more than keeps me alive and well, and the prospects of a future. And if love is in the picture, consider it a bonus, because for a lot of people in the world, these questions are a first world problem.

+

Plato says "Love is a serious mental disease." I'm really really sick then...

+

I've obviously failed at keeping this entry cohesive...