Some Words

It’s about time to put some words here on this platform of mine to express. Perhaps my needs to express are quite fulfilled these days that I haven’t felt so inclined to come here.

Christina is now married. Bimal is now in Barcelona. And me, I am still in transition. I don’t feel quite grounded in where I am right now. I feel as if I am no where. But happy nonetheless, with how things are. It has started raining again. This has made many moan and groan. We are not ready for the summer to end yet!! The entire vancouver whines. I am secretly rejoicing and welcoming the fall. It has always been my favourite season and whenever it rains, I think, pour on! My cells come to life in the wet scents of the world. Vancouver is beyond beautiful with its famous rain.

Looking forward to LA. Looking forward to Italy. Looking forward to some nice wine, quiet evenings and lots lone walks in Asolo. Looking forward to coming home. Looking forward to Halloween. Looking forward to finally changing our uniform to black in October. Looking forward to sabrina coming back for Christmas. Looking forward to 2012! looking forward to moving. Looking forward to welcoming my handsome puppy home…. god I am so looking forward to my puppy. But right now, I am enjoying here. I am sitting my my bed, listening to “relaxing rain ambiance” album that I always play before I sleep, and typing. I am content, here and now.

 

Ready or Not

Let’s never wait to be ready. Who knows when that day will come? Let’s just dive right in with reckless abandon, with passion, with naiveté, and some fears, a lot of fears, dive right in. Because our time here is framed, and what we choose to do, what we choose to experience, who we choose to be are all up to us. So let’s not wait to be ready. Who knows when that day will come? Let’s just dive right in.

Friday Night Home, again.

Last night after work, I put on my hat and sweatpants and left for a walk. I walked and watched the sky turn from a brilliant crisp blue with fluffy whites to a romantic, melancholy grey purple. I watched the trees move and wave. I watched an old Asian woman in her eighties walked laboriously with a pack of paper towels. She gave me a huge toothless smile, squinted eyes, and we mouthed, hello, to each other.

I have grown to love my lone walks. I have never experienced this level of intimacy with the world like I do these days, one step at a time. The texture of old apartment buildings, each crack on the road, the smells of cars, grass, dogs… everything is so much closer in detail, so much more intimate when I am on my foot.

My newest, dearest friend, Jean, worries about my trip to Italy alone. How are you going to communicate with anyone?? She raised her concern. It’ll be so inconvenient!  She tried to make me see her point. But Darling, I reassured her, I have no problem communicating with babies, dogs, trees, flowers, what makes you think I would have any problem communicating with Italians?? This, is something I am proud of myself for-my ability to connect with all beings.

I am not afraid of being alone. I am always connected. Jean looked at me like I am crazy, but she loves me anyways.

—–

I had  a dream of D last night. He came back to visit, already. It’s been almost a month since he left. In my dream we sat on the street, he was playing the flute.

Despite the fact that D is not a romantic person at all, we’ve shared many romantic moments and I know that I am the one who manifested those experiences for myself. We’ve sat across from each other under trees, in a secret backyard patio with wine and candle. We’ve walked on late night empty streets and stopped for long kisses. We’ve listened to live music together while making each other laugh. We’ve debated and occasionally, reluctantly agreed with the other person. We’ve fallen asleep holding hands. We’ve passed each other at work, smiling and looking away. We’ve had breakfast at Denny’s, completely overdressed, him in a suit, me in my black dress and black heels. We’ve shared lingering kisses at my door before he left. And he always, always sent a text on his way home to tell me what a wonderful time he had.

But his leaving framed our time together and we were to never fall in love with each other. I am really grateful for the memories we’ve created together.

I would like, when I am to date again, for the guy to be older, more romantic, more present, and not moving to another country.

Um…

I have amazing hair…

Long Hair

Giving Up

Even though it was still warm and sunny out today, I could feel that it is the tail end of our very short summer. The trees are changing colours already, however slightly, the greens are fading and the yellow slowly spreads. Tabitha and I met up to go watch a movie together. I love where I live and how everything is within walking distance. The fifth ave cinema used to be a long drive away, now, 15 minutes walking distance. I love that little old cinema and the coffee shop around the corner from it.

The theatre was too crowded so we decided to walk to Michael’s (30 minutes away). She said I have regressed, and I felt a little embarrassed. There’s so much resistance and control I am generating, it makes a mess of my emotional world. I want to choose differently. I want to sit gracefully with my discomfort, instead of figuring out ways around it.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know why I am so tired. I don’t know why I am so agitated. What I know is that, it really doesn’t matter. I can choose to react, or not. I’ve been reacting. It is an involuntary movement. But now I sit with myself consciously, and I choose to be still.

Things are always changing, always shifting. I cannot make the summer leaves stay green more than I can stop the wind from blowing. I do love the golden colours of the fall. I do love it when dry leaves caress the pavement in the wind. The notion of “control” has always been an illusion. So just relax, sit back and enjoy the changing, shifting weathers.

I don’t think I can write tonight. My mind is blank. I keep staring at this empty space, my fingers eager on the keyboard, ready to take commends from the gooey stuff inside my skull-nada. I’ve been whining about my exhaustion. My body is tired, so is my mind. My emotional body regresses back to the tender age of one-all I want to do is sleep, cry, eat, cuddle and pee.

So I can’t write tonight. Signing off…

-Just For Fun-

I

II

Aug 23, 2011

My heart is in a million pieces, excuse the cliche. I don’t even know where to begin to count the cracks. I have been so weak, so tired,  and exerting so much to have fun with my beloved sister, and now I sit, Sabrina-less, sad and exhausted.

My house is a mess. Empty shopping bags slouch here and there, dirty cups and bowls sit on my coffee table and dinning table, anywhere but the sink and cabinets where they belong. The fresh flowers I bought wilted and made a pool of petals on the floor. I have no will to clean. So let’s take this as an opportunity to practice equanimity-I shall remain calm and grounded in the midst of this horrid mess.

I am going back to school. Nothing has been done yet. I have not yet registered. My appointment with an educational advisor is next week but I know what I am going to do. Kwantlen is launching its creative writing major this fall and I will graduate with a creative writing major. I will return to school more present, grounded, confident and disciplined. And maybe  by the time I turn 30, I will finally get my bachelor’s degree!

I am not ashamed at all. Ya, lots of people are on my case for taking so long, but I have been busy. There were parts of me that were more in need of development. It’s hard to explain to people how scared I was. There’s a general sense of safety “normal” people feel that I never felt. It’s hard to explain what it feels like to walk around with raw skin. Hard to explain what it feels like to have no parent to count on and run to when the world didn’t make sense. Hard to explain how unsure I was with the world when someone I loved more than anything else in the world who was just sleeping in the bed next to me the night before, died. And it’s hard to explain what it feels like to shift from one culture to another, and then another, with no language, no Mom, no Dad, and one very depressed stepmother.

I am not making excuses. I am simply saying I was preoccupied with some minor tweaking of the personality.

I am a much stronger version of who I used to be. I don’t want to be just a loving soul, I want to be a loving, beautiful, functional soul that carries my talents out through practical tools. I am ready.

On Family, School, Italy and Love

Since Dad and Anthony left in May, I haven’t had much family time at all. Much of my time off of work is spent in silence and solitude. I drive home, park my car, get in the house, change, then take a walk to the grocery shop. The weather has been beautiful. But the solitude grew tiresome.

This week was different. Sabrina drives me to work and picks me up. Not that I am not perfectly happy being self sufficient and independent, but man it feels good when someone takes care of you even for a little while, even just a little bit.

We’ve been taking walks. I am exhausted and yet always down for a nice, long walk. Today Anthony walked with us in Stanley Park. We laughed and ran, and chatted as the city lit up from across the dark grey water. We saw two blue herons.

Lately I’ve been thinking of school. I miss reading and writing, and talking about what we’ve read and written. It’s funny how I say I don’t like being a student and yet I never stay out of school for too long before I long to be back again.

I have decided to take a trip to Italy on my own in October. I am traveling to a small town and will stay put for my entire vacation. I will walk, will visit, will grocery shop, talk to people-consume as much Italy as I could in my own ways. Phrases that I am going to learn before I go: You are beautiful. This is delicious. How much? I love you, and More. 

I haven’t been lonely, but I have been lonely. Does it make sense? I am finally willing to read books on healing a broken heart. Until recently I have been too scared to even enter that territory, too scared to be reminded. This author wrote about the love she lost: “…[i]t was the kind of love that you can never excise, because you were born with this person already in your heart.” Sometimes I worry that I will never love and enjoy love the way I did before. Sabrina gently said, “you will have something better.”

 

 

here’s the thing…

In order for anyone to have an adult conversation, we must each own up to our own emotional ups and downs. If we held other people responsible for our uncomfortable emotions and credit them for the good-feeling emotions, we will always be lost. It is so easy to fall into the victim role when we do that. How could we ever find ourselves when we are the victims of other people’s actions and words? It is only understandable when a young child acts out and kicks the rock that trips him. As an adult, we reel back the responsibility and communicate and work with the outside world to take care of ourselves.

Why do people always say, “grow up” when we fight with each other? What does that mean? What is expected? To me, it means to take responsibility for our own emotional reactions, express truly without losing respect. It does not mean to be 100% agreeable and yielding, but open to hearing the other side, being empathic about where the other person’s coming from without compromising your own truth. Yes, it is tricky. Human relations have always been. I am always here to talk and listen, but if anyone is going to throw a temper tantrum when I refuse to be responsible for their emotions, I will no longer tolerate that. Not now, not ever again.