A most serious post--Not Really---Do I ever?

Why is that when an author gets famous, the name sells more than the book? After all, isn't that why the font size of the name is twice the size of their titles, like David Sedaris', Daniel Steel's, and so on and so on.

A writer should not sell just based on the fame of their name, but on the actual titles, the meaning behind what they write for. It's sort of a sell-out to simply let your name speak for you (saying that your past work is enough) when really you want your current work to be respected and you want to be respected for your work.

Sometimes I feel like I have more to say, but I'm so tired. I can't seem to express what my brain comprehends or analyzes or questions. It takes so much effort to expand on what I mean and what I'm actually saying, to be able to word it in a way that makes sense to everyone and not be put in a way that refracts--confuses--it.
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As I was thinking about you again, my insides twist slightly and then I dream of Zhan again. Goddamn. I hope that I never see you again, that I never hear your name again, and that I may never speak with you again. Because if I do, I might really never want to let you go.

Harlan Atwater faced her. He smiled, turned away, and walked out of the store. She could follow him and ask for more. She could demand to know his real name. She could interrogate him for days and attempt to separate his truth from his lies and his exaggerations from his omissions. But she let him go. She understood she was supposed to let him go. And he was gone.

^^^

After that night, I often saw her at meetings, rallies, fund-raisers, and dinners, and we always exchanged pleasantries. The last time I saw her, she told me she had quit her job and was moving to Paris to experience a different part of the world. I warmly congratulated her and wished her well, but I felt abandoned by her. I had no right to feel that way. I barely knew the woman and had spent only a few close hours with her, but she'd become a religious symbol for me. She was my Lent, my forty days of fasting and penitence, and by denying myself her possibilities, I felt like a stronger and more faithful man.

Ten Little Indians by Alexie

My headache is bipolar; I'm bipolar...perhaps more so the angry than the pleasant and giddy.

The Invalyds

Sometimes I want to be someone and sometimes I don't.

Come on Jojo. Rev it up.

No serious talk on this blog; complete nonsense, stuff that cannot touch my core.

It's been a week; are you proud? ARE YOU PROUD? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!

Fuck. Fuck Fuck FUCKKKK. I'm such a obsessive bitch that thinks about important stuff but doesn't want to write about it because--because I'm too busy being blinded by personal shit. Whiny whiny.

Next post will be more serious. Pinky promise.
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Joseph Gordon-Levitt, now one of my favorite actors, inspires me; "Again by heart", what a wonderful ending phrase. (500) Days of Summer; I cannot wait to see.

His site: http://www.hitrecord.org/home
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Live your own life and stay the fuck out of mine.

Time and its assets

If you really want something, then try to get it.
But if you can't now then wait until Time passes to obtain it because Time changes all circumstances.

But, here lies the problem, will you still want it later?

Falls in line with this quote my TA told us to respond to--he pulled it out of ass--"Problem with dreams is by the time they come true you are already someone else."

So here it is. I'm still upset. I'm still angry. So angry that the thought of you and any association of you makes me want to hit things. I know that if I truly want you then I can wait, but would I still want you? (Do I even want you?) I guess you wonder that.

Same goes for me. Would you still want me years later when I'm not who I once was and you're not who you once were? We chase after the past perception of us, only to be disappointed by the reality, for now, of who we have become.

And you don't even know. You don't even know.

Fuck Vegas; people would

Watched the Hangover and Transformers 2 with Minah <3.

Realized that though I love girls, I wish I had straight decent looking guy friends so I can bond over guy shit like...action/vulgar movies.

Didn't pierce my ear yet...I'm such a pussy and so fucking poor. =(

Got hair cut by my salonist (I love him and his NA looks); have fobby bangs, but it's all good; it's going to grow out and look more Americanized anyhow.

Can you tell how superficial my posts have gotten? Somehow, it doesn't bother me much; revolting.

The word DUTY frightens me beyond belief.

HA! ha ha ha ha ha HA

Alright. I cut the melodramatic crap. I'm good to go.

Needs or wants; whichever will get the job done.
Transformers 2 and another cartilage piercing.

Can you tell? I'm rebelling against that soft motherly nature part of me.

I just want to live.

Free & Free Falling.

Blows Out the Unlited Candles

I never liked birthdays. I think it may be because it makes my loneliness more poignant, thinking that when I wake up there is someone to spend my day with. But everyone is off doing their own thing, which is realistic; I can't expect everyone to drop everything for me. It's a lesson I have to learn every year; after all, it isn't like I drop everything to spend time with everyone when it's their birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 20 years~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Woofreakinghoo!

Why is that the ones that I give a part myself to never remember my birthday?
What's so great about birthdays when the person who gave you this day isn't alive to spend it with you?
What's so great about birthdays.

Oh fuck. This entry came off more depressing than I intended. I'll post another entry when I"m in a cheerier mood.

WTF

WAS I COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS TO MMA BEFORE? OR DID IT JUST BECOME SO FUCKING POPULAR?!

Everywhere I look now is MMA and UFC shit now. So not funny God. Not cool. Not funny. EVEN IN FAMILY OUTING! UGH!

Father's Day, Plain and Simple

When I look at pictures and speak with my mom's side of the family, I think I look identical to her and react in a headstrong and emotional way as she once did; sometimes I'm fascinated with fashion and suspect that my intuition comes from my mom.

But my dad and I?
He has a quiet nobility that expounds his intelligence and his respect for others.
He was sharing a Chinese poem with me from a thousand years ago. At that moment, I realized I wished I had taken Chinese more seriously; I wished I could interpret Chinese better and communicate with my dad more easily. For he is the reason why I have this bipolar need to learn, to understand, and to explore. His absorption of words is what gave me the genes to want to absorb words, to play with words, to dissect but connect.

After explaining the poem, his face sagged slightly in exhaustion, outright lamenting that he wished he had time to appreciate and read these poems. Right then, it hit me. He's the reason why I want to become a writer. I don't think he understands that I have the same yearning as him, that it's ironic that he suggests other occupations for me when he, himself, can understand my need for being who I am better than anyone else. That if I had the power to do so, I would create extra time for him so that he wouldn't look like he had lost that part of himself when he gave into who he is now.

As a writer, exchanging or sharing writing and books is in itself a sacred ritual. My dad and I pinky promised we'd read each other's books or pieces of writing...except he psyched me out. -.- HOW CAN YOU PSYCHE YOUR OWN DAUGHTER OUT ON A PINKY PROMISE?!

The end is the beginning is the end

The end. The end. Dead end.

Why lord does everything have to end.

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Please please headache go away

Angry to the point of tears. Having a godawful day.

We are laden with misunderstandings.

My Date with Darah

The lesbian next to me got so riled up about getting to the front that she punched a girl, in front of her, in the head. Too bad. The girl got kicked out of the crowd by security right before Metric was going to come on too.

I must say, happening to only recently listen to Metric, they are superb (sorry can't think of any really descriptive adjectives). When I first go to any rowdy events, I feel foolish and not into it because it's not like I'm dancing throughout the day getting pumped up, but by the end, it was sweet release. Letting go, dancing all over the place, jumping up and down. God. It was amazing. Swinging your head around and not having to deal with mosh pits and crowd surfers but still being able to jump around and not give a shit. It was something that the Epik High concert was missing; however, I respect their message just as much. The lights, the atmosphere, everything was so worth going to; even Emily Haines, her words and her meanings weren't meant to be depressing, rather thoughtful and pulsating.

Can I also say that I get weak-in-the-knees for drummers? They are just very delicious to watch, especially if they actually have talent! I mean all the other members of Metric are ::licks lips:: --men and woman--but I would totally jump the drummer of Metric. If I ever had a type, he would be it. He came forth at the end of their performance and I could see black tape on his slender fingers and I almost melted into a puddle. I am so pitiful. haha

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The drummer is the one on the right. Damn. They're all hot!

Gosh. I'm terrible at reviews. It's difficult to explain when it's a feeling that really grabs me, akin to an invisible hand reaching out and entering my body, gripping my heart and giving it a fond squeeze.



Additionally, I saw an old man get wheeled out on a stretcher into an ambulance at 11 something PM. At 12 something AM, I saw the face of a year old baby on the train. Quite striking, 'enit'? Life and death juxtaposed.

Not Enough

I wonder if I take this to something more...will it quicken our ruin? Or if I drag this out, will I be able to keep you?

Gone Quiet

Finishing up Carter's The Bloody Chamber, love her somber and dark, jubilant (?), endings. I guess you can say she has a different view of fairy tales.

Going to finish up Alexie's book that I started in May (I started and finished another book by him). No matter how possibly bored or used to Alexie I think I am...he surprises me and inspires me every single time.

After those, I have to get my ass on The Idiot, that's going to be a doozy.

Hot-potatoing Neuroscience/cognitive (developmental psychology) and...whatever is out there.

My feverish desire for writing has died though the documents are still opened.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20090616/hl_time/08599190456100

The gist of this article about dreams and sleep.

Participants who had reached REM sleep (when dreaming most frequently occurs) during their nap were better able to identify expressions of positive emotions like happiness in other people, compared with participants who did not achieve REM sleep or did not nap at all. Those volunteers were more sensitive to negative expressions, including anger and fear.

REM sleep appears to not only improve our ability to identify positive emotions in others; it may also round out the sharp angles of our own emotional experiences. Walker suggests that one function of REM sleep - dreaming, in particular - is to allow the brain to sift through that day's events, process any negative emotion attached to them, then strip it away from the memories. He likens the process to applying a "nocturnal soothing balm." REM sleep, he says, "tries to ameliorate the sharp emotional chips and dents that life gives you along the way."

"It's not that you've forgotten. You haven't," he says. "It's a memory of an emotional episode, but it's no longer emotional itself."

That palliative safety-valve quality of sleep may be hampered when we fail to reach REM sleep or when REM sleep is disrupted, Walker says. "If you don't let go of the emotion, what results is a constant state of anxiety," he says.

Past studies have also established a link between chronic sleep disruption and suicide. Sleep complaints, which include nightmares, insomnia and other sleep disturbances, are listed in the current Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration's inventory of suicide-prevention warning signs. Yet what distinguishes Bernert's research is that when nightmares and insomnia were evaluated separately, nightmares were independently predictive of suicidal behavior. "It may be that nightmares present a unique risk for suicidal symptoms, which may have to do with the way we process emotion within dreams," Bernert says.

Read it punk ass bitches!

I'm a triple threat--Explain this later

What am I scared of? Of returning to the past. There's a good reason why it's called the past.

Gawwd. Screw my life. I am too young to enter this kind of life yet. Housewife? Teaching? What the eff. God always had a twisted sense of humor. YEAH LAUGH IT UP, UP THERE! If only I had a long ass broomstick.

My aunt is talking about the caretaker's son, how awesome he is. If I roll my eyes any harder, they're going to roll out of my eye sockets. Please spare me from all this unnecessary chatter.

I really feel like I'm repeating the same summer over and over and over. Thank god for those extra minor (sexy?) changes in my life.

So Metric Concert and Dayana sleep over is what I look forward to.

Am I just in love with the Thought of You

The only type of people I truly need in life is LiDaJo and my family. Honest to God. I can hole myself up for years and if they were the only people I saw on occasion I'd still be pretty fucking happy. If I could just go to the library constantly with Lily, or eat Asian food and frolick with Joann in Flushing, or just watch a movie that made Dayana and I in the first ten minutes cry and eat at a diner...then yes, I really don't think I need anyone else. THEY ARE MY BOYFRIENDS! Much to Joann's chagrin. =D

I was reading this article on if the 'Completion myth for relationships' was true. The woman (well of course) said that getting married and having babies later is more typical now since you're going to be spending decades--maybe even half a century--together. She also mentioned that you should be trying to find a 'soul-match' and not a 'soulmate'. I think I agree. Here we are. Thinking that there is one person to complete you, in a way it does, but, at the same time, people don't understand that though you may be a living half-shell...YOU CAN STILL LIVE. Being half-shell doesn't mean you aren't complete in itself. Sure if the other half came by, it would be spectacular, but appreciating alone time and appreciating that you can live with yourself until then would make the time pass way better.

It's Day 3. Can you feel the yearning? And when I mean yearning, I don't mean by me.

The buzzing from planes blinds my retinas

I can live without thee --

Alexie's The Toughest Indian in the World, Dostoevsky's The Idiot, and Carter's The Bloody Chamber are waiting to be finished. Remarkable in their own styles.

Today was one of those days that I always held secretly in my heart

SO I think I may like you.

Wow. That took a month (and a couple?) to confess.

Anyways. I'm going to be staying away from the internet for a week (except when I'm at my internship because...that's all I can do here) to think things over and be more productive. More importantly, to try to be less obsessive.

Reading Alexie & more.

Remember no sequels should ever be made for chick flicks or bad action movies.

Enough Said

Having the Time of My LIfe...okay

When rain is pouring and when the room is dark, and when cool air slides in, I love when I can snuggle back into my covers and fall back into sleep knowing I don't have any immediate errands.

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I've been really hormonal. It may due to my period. It may be due to the chocolate that's due to my period. It may be due to your mom.

Something I figured out when I was speaking to Joann.
"I want tofu."
Joann: I read tofu as 2 separate words
Joann: I was like wtf is fu?
"I want to fu."
"I want to-f-u."
There's your dose of Pauline stupidity.

"I once read that twenty or thirty people jump off Seattle's Aurora Avenue Bridge every year. And I'm sure that all of them probably changed their minds about suicide the moment after they jumped. Let me tell you, I feel like one of those jumpers. I feel like I jumped off some kind of bridge and changed my mind too late to save any of us."
-Alexie

Just because you know something will happen, doesn't mean it will make things easier.

When things are complex I can handle. When things are simple, that's an entirely different story.

What if I'm genuinely falling for you? Then what?

Michael Scott said something in the last episode of the recent season of The Office that made me tear, it was so provocative and beautiful; however, I won't say what it is as to not spoil it for others. It was fitting.

This is happens when I talk to Semi-Vulgar People

I still cringe when people say really obscene or vulgar things to me but then I also laugh hysterically because it's so ridiculous. Such as this:

Oh Twilight...every time I think of you I want to rip my hair out and scream. I'd rather have "butt sex" then have to read Meyer's books(the first at least again).

Obama you are the man!!

Jim: We just want to say that we are very very sorry.
Kelly: Screw you guys. You guys are dead to me.
Dwight: If you say screw you one more time I'm gon-
Kelly: Yeah. Screw you beaver head. I never forget your birthday-
Jim: Guys stop. Guys. Guys. Guys. We just want to make it up to you. What can we do?
Kelly: I guess my only wish would be that nothing so terrible would happen to anyone else ever again.
Jim: Okay...
Kelly: In a way it's a good thing it happened to me because at least I can bare it.
Dwight: What kind of cake do you want, imbecile.
Kelly: Ice cream.

Oh Office, I'm sorry I've neglected you! Time to catch up!

Back to the Past...Sort of

I can't pinpoint the exact time, but somehow home life has become pleasant. It's funny because throughout my whole childhood it's been usually either really lonely or really explosive, due to my aunt; however, now it's typically a very calming and giggling experience.

It might have been that my aunt changed (my dad stayed the same) but it was probably more that I changed. I grew up. I take things less for granted. I don't spit mean selfish shit out anymore. I try to help out, though I should try to help more often.

I can't wait to have a family of my own. I can't wait to see my precious baby cradled in my arms. Out of all the things in the world, this is the one thing I know for sure that I want. A husband? Uh. That's an entirely different issue.

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Mother-and-baby; Fanny Diaz

For you to heal someone isn't to tell them what they should do (well kind of part of it), but rather just accept what they're doing and try to understand. People honestly just want someone to be there for them.

Come to some bitty of Sense

As mentioned before, I've been listening to lots of piano music because I feel calmer when I do. The way the notes are played, it touches me (wink wink); sometimes I have to catch myself from tearing because there's always a soft sadness to them. It's weird that in the past I never really cared or noticed, but I've come to really appreciate the melodies. For once, I feel like piano is playing an emotion or a string of emotions instead of just a song. You know what it is, instrumental music is more neutral whereas if I was listening to songs with lyrics, I'm more bias towards females unless they have an astounding voice. Currently listening to Andalusian Dream by Suzanne Ciani.

Last night. Oh what happened last night.
Well. I'm done with this, with you. I've come to my senses and reality has set in. Thank you for keeping your distance for three days, I feel back to my old self, no more pining. Though I must admit, my schedule of waking up did return to normal after you contacted me. (Ha that sounded very indifferent and cold).

However...there's still the problem with dreams.

I dreamt of Zhan again last night. It was weird. We were in the Brooklyn house I used to live in and then in my aunt's house. I was sitting next to him on the couch that I used to love when I was a kid. I got really upset at him because I told him to gain weight, but then my cousin scolded me by asking me why I was saying such things. I don't know (but I do know hehe). It was like we were together and our family just accepted it. Then when we were at my aunt's house, we were near a table just laughing like in a very open and hearted way while my whole family was playing mah jong. It was like any other family reunion. Strange.

I think that the reason I keep dreaming about Zhan lately is because I might be unintentionally using him to replace the current one because then I can fully get over it. Additionally, his birthday is coming up. Almost every year, I would send something or say something that was "Happy Birthdayish", but since last year we stopped talking I didn't. That and I was going out with someone. The odd thing was when we were talking I remember how I tried to get him to remember my birthday for the past 3-4 years and finally last year he was like, "Oh June 23, such an easy number. Psh. I'll remember your birthday this time." He said this way way back in December or January. Highly doubted he would since he could barely remember his own.

I never told anyone this, except LiDaJo, but he IMed me (he never goes on AIM anymore) days after my actual birthday to wish me a happy birthday. The gesture rattled my nerves, the fact that he remembered. Seeing his screen name blinking after months of silence...quite a sight...especially since I used to dream about his screen name in an AIM box during his quietude.

Bah. As of right now. Who am I? For now, the Pauline that doesn't care about boys. Too much emotion has been released that I need to return to my baseline to preserve myself.

Ridick Dick Sick Ulus

God (Sorry for saying the Lord's name in vain, but if I was truly sorry then I wouldn't type/say it). Even though I gave myself a mental and hearty pep talk, thinking I was alright, I don't think my body and my mind agree.

My routine is out of wack. I tried to wake up at 8 as usual but I can't seem to get up. My body is aching from doing absolutely nothing, I feel so drained. From what you ask. FROM NOTHING. THIS BETTER NOT BE SOME PHYSIOLOGICAL HEARTACHE.

Thinking I was slightly better, I dreamt of you again. Weird. This time around, you sent me an email telling me your number (though you indirectly gave it to me before) and told me to call you whenever, preferably at night. So I keep hesitating waiting until midnight to call you. Once I do, I just can't believe we're on the phone because it's a very intimate and personal thing to do, especially for our case. I think it has to do with me thinking it's done with, but you come and surprise me by wanting to talk, and not just talk but talk.

Remember this one?

"A dream is a wish your heart makes."

Oh yeah Disney, well this is what I have to say to you. What if someone precious to you dies in your dreams, is that what your heart is wishing for?! Besides, the psychology of dreams is too complex that nobody can really understand it except if you're the one dreaming it.

....but yes, it is perhaps a wish that my heart is making.
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The title off the top of my head was The Destroyer (which is a bit of a red herring), but the story as it has come out to be (because I haven't gotten to the middle or the end) is merely as Mr. Raincoat Man.

The snippet from the creative story I'm working on.
Written by yours truly -- Me.

On that fine day, Henry and his rain coat was frequenting his favorite coffee joint, which was two blocks from where he lives. Though he never liked coffee, preferring the herbal taste of tea, the coffee shop attracted him instantly on his return from his post office adventure. Henry doesn’t leave his house often, so when he does, it becomes an adventure out of the ordinary. For instance, his post office adventure had him hurdling sewer caps, dodging lamp posts, and breaking-and-entering a federal location by entering through its door. After his close call with the law, he skipped backwards to his house jubilantly but stopped suddenly in front of Marigold’s Coffee Stop Shop. With its pale yellow and lime colored walls and a single marigold imprinted at a lonely corner, Henry was drawn to it like female teenagers drawn to Edward Cullen. But it wasn’t the décor that riveted Henry; it was the vibe, a soft languid aura that meant to heal more than provide.

Piano is so so so beautiful

Piano is what i needed to hear. It's perfect. I can just feel the emotions in each key press. I never realized how amazing piano pieces can be.

Writing my creative short piece. Freaking hard. Frickkkin'.

You are Othello the Moor, "one that loved not wisely but too well."

FUCK YOU FACEBOOK!
So I took the "Which Shakespeare Character Would You Be?"

An outsider, you have proved your worth, and the story of your adventurous life is enough to win a young heart. Honest and true, you naturally trust those you love...until the hints and insinuations start building, and your jealously starts burning. Whom should you trust?

>=[; After a semester of hating on Othello, it's ironic that I got him. At least I didn't get Iago.

Which Disney Princess are you? I got Atlantis' Kida. She's cool. I can deal with that; I'd post the description, but I changed the page already.

I'm also German at heart apparently, it's a better description though.

You are precise yet romantic, efficient yet dreamy, friendly yet somewhat suspicious of others. You rarely smile, but when you do it's very meaningful. You like it best when there is a group consensus, and yet you are easily annoyed by the slowness and/or stupidity of others. Sometimes you think that if only you could live on an island or move to some wonderful place far away, everything would be better, and if you can't realize this dream you often lose yourself in books/vacations/recipes/sports -- anything for an escape! All in all, however, you make your peace with life, and have many old friends.

So I'm also really bad with flags because by looking at the flag first, thought I was from Zimbabwe. Haha

Also, I'm in Ravenclaw. Woot Woot! Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity, wit, and wisdom.

Done with the nonsense! I can touch upon about all the other drama in my life. OH WAIT! There isn't any. Pish Posh.
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So I wonder where you are, if you're okay. Hoping the reason you have yet to get back to me is because you're somewhere reviving yourself (you need a little - A LOT - of reviving). It's funny how sometimes I feel like we don't have anything to share with each other, but after a day of silence, I find I have so many questions, so many things I want to show you.

When I think about you and your abrupt silence, I want to tear up, but, at the same time, I'm so wonderfully grateful for you. All you ever provided me was laughter. When I look back, I can't help but smile. And I feel foolish if I tear about it now, always jumping to conclusions because I have a feeling you'll get back to me one day (hopefully soon) and that it was all a misunderstanding.

I was reading the first email I ever sent you, at the beginning of the semester. Pretty ironic how things turned out. How much we've evolved over the past months, past month.


I wanted to also link you to Goo Goo Doll's Sympathy and 3 Doors Down's Kryptonite.

I am Loved.

Blanching at the vagueness of Horoscopes

My dreams tell me more about myself than goddamn horoscopes.

So I skipped a day of dreaming of you; however, I dreamt of you again last night. This time, it wasn't just you, Zhan was in it too. I suppose it's the overlapping of "Muirn Bétha Dan" men in my life.

I didn't recognize or rather I didn't know the location we were in, but it took place in a random house in my neighborhood. I saw you leave your house - to pick me up -and your huge jeans hung loosely around your legs (random). You didn't see me or the kid (my cousin?) next to me following you due to coincidence in path. I remember, of course, straining my neck to see you in all your glory and thinking about how I couldn't wait for our date, for us to spend time together once again.

But I couldn't see you until I had to return the kid home so my dream consisted of mostly the adventure back. I ridiculously loved whoever that kid was, there are only blurry images of me holding him to my side as I covered him from the rain (that kind of stuff, can't remember accurately). I had extreme maternal affection for him. So ready to be a mama or a real aunt. Moreover, I vaguely remember you finally seeing us and waiting patiently, a snapshot of you in your car. Can I say that I adore you? There was this steady feeling of anticipation of seeing you.

Juxtaposed part of the SAME dream:

Somehow, Zhan was close enough to me to be around my family. He was around randomly, talking to my cousins; it was so natural. Yet there wasn't anything, but a lingering sense of affection; though, it felt like more friendship than anything. Gradually (hard to describe the sequences of a dream), he was laying in bed and I was laying in bed with him. Our faces were close and he kissed me sloppily, intensely, and surprisingly for the first time. He thought that I would back off, but I didn't. I kissed him softly, chastely, once, twice, thrice. Then I slightly bit his upper lip. We didn't say anything. He looked at me with those eyes realizing that - even after all this time - I did sincerely like him. That I was once very much besotted with him. That I truly thought he was my soul mate.

I woke up at 10-11 AM for the first time in weeks, perhaps months. It's strange because my body could finally rest, due to knowing that no number (1 new message) would be glaring at me from my Yahoo! inbox - underneath the 'Hi, Pauline'. My motivation every morning to wake up at 8 AM was because I couldn't wait to read your email to me. I mean I know I could read it whenever, it wouldn't run away, but even if I was dead tired, I'd wake up and rush to my laptop, ready to read your electronic message.

This is the only thing out of the ordinary that I allow myself to do because I won't be letting myself take that trip to see you. With Zhan, it was different. I would cross oceans just to see him, just to speak with him. But for you, I can't because our future is bleak and has no possible happy ending. I can't let myself be absorbed by you and you cannot let me enter your life completely. I want to give you the hope you need, the 愛 you deserve. You need that rock, a connection to society, someone to keep you from running back into your heaving empty shell (of life? of body? of mind?). BUT, I still have that cautious part of me that alarms my commitment issues. I say commitment in the sense not that I cannot see myself staying with you, but with dealing and taking responsibility for you. I think that if I were to get married, I would have to completely attach myself to my husband, willing to juggle all his flaws and pains, but that's too scary for me to deal with.

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Free Souls

So. I can promise to be your friend. I can promise even when you're at your worst that I can tenderly say words of encouragement and enact gentle gestures, but to give each other our hearts (with yours fractured), it would turn our hard-earned Garden of Eden to trodden down posies. It's better to stay in this liminal phase than to fully enter either labeled zones of 'ships.

I told you to catch some sunshine. You replied, "Catch some of you?"
If only.

My own "No Good Days"

My aunt was throwing out old old stuff from elementary school that I kept (because I am a complete pack rat). I was looking through old papers and laughed at the insignificance of what I wrote back then, grunting at the little exercises they made us go through. Then there was piece of paper with hearts, diamonds, and stars - the typical 2nd grader decorations - with a ghost, a bat, and a pumpkin; 'Happy Halloween' is stenciled into the sides. However, what I wrote was far from euphoric, far from anything relating to Halloween. Who knew I was emotional even when I was a 6-7 years old.

I'm not going to post what I wrote because it contains too much of me. The simple words are too striking, too painful, and too real. I guess because of this I relate so well with certain kids in the camps I used to counsel.

Anyways, here's the point, I mentioned it in passing to you and I didn't expect you to ask me to send it you. But you did. For some reason, I'm more compelled to be honest with you, maybe wanting you to see me exposed (Har har). You were probably expecting something happy and bubbly, completely different from what it truly was. I don't know if you noticed but this one little piece defined my childhood. When I finally sent it to you, I think that you realized why I'm semi-like this. Why I think the way I do, why I can kind of relate to you. Why I'm not exactly the normal college girl.

I am and was scared of what I showed you because this whole time it's been you opening up. I've been holding back, holding myself in because you never asked. But now as I bare my soul with you, I wonder as to what you're thinking. Do you feel slightly more like perhaps we're kindred spirits?

Dash all Bloody Dreams

So even when I'm tired of thinking of you, it seems you still show up in my dreams.

You said you would stop being the Sandman!

Day Four.
Day two, I was helping you judge a black belt testing. There were other judges and I had no clue as to what I was supposed to do. Additionally, you weren't even sitting next to me but you were seated in front of me (possible meaning is that I feel that you're ahead of me in things that I might not be able to catch up to you). But you turned your head to me, and somehow it became so striking. Your face was smooth, as if years were taken off, and thin and aristocratic, your eyes were unnaturally blue -- shuffling and constricting the beats of my heart. I was completely mesmerized by you BUT it was because you were literally gorgeous, not because it was of my own accord. This was another illusion.

Day Four, last night, we were inside sitting on some bleachers. It felt like I was looking through some candid camera. You sat next to me this time and we were watching some kind of martial arts fights. Apparently, you were going to participate, but you weren't wearing your black but red semi-circle printed sleeveless uniform. So here's the catch. When you were just sitting next to me, I was back in reality. You were just you. I wasn't particularly attracted to you physically, like in real life, your presence merely has the ability to calm me. However, when you put on your uniform, after I mentioned you should, you had this youthful grin and somehow it glamored you. Somehow once you put that fighting uniform on, I was completely utterly smitten with you. My eyes softened and you were the image of someone I adored dearly, as if I was in love.

More unrelating dreams.
I was in my aunt's house, somehow it was the adults against the next generation. They put my grandpa at work, cooking and turned my grandma against us. My uncle from my mom's side was there. God. No wonder I made him into the semi-villain. They were trying to keep me from returning to the basement to the other children. 3/4 of the dream was me trying to pretend like I didn't want to return to the basement (otherwise I would lead the adults to hide-out of the other kids), waiting until they left. When I finally did, Danny was there (random), and I instantly got annoyed (I was wearing this polka dot halter slinky dress, probably because of this constant need to prove myself in front of him). I asked him where everyone was. He pointed outside and I looked and walked to the door. It was pouring, bullets and buckets of water. There were seats and seats of people sitting outside. It was a funeral. And I felt like I needed to mourn. There I was staring out an old basement window door thinking I was too late.
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I need to write. Today looks cloudy. Perfect day for the movies and inner footprint investigating. ;)