Being back in Bing is like being back in an oven that's temperature is rising. I feel the stress, the tension, the excitement, and the stupidity that's taking and about to take place.

Being here makes me think stupid things.

Easter is Beautiful

Warren Barfield
Love Is Not A Fight

Love is not a place
To come and go as we please
It's a house we enter in
Then commit to never leave

So lock the door behind you
Throw away the key
We'll work it out together
Let it bring us to our knees

Chorus:
Love is a shelter in a raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

To some, love is a word
That they can fall into
But when they're falling out
Keeping that word is hard to do

There's a fragile calm right before and on Easter that sort of lulls me to sleep. I feel relax and safe. I needed this.

I'm hurting more than I expected. I'm taking longer to regain my strength and confidence than I originally thought. Rejection coupled with disappointment coupled with complete BULLSHIT can be a doozy. I've been meaning to get back on the horse and ride that shit home, but I'm running away from my problems right now because I need time to deal.

I think it's time to stop being a little bitch and handle my shit. I have to be strong again.

Crucified
Laid behind a stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all

I'm not a model Christian; I'm far from it. But I remember the first time I saw my church enact the crucifixion of Christ. It broke my heart. At the time, I was still in between being an agnostic and a Christian. I still wasn't sure what to believe. But after that, I prayed with a church member, giving myself wholeheartedly to Him.

It was never that easy though. So many events happened after and I still am not that perfect Christian--if there is such a thing. I guess I lost my way after that too. I wasn't sure if I actually believed or not. Then at the end of the junior year and senior year of college, I literally found myself needing help, help that only God could give me. I was so terrified, but then all the teachings that I could remember from church came back to me. In my time of need, I could count on God.

Jesus Is Mocked

²⁷ Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole battalion before him. ²⁸And they stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, ²⁹and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on his head and put a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" ³⁰And they spit on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. ³¹And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him and led him away to crucify him.

The Crucifixion

³² As they went out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name. They compelled this man to carry his cross. ³³ And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), ³⁴ they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall, but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. ³⁵And when they had crucified him, they divided his garments among them by casting lots. ³⁶Then they sat down and kept watch over him there. ³⁷And over his head they put the charge against him, which read, "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews." ³⁸Then two robbers were crucified with him, one on the right and one on the left. ³⁹And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads ⁴⁰and saying, "You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross." ⁴¹So also the chief priests, with the scribes and elders, mocked him, saying, ⁴² "He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. ⁴³ He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him. For he said, 'I am the Son of God.'" ⁴⁴ And the robbers who were crucified with him also reviled him in the same way.

Matthew 27:27-27:44

There's something about looking at someone right before you kiss them. You put your hand on their cheek and you give them this look that you hope shows them how much you care about them.

That moment kills me every time.

But to live doesn't mean you're alive

Or maybe I meant *uninhibited.

Last month before graduation? It means I might be a little unhinged.

Is anything real, I get dizzy sometimes

Sometimes when I wake up, I start fantasizing of what could be and what could have been. Sometimes I still think about you, Dionel. I think about the beginning, when everything was new and strange. I wonder if I did this or that differently, maybe it could have worked out, but really, I don't think we would have worked in anyway. It just would have spiraled into a more intense and disturbing thing, more so than how it was--if possible.

I understand now that I had to get hurt. I have to learn to let myself get hurt. And yes, you really hurt me. I'm still reeling at how it's possible for someone to hurt someone else like this... and to think that other people are hurting worse than this, people who were actually in love.

I think about that day when I saw you, after the summer, you said that God must be angry with us because he wouldn't approve of us doing whatever we were doing. And I looked at you, confused, because all I could think of was, how could God be mad at this? I looked at you lying in my bed, with the Christmas lights casting a pink glow, and thought how could God disapprove of me following my heart? How could this be wrong?

And I think about that day I came to you after the winter break. You were so intense, so upset and angry at me. You just wanted to use and discard me, right? But when you were kissing me, I asked you if you missed me. I grabbed your face with both of my hands, feeling your stumble for the last time, and asked you softly, "Did you miss me?". You jerked your head and said that you didn't want to do this right now. That we should do this later when we're cuddling, but didn't you realize how similar we were? That I knew when you were lying to me. I kept grabbing your face before you could kiss me and kept asking if you did, and finally, you whispered in a strangled voice that you did. It was so low that I thought I imagined it.

Now he saw another elephant emerge from the place where it had stood hidden in the trees. Very slowly it walked to the mutilated body and looked down. With its sinuous trunk it stroked the huge corpse; then it reached up, broke some leafy branches with a snap, and draped them over the mass of torn thick flesh.

Finally it tilted its massive head, raised its trunk, and roared into the empty landscape. Jonas had never heard such a sound. It was a sound of rage and grief and it seemed never to end.
-The Giver by Lois Lowry

Dream:
There was a black cat on my window sill, and the second time I looked again, there were two. They were so beautiful; they had this soft black fur and gentle quality to them that I was drawn to feed them. When I fed them, they came to me. I could tell they liked me.

I had a much more vague dream that there was a killer in a random house that I was in. But I can't seem to draw anymore details other than that.

If we were to open to a random page in her journal--which she must have kept and kept with her at all times, not fearing that it would be lost, or discovered and read, but that she would one day stumble upon that thing which was finally worth writing about and remembering, only to find that she had no place to write it--we would find some rendering of the following sentiment: I am not in love.
-Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

Dream:
I guess I can't wait to go back to Facebook since I was dreaming I signed on and was trying to get my friend to look at a picture.

More importantly, I dreamt I was going to a graduation and the building was half Bx Science and half of a church. All these kids were there waiting to graduate and then I found my grandpa at the front row, drinking something cold. He was in a lot of pain. His stomach was hurting and he was squeezing his eyes in pain. I told him it's because he needs to drink something warm and not something cold (linked this to my period probably). I didn't want to continue this dream anymore because I didn't want to see my grandpa hurt, so I forced myself to wake up.

I called my grandma afterward to check up on my grandpa. She said he's fine. This better not be a dream that comes true.

Maybe in the future...

if you still want to try. Then I am willing.

Things I am grateful for:

How soulful Boyz II Men songs are, especially End Of The Road.
The pouring rain of yesterday's thunder storm on the windshield of Alice's car.
The herbal tea that my aunt left for me on the dresser.
How a cup of milk tea fills me with nostalgia of my childhood.
How when it's cold, I can curl my toes into a blanket.
The saltiness of Chinese fish and lack of in Chinese soup and veggies.
The adventure dreams take me when I'm calm and steady.
How beautiful life truly is when you get back to the basics.

Dream:

I kept rushing to catch buses and there was a strange person that interrupted me who had been teaching kids. She was odd and annoying; I knew something was wrong with her when she started to talk to me and I wanted to get away from her ASAP. I grabbed people that I knew to help me get away from her and when they saw who I was talking to, they would rush off.

Then later on, there was this really cute boy. He was the classic white boy, tall with blue eyes. At first we were friends, but then it led to this slow affection for him. When I was around him, I was happy in a tranquil way.

We ended up in this house with others and I was in this one room that reminded me of my grandparent's old house in LI, it was oriental and had an antique feeling to it. And after I left the room, everyone was sitting at a table, and I was sitting next to the cute boy; I felt at ease. I could tell he felt the same way about me. For once, things were working out with someone I was interested in. When I returned to the room, one of my female friends was there. There was a archery target and she had been shooting arrows before we ate. I had a feeling that she felt guilty about something afterward, so she told me to shoot arrows into her mouth. She told me to make sure I got the middle, the bull's eye of her mouth.

I kept aiming, and I was sure that I would have gotten a bull's eye if I let go, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to risk hurting her. I didn't shoot. What's stranger is that the room I was in, every time I entered, the room was overwhelmingly humid. I assumed there was a ghost because when I left the room, the other rooms were at normal temperatures. Then this old man enter and instantly knew something was wrong and knew there was a spirit. He immediately told me to pray 60 times.

Any who, I still woke up with that happy feeling I had for that boy. I'm glad to be home.

Shades of Ray is exactly what I hope for...well...sort of.

Me: is it still terrible of me to want closure
Me: to say goodbye at the end of the year?
Day: nah
Day: that's paying your respects i think
Day: like going to a grave and putting flowers
Me: lmao
Day: that's a morbid way of thinking about it

CarrollBlog 3.10

When you hear that I have died, think of this.
Think of cool night breezes while you walk to meet your friends for a beer on a Thurs­day. Think of wak­ing up in flan­nel sheets on a snowy morn­ing and kiss­ing some­one you love. Think of hung-over diner break­fasts and the best cup of cof­fee in the world. Think of the sound of tires on seamed high­ways while you travel, think of French kiss­ing and leather jack­ets and push-up bras and bour­bon, think of the joy of hard work with friends. Then think of me.


Not sad, not the melan­choly soli­tude of empty skies, but the full days and crowded bars and signed con­tracts, a smile too big for my face, remem­ber I said I stay busy enough to fit three lives into one. When you hear that I have died, know that I want laugh­ter, and danc­ing, real danc­ing, to music that makes you move with­out think­ing, you’re wear­ing boots and jeans and a great t-shirt and won­der­ing if the girl at the edge thinks you’re cute. And you moth­er­fuck­ers had best DANCE, none of this bull­shit rock-nod hands-in-the-pockets shoegazer non­sense, no, make an ass out of your­self, feel your hips, kick off the high heels and sway on the shoul­der of a stranger, when I die, you’d bet­ter be laugh­ing your ass off on side­walks, eat­ing deli­ciously unhealthy food, drink­ing shots and tip­ping your bar­tender well, no mat­ter how much money you make.


And Adam has to read the poem he wrote, and Laura, and June, and Scott Car­pen­ter has to play “Don’t Go Away, Chloe”, no fuck that, every musi­cian I’ve ever made out with or video­taped or road-tripped with has to play, so drink some cof­fee, baby, it’s gonna be a long night. When you hear that I have died, the best thing you can do is to get laid that night with a com­fort­able stranger, use my story to get their sym­pa­thy, and when you kiss them for the first time, think of me then.


When you hear that I have died, and you will, remem­ber your best revenge is to live well, take risks, save up money and chase your per­fect hap­pi­ness. Beat the sys­tem and learn to make your art really sup­port you, craft into some­thing your audi­ence can’t live with­out. Then make the world an even slightly bet­ter place — stop throw­ing your cig­a­rettes on the ground, vote in the next elec­tion, graf­fiti your life on the eyes of the hungry.


Then just do me one last favor. Please. Love some­thing. Any­thing. Start with your­self, but find pas­sion in every­thing, from an apple pie to a novel, make a fam­ily, get a degree, walk what­ever path is yours with your chin up and feet planted firmly. Have the best sto­ries to tell in the old folk’s home, about life­long friend­ships and epic love affairs, about the time you lost every­thing and yet found your­self hap­pier than when you began.. and remem­ber that time we got in SO much trouble…


Poets.. remem­ber. This is the story that never ends. When one of us leaves, another walks through the door. The pages turn, the sun keeps ris­ing. All you can do in the mean­while.. is to speak for your­self. Raise your voice high, tell your story, join hands against the dark and sing our souls to the sky. Know the best in me comes from the best in you, that as you tell your story, you will be telling mine, and our lives will be linked together for­ever, and every­one who hears you will become a part of the change we make.


So when you hear that I have died..
just …live.


–Gabrielle Bou­liane

If things were different

...but they aren't.

CarrollBlog 3.13

“Yeah Yeah Yeah”
by Roddy Lumsden

No matter what you did to her, she said,
There’s times, she said, she misses you, your face
Will pucker in her dream, and times the bed’s
Too big. Stray hairs will surface in a place
You used to leave your shoes. A certain phrase,
Some old song on the radio, a joke
You had to be there for, she said, some days
It really gets to her; the way you smoked
Or held a cup, or her, and how you woke
Up crying in the night sometimes, the way
She’d stroke and hush you, and how you broke
Her still. All this she told me yesterday,
Then she rolled over, laughed, began to do
To me what she so rarely did with you.

“Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… Waiting… And though unwanted… unbidden… it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. Passion is the source of our finest moments… the joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bare. If we could live without passion, maybe we would know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank… Without Passion, we’d be truly dead.”
-Angel

GILES: He's, he's trying to... resolve whatever issues are keeping him in limbo. W-w-what exactly those are, I'm not...
BUFFY: (interrupts) He wants forgiveness.
GILES: Yes. I imagine he does. But when James possesses people, they act out exactly what happened that night. So he's experiencing a form of purgatory instead. I mean, he's, he's doomed to, to kill his Ms. Newman over and over and over again, and... forgiveness is impossible.
BUFFY: Good. He doesn't deserve it.
GILES: To forgive is an act of compassion, Buffy. It's, it's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it.

I just want to graduate with happy memories. That's all I want.

Temptation is bad bad bad.

I can't focus on doing my work. I can only daydream about picnics and bbqs in the sun with company that I enjoy. Music blasting and everyone laughing and having a good time. This is all I can think about.

Apparently, I'm a troublemaker.

Willow: Do you wanna make out with me?
Oz: What?
Willow: Forget it. I’m sorry. Well, do you?
Oz: Sometimes when I’m sitting in class… You know, I’m not thinking about class, ‘cause that would never happen. I think about kissing you. And it’s like everything stops. It’s like, it’s like freeze frame. Willow kissage. Oh, I’m not gonna kiss you.
Willow: What? But freeze frame.
Oz: Well, to the casual observer, it would appear that you’re trying to make your friend Xander jealous or even the score or something. And that’s on the empty side. See, in my fantasy when I’m kissing you, you’re kissing me. It’s okay. I can wait.

(2.14 Innocence)

Cordelia: I know. I'm sorry. It's just... Who are we kidding? Even if parts of us do see specialness, we don't fit.

(Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered)

Now I'm back to square one.