the FINAL finals ::insert dramatic music here::

Congratulations to all those who are done with finals!! Time to celebrate by going to the pub and getting drunk or going to Vegas or, if you're like me, sleeping and rewatching all the Disney Pixar movies with me, myself, and I.

Anyway, finals week really wasn't a week for me. It's not even completely over, but it is for me. I had a final Philosophy of Jurisprudence discourse due Monday morning and one in-class final after lunch. After that, I had up until today to just tweak my digital teaching portfolio and go to an optional final meeting for my Teaching English Internationally class. Although I had to wake up early and sit through hour-and-a-half long traffic for an optional meeting that I didn't need, I am actually glad I went-- really, really glad. There was only a handful (ie 7 or so) of us there and I knew absolutely no one, but through our discussions of teaching aspirations and global service I got to know those 7 or so people in a way I don't think I have ever known any previous classmates. No one has ever prompted me to discuss such things in that manner-- which is not to say that I was opposed to it, it's just that I don't think anyone's ever wanted to engage in such a serious conversation with me-- but I am also really glad that they did.

I was pretty much done with my website long before Tuesday, so I ended up just going around helping everyone else with theirs and then staying late to talk to my teacher, Sonja. Words can't describe how much I appreciate and am grateful for that talk she and I had. I was a little hesitant to speak to her, because she always felt just a little cold and I wasn't too sure if she'd open up to me, but she was actually really cool. In fact, she's fucking hilarious. But she offered me something in those 10 minutes that no one in my entire collegiate career (except for my HumCore teacher aka the crazy curly-haired redhead that works at the pub) has ever offered me: reassurance. I asked her for advice on what programs to look into and what career moves to make, especially since I wasn't an Education minor. I confessed to her my struggle to synthesize the two parts of my life I hold closest. Although she never mentioned it in class, her work centers on global teaching in service (her parents were Christian missionaries). She had read my statement/philosophy of teaching and told me that I was a lot like her; that she saw so much of herself in me. She said something to me as we both walked out of the Education department. I wish every single person I know could, at some point in their life, feel that same feeling I felt the moment her words settled within me.... An early Christmas gift, I guess you could say. At any rate, I left feeling not so much elated as I did clear-minded and more determined.

As if that wasn't enough, after much praying and insistence (and restless nights & fights & frustration), they've finally accepted it. I was so fearful this moment wouldn't come, but it has. It finally has. It doesn't matter if things don't pan out the way I plan them to, or if my life takes me in a completely different direction-- it's the fact that they've finally consented to not to have to consent; that they've begun to really understand and for once, actually listen; that they're starting to let go; that they believe in me. Maybe they always have, but in the past that 'belief' felt so much more like an expectation than an active belief. But it's different now. Maybe I'm jumping the gun and getting too far ahead of myself, but I hope this isn't just a momentary feeling or condition. I really hope it isn't.

Right now, I am feeling lucky and blessed to have ended my college career feeling so inspired and with such reassurance. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday gift. I don't know what else to say, except... Thank You.

the crunch

this has nothing to do with anything, really, and i'm probably just using this as a distraction from my philosophy paper (ok, so I AM) but i honestly believe that i might have loved Charles Bukowski in another life. or adored him. or something.

he is one of my favorite --if not my absolute favorite-- writer(s)/poet(s). if you follow my Tumblr, perhaps you already know that i went on a crazy spree this past Summer and drove all around southern California looking for his out of print works, guzzling gallons of gas, and inhaling dust from old used bookstores. it was great. anyway, i guess i'll just get to the main reason of this post: as i was starting to write my essay, i was struggling with how i am to write this final discourse. growing up, our education has taught us to write with increasing sophistication essays and papers filled with uncommonly pompous words for which we probably consulted a thesaurus. in philosophy, the task in writing is not to spit out puffed up papers with fancy writing on simple ideas, but to simplify in as few words as possible the most complex ideas to give way for a better, more complete understanding. this led me to a tangent on writing and how, although i thoroughly enjoy fantastical poetry, most of the work that truly moves me is crafted in the simplest of ways with the simplest of words.

aaaaand here is where Bukowski comes in. his writing is so raw and so simple and moves me to no end. i wish there was a resurgence of beat gen. writers or maybe a new movement of writers who share the same idea(l)s. i think things are complicated enough as it is; we need literature to help simplify the base of our lives.

for your reading pleasure, i present to you a condensed version of my favorite Bukowski poem, " T h e C r u n c h."

Good luck on Finals, everyone!

& of course
Congratulations to the new 2010 SPOP Coords
:)

just a quote.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all. From now on you'll be traveling the road between who you think you are and who you can be. The key is to allow yourself to make the journey."

meg cabot

fleeting

"We cannot know for certain how long we have here. We cannot foresee the trials or misfortunes that will test us along the way. We cannot know God's plan for us...

What we can do is to live out our lives as best we can with purpose, and love, and joy. We can use each day to show those who are closest to us how much we care about them, and treat others with the kindness and respect that we wish for ourselves. We can learn from our mistakes and grow from our failures. And we can strive at all costs to make a better world, so that someday, if we are blessed with the chance to look back on our time here, we can know that we spent it well; that we made a difference ; that our fleeting presence had a lasting impact on the lives of other human beings."

barack obama

I think I would die happily if I knew that I fought the good fight (whatever it may be), no matter the length of my stay here on this Earth. Maybe it's because I'm young and have yet to feel the pull of old age, but I find it-- for lack of a better word-- interesting how my parents put so much emphasis on growing old and retiring as their ultimate goal. I think of how they measure their happiness now and it saddens me somewhat. For example, they use their faith as an excuse for doing things; I see it as part of my reason. Sometimes I wish we shared the same views on life and work and service; alas, we do not.

But I'm trying to savor every good feeling and memory, and writing (or perhaps recording?) it all to remind me of how things are (were?). These people and things are beautiful, beautiful, I know; perhaps even more so amidst their flaws. Sometimes things can get heavy, but I'm thankful I'm allowed some room to breathe, even if it's just their way of humoring me and my so-called "wishful thinking." I'm just taking it as fuel for the fire, and all the more reason for me to hit the ground running. The rest of me is working really hard playing catch up with where my heart wants to be.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and that you were able to get some rest in. I can't believe it's already 10th week. Wowowee.... We're making our way 'round to the home stretch now-- just two more weeks, my friends :]

holiday parties & prep

...have always been my least favorite time of the year. The in-between days always seemed to matter the most to me. But these huge parties just drain and frustrate me. I have a huge family, so parties and dinners come in never-ending waves where one aunt always tries to outdo the other. I don't understand how they can take something so simple, something so genuinely good and simple-- like spending time together, laughing together, eating a good albeit (usually) unsophisticated meal together-- and turn it into something I've come to loathe. It's become one big terrible showcase. Cooking, which I normally love, becomes a task and a chore at this time. The best kind of meals come from cooking with love, and I hate feeling rushed or pressured. Nothing EVER tastes good to me, and it's THANKSGIVING for cryin' out loud! That SUCKS. Then there's the fake, biting conversations; the judgmental questions and comments; the searing stares and not-so-whispers; yadda yadda yadda. I don't recall the last time I truly enjoyed the company present at these family events. Even holiday dinners at home are laced with deep-seeded resentments and stuffed with an awkward silence so thick we can barely breathe to chew our food.

I hate the feeling lately that this environment is what's holding me back from doing what I want to, what I must do. My vision is getting clearer, and yet I still feel like I'm constantly walking through a fog. I don't know how things got so complicated for me. Sometimes I feel like there's no honest or genuine magic left in this season. I turn to my cousins to help me get by, but I know they have their own families and children to tend to; and friends are far and fleeting, although I am beyond grateful for the handful of ones still here who still reach out. I hope they know how much I appreciate their friendship, and just how much they mean to me.

What's getting me through these days is the knowledge that it will soon be over, and that real work (work that truly matters) will soon begin. I'm trying to pack my Winter Break with good company to avoid the hollow feeling these family events leave me with, and looking at what I have so far, I think I'll be seeing a lot of San Francisco this December and (hopefully!) Napa when this year turns to next. Oh! And I've been having the worst bouts of insomnia lately. I haven't gone to bed before 3AM lately and it's really screwing me over. I guess I'm just getting antsy. There is so much work waiting to be done; so much that is ready to happen.

I do hope your Holidays-- and well, why not ALL days?-- find you in good company; in comfort, in love. <3

arriere pensee

If you'd rather not hear me rant, then X out of this window right now


I have never seen anyone look at me with such doubt and disbelief. And if it had been any other person, I would have brushed it off and laughed, knowing that I would be OK. But it wasn't just any other person; it was my father. The straw that broke the camel's back, after my mother expressed similar thoughts and wishes many months ago.

belief. why is such a short and simple word so hard for them to have?
--- they have it in my brother, in the archaic filipino traditions and silly superstitions, in the stock market and economy and government; in the dozens of stupid "money" trees that litter our household. they have it in almost everything.... except me.

i'm so tired of feeling like i have to prove myself worthy of their money, their love, this stupid stupid last name. i'm not built like the people they grew up with, or their friends' children, or their nephews and nieces, or even my brother. nothing, nothing is sacred to them except money. i have weathered enough cradled in the hands of this extended family and cannot, will not, live the rest of my life bound to a crumbling ideal of 'family' laden with debts and constant deceit; there are greater, far more urgent issues to be dealt with. the scope of their world begins and ends with this last name, while mine does not.

i'm so tired of this place, bound by these freeways, central to every single not-so-distant relative who shares their flawed formula of "THE American dream." you gave me life, and i love you i love you i love you.. but i will not live for you. i will (if you permit) always come back to you, but something much bigger and greater is calling.

i am struggling to open your mind and, in turn, your hearts.
and you?
you say you're struggling to understand how i'm such a bad daughter.
"i guess we've failed," you told me as i looked out the window.
i didn't know what i was searching for..
perhaps some assurance that you really tried.

i shouldn't take this all so hard, but it'd be easier if i didn't hear it and have to grapple with it every single day. should i be angry? i don't feel like it. sad? for a moment, i did. disappointed? yeah. i think, if anything, that's it. but defeated? no. no, not that.

GMH

Reading Hannah's recent post about her experience with a cab driver really reminded me of this one site. I'm sure a lot of you have already heard about it, but I just thought I'd share it for the rest of you who don't. After reading the daily news, I try to read this site and the Wonderful World section of msnbc.com to offset my sadness [so unfortunate that most of our daily news is sad/bad]. Anyway, it's...

Gives Me Hope. com

It feels like it's gonna be a good day.

recrudescence

I had forgotten my purpose and my reason for doing things, putting my effort to and concerning myself with things of no real importance; very petty, infantine matters. I need to remember why I started a new blog in the first place. Redirect.

I read a lot this summer-- a lot. I went on one of my many book-buying binges and bought 8 books while borrowing 3 from the library. I've finished about 9 in total, loss interest in the last 2, and then reread a few books that were my favorites growing up. Rereading books that you loved when you were younger and far less jaded is really refreshing. It reminded me of the things I valued then, when I first read the book, and offered a different way of looking at things now.

I've been doing a lot of research into teaching programs. I know it sounds almost cliched now, as many people have gone/are going to teach abroad, but this is something I've always wanted to do, but not as an afterthought and neither as a short-term thing. I'm going to be gone for a while, and I'm still trying to help my family, especially my parents, deal with that fact. This entire Summer, I've slowly introduced this fact to them. I don't know if they're truly accepting and digesting it, or just blithely brushing it off. Either way, they're no longer opposed to the idea, and I am growing more and more comfortable talking about it. With every day that goes by, next July/Aug grows closer and my excitement and passion for this greater. I was foolish to have lost sight of why I wanted to go to college so badly, so dramatic for buying into the idea that this was the 'end.' This is no end; just a beginning; a stepping stone to get to where I'm going.

I realize just how disconnected I am to people in general. I lived my life through facebook and Twitter, subconsciously believing that a few words there could be substituted for the real-life thing. I forgot how great real things were. And speaking of real things... It was really really good to hear the voices of good friends. I had forgotten how it felt to actually have a conversation on the phone with someone. Of course, nothing could replace a face-to-face conversation (esp.late night ones), but a conversation on the phone is far better than one online or wall-to wall. I used to brush it off, used to hate talking on the phone with people, but I guess I had neglected to consider that content is key. It was good to catch up and hear some positive words.

Combine all the above with the few good friends who ceaselessly fail to help save my sanity (THANKYOU!), and I am ready and excited to start this Fall quarter. I'm pretty sure only like 6 or 7 people actually read this, but thank you for stopping by this blog and seeing what I've been up to and/or have to say.... it's a lot more than I can say for other people. Anywho, I hope everyone that reads this is feeling assured and, if not happy, at least content, with the things and people in their life. I appreciate all 6/7 of you that read this :)

& CONGRATS to Sarah Bana on becoming the new ASUCI EVP. Did we ever doubt it? ;P

limbo is more than a dance

I didn't realize that this week was welcome week already. How did that happen?

It feels so strange to be in this limbo; to be starting the beginning of the last quarter. A victory lap, I guess you could say. In a few months, when most are just beginning to settle into the year, I will be ending mine. I'm not fearful of the future or what I'm doing or of 'facing the real word.' I feel pretty comfortable with all those things. I just... I'm feeling so uneasy about seeing people; not 'seeing' as in hanging out or going to lunch. Seeing in the way that I know will happen so often and maybe even sting so hard-- walking by and seeing someone, and simply just seeing someone. I'm sure everyone's had that experience: you're walking on campus and you see someone you used to be friends with, you get a little excited, they see you but don't seem to share your excitement, so you both say a quick 'hi' or give a nod, and just continue with your day. And as much as I hate it, I have a strange feeling I'll be having a lot of those these next 3 months.

I already felt a pull when Summer started and I don't know whether it just went away or if I masked it with activities, but I didn't feel again... until now. I blogged in my other [first] blog about this feeling-- of dimming friendships, lost time, lost wonder, burnt bridges, lost connections. I was fearful of it back then when I really shouldn't have been-- I had the entire rest of the year and Summer to reconnect and hangout with people-- but I should have saved those worries for now. I feel people drifting. I've even had dreams (or were they nightmares?) about bridges collapsing, burning, being disconnected... always disconnected, I feel[fear]. I didn't know how to convey these feelings then-- I believe I still don't now.

I know most people think I'm pretty carefree, seemingly apathetic and a bit wish-washy at times, but it's just because I have so much to say and I don't know how to say it so I just don't. I don't... and a lot of times this hesitancy gets me in trouble, or I miss out on opportunities that I wholly regret later. So I keep things bottled up, and perhaps the only time these things ever emerge are through paper & pen or the rare talk with my brudder Suj or Moncrief or Layla or Norby---all people who knew that I was more than just a joke and actually stopped to take me seriously, all who (I suddenly realized) are graduated and gone. Of course, I'm not too worried with those 4 because I know our friendships run deep. I just thought I'd have these other people left to get through this last quarter at UCI with but, like I said, I know these people have have drifted-- going, going, gone. And it feels so weird, because I'm not angry-- there's really nothing to be angry about; it just happened. And I know "no two paths are ever the same" (Teal, holla!), but I guess I just didn't foresee this bend in the road would come so abruptly, leading us to different places in our lives so soon. As an upside, this extra time has allowed me to reconnect with a few friends, but without the convenience of Summer and the luxury of close proximity, (even if I try and try and try) it seems hard to maintain equal effort.

This whirlwind of a Summer is coming to a close for us all. I am at once anxious and unnerved to see where everyone will stand once the dust has settled.

invincible summer

"In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer."
albert camus

This summer has been a rollercoaster, but I feel most things in life are just that way. Keeps things... exciting, I guess. I'm still dealing with being at home, living at home, and living with my parents (especially my mom) at home. I constantly have to remind myself to not get too comfortable. The point of coming back home was to reconcile myself with the people I left (some might say 'abandoned') and things I ran away from. Every encounter with someone or something from home feels like deja vu or, at the very least, like I'm interacting with ghosts... A very ethereal (or maybe is it unreal..?) veil lays upon all my days here. I keep forgetting to remember that I'm not staying here forever, not settling down, just not... not done growing. My brudder and I talked about my being home and I told him that, although I've been home only a few months, a great part of me feels like I'm regressing-- into old habits, circles, ways of thinking. I know some people hope that when they go home, things would be exactly as they left it, unchanged. I would have to disagree... I don't like feeling as though the past 4 years didn't happen. I want to feel like this, this, was all worth something for me-- and then some. (Adolescence was fun, but ignorance is not.)

I'm not sure what I'm getting at. I'm kind of all over the place, feeling the imminent end of my time here growing closer and closer. I still know what I want, and I still want it just as bad. It's just difficult right now finding a way to move forward without completely detaching myself from the past. Let's just say I'm trying to find a (successful) way to downsize all my baggage into this little carry-on.

And my mom? She is better-- not perfect, not good, not fine, but just better. And right now, that's all I could ask for. I've been making an effort to take her out more and talk to her, but it's still hard; maybe even harder now because, since I'm the only person of late who will listen to her and attempt to offer advice, she tells me everything.... and sometimes, knowing everything isn't the best thing.

Aside from those gripes, everything is going well. Good things are happening to good friends, and I really feel happier and a lot more content simply knowing this. As for other, well, "friends": I'm sorting out friendships. That sounds really bad, but I'm just being honest. I always used to say, 'I've got a lot of acquaintances that call themselves friends,' & I often mistook someone's curiosity for sincere concern, offering so much of myself and my friendship and receiving little to nothing in return, unaware of my simple error. So I'm re-evaluating all the effort I put forth and redistributing it to people who truly appreciate and deserve it, in a way that does not leave me feeling short-ended. I feel happier and much more content doing this-- as though the quality of conversations and relationships and even just HUGS is better-- and as a result, those friendships are doing great. I have had an incredible past few weeks :] It's crazy how a few good experiences or days or even nights can recharge you for the many months and seasons ahead. But I guess, the same can be said for a few good friends.

There's just something about the late night Summer air that does something to me, as though it were filled with hope and wonder and possibility, and that every time I breathe it in I am reinvigorated with all these things. Inspired. Enlivened.

Oh, it's one thing to be alive and another to feel alive.
It's good to feel alive :)

to music

with janet and the jacksons,
my ABCs and 123s,
learning left the classroom onto
two dancing feet.
a rhythm nation compilation of issues
affecting the why and the how,
i saw, i see, i started to believe
in the change i still believe in now.
and through the darkest of days,
the coldest of hours,
you would not let me admit defeat.
resurrected with the tune,
(inspired by you)
i lived cradled in the comfort of the beat.

in retrospect you were
the greatest
my favorite
the reason i be,
revisiting,
remembering,
reloving
the 13-year old me.

*
dear music,
thanks for saving me.

mentuer.

I'm not quite sure 'angry' is the right word for this. It's stupid, really, and I don't know why I'm reacting this harshly, but I can't lie. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. The whole situation is reminiscent of one that occurred during my freshman year of college; one that turned my whole world upside down and left the most hollow feeling. It was a foreign feeling then, one I had never experienced before or since-- til now. And maybe that's why I'm feeling such an amalgamation of feelings: anger, frustration, confusion, rage, disappointment, betrayal, helplessness, hurt.. You'd think that getting royally screwed over & lied to once would be enough, but I guess not. Another year, another person, another lie. It's ok. (right?) After tonight, I won't mention this again. I won't let you see me this affected. I need to stop being so trusting; I need to stop expecting so much from people; I need to stop living so blindly; I need to stop caring about things and people far more than they care about me; I need to stop believing. I need to stop believing. I need to stop believing. I need to stop... Dammit. I can't think that way... I'm pretty sure that, despite my best efforts, I'll continue to believe-- in things, ideologies, feelings, places, people...

It's just...
Why does caring hurt so much sometimes?

through a glass

It's a bit unsettling to know exactly what things are for, how to use them, set them up, what buttons to press, when, and why; unsettling to be so familiar with a hospital room. Having spent a lot of time in them while growing up, in a silence as sterile as the place itself, it's only natural I guess that I've come to know them like the back of my hand. Why did I say that last part? So cliche...anyway...

Hospitals are comforting to me; I feel like everyone there has a purpose whether they work there, are a patient there, or are just visiting. What was once a sterile and cold building has come to feel rather homey to me. Am I morbid, feeling this way? I don't know. Maybe. But it comes and goes, much like the people. I like hospitals. Much of my family hates them and would rather avoid them at all costs, but something about the extremes of a hospital intrigue me. While transporting my mom to the ICU, I passed by so many adorable elderly people who were on their morning strolls around the floor, telling stories of their children and their pasts which the staff have probably heard at least twice by now. It's funny how the older we get, the harder we try to hold on to everything. We try to keep things alive long past our own expiration dates. As I was leaving to come back home, I stepped to the edge of the curb and stood right next to a woman in a wheelchair. Thinking she, too, was sick, I looked at her sympathetically only to find a newborn baby boy in her arms. I gasped, literally, and she looked up to greet me with eyes so wide and overflowing with joy that I couldn't help but smile and half-scream, "OH!! Congratulations!" Such incredible extremes: people dying and people being born all in the same building, all at the same time. I reveled in the juxtaposition I had just witnessed and was ready to delve deep into the thought when it dawned on me that my mother is different (hopefully..); she is someone stuck in-between this breathing dichotomy. Or is she?

I've grappled with the fact that my parents aren't immortal; they, like everyone else, are human. I wrote a post a while back about their health, something like messy ramblings on my feelings and realizations and whatnot. I didn't publish it, but I think I will. It explains a lot about my relationship with them and how it (our relationship) has never been a steady or reliable one. I don't look back fondly on my childhood. I'll be hard-pressed to say I even had one. Regardless, at some point during my later high school and early college years, I took up looking after them. This isn't really me reciprocating anything. It's just me thinking that this is what a daughter should do, regardless of what they (as parents) did or did not do.

As I walked behind her bed being pushed down the hallway, I was 13 again. Bitter and angry; frustrated that she never took care of herself or went to get checked like I had told her to; pissed that she got herself into this situation. I was so 13. So stupid. So unaware.

I sat in the dark as she and I watched WALL-E on the outdated television screen.

"I don't like noise," she mumbled.

So I sat with her in silence, haunting in its emptiness but as familiar to me as it was 10 years ago. I looked at her then the same way I did when I was younger: from a distance and as if through a glass. I felt like I could never reach her; I still feel like can't. And, to be honest, I'm not sure I ever will.

We'll see how things go. She had one of the best surgeons, so I'm sure she'll be fine. Hopefully I can wrestle with my thoughts enough that some end thought or result will come to surface. Maybe it's the whole feeling of the place, how most everyone is a player in this waiting game, that allows me to think so much and with such clarity. I don't know. All I know is that I don't want to get too familiar with this one. It's too soon to be 13 again.

the lines

i weep like my mother,
often and with much tremor.
but like my father, i grieve,
veiled in my pride,
in secret and solitude;
and like my brother,
my feelings lay wrapped
in the notes i sing,
packaged
in the spaces of words
i will never say.

we sing silence,
booming
booming
moving

and still--

like my family,
i am broken but together,
and soon, i, too,
will face
my
ends.

- -

"I'm a ticking time bomb," she whispered. I always knew, but the meaning was different this time. Through the line, I could hear her uncertainty and fear. She breathed heavy; she always does.

She gave too much of her heart away. Too young, too fast. She loved too hard, and all the wrong people. Or maybe just everyone but me, it felt. She gave too much of her heart away. And I knew, we always knew, that at some point it would have to give way. It's just knowing when and where that's the trickiest. I used to always say that I loved surprises. How terrible of me.

On my side of the line, I stared at the ceiling, shapes beginning to take form.

"But I miss you so much," I heard her say against the soundtrack of the Lakers' game.

"I've been home at least 5 times this quarter already," I insisted.

"OK ok. I love you, " she said, and I wondered: why does everyone say the right words too late?

I sighed.

"Yah, man, love you, too." At once, I can tell what she's going to say.

"Heeyyy, I am not "man," I am your mother!"

Of course. And suddenly, I missed her like I was 5 years old again.

baby steps, big changes

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, concerned citizens can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has."

— margaret mead

CONGRATULATIONS, SPOP 2009 STAFF !
& anyone and everyone else that has been
given a solid opportunity to change lives

... and for those feeling downtrodden or in the dumps, remember:
if an opportunity isn't given to you, then create one for yourself
<3

the base.

I would do anything and everything in my power to not fall in love-- at least not now, not yet.

I went on a Cha chat with my really good friend just a few minutes ago. She and I used to have these all the time. We're both pretty busy people and I think pretty different personalities but she and I somehow connect, are in some way bound through one of the most basic functions (or is it necessities) of friendship: companionship. I enjoy her company and conversation and I believe her to feel the same about me, and so every few weeks or months we get together in the wee hours of the night, go to Cha, grab some bev, and chitchat. Now, to the core of what I left with....

She and I talked-- moreso, she talked and I listened-- about her feelings towards her boyfriend and the uncertainty of their future. It was a most peculiar situation-- not because the situation itself is uncommon because I'm almost certain there are quite a few couples who have struggled and will struggle through this as well-- but it is peculiar in the way that for the first time after discussing love and relationships, the dialogue closed with me feeling rather disheartened. [I digress: I don't know why I've been writing these types of entries about love lately, but I'll posit for the time being that I'm doing so because I generally don't like to discuss these types of things with friends or acquaintances in real-life everyday conversations and tend to avoid instances in which such a subject might be brought up. I'll accept this reasoning for now and continue with my original train of thought.]

She and her boyfriend have overcome a lot to be together. They worked in the same place for a bit and they were friends for a while before they even discussed the idea of being together, as he was going through a hard breakup and she was getting over a breakup with her long-term boyfriend. They both, too, have rather distinct personalities but the one thing that is keeping them together is also one of the most base of all close human interactions: love. Extreme, unadulterated, (so far) unwavering love. They care for each other deeply but the thing is that they're both pretty rational, logical people. They're not dreamers or idealists. She is willing to take risks and while he may seem like he readily does so as well, he tends to stick with what is comfortable to him, what he knows. The problem is that although they both love and care for each other, their future is uncertain and not because of the typical natural dilemma that no one knows for sure what the future will bring but because a chunk of their future will be determined by other decisions that will not be their own; they will be his parents'. His parents and grandparents, upon hearing that he and my friend have gotten quite serious, have openly expressed numerous times and with much force that they do not approve of her ethnicity. She does not share his past or their culture and she cannot, perhaps will not share his future. He told her this, they have hinted at it; this relationship, in essence, is only a transient event in their lives. My friend is the kind of person who gives all that she can of herself to things that she is devoted to, people that she loves. She makes me feel like the world and I'm only a friend, what more if I were a lover? She is at odds because she knows that her boyfriend loves her and she does not doubt this, yet his words belie his actions. He can't stop telling her that a future for them is an unlikely one, that she should not get her hopes up, that he must follow family tradition, and will heed his parents' wish when the time comes for them to express it. She hates not giving 100% of herself to the one that she loves when there are other things that equally demand or require her time and efforts which have a definitive future in them. She's at odds with herself because she doesn't know whether she should allow herself to love someone so much when the hope of it being more than just temporary is slim to none. This whole dilemma was spotlighted because she met his parents for the first time this past weekend and although she half-expected them to be a bit stand-offish and stuffy, her efforts and company were rather well-received. She simply told her boyfriend that she was happy with how the meeting went. He said she shouldn't get her hopes up.

What do you do when the one you love, the one you are in deep utter irrevocable love with tells you to not get your hopes up about your future? Often times couples meet this idea with the mind-set of 'cherish what you have now and if it's gone, don't regret. be glad that it happened' but what if the reason why it is gone and over isn't a direct result of your relationship with one another but of someone else's decision; some power that cracks the whip of tradition and demands that love bow in submission to preference and opinion? Is it really worth the while to love so hard when the decision has (almost) already been made? A grey sky perpetually looming in the backdrop of a seemingly sunny day, a foreboding presence of a third party that goes unseen.

It's a minute detail in her overstuffed and packed schedule and list of things-to-do, but for moments unguarded it consumes her being and drains the life in her. You want to love but you can't. We spend our days working hard so that we may change lives and build one for our self so that ultimately, there will be time and space and room for a love that will, if not complete, at the very least compliment us and our existence. At this stage of my life, there are chances for many like myself to begin a relationship and risk the possibility of it being restricted or robbed in that way. But I will do anything and everything in my power to not love that kind of love right now. I know the future is uncertain, but history tells a great deal of what is to be expected, and my record of relationships and luck in life have always taken a downturn far south of sour. I don't think I have enough of a foundation of myself yet or strength in me to endure. I don't want to get hurt again, esp. in that way. My heart could not take it. Maybe it's instinct, the way you pull your hand back when you touch something hot so as to not get burned. Call me a coward, call me irrational, call me stupid-- I don't care. I call it survival.

courage and choice

I have come to settle amidst much contemplation with the ideas brought up in my Philosophy classes, most notably my Existentialism one. Fear and Trembling, Either/Or, Sickness Unto Death-- all great reads, all which discuss experiences, thoughts, and contemplations I think many people (or at least quite a few acquaintances) have encountered.

I don't know why I choose to despair over this, but I will keep this short until I can figure out a more coherent way of articulating my thoughts. I, like many students before whose academic careers come to its end, am at odds with myself:

I have always floated along happily, existed so contently and perhaps smugly, within the idea of the possibility of me. ME, what and who I could possibly be. The possible "me's" that could exist always seemed far more appealing than the one that actually did exist. What we could be is more fantastical and hopeful than what we are. When an action is taken, when a limit is enforced, possibilities vanish and what was chosen, is.

It takes courage to accept who you are, and yet never actually be content with it. To willingly brave despair over wanting to be better and do better is hard, but it's something we must o. Often times people wish to be content, but that is only a limbo, being stuck in neutral. We have to maintain a yearning and a small sense of discontent. We have to keep moving forward. There is never anything for us which has passed. We may look back in retrospect, but we cannot choose or act in the past. Possibilities diminished cannot exist in the future. The young girl I was is fading away with the diminished possibility of who I can be; who I will be; who I am. I know this that may not make much sense, but again, I'm having a difficult time trying to say what I mean.

That said, I will only say this for now:

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”
- ee cummings

I hope I can maintain that courage.

vday gifts and curses

Love is not lacking in my life. I love my friends a lot, my family a lot more, and my brother more than anyone or anything.

Yet, when Valentine's Day rolls around, I always feel anxious. When a person feels anxious, he or she tends to be anxious over something. But I don't know what it is I'm anxious over. When applying the word, it is often in anticipation of a future event or result. But with Valentine's Day I'm not looking forward to anything. I only see the past.

I am the kind of person who relives the past unwillingly. I like to think of myself as a forward thinker, living in the now and working towards tomorrow, but the past always comes back to haunt me. I don't like to bring up past events but apparently close friends and family members do. Sometimes I can muster up a hearty laugh over things that have come to pass, but often times I don't. Most of the time I can't.

If you know me well, and most don't, then you'd know my extensive record of "complicateds" and seeming unrequiteds. In the past 4 years or so I have had 3 men come into my life and awaken in me new ways of feeling. I gave a lot of myself to these relationships and received little to nothing in return, keenly aware of the uneven distribution of time and effort but recklessly hoping I'd be pleasantly surprised. I have had 3 men come into my life. I have learned to love them, each in their own way. And I have watched them all go on to love someone else. Their relationships with their significant others have lasted, but not ours. And the thing is, I'm not bitter or angry or sad. I am happy to know that they are all happy and in love-- even if I am not a part of it. Is this a gift or a curse: to live your days watching the ones you love, love others? I think what's confusing things is that I still love them all. Clearly, not in the same way their significant others love them, but still, a form of love nonetheless. They didn't want my love, and that's ok. So here I am with all this love, and I don't know what to do with it.

I've thought about it and it's not a love that can be employed in the field of humanitarian work I would like to do-- that's a different kind of love and thirst. It's a love that's reserved for a few, but I don't know why it's on keep for only a select people nor do I know for how long. It's just... there, chilling, like unclaimed baggage.

I spent this past Valentine's Day weekend in Palm Springs with two of my friends. Freshman year of college redefined Valentine's Day for me, throwing an incredibly dark veil over the already somber Hallmark holiday (for me, at least). I wanted to change that this year, but once again, the planets did not align in my favor. That Saturday night, while sitting in the dark on the fairway green (the house was situated on a golf course), one of the girls I was with brought him up. Him, the reason why for the past 3 years I spent Valentine's Day in a haze, in bed asleep, skipping class and refusing to step foot outside. I tried to dodge the subject, but once brought up, people tend to want to know the rest, treating it with the eagerness of a child hearing a fantastical new tale. But this is no bedtime story, and people don't get that. All 3 instances, all 3 relationships have ended abruptly and without any closure, and that just sucks.

This sounds so self-pitying, but allow me this one post. I will brush this aside like always, but that's just it: it's always set to the side until someone else wants to bring it up and I am instantly propelled into this weird cycle of analyzing how I feel and then coming to terms with my seeming acceptance of it all. Seeming? No, I have, I have. I... don't really know what the point of this entry was. I guess what I'm trying to say is that this Valentine's Day was like all the other past ones, except in a different zip code and with lots and lots of senior citizens.

I hope everyone had a good long weekend and is doing well. I haven't been out much so I feel like I haven't seen many familiar faces. Thank God for Norby, who somehow always always manages to make me feel special. And thank God for love...because although I may not "be someone's", I am someone who has love. And that is enough.

something to fight for

I'm a pretty patient person-- at least I think I am-- but the last few weeks prior to this past Thursday have been the most excruciatingly long days ever. The waiting period between that meeting and that email seemed like an eternity. It was as though my whole world was hanging on this one man's word, ready to fall and break into a million little pieces. Christmas didn't feel like Christmas; San Francisco, while fun, wasn't taken advantage of; and New Year's Eve and the "start of a new year, a new you" never felt so trite and unattainable. I often forgot to eat, didn't smile as wide, laugh as hard, or love as much as I could have... as I should have. I was robbed of the capacity to enjoy anything; to enjoy life. Everything was at a standstill. In limbo.

I have never fought so hard or fervently for something. I cried more in those few days than in my entire life, and never with such abandon. My chest never hurt the way it did when I thought of the real possibility of losing this routine, losing those memories, losing time, losing you. You... my spbrothers, my father, my mother, my spchildren, my bm and bl babies, my loves, my laughter, my heart. And in fighting for this, in fighting for more chances, for more time, in reasoning out why I can't go just yet.... I found myself holding onto you the least and the possibilities with and potential of you the most. I treated the idea that every hungry, tired, helpless face was yours. They will become mine, just as you have. And they need me more than you do now.

The days have never seemed longer; the need, greater. The potential you's are calling, crying, screaming for help. It may take longer than I had expected, but I am not doubtful, my intentions unwavering. I'm coming.

Thanks to my spbrudder suj, who is always there to hold me even when I am broken. You didn't need to say anything special or profound; words were beyond this. Just being there for me, in presence and silence, even when I know you're super busy, meant the world to me. To Kar, for listening to my 'reality tv-show' life stories and keeping ish hush hush. To my spchildren, for giving me love and hugs that you probably didn't know were like medicine to my soul. For Futch and Lambda: the greatest distractions and source of laughter I could've ever gotten. You know I mean that in the best way possible. Above all: Thank you, Teal and especially Gold... for giving me something to fight for.

This is me, all over again, but with a harder drive and a greater purpose.

abberation

GET UP
i'm trying i'm trying but the world knocks me down yes knocking right out the breath in me
GET UP
no i know i must go i know i must leave to find the better, make the better, be the better me
SO GO
i could, i should, i shall, and i will but the past from which i fell has broken me ill and the getting and the standing and the moving is so hard when everything i stood for began to fall apart and the weight of the world i felt i carried on my shoulders has left me in the cold and it's only getting colder
BUT WAIT
i won't let them get the best of me, no, now only the worst once undignified i realize just what my life is worth and i split the less from the meaning now meaningless no more and the meaning i will give it that comes from the core
OF WHAT
has arisen from the darkness under which i lay buried blind, suffocating my passions and choking my mind, and i was drowning in depression and flirting with despair, getting drunk off the idea of me going nowhere
BUT NOW
that i've awoken from a coma that lasted twenty-two years i'm caught dead in my tracks due to something i've feared, a letter given three times caused one strike to be sent home, struck me down and now the state of my future is unknown
OH PLEASE
dear God give me patience and understanding, the hurt i've incurred from this silence is so astounding and i bite my lip and choke on my words that forever go unsaid for if they were heard the hearts that bore me which i treasure the most will break into pieces and lose their hope and "the only thing they've ever done right" will suddenly be wronged and my life be a song tragically unsung
SO I WAIT
and i wait and i need strength to get through this cause without it i'm not so sure i can do it, just what i now know i'm put here to do, to learn and to serve and to be an instrument of You, and the world's starving hungry for a heart full of love well i suppose these times will show just what i'm made of whether words or promises or hopes so high that if given another chance i know i could fly
SO I WAIT
til those minds that don't know me decide the course of my learning and thus the course of my life but i pray with every ember of this body and soul that they hear what
I'M SCREAMING, i'm screaming out loud,
with every inch of my being this i know--
I'M BELIEVING, oh i'm believing,
I'M READY TO GO.

so give me that chance.