Swimming through the universe, one light-year at a time.

Swimming through the universe, one light-year at a time.
NCG 4631 "The Whale Galaxy"

Friday, December 31, 2010

So Long, 2010

I don't really wanna be awake or sober when the ball drops. It has been both a spectacular and painful year, and all I wanna do is down this bottle of sparkling rose and pass the fuck out. 'Cause I didn't get anywhere academically, but I went to Africa. Yeah, I saw all the lions and elephants and giraffes and shit, and even taught kids a little. But what I really learned myself was that I was a slacker and an idealist. That, and you can't really know anything about another person from first conveyances, until you find yourself at a disadvantage and see how much or how little they stick their neck out for you. That's when you really understand. People are really beautiful inside, but twisted. And I've been in love the past couple months, and where has that gotten me?

I'll probably call my dad after the year changes, 'cause my mom is in Taiwan. Thanks Dad, for fucking up my perception of love and men from the very beginning. Yet I adore him despite all the fucked up things he did, and still acknowledge what a great person and father he was and still is. And all the (2 or 3) boyfriends I had - maybe their emotions for me were real, but that didn't stop them from mistreating me or screwing me over. That's what bothers me the most, even with people who love you, you're not really safe. But that's all in the past. And the past makes up a vital part of who you are, but doesn't determine the future.

And I swear to god with a lowercase "g", I'm gonna get it right this year, which really means shitty things are bound to happen, but it doesn't have to destroy me and prevent me from moving forward. I gotta get my grades up, my body sharpened, my music in line, my mind and heart right. No resolutions, just a better understanding of life and a determination for positive vectors.


Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Brain Therapy

I have gone to three sessions of therapy and although I have revealed quite a bit about myself and my past, I feel no significant breakthroughs. I know it is still early, so I'm not concerned. Furthermore, I like my therapist. I think I lucked out in finding a gay male. Not that being a gay man has anything to do with my issues, but I'm most comfortable around men, and preferably, those who wouldn't exacerbate any soreness surrounding my feelings about the straight male species. And finding a female therapist who felt any trauma similar to mine would only make it worse. And of course, my best friends happen to be gay guys, so it only seems natural to find the same.

So my doctor is an easy and interesting person to talk to: we usually sit and reflect on our travels, pop culture, and other fun topics before settling into more serious ones. But I am afraid. I'm afraid that he can't help me, that he doesn't really understand, he doesn't really care, and despite pouring money and breath into these appointments I will come out of it no different and no better than I am - alone and in pain.

You're a lost little girl
You're a lost little girl
You're lost
Tell me who
Are you?

I think that you know what to do
Impossible? Yes, but it's true
I think that you know what to do, yeah
I'm sure that you know what to do.

-The Doors, "You're a Lost Little Girl"

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Moments like this, I wish I had died instead of my aunt.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Liver Therapy

I've laid off the booze for 2 nights in a row and sleep has been pure agony. Sometimes I feel as if there is a heavy, metal plate on my chest, constricting my breathing and crushing me down. My head is filled with furious and painful thoughts. My heart is in horrible shape, and sleep has been sporadic. But when I wake in the morning I feel a little better, a little more confident that I can get through this, and that one day the torment will inevitably end.

This is the repercussion of not drinking myself to sleep - a whole lot healthier, and definitely a lot harder. My ex has finally left me alone. Funny I thought breaking up and healing would be simple, of course he had to persistently stay in contact with me for another 3 weeks and make that impossible. I guess we all want to know that other people care, that the time we had with them meant something. And although he has finally let me go, one thing that would secretly ease the pain is if he gave me some sign of concern like he always did, as I would always respond affectionately, and we would reconcile. That always did the trick, killed the anger, at least temporarily.

But now I am decidedly alone, and wherever I am, out with other people, in class or work, I feel a sharp, singular pain which I and I alone am aware of. Again, luckily, I have my schoolwork cut out for me until November, where I can bury myself and the aching. I have many terrific concerts to see, hobbies to undertake, and friends to lift my mood the way I deserve.

Monday, September 06, 2010

Summer of Love

Checking in after an eventful summer, for the urge for me to write has been rare and comes and goes as quickly as my paycheck. I did end up fulfilling one of my dreams to visit the African continent this summer, and while it was not and could not be all I had romanticized, I must say it was one of the most astounding and capricious experiences of my life. I learned a lot more than I had originally thought I did about Kenyan history, saw some really beautiful landscape, witnessed wildlife and mother nature in all her splendor, picked up some Swahili, taught a class of fourth graders, made new friends, and observed human culture and behavior, both of the Kenyans and of the UC Berkeley students whom I traveled with -a real interesting lot.

I also picked up a boyfriend, who was one of the Cal students on the Kenya study abroad. Our relationship has recently come to an end, but my summer has really revolved around him. Other than the obvious time we spent getting to know each other in Kenya, the following 2 months was a whole 'nother adventure. Every week and eventually nearly every day we planned a new excuse to have fun together, whether that was white water rafting, camping, rock-climbing, beaching, or just going over to his house to watch a flick and fall asleep and have breakfast in the morning. Although it was only a measly 3 month relationship, I fell for him. It wasn't just our mutual activities that captured me, it was his complexity and compassion - moral and emotional, and depth as a person. But I should have seen not what was deeper but what was obvious, and so I can only blame myself for the ultimate heartache. He's the first guy I've allowed myself to love for quite some time, and I suspect he will be for a while, especially given the damage that has come after our breakup. While I won't go into why it ended, I will just say that he is 4 years my junior, and that dishonesty is something I am learning not to tolerate, since my forgiving and somewhat doormat nature has caused me a lot of pain and unnecessary problems.

So I'm simplifying my life. And I'm doing really well now. I took the breakup horribly at first, even regressing to some old adolescent pathologies, but I am well on my way to recovery. There's no denying some agony buried there along with the rest of my exes, but surprisingly my head is level, my heart is already healing, and my intuition is to be optimistic instead of fearful and bitter. Thankfully I have good friends, who are rational and understanding and help me look at things objectively instead of with my own fucked-up, insecure, and depressed head. I'm formulating new and old goals: getting my act together at work, motivating myself for school, rekindling hobbies I dropped, and developing my relationships. And listening to a lot of reggae-rock, which brightens my mood to new levels.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Twin Peaks

Very rough sleep last night. Woke to the sound of my roommate's mule-like laughter, bass-heavy music, and apparently hilarious morning show. Got to bed at around 5am, but the eerie sound of creaking forced me to get up to shut a wind-molested laundry door. Heavy rain started in around that time. Not the comforting, melodic kind of pitter-patter, the obnoxious, threaten-to-cave-in-your-roof type of rain.

I dreamt of being murdered. Incest, rape, and the inadvertent killing brought tears to my murderer's eyes, but all I could feel was fear and disgust. Flashes. Heavy darkness. Grotesque laughter. A menacing presence, intangible.

Obviously, I've been watching too much Twin Peaks. David Lynch is a genius director. And the actors and actresses' talents are very well worth noting. But somehow the unraveling of lives, of hearts, and of secrets hits a little close to home. A combination of Donna and Laura, the surface never tells you quite as much as the past.

I've started writing again to gain control and perspective on my life, for the past few months, it seems like everything I've done to get back on track has landed me in a quandary. A closer examination of my thoughts, patterns, relationships, and dreams will have to take place. I intend on writing often, every morning if possible.

Today, though sluggish, sleep-deprived for over 48 hours, I begin my day with sit-ups, a shower, a bagel, and a trip to the local coffee house, Roadhouse Coffee Shop. Go figure.

Thursday, January 14, 2010


My life is the string which oscillates violently between two extremes, and all those I love a vital piece of the symphony.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

2009 doesn't have paragraphs.

Shortly after the holidays last year I received a phone call from my dad telling me my aunt was undergoing brain surgery to remove the larger tumors which had spread from her lungs. She had just been diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer. I was on a weekend excursion with my best friend, Anthony and was caught by the startling news which filled me with unease. Around this time, my first ex boyfriend, distraught and plagued by his past and present relationships, found me after four years to sort out old emotions. We had dinner, emailed each other several times, and even considered the possibility of rekindling an old romance, until he proved, for the last time, his inability love me. This destroyed me. This also put me at peace with the past. I moved places, twice, the first being a comfortably darker pit of the city. Ditto with my jobs. I bought a really crappy car, which my brother replaced with my old precious Rav4 out of the kindness of his heart. I took Physics 111 and loved the lectures, but became wrapped up in my two jobs, social life, and riches to get anything but a D. However, what began as a purely academic and perhaps business arrangement became a close and terrific friendship with my tutor, Samy. I dropped Pre-Calculus in the summer, but I retook Physics 111, finally joined a study group, made new friends, of course sought Samy's help, and pulled off a B+. I left both my jobs during these months, and it was beautiful. But I needed to pay off debt, so I was hired at Bevmo at summer's end and began a grueling and chaotic whirlwind of 30-40 hours a week while studying late nights and in-between work for 3 classes. This time, so wrapped up in work and academia, I barely had time for my social life, much less myself. I had several breakdowns, including broken objects in my room and strained friendships. Things hit rock bottom when I received two calls, one from my dad and another from my older brother, telling me that my aunt was not doing well and I should take the weekend off to see her. I took the weekend off, but worked Thursday, then hopped directly on the Greyhound and began my nightlong visit to LA. She passed away at 1:50 a.m. She was gone by the time I arrived by bus Friday morning, 2 weeks before Thanksgiving. I attended the wake ceremony and the funeral, but I had no chance to say goodbye. I then continued my schooling, continued heavy hours at work while battling feelings of depression and guilt. Thanksgiving came, the first holiday without my aunt. I spent 3 days with my friends in Vegas, San Diego and LA - the only vacation I allowed myself since the summer. Directly thereafter, I came down with a fever and bad cough - 2 weeks before finals. Somehow I managed to survive holiday hours and lines at work, severe stress with school, and hanging connections with my friends until it was all over. Christmas with my family was heartfelt. I couldn't love them more. "Life waits for no one," wrote my youngest cousin, Amy, and I have say it's true. Exactly how I feel. I wasn't ready for what 2009 brought, but 2010 will not wait for me.