We sat in his car in front of the house.  And I was unsure that I wanted to invite him in.

“C’mon, let me in, what? Are you afraid of showing me the pet cemetery in the back yard?” he’d joked, referring to a scene in Garden State.

“Listen, my living situation, it’s…different”, I’d responded.

I did let him in, feeling as vulnerable as I’d been in a long time.  I was hesitant to show him my home life.  I liked him and I didn’t want to scare him away. I lived in a National Park at the time, literally.  We were one of 8 or so houses.  There were 6 of us in the house.  We were all just a little “quirky”.

The next morning, he stood in my kitchen making pancakes as my housemates filtered in, one by one.

That was 5 years ago.

I woke up this morning at 4:30, my sleep cycle is a bit off these days as I’m exploring the infinite abyss, wondering what the next step is, packing up my things once more.  I’d popped on the tv for some background noise and cruised the channels when I stumbled on Garden State.  So I stopped and watched, and let myself remember everything.

I may have visibly gasped.

I’d told him that I had found old journals of mine, dating back from when I was 9.  It’s embarrassing to admit that certain core parts of me have not changed, nor would I want it to.  I love reading those so I remember the exact feeling of the moment and relive it, for better or for worse.  And I tended to wrote when it was worse, likely because I was too happy having a blast to want to interrupt it to write.

That has changed, surely.

Today marks the one year anniversary of my H1N1.  The event unfolded in a strange bizarre way over Twitter.  And people across the globe, literally came to my aid.  Finding hospitals, filling up my phone card whilst I was in the hospital, sending my phone numbers to the CDC.  And as I got sicker and sicker, someone finally alerted the news media of my strange situation.  That I was stuck in a hotel, hoping to not contaminate anyone, and unable to get hospital help because none of the Hong Kong officials could understand that I was really an American tourist who was entitled to quarantine, not a local HKese who could stay home and sleep it off.

I think of the people who have read my silly quips about living abroad, and those who stepped in to make it happen.  Strangers who took me into their homes sight unseen, and strangers that I’ve taken into my home in the same manner.  I’ve been one lucky lucky girl.

Now that I’m settling in, I have other challenges to face, and other adventures to experience.  They are all on the ‘home’ front.  I will always miss being out there, and hope that I can be out there again.  And it was only after having had this experience that I can truly understand the look in my dad’s eyes when he told me the stories of his travels, years ago.  And boy, I wish I could go back in time to rehear those stories that he no longer tells, so I can really appreciate it, the way only someone who’s been there can.

Today I sat with a friend, talking shop, and specifically around China.  I felt like a weight had been lifted, taht I could speak to someone on my native soil about everything that happened there, without hesitation, or judgement because I knew that he would simply understand.  These friends are not rare, but my time with them is.

I treasure every moment.

It was a while into our chat before she stopped me.  ”Wait, so you were really in LOVE with him?”, she’d said.  ”Yes, head over heels”, I’d answered.

She then asked me how I knew, and I wasn’t able to articulate it.  I just knew.  I knew as clear as day that I loved him, and the moment that I’d fallen in love with him (on a bus in China), and that as much as I wish that I could stop loving him, I don’t, I can only stay away, lick my wounds, and pray that I never see him again.  I simply don’t know that I could survive another round of this.

I told her how in my mind, I still see him, still long for him, and still feel the sting in our last days together.  I told her how the only way I could move on with my life was to grieve and wait for the day when this passes.

I had written that on Feb 8th of this year and had thought that I could never fall in love again.  So what a surprise when I did, only a few months later.  I hadn’t forgotten about U but I had already let him go in my heart and mind when Pf and I were reacquainted.

Pf and I were a repeat, and the second time around was no less sweet.  He’s the only person that I’ve had that instant zing with.  Instant love.  I can’t explain it.  And although it ended traumatically, and I will always want to say goodbye in person, I always re-read one of his last emails, feel heartbroken all over again, silently wish him the best from my heart, and stay away.  I am always amazed that even in times like those, when I’d chosen to end things, that it was still so difficult.  And well, I’d chosen to end things because it became apparent that he wasn’t as into it as I was.  Faced with a glittery job offer from Austin, I was ready to relocate only to discover that he wasn’t ready to pick up the phone to hear the news.  I didn’t know how to deal with that except to break things off.

It also makes me appreciate the exes who have chosen to stay in touch, however lightly.  And my preference is on the light side.  It makes me think of their wives who are so much better for them than I ever would have been, and how happy I am for them, and grateful of the women’s graciousness in accepting me as a friend rather than a foe.

And then the irony that cumulatively, these guys know me better than anyone else on earth.  That in the however many years we’ve parted, they’ve figured me out, and that if we hadn’t parted, perhaps we would never get to this point.  It’s as pure of a friendship as anyone could ever hope for.  And I am so very grateful.

I had hoped that some day, Pf and I can be there as well but whenever I read those soul wrecking emails, I can’t imagine how it would ever come about.  His anger at me seems insurmountable and I recalled the ferocity of his anger towards someone else years after an incident which was much lighter in scale.  So, instead of reaching out to him, I just send good thoughts in that general direction.

Where U was my twin, Pf was my compliment.  Perhaps the right mix is someone in between.

Ah yes.  The momma’s boy.  He’s the one that seems respectful to women, will talk about his mom more than once per conversation, and lacks the will to say no to any request reasonable or not that his mother asks or even worse, doesn’t ask of him.

In the beginning, it will seem sweet until the girl realizes that until the day the mother kicks the bucket, and likely for years after that, mom will always come first.

KB continued.  “Oh dear god, I should have known that it was doomed to failure when he confessed that he was still living at home”.  To be clear, the guy she was talking about was not 12, 18, or 21.  He was, at the time, in his 40s.  And he isn’t Asian (it’s totally acceptable for children to live with parents until they marry, and then for the parents to move in with the children).

Now this made me think.  Is this a “new” phenomenon?   Did momma’s boys exist in my mom’s generation?  (Come to think of it, my dad is probably a bit of a momma’s boy himself.)  How can women raise their boys to be men as they get older, and is it even possible?

I wondered about all of this as KB and I hung up.  She’d warned me well.  Stay away from momma’s boys.

We yell at each other to be heard.

“What was it like?”, my colleague said as softly as possible, and yet, it was still a bit of a shout.

She was asking about China.  About the 9+ months that I had spent there.

So for the first time ever, I started to tell her in several acts, the brilliance and the fallacy of it all.  And after only a handful of examples, my eyes started to well, I broke down and was only able to tell her this.

Describing China to someone who’s never been is like asking someone to describe love to someone who’s never been in love.  How do you do it?  How can someone understand the breadth and the depth of that particular experience until they’ve actually lived it?  All the news, literature, poetry – no matter how much it may move you, it will move you so much more once you’ve lived it.  It’s just that simple.

And if you’ve never experienced it, either love, or China, no words could ever describe it.  No experience could ever replace it.

So for all the people who wonder, just go.  Experience it for yourself.  And if you come back, I’ll know by the look in your eyes that you’ve lived it.

It’s amazing how memories of Austin flood back to me.  And worse yet, all of these feelings…

There were 3 distinct times that I either moved to Austin or was on the cusp of moving to Austin..  I’ve always loved music and the particular flavor that Austin serves up especially so.  I’ve always felt that Austin is just like PDX, but with sunshine.

And as I’m looking for new housing, I keep wondering what the hell I’m doing here and if I’ll always have this love hate relationship with so many places that I’ve lived, always restless.  I’m tired of it.

My that's a long trunk you have

It’s been a while since I’ve been back to London.  I had forfeited my last flight back to London a year earlier after I’d fallen ill with H1N1.  I’d decided to throw in the towel and go “home”.

But where exactly is home?  I’d thought that it was NY, where I was born, and had lived for 15 years.  I’d reminisce about it, and when my parents started to become visibly older, I thought I had a certain duty to fulfill.

Life however, rarely works as planned.  I’d fallen in love, had gotten an offer for Austin, and was ready to move when it all fell apart.  The irony?  I’ve been the least settled in 4 years.  If I had this opportunity 4 years ago, I would have jumped on it with glee.  Now, I’m traveled out.

It was for these reasons and a million more that I tried to avoid going to Italy when work required it.  I dragged my feet, bemoaned the long flight (all economy these days) but in the end, I sucked it up and went.  To make things as tolerable (and as inexpensive) as possible, I flew through London.

London.  I’d spent over 2 years here.  Both loving and hating it.  I was worried about coming back.  I was worried that I fall in love with it again and get sucked back in.

For a short sweet weekend I’ve roamed the streets where I used to live, told A of my confusion in my recent repatriation, and confessed how I missed my friends and my community here in London.

And for more than a brief moment, I not so secretly wanted back into this mess.

A lot to think about.

The dad was upset that his daughter hadn’t found the right guy and had zero empathy (he was also an engineer ).  He just couldn’t understand why it was so hard for her.  “She just too picky!”, he’d complain.

Elsa, the mom, was a lot more understanding of the difficulties of finding someone that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with.

We stayed in touch lightly and recently, there was good news.  She had sent this to my mother.  My mom was so excited that she figured out how to use email forwarding. 

——-

Date: Feb 16, 2010 11:47 PM
Subject: Fwd: 給您拜個早年
To:(my mom)

So glad to hear from you, thank you for the cute card.  How are you
doing?  How is Mimi?  Is she in China?

My daughter finally was engaged past Thanksgiving at 39 years old.  So
there is hope.

With warm regards,
Elsa & KC So

It always starts the same way, I have free time so I look for a class or online resources, and then I run out of time, usually due to travel, work, or some combo of the two.

Over the years, I’ve found some great resources for learning to play.  If you’re looking to pick up the guitar, and are a noob like me, these might help you too

• Songster is awesome, not only does it give you tabs but it gives you tabs WITH RHYTHM! http://www.songsterr.com/
• Guitarnoise can pretty much help any level play.  Learning root movements?  They can help with that! http://www.guitarnoise.com
• chordie.com (recommended to my by a Dutch friend)

If you guys have hints on what works and what doesn’t please drop me a line!

You guys have really outdone yourselves.  The past 4 experiences with Zipcar has been HORRIBLE and tonight was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I was traveling and disputing my last charge, which I was rebilled for.  Prior to that, your website showed locations that didn’t exist and I was offered a car which had a flat tire, only to find out that there was no other car available.  But tonight was the tops.  I had logged in to book a car, counting on Zipcar to have one available when I found out that my account was suspended.  I was never told prior to the point that I needed a car that my account was suspended.  You know what that means?  It means I can’t get to my family during the one special holiday of the year while my father has cancer.

I’ll never depend on you again Zipcar.