oh, if my voice could reach back through the past

i'd whisper in your ear:
"oh darling, i wish you were here."

i could

but i won't,
is just that much harder than
i can't.

am i crazy for wanting you,
maybe, do you think you could want me too?
i don't wanna waste your time.

do you see things the way i do,
i just wanna know that you feel it too.
there is nothing left to hide.

there is absolutely nothing at stake,
so why am i still playing the game?

here it is:
i still want you.
i still think about you.
i still miss you.
i still cast you in my dreams.
i still think you're the one.
i still need you to make me smile.
you still mean the world to me.

aPart

Stan sat on the edge of it all. This is not in fact saying much- I might as well say he was simply sitting, for “it all” quite clearly has no edge. But there he sat, alone. He couldn’t imagine that it was possible to sit any further and still continue existing- in his mind, he was, in fact, sitting on the edge of it all, on the most remote of frays, not even a face in the crowd.

Stan sat swathed in silence. He watched the sunset unfurl her majestic hues, shaking out her long golden train and spilling all across the sky the reds and oranges she had kept in her folds all day. But no color touched him, not even the setting sun could dash a smear of rose on his complexion. His grey eyes stared out of his ashen face at the fiery display and for a moment, he thought he recognized the shade of red that lit up the sky, but before he could secure it to a memory, it slipped off into the darkness with a sullen violet trailing close behind.

By the time all the colors had cleared the sky, Stan had already forgotten all about the color red. He sat with his pallid shoulders slumped and waited. He knew that the Stars would soon be arriving in their dark vehicles. Not that they were coming to see him, he knew this full well, but they were the only ones that even neared him and he reveled in their proximity.

Now, these aren’t Stars as you and I know them. They aren’t the ones gracing the covers of magazines seated impatiently on grocery store racks or strewn lazily across coffee tables. Neither are they the distant specks that wink at you from the dark expanse overhead if you can hold their gaze for long enough. These Stars are simply Stars, in the same way Peters are Peters and Norahs are Norahs. They simply exist.

Not that these Stars don’t love attention as much as any variety of stars. Then again, who doesn’t? Attention fuels us, whether we admit it or not. Unlike approval, attention is as basic as food and water and air. The very absence of attention can cause one to eventually disappear. Many-a-planets have met this very end. They quietly slip away one night and we never hear about it. After all, in order to notice their absence, we would’ve first had to notice their presence, and if we had, they wouldn’t have disappeared in the first place. Stan knew this.

He heard their twinkling mirth before he saw them. He knew all their names and they didn’t even know his face. There was Lola, prancing about in silver heels. There was Georgina, fiercely protective of her sisters. There was Annette, absolutely always hungry. There was Jordan, there was Serena, there was Bridget, and of course, there was Adrienne. Adrienne was the kindest and silliest of the girls and Stan had long decided he liked her best, but it didn’t matter, she never noticed him either.

“Let’s go dancing,” suggested Lola.

“Can we get food?” Annette looked pleadingly at Georgina.

Serena ignored Annette. “Oh, Lola, I spent all day choreographing the most wonderful dance routine and I can’t wait to show you!”

Of course, all the girls, Annette included, wanted Serena to teach them the dance routine as well.

Stan watched, enthralled, as the girls lined up behind Serena and followed as she chasséd and pirouetted and leapt across the sky.

The girls quickly learned the new dance routine and they began improvising and adding their own personal touches. Soon, they were whirling and twirling across the sky in a perfectly harmonious symphony of movement.

Stan closed his eyes and he could practically hear the music they danced to.

When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find Adrienne fallen and her sisters gathered around her.

“Don’t worry about it, I think I just twisted my ankle. I’ll just sit down for a while, it’s no biggie.” And with a reassuring smile directed at her sisters, she sat down beside Stan, less than three feet away.

Stan was horrified. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. The very thought of the attention he had so craved now paralyzed him.

A minute passed. Then five. He finally mustered the courage to open one eye. She was still there next to him. Her sisters had resumed their dance and she was watching them adoringly. He opened both eyes now and watched her watch them.

Time passed. Stan didn’t know exactly how long. He was focused entirely on Adrienne. She sat with her knees hugged to her chest and her chin resting on her knee. Her auburn curls tumbled off her shoulders endlessly and when the wind picked up, he caught a whiff of coconut and honey.

“H,” he breathed out. She didn’t hear him.

He had forgotten the word.

“H,” he tried again, a little louder.

She twitched her head slightly towards him and her blue eyes narrowed and looked around curiously.

This was his chance. “H,” he managed to sound out.

She looked around intently this time but looked right past him. “Hello?” she asked, her voice soft and curious rather than nervous.

That was the word!

“H…Hello.” There! He’d said it!

“Oh!” Her clear blue eyes had found him. He had never noticed before now how blue her eyes were.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t notice you there,” she confessed. “Have you been there for long?” She stared at him wide-eyed, chewing on her lower lip. Stan could tell she was upset with herself.

“No, I just got here,” he reassured her.

She relaxed and gave him a toothy smile. “I’m Adrienne.” She stuck out her hand.

He hesitated before extending his own hand, but not quite far enough to reach hers. “I’m Stan.”

He really wished that they weren’t taking things so fast. He would have been much more comfortable with a wave, but he couldn’t just leave her hanging. He shook her hand quickly and then withdrew his hand and folded his arms.

She smiled at his unusual behavior.

Neither of them said anything for a while as they watched her sisters dance.

Time passed and finally, she turned to him again. She stared at his head thoughtfully, “I didn’t notice how red your hair was.”

“Red,” he repeated to himself. He remembered now. “Thanks,” he mumbled shyly and looked away. He could feel his cheeks flushing.

He didn’t know what to say to her but he was afraid that if he didn’t say something soon, she would get up and sit somewhere else. He sneaked a furtive glance at her.

She was intently tracing triangles into the dust with her pinky.

He tried to remember what he knew about triangles, it had been so long since he talked to anyone about anything, let alone triangles. “Equilateral triangles are my favorite…too,” he ventured, motioning to the set of triangles in front of her.

She looked up at him with her twinkling blue eyes and when she saw that he was being serious, she couldn’t help but giggle.

When was the last time he had giggled? Maybe he never had. He decided to give it a try.

“Heh,” he sounded out. It didn’t quite sound the same as hers. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Heehee.”

She watched him in amazement and laughed. And before he realized what he was doing, he was laughing too. They fell over in the dust laughing, but the grayness couldn’t touch them. They laughed about triangles and they laughed about dust on the tips of their noses and they laughed at each other laughing.

Their laughter rung out, arousing the young sun who subsequently woke the sky. The sky lazily stretched and filled the world then set about trying on all his colorful garments before settling, as he had yesterday and the day before and for years and years, on his favorite shade of blue.

Stan sat sun-kissed by the morning light. He couldn’t help but agree whole-heartedly that blue was a good color indeed.

i'm supposed to be writing a creative writing piece revealing the truths of human longing and loneliness. and somehow, i decided it'd be a good idea to get in the mood and surround myself with the essence of it by delving in old emails and journal entries. and now, i'm so homesick and lonely i could cry.

the truth is

we are so selfish as to satisfy our own loneliness by falsely stirring up another's longing.

and so it goes.

i wish

i had the guts to take this piece of paper
scribble "fireflies :)" on it
& slide it over to you.

rara avis

n. a rare or unique person or thing.

i like it. :)

psh, i don't talk to strangers.

i just make a lot and a lot of short-term friends all over the place. :)

jesus,

guard my heart.
hold my heart.
be my heart.

the one with chandler in a box.

imported from facebook.



it has only to do with God so desperately wanting us to know that He loves us that He incarnated Himself- He became Jesus- so that we can know that.
- rich mullins

when i read that, it reminded me of this episode of friends- the one with chandler in a box. to prove to joey just how much he cares about their friendship and how much joey meant to him and how much he loved joey, chandler was willing to be locked up in a dark, wooden box for six hours. and that's what God did for us. God put Himself- His gloriously, divinely, boundless self- in a dark, stuffy "box" for us. He who is without bounds, self-imposed bounds on Himself. God was willing to be "locked up" in our limited, clumsy, helpless human body for more than thirty years just to show us how much He loves us. when people go on hunger strikes to prove something, to demonstrate their love for something, they give up food, which is like whoaa, to us. but God-

the Eternal Being, who knows everything and who created everything, became not only a man but (before that) a baby, and before that a fetus inside a woman's body. if you want to get the hang of it, think how you would like to become a slug or a crab.
- c.s. lewis

we think of God becoming man and it's like, "psh, that's not so bad. being man is awesome, dude, we're as good as it gets. being human is not a bad gig at all." but when i read that quote by c.s. lewis, it really put things into perspective for me and kind of blew my mind. He not only gave up His cushy seat in Heaven but He also gave up senses and capabilities we cannot even begin to conceive and most definitely don't have names for- it's like us giving up opposable thumbs and the range of colors we can see and the ability to dance and sing and write poetry and eat chocolate chip cookies and sushi, to become a slug, who has no concept of any of those things. and if we are the equivalent of the slug, imagine all the things God can do, all the things that are so beyond us, that He gave up. He gave it all up. He gave up absolutely everything.

He readily gave it all up just to prove to me,
"hey, i love you."

whoaa. ♥

the three C's of vegetarianism:

cookies, cake, & cheese.

yup, it's tuesday again.

why are you still in my room?

why are you still in my heart?

go, go, go, go,
go, please?

i fail.

this was going to be the week where i didn't skip any classes at all. i went to astronomy on monday. i went to both math and story theater on tuesday. but now it's wednesday 1:27 pm and i am still in bed, it doesn't look like astronomy at 1:30 is happening.

oh well, i can't be expected to quit skipping classes cold turkey. this will be the week where i only skipped one class.

carrot cake is by far my favorite vegetable.

throw in some mozarella sticks & marinara sauce,
i could totally be a vegetarian.

if you love it,

live it.

i am who God says i am.

imported from facebook.



mufasa: simba, you have forgotten me.
simba: no, how could i?
mufasa: you have forgotten who you are, and so forgotten me. look inside yourself, simba. you are more than what you have become. remember who you are. you are my son.

when i heard that, i just stopped. and i was like wow, God. this is You. this is You right here. You and me ♥

"you have forgotten who you are, and so forgotten me."
we are created in the image of God. we are crafted soo lovingly and intentionally and thoughtfully by God. we have God's fingerprints all over us. and when we feel discontent with who we are or let ourselves get consumed with insecurity, we're calling into question His handiwork and His goodness and His love- who He is. "for we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (eph 2:10) when we lose sight of who we are, everything we are, we lose sight of who He is, and everything He is. i am who God says i am. i need to stop forgetting.

"you are more than what you have become."
God wants so much more for us. He has such bigger dreams and bigger plans and bigger purposes for us :) "for my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways." (isa 55:8) God's best really is best. we might not be able to see it right now, but trust and obey, for there's no other way.. to be happy in jesus, but to trust and obey. jesus, i want to be everything You've made me to be.

"you are my son."
or for some of us, "you are my daughter." ♥
wow. that is so powerful. and so ENOUGH.
you are my daughter.
this is where my identity should lie. this should be enough to define who i am and what i do. these four words should be my peace and my joy. in this simple statement, there is wrapped so much unconditional love and security and power.
you are my daughter.
i know i am loved by the king, and it makes my heart wanna sing.



"i lift up my eyes to the hills- where does my help come from?
my help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth."
psalm 121:1-2

♥♥♥

heh. if anyone couldn't tell before, the lion king is my most favorite movie :) and the really cool part is, i was feeling sad tonight after watching pretty woman and i knew i should go to God with my sadness and my longing but instead, i crawled into bed and put on the lion king ♥ and God used that to reach me, to reach out to me, to speak to me, to comfort me. oh God ♥ how You love me :)

winnie the pooh is my hero.

he is so insightful and has such a big heart and he sees the world with such uninhibited wonder :)

and he loves breakfast-
piglet: when you wake up in the morning, pooh, what's the first thing you say to yourself?
pooh: what's for breakfast? what do you say, piglet?
piglet: i say, i wonder what's going to happen exciting today?
pooh: *nods thoughfully* it's the same thing.

awh, i would love to have breakfast with winnie the pooh.

josh and the big wall!

when we do it God's way, it might not necessarily make sense but doing it God's way gives us what we want, and what's best for us, and what we need, ultimately easier. all the israelites had to do was sing and jesus handed jericho to them instead of a big bloody battle with potential causalities and deaths. but on the other hand, i'm absolutely positive it didn't seem easy at the time, especially cause it spanned seven whoooooole days (i can hardly wait seven whole minutes) with the people inside jericho taunting them and throwing grape slushies at them :P

they were obedient, yet they didn't receive any immediate gratification that could reassure them that "yes, you're doing it right, just 6 more days." no. not even the hint of a crack. that's so hard! to do something that doesn't make sense or feel right and seems counter-intuitive to getting what you want but still being obedient repeatedly and consistently, over and over, each time, each night that passes less sure that this was such a good idea..

"come on God, just a crack. reassure me that i'm on the right track."

it feels like fork meets styrofoam cup,

and unfortunately,
i'm the latter.

if you put monkeys

in a room with a typewriter, they will eventually produce shakespeare. that's how the saying goes isn't it? i need to get me some monkeys.

maybe if i write here my short story won't feel so intimidated and will dare to peek its precious little head out and show itself, asd;flj.

there are so many stories in the world. everyone has one. everyone is one. everyone is 2348723048239047. i need just one.

i people watch all the time. i eavesdrop. and i observe. and i chuckle to myself about how silly humans are. but nothing is coming to me right now.

random word generator to the rescue?

leap: by the time heather was six, no one would play leap frog with her anymore. billy was the last one on the block to play leap frog with her. she was five and three quarters and he had just turned four. it was the summer before she was about to start first grade. so far, this sounds like a first grader wrote it- the sentences are so juvenile. and is it just me or are there strangely ominous potentially sexual undertones, which i didn't intend. ay caramba!

exclusive: the sunset unfurls its majestic red hues for the stars to make their appearance. and the stars, true to their nature, are forever fashionably late so he isn't worried that they aren't there yet, gracing the red carpet. he knows how the night will go: the stars will step out of their sleek black vehicles and people will stare. of course people stare. the stars are beautiful and enticing, he can't help but stare either. they love the attention. story about the man on the moon? i think his name would be stan. stan is the man on the moon. but what about him? so what? what kind of person is stan? where's the tension, the dissonance that sparks a story? does he fall in love with one of the stars? does the star love him back? are the stars literally going to be fiery balls of gas? can i write three to five pages about it? or maybe one of the stars loves him but he's in love with a human down below on earth. and they are literally star-crossed lovers?

kaleidoscope: what a great word. whee, colors! i don't know where to go with this, so many options! there could be a significant literal kaleidoscope. or a symbolic literal one? or a metaphorical one. a big one, a small one, a red one, a green one... it should be set somewhere depressing and bleak- like the great depression?

prerequisite: he had always considered himself particularly proficient in the creation of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. he prided himself in understanding the delicate balance between the timidity of jelly and the overpowering nature of peanut butter. over the years, he had worked out that the perfect ratio for peanut butter to jelly was simply 2:3. now that he was starting fifth grade, he could practically make himself a perfect pb&j in his sleep. where is this going? i do not know.

for someone who is so prone to making stuff up, i'm having an incredible amount of trouble writing a short story.

here, words-
c'mon, here we go-
that's right, just a little bit closer now..

GAH.
:(

there was a little boy

at oktoberfest sitting way up high on his daddy's shoulders with his little hands clamped over his little ears and his little eyebrows furrowed in distress from all the (wonderful, glorious, lively) noise. but since he was way high up there, his daddy didn't notice. i felt so bad for him.

sh, don't tell.

he said as he wheeled his bike over to the door i was holding open for him and procured his keys and fob from beneath a stack of soggy newspapers and leaves to the left of the door.

hey mr. knickerbocker,

i like the way you boppity bop.

i saw this guy today,

all dressed up, primped and prepped, sitting in front of a computer and from afar, i thought he was trying to hang a banana peel on the front of his shirt, you know, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant. but then again, i guess when you're really at a fancy restaurant, you don't go tucking napkins in the front of your glitzy tops. so, maybe it's more like a lobster restaurant. ANYWAY. that was just plain silly, and i was quite confused. but i walked closer and it was actually, believe it or not, a tie! ha, whaddya know. and he was sitting in front of a computer watching a video on how to tie a tie, and clumsily trying to follow along. it was cute :)

that was the most chocolate ice cream i've had in years.

i've been getting waves of homesickness vaguely resembling a sine curve, or a cosine curve, whichever you prefer. waves. seasickness- it kinda resembles that too. hm, if a mermaid were homesick, would she call it seasickness?

(,O'_')-O Q('_'Q)

oh, when you're down and looking for some cheering up

then just head, right on up, to the candy mountain cave.
when you get inside you'll find yourself a cheery land,
such a happy, and joy-filled and perky merry land!

you're so much better than candy mountain :)

but i guess i knew that,
and that's why i sat on the floor outside my room at 8 am in the morning, waiting for the hours, watching charlie the unicorn enough times that i learnt the song by heart.

i feel so uninspired.

the end.

i'm not unhappy.

i just have a tendency to only write when i feel sad.
when i'm happy, i'm too preoccupied bouncing off walls

(or bouncing around the screen like the colorful dvd screen-saver ball that bounces and bounces and changes colors every time it hits the corner! ooo, mesmerizing.)

and sighing contently at life to stop and write.

tomorrow is going to be good too-
there's the crafts center & fro-yo to be looked forward to!

i eat.

i stuff my face with one fourth of an entire cake. i snack on four bags of beef jerky. i eat and i eat. and i obsess over my weight. and i eat some more. it's just so much easier to concern myself with shallow trivialities than try to decipher the sadness that lurks in my heart.

my teeth hurt from all the chewing.

but better a sore jaw
than a sore heart, hey?

you don't know about my past, and

i don't have a future figured out
and maybe this is going too fast
and maybe it's not meant to last

with him, i was all about taking chances,
i was so ready to jump, i wanted to jump.

but what do you say to taking chances,
what do you say to jumping off the edge.

i just,
i don't feel it,
like i did with him-
i don't feel like we're standing on the edge of something big,
something painfully, fearfully, wonderfully beautiful,
something.

i'm sorry i had you take a chance on me
again.

add to favorites

my favorite meal with some of my favorite breakfast foods with some my favorite people. my favorite class. my favorite jenna. some of my favorite froyo with my favorite berries. a run with my favorite savior. sitting on the floor playing my favorite purple guitar singing some of my favorite songs.

favorite-
what a great word.

what a great day,
a blessed day :)

Still Writing.

Legs move. Stiffly across the linoleum they drag their wooden heels. The author bends to his table and lowers to his chair. His eloquent hands grip the table and he tucks himself in. He stares ahead, searching the curtains for words, and does not watch as his fingers move to rest on their keys unsupervised. His fingers drum out impatience on the keys but not hard enough to bring any words into existence. He begins. His left pinky holds down the shift key as he generates his first capital letter. Letters slam onto the page, dizzy and disoriented. His brows furrow. He hesitates, then reaches for the paper. The paper does not resist as it is torn out and balled up in hands that spurn its contents. The cold linoleum accepts the author’s offering. He closes his eyes, rolls back his shoulders, pulls himself up straight against the back of the chair. He balls up his fists then stretches out those ten individual fingers, putting as much distance between them as possible, a huddle and break. His fingers are ready now to tame the keys they ride into eloquence. They begin to type. Brows furrow. Frustrated, fingers dance, no, stomp across the keys and spawn cacophonous nonsense. With a rip and a crunch, the author restores the silence.

tonight is just one of those nights adorned with nostalgia

i miss sassoon park. i miss sitting on couches eating candy with my best friend. i miss my best friend. i miss SAS. i miss the dynamics of our relationships. i miss the phone calls. i miss the songs. i miss tigger. i miss aurora. i miss taxis. i miss the mango drink. i miss the park.

how can anyone who doesn't even carry a hint,
a trace, even a whiff of the world that is my life-
that was my life-
that is my life-
ever be enough?

on the other hand,
is that the reason i feel like you alone are enough,
like no one else could compare-
because you alone are embellished
with the city and the years i love the most?

i feel like i'm settling

in so many different ways.

i'm not where i'm supposed to be.
i'm not where i want to be.
i'm going through the motions.
i'm committing to what is easy.

i close my eyes,
cover my ears,
sing la-la-la-la-la-
there's nothing more,
nothing better.

i'm in denial.

and i sit and quickly write this down,
before i convince myself otherwise again.

i can't have him-
this is better than nothing.

is this better than nothing?

i need to blog about jesus more.

yes, jesus loves me.
yes, jesus loves me.
yes, jesus loves me.
the bible tells me so.

i am so glad that jesus loves me,
jesus loves me,
jesus loves me.
i am so glad that jesus loves me,
jesus loves even me :)

and that is why,
i trust You know what you're doing.

romans 8:28-
and we know that in all things
God works for the good of those who love Him

but let's not take it out of context :)
ima chewin' on it.

a lesson i've learnt this summer

a kiss on the back of the hand from the right person is filled with so many more shades of magic and so many more watts of electricity than a kiss on the lips from the wrong person.

jyere4r4444444xsxdddddddddddfrs

i was trying to figure out what to blog about today when an ant ran across my keyboard and in the process of chasing it down between the cracks of the keys and killing it, i typed out that nonsense. yay. that's it.

i don't know what to do with myself-

my heart hurts.

there's no other way to put this,
no fancy way to capture it poetically,
it's simple and blunt: it hurts.

i just hurt.
everything hurts.

and for the first time i really understand what taylor swift is singing about in breathe

and i can't
bre-eee-athe
without you
but i have to

i honestly feel like i can't breathe right now.

i like you.

i like you. i like you. i like you. i like you. i love you?

i kind of misplaced my heart last night on the dance floor

right about where you misplaced your senses.

i like you.

now what?

and then he's gone.

"don't worry. it's gonna be a good year full of people you love and memories you'll keep forever. colors fade but they don't leave you with nothing but a blank wall- they fade into each other &i promise the next one will be pretty too."

meet you at the corner of math and love

i think kate was the first person to hear me prattle about "five"s in terms marriage and love and i also distinctly remember explaining it to someone outside the SAS cafeteria sophomore year. anyway, tonight while i was lying sleeplessly in bed, i started thinking about it and something occurred to me- what if your "four" loved you more than your "five"? would that be enough to push them over the top? technically, if your four loved you more than your five, your five wouldn't really be your five.. and so there's a flaw in this progression because my "five" theory, if you can even call it that, isn't a rating system, but rather a way to illustrate relativity. i guess i should explain what my "five" theory, i want to find another word because it's not a theory, is. basically it's about how there's more than one person in the world who could make you happy and as happily married as my parents are i'm sure there are other people in the world who could make them just as or potentially even more happy, so how do you know if you've found the person who you'd be the most happy with- your "five"? because maybe you think found your five because it's the best you've come across yet, but you'll never know for sure until you come across something better at which point it's too late.. so maybe you think you found a five but then you find someone better and you realize, oh that was a four, but wait.. someone even better comes along and you realize that that first love you thought was a five was in fact a three. and yeah, i realize how flawed that is and it's not so simply linear.. especially tonight. what if there's someone who is everything you want but you can't have them, or you can maybe have them, but if you hold out and wait for them you could end up with nothing, whereas there is someone who is almost everything you want.. but you can have them. shouldn't the fact that they love you back count for something? like maybe a "times two" or a "plus two" or something.. so maybe there's mr. or mrs. right and they're an almost perfect 9 (veering away from the whole relativity "five" thing) because i don't think anyone can be a sure-thing 10, and then there's this other person that you could see yourself loving and there are many things you do love about them and they love you back but they aren't quite mr./mrs. right so they're an 8.. but the fact that they love you, if it's worth plus 2, would put them up at a 10. and so now, on paper, this other person should take the cake and you'll live happily ever after with them, right? but. will that be truly enough? will my heart buy it?

oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy

oh boy.

i'm not going to do this to you again.
i can't do this to you again.

so why am i still trucking right on ahead.

a, b, c it's easy as 1, 2, 3
as simple as do, re, mi
a, b, c, 1, 2, 3
baby, you and me..

it's just so different,
i don't even know how to compare-
with you it's all fresh and exciting
and infatuation. i see you and my cheeks flush
and i get nervous and the butterflies make their colorful appearance.
but with him it's familiar and endearing
and we're so deeply rooted in each others' hearts already, knowing the lights and the darks of every nook and loving each other regardless of it. not necessarily a romantic love but the deeply caring love of friends. we know each other. he knows where all my buttons and knobs are and what i need to be reminded of and when. we've fought and argued and have come out with the ability to talk anything out, to confront each other and call each other out. i can say anything to him and know that we'll be okay. sturdy and solid compared to bright and shiny. i can't even tell which one would be "settling" anymore.

i kinda feel like

that character in all those movies like footloose or chocolat- the unconventional free-spirit that comes in and shakes up the town.

a little latina, a little lebanese, a little out of this world-
best night i've had here yet :)

being around you confuses me-

i get confused about what i want,
and i'm just as confused about what you want.

i mean you kind of made it clear what you wanted,
or more specifically, didn't want,
but i can't help but believe that underneath your words
your heart is whispering something else.

i'm usually someone who is so sure of myself,
so sure of who i am and what i want,
and then you, with that smile,
and that heart, and that.. i don't even know.

how did you end up landing that position?
and what does this even mean for everything my heart thought it knew?

or maybe none of that even matters,
it doesn't matter what my heart thinks,
what it wants because maybe,
i had my chance
and i blew it.

i have a tendency to think in terms of colors-

the milk tea that you like at chun shui tang tastes periwinkle, meanwhile, ballade pour adeline, which i love so much, sounds lavender. and the california rolls i had last night could've stood to taste a little more green.

there's this one line of a shel silverstein (who i absolutely, positively adore) poem in where the sidewalk ends that goes "and all the colors i am inside have not been invented yet." and i remember even as a little girl, when i read that, it made so much sense to me. one of those moments where you say to your heart, "oh! so that's what you were trying to tell me."

anyway, i was reading breaking dawn today and in those first moments bella awakens as a vampire, stephenie meyer writes "i could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the spectrum, an eighth color i had no name for." so, even though it was not quite as elegant or life-changing as reading shel silverstein, it got me thinking of that poem i read so many years ago and again in shanghai at the beginning of this summer.

and then, i was googling it, trying to remember the rest of it and i stumbled across this quote by robert fulghum, who i now can't help but love-

we could learn a lot from crayons; some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box.

maybe we should develop a crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. a happiness weapon. a beauty bomb. and every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. it would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. floating down to earth - boxes of crayolas. and we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. with silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. and people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.

isn't that incredibly beautiful? and then i got thinking about the boxes of sixty four and the boxes of eight. and what if they were separate worlds. and how, they are actually separate worlds and there are people who live in a sixty four box and others who live in a box of eight. and like that eighth color bella was referring to, we don't need names for things that don't exist. and if an eight-er and a sixty-four-er were to ever, and they probably frequently do, meet, or happen to be standing on a street corner together viewing the world, they'd see it so differently.

Big Bird Brings Spring to Sesame Street

i can't remember the last time i sat down and wrote for myself, not in cryptic poetry or song lyrics to be read into, but simple prose that mapped out my heart. i've written away bits of my heart to my friends in emails or facebook messages or texted about them or packaged them in pleasant sounding mysteries here and there, but really journaling, it's been a while. ever since i decided it was futile that night a few months ago, that was probably the last time, and even that was the first time in another long time. and now, i wouldn't know where to start even if i wanted to. and like i was telling you, i'm scared to start journaling again- i'm scared that if i do, i'll drown. and maybe, even more than that, i'm scared that i won't drown, i'm scared to find that there's nothing left. 

i feel like big bird in that one book where he buys a bouquet of flowers early one morning from mr. macintosh and then gives each of the flowers away on the way back to his nest. at first, he feels sad that he has no flowers to brighten up his nest, but then he realizes that it's okay because this was the way it was meant to be, this was better than keeping all the flowers for himself.

journaling is hard to pick up after you stop for a long, long while. your heart gets all out of tune or maybe, it's the same old tune, but you just forgot what it sounded like. so i sit here, and i close my eyes and hold my breath- lest breathing causes me to miss a heartbeat, misinterpret a heartbeat. 

i wonder how long this will last. if this is only because we're people who love moments so deeply, so intensely. but intensity doesn't last, if it did, it wouldn't be intensity. intensity is by definition temporary. i don't want this to pass. i don't want to bemoan time and space alone. and as much as i'm convinced for me it won't pass, maybe for you, but not for me, for me this is the real deal. i've seen it pass. or at least i convinced myself it did. i just want this to be it.

absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire. i wish i could take credit for coming up with that, but i can't, it belongs to francois de la rouchefoucauld. and it makes so much sense.

well, i've made up my mind that i want you to be the one-
the one i wanna be with when i'm ninety-two.
- plain white t's

our love was

so comfortable, and
so broken in.

how did i ever for one second

think that anyone else would do?

:(

apparently,

i have absolutely nothing figured out.

oi, heart,
what does that mean again?

i want it to be you-
i want it to be so bad.

it definately has to be you.

as iron sharpens iron

isaiah 25:2,4
you have made the city a heap of rubble,
the fortified town a ruin
you have been a refuge for the poor,
a refuge for the needy in his distress,
a shelter from the storm
and a shade from the heat.

besides loving the last few lines,
the last one especially because it's such a silly little human thing-
a shade from the heat.

it's like my bug repellant and alarm clock thing-
jesus cares about all my little needs :)

anyway, something cool that jumped out to me tonight in the midst of all the shelter-related terms whether regarding the upkeep or the destruction of is that yeah, God may tear things down- cities, towns.. but HE has been a refuge, HE has been a shelter, HE has been a shade. what is a city or a town or a nation compared to Him! it's like He rips down a lean-to and in its place builds a mansion. it's a good thing :)

you helped me fall back in love with God's word and once again, i'm so hungry to know His word inside and out and left and right. it's so alive! or as timothy wrote in 2 timothy, God-breathed.

not God-written,
not even God-spoken,
but God-breathed-
what a God.

road to recovery? :)

p.s. if you happen to ever be reading this, probably not in the here and now, maybe one day, the answer is yes, i wrote this after our conversation :)

i waant it-

i want it so bad.
have i ever wanted anything so much?


i just want to be your friend.

i don't know why i care so much.
i don't know why it matters so much to me.
i don't know why it's so hard.

you know how to brighten my day
i just want to be that girl again.

blessed are the poor in spirit

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

blessed are those 

who are entirely dependent on God's grace every single day,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

i finally get it.

"just like you can't impress a NASA engineer with your paper airplane, no matter how far it flies... you can't bring your goodness into the presence of God and be proud of what you have to show. God's goodness is so great, God's love is so immense, God's patience is so unending, God's virtues, well, they're limitless- they make whatever it is that we have to share completely shy in comparison. so when people truly encounter the living God, they immediately feel poverty of spirit... if anyone still feels pride in the presence of God, well, then they haven't really been in the presence of God."

- pastor dave swaim, 7/12/09

i really, really miss highrock :(

in the belly of the unnaturally large fish

so, i was reading the first chapter of jonah today and two things that may or may not have been new, but were things i needed to be reminded of, jumped out at me:

1) by running away from God, not only did jonah mess it up for himself but also the people around him- whether it's people we know and love or just people that happen to be in the same hypothetical boat as us.

2) "but the Lord provided a great fish to swallow jonah." now i wasn't there for it so i can't say for sure, but i'm willing to bet that having been thrown overboard, jonah was probably praying for some water-wings or a raft or a lack of sharks and maybe a conveniently close island to wash up onto, well that and the "ah, God, i'm so sorry!" that must've been on loop in his head. so when God sent a giant fish his way he was probably not feeling too overcome with thanksgiving. he was probably kind of upset, nervous, frightened out of his wits, looking behind his shoulder to see if maybe the fish was headed to swallow the guy behind him, praying for deliverance from the fish, but little did he know, this was God's deliverance! and so, the lesson there is pretty point blank- His ways are higher than our ways. what we expect is sometimes so off from what God has in store for us and sometimes what God has for us might seem like a bad idea, but He's got it under control. so jesus, thank you for the fish.

happy birthday, mommy

i love you- you are my world.

this might hurt

it's not safe

but i know

that i've gotta make a change

i don't care

if i break

at least i'll be feeling something

cause just okay

is not enough

help me fight through the nothingness of life

consuming fire, fan into flame

take me all the way

who can say if i've been changed for the better..

every time i see you, i regret letting you go

even though i know it was the right thing-

we're not right for each other.

maybe if i'd never moved to shanghai,

if i'd never known that life,

if i'd never met those lives,

i could've been happy with you-

you could've been enough.

but then,

maybe i wouldn't have been enough for you

because shanghai was what made me-

all of this, shanghai wasn't just where it happened,

it was what did it, well, jesus in shanghai.

and the fact of the matter is,

i did move to shanghai

and i fell in love with that city

and i fell in love with jesus in that city

and i met the most amazing people in that city

and somewhere between the green taxis and blue taxis,

the trodden cabbage leaves and billowing laundry,

the old men's toothless grins and bared bellies,

the 2 kuai 葱油饼 and the 55 kuai moon river bbq burgers,

i found myself-

and nothing would ever be the same.

..but, because i knew you, i have been changed for good.

why are you striving these days?

why are you trying to earn grace?
why are you crying?
let me lift up your face-
just don't turn away

why are you looking for love?
why are you still searching
as if i'm not enough?

you are enough-
you are more than enough.

hey, heart-
stop forgetting.

the best thing to hold onto in life is each other

- audrey hepburn

in that case, 

i must suck at life.

i keep hurting people

and losing them.

and asdf.

i'm sorry

i'm sorry i'm sorry

i'm sorry for all of it

all of you

blahhhh.

i get so caught up in flailing about all my love for everyone and everything that i don't even realize when casualties occur. and then when i realize, it doesn't even matter because it's too late- the damage is done. 

我这个人啊。

no one should ever take what i do or say seriously.

and they especially shouldn't read into it.

i don't mean to.

God has a lot of work to do in me yet.

and maybe it's the rear-view-mirror-distortion or maybe it's all the madness and loneliness in all these endings but i miss you, i miss us, i miss how much sense it all made to me.

i'm tired of being all alone

and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home.

i hate waiting

i hate checking my phone every five seconds.

i hate putting my phone on silent and placing it far, far away from me so i can't check my phone every five seconds and so that my ears can give it a rest.

i hate trying to drag those five seconds out into five minutes.

i hate the disappointment that follows when i check my phone and see that five minutes weren't enough.

why do i keep getting myself into this situation.

what is this situation anyway?

that's what i want to know.

that why i need you to reply!

roar.

and no, contrary to what my shirt says

that's not dinosaur for "i love you."

if you're happy and you know it

clap your hands!

except,
it's not that easy-

i'm not always sure what i'm feeling.

sometimes i have absolutely no idea.

sometimes i wonder if there are feelings our hearts are capable of that we haven't felt yet. most the time, i just wonder about the names of all the feelings i am feeling and find myself searching in songs, in books, in quotes and conversations for some reassurance that i'm not alone. i search hoping that these feelings will recognize themselves and procure for me an identity that i don't have the words to provide. i just feel them and i hurt and i love and i close my eyes and try to make out some semblance of an outline before my heart puts a stop to it because it can't take it anymore. but i never find the words for these lonely emotions. they feel so heavy and fresh to me, like i'm pioneering some extraneous new-fangled emotions that God decided to give me to test-drive. and even though sometimes i'm left feeling completely isolated, i know i'm not alone- i can't be. but it sure feels like it when i prattle on to people about life and goldenness and beauty and when my emotions resemble splashes of color more than coherent words and when i'm drowning in my memories and nostalgia and acute awareness of how little and fleeting i and everyone i love so intensely are. but maybe none of that is anything unique or strange. after all, we're never as special as we think. but maybe there's a frequency of feelings that escape most people's radars, like how dogs can hear high-pitched sounds that we can't. or maybe there are some people who are the super-tasters of emotional taste-buds- super-feelers. or maybe everyone feels them, these lonely intense emotions, but we all keep quiet because every time we try to open our mouths and identify them, the emotions surge up from where we had thought they'd finally settled, perhaps somewhere behind a kidney, and they steal away with the words we'd finally found to describe them.

i can only hope
that i've made a difference in your life these past couple years-

that your world might be a more colorful, beautiful, lovable place.





it was worth it,
all of it.

this is what dreams are made of

disneyland, california

feels something like summertime

santa monica beach, california

analogy #3802734

while walking to the simi valley mall, treading on the golden train summer has trailing on the sidewalk, the wind blew in another analogy for our hypothetical book:

a christian relationship is like southern californian weather- its golden rays warm your very soul and makes you giddy, just like passion and the flurry of firsts in a relationship. it has you smitten, but not just for a spell because the breeze is like jesus, and having him in your relationship makes sure you don't burn out and get a heat stroke and allows you to enjoy it for longer :)

jesus is my everything

He even cuts my hair :)

no, my hair dresser's name isn't hay-zeus.
it's usually tiger, but sometimes william, not that he changes his name, but i just get my hair cut by whoever my mom wants.

but i really don't have any opinions on how i want my hair to look, unlike my brother who is mad picky about his haircuts, but me, i'm very eh! instead, before every haircut, and even during, i pray that jesus will give my hair dresser wisdom and be the one cutting my hair. i mean, it makes sense because we pray for our doctors to be filled with jesus and administer under His guidance, so why not hair dressers? after all, He created us and He above all people would know what looks best on our heads, what brings out the exact shade He's colored in our eyes, what complements the shape of our face He so carefully formed. it just makes so much sense. and sometimes, i close my eyes and imagine that i'm sitting in front of Jesus and He's lovingly considering each lock of hair that He's put on my head and it just makes me smile.

so yup, all this to say i got a haircut sunday night.

los angeles

oh toto, i've a feeling we're not in shanghai anymore.
but i've gotta say, this weather's got me impressed.

home is

a freaking unicorn-
beautifully elusive.

"home is where the heart is"
if you ask me,
a heart is a ridonkulous place for a home,
in fact i've never heard of a worst idea.
heart's are unbeatably, unbearably fragile,
ever changing like the shifting-sands.
didn't we learn anything from the foolish man who built his house upon the sand?

oh well, it doesn't matter what a "home" is.
shanghai is, and will always be, home.

of course it was you

it's always you

so, that's why it matters
that's what makes all the difference
that's what's important to me
that's why it's worth waiting for

i remember now

song in me

i miss you
i miss singing along
i miss the song in me

instead of going out tonight and probably ending up even more confused,
i stayed in my room on my comfy little bed and wrote a song.

sing to me this song once more
sing to me of promises and dreams not out of reach
gently hang the stars back in the sky for me

"simba, remember who you are."

sigh, i couldn't forget even if i wanted to-
and believe me, i have tried.

and all that's come out of trying is the realization that
i can't run from people's expectations of me because they're my own too.

i just.
it's just.
i can't.
i know.
i wish.
i want.
i long.
i know.
i just.
but.

GAH.
:(

it's lonely up here

i'm up so high that i can't see the ground below
so help me down you've got it wrong
i don't belong here

sometimes i wish i could break all the legs off this pedestal
i wish i could fall and fail and have a little fun on the way down

love is like sour skittles

it hurts so good.

mm. sour skittles.
is your mouth watering reading those beautifully alliterated words?
mine is ♥

so it's been a few days since a proper "sit-down-and-blog"
let's see, in the past few days i've hobo'd on my brother's couch. watched far too much disney channel. had rendezvous for old times sake. consumed several packs of sour skittles. was disappointed with the candy stock at longbai- oh how the great have fallen. increased my repertoire of chinese music by 3897120983712089 times in search of this one beautiful chinese song i heard in two stores but didn't catch any of the words of- so basically all i know is that it was in chinese. oh how quickly tunes slip out of our heads. oh how quickly love slips out of our hearts.. (hah. i couldn't help myself. i don't know if i entirely agree with that. though i don't entirely disagree either.) placed people in hogwarts houses. debated the reality of hogwarts and why i would want to go there. decided that political parties should be modeled after hogwarts houses- out with the donkey and the elephant, in with the badger, eagle, lion, and serpent. arrived at the conclusion that i would be in hufflepuff. discovered and rejected fluorescent lollipops. went to the dentist. and decided that people should be shiny and glittery on their birthdays- you can ask me about this, it's something i feel very strongly about :)

i remember when we code-named boys after candy in middle school-
the boy i liked was crunchy m&ms ♥

we'll feel this way again

and when we do we'll deny that we had ever felt this way before.

what can i say

my internet's been working all day.
i have three reliable proxies to choose from.
i've sat around at home with nothing to do at times.

i have no excuse.


i just haven't felt like writing.
all my words feel empty.

and usually empty things are good-
empty things can be used,
empty things can be filled,
but not my words.

they're empty and bottomless and
incapable of actually containing any of my thoughts and feelings-
syllables leak out, heartbeats slip out between sentence fragments.

真没用。

forever and ever and everr

for some time passes slowly, an hour can seem an eternity.
for others, there's never enough.

the hours felt like eternities in maryland and surprisingly, or sadly, far too many hours in shanghai have also felt like an eternity. summers are so anti-climatic. we spend semesters looking forward to them and then when they finally roll around like clockwork, for in fact they are dictated by clockwork, we get all excited like with a new toy and then the boredom kicks in and we just waste it. and before we know it, we'll be all grown'd up (ha. i never noticed how much grown'd up, yea, yea, it's improper and nonexistent but i like it, sounds like grooooann'd up) and we won't have any more summers. we'll have outgrown them like tight jeans and purple eyeliner- though personally, i'm hoping to never outgrow the latter. i'm so acutely aware of how there's not enough time in this world, yet tonight, like so many nights this week, i have way too much time. man, i wish at&t controlled my hours and that way i can have roll-over minutes! i'd actually use these unlike my silly unnecessary phone minutes- how does anyone ever use them all up with all those free nights and weekends and at&t to at&t calls? but seriously, if only i could do a little bit of rearranging and move some of these extra minutes and hours and save them for some day or someone- for one of those moments teeming with all sorts of magic and you would give the world if only it could last forever. it's so unfair, so ironic, so typical of life to make the moments you want to last forever the most fleeting.

tuck said it to winnie the summer she turned 15- do not fear death, but rather the un-lived life. you don't have to live forever. you just have to live.

and she did.

rush of fools

i’m so aware of what i deserve
i should be drowning in the red sea tonight

but so aware of what you impart
i’m only drowning in Your love tonight
i’m only drowning in Your love

cause You give when You should take away
and You take what should have been my pain
and You offer good when I’ve none in me
You’re the only love that makes me complete

midnight melted to morning

a moment faded to memory

after all the remembering last night. after getting home at 6 in the morning. after sleeping until 5 in the afternoon. i spent the last three hours reading through some of my high school diaries- july 8, 2004 to november 9, 2006. four diaries in two years, one of which was filled up in two months. i used to write so much. my current diary? june 7, 2007 to.. well, you can fill in the blanks because clearly, i'm not. and i guess it's discouraging but i think i've figured out why i don't write anymore. somewhere along the way, i realized that i can't fit my whole life into my diary. i can stick in as many ticket stubs and boarding passes or copy in as many text messages (and believe me, i've copied in a lot) as i want. i can record the exact length of phone calls and video chats and capture the anxiety and anticipation before and the satisfaction or frustration or giddyness afterward. i can print out photos and emails and blog entries and painstakingly glue them all in. but to what end? it'll never be enough- not nearly. there are so many shades of emotions in the heat of moments and even in stillness, nuances and voice inflections and silences and whispered sentiments and sound effects that can't just be printed out and glued onto a page- words, hours worth of words, start slipping away here and there before the conversation is even over. glances and eyes rolled and eyebrows raised, shy smiles and smells and inexplicable brushes of fingertips, silent wishes and hasty prayers and acts of deliberation and words, words, words- more words than i could ever write.

so why write them? just to say i was here? that this is my moment- the finished bowl of watermelon on my right, the saran-wrap untidily peeled away, scrunched, perched on one edge of the bowl, the fork lying diagonally in it, my right leg propped up on the same corner of the table, my calf touching the bowl, i'm incomplete and i'm undone, but i suppose like everyone, there's so much more that's going on, behind the scenes, the microwave in the kitchen down the hall just 'ding'ed, my tigger cell phone silenced, my elmo bag in a heap on the scanner. but there's so much more. there are thoughts racing through my mind beyond the ones i'm typing out. my heart is murmuring all sorts of unintelligible emotions. there are files in my recycling bin that i haven't gotten around to 'move to trash.' if even a simple still moment like this one can't be captured, no other moment stands a chance.

this is my moment, my simple still moment. it's not yours and it'll never be mine again- no amount of words or diagrams could make it either of ours. you have your own moment and even if i could paint a perfect picture of my moment for you to relive, by engaging it you'll lose yours. so i'll live my moment and you'll live yours. and we'll love the time we have because that's really all we can ever do.

running through yesterday into tomorrow
don’t let it just drift away
forget about tying the hands of time
give every minute to the One who gave us today
- joy williams

there's gotta be forever somewhere

otherwise, all this loving is for nothing.

may thirty-first

the end has a way of quietly slipping out the door without making a stir. and i'm not talking about the end of something big even, although those don't slip out quite so effortlessly, but something simple like the end of a month. if i hadn't written today, in a month's time, a week even, no one would notice- may thirtieth would've run into june first seamlessly.

but today happened- i lived it, maybe not well, but i lived it. i was here for it- i was here. i watched three movies- carolina, over her dead body, and in the land of women. i asked a lot of questions and learned how to play settlers. i unpacked two boxes of trinkets and memories with my mom. i ate a bowl of watermelon with absolutely no seeds and felt so completely blessed by how much my mom loves me. i planned lunch tomorrow with a beloved friend and sunny pool goodness after. i dotted my i's and crossed my t's. i said goodbye and went to sleep.

how did it get so late so soon?

it's night before it's afternoon
december is here before it's june
my goodness how the time has flewn
how did it get so late so soon?
- dr. seuss

just because

you've let go of something doesn't mean that it's gone-
it just means you're not gonna be the one holding it for now.

and that's o.k.

there i sat awash with neon

gazing up at love's fancy footwork



listening to heartbeats
and trying desperately to understand my own.

the morning after

the end.

i know this is a good thing.
i know it's for the best.
and i know that it's a wonderful world
but I can't feel it right now.

i wanted this..

i was so tired-
tired of being confused.
tired of holding on to something that
i may or may not even have had in the first place.
tired of waiting, so tired of waiting
for nothing- it's hard enough waiting for something,
but waiting for absolutely nothing. i couldn't.
not anymore.

i couldn't do it anymore.
i didn't want to do it anymore.

but now.
the emptiness kicks in
and when i close my eyes-
i can picture the exact shades of darkness we burrowed in as we whispered away the nights.
i can feel all the songs we spoke, we sang, we shared, we knew by heart.
i can hear all of the silliness that passed between us and the memory tugs at the corners of my lips.
and most of all, i can see the exact shape of you in my heart-
two and a half years is a big hole to fill.

give ear to my words, o Lord, consider my sighing.
listen to my cry for help, my King and my God,
for to you I pray.

in the morning, o Lord, you hear my voice;
in the morning i lay my requests before you
and wait in expectation.

let all who take refuge in you be glad;
let them ever sing for joy.
spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may rejoice in you.
psalm 5:1-3, 11

i can't do this anymore

you're either in my life or you're not-
and if you don't want to really truly be in my life,
then get the heck out.

i can't freaking do this anymore-
my heart hurts.


we're not alone,
just lonely all of the time

oh brother

could this be out of line?

it totally is, isn't it?
oh boy.

i'm sensing a trend here-
c. j. m. h. d.

cheese

so, between my brother's baseball game and late night belagios last night and being at the osaki's today for rachel's birthday and then szrya and chun shui tang, i was looking through photo albums and i noticed for the first time, to my great amusement, that as a kid i have basically the same disposition as i do now! i mean it makes sense seeing as they're both me, but i never realized before. for some reason this time i noticed that in picture after picture i'm either baring my teeth or glaring sideways or sticking my tongue out or wearing a big cheesy toothy grin and i was like ha- i do that now :)

my world is changing

i'm rearranging

a wiggle, a scoot,
maybe i can fit-
but the reality is,
it's not my seat anymore.

i hate this. i hate that the thought even crossed my mind-
what am i doing back here?

this is shanghai, my beloved shanghai world-
the city i love, that i so pined over, longed for, yearned for.
i wanted more than anything to be back here.
i wanted more than anything to be home.

but none of this feels like home anymore.
none of this belongs to me anymore-
my furniture, these walls,
my youth group, my school,
even my relationships.

this is supposed to be home.
so where does that leave me?

i know, i know-
heaven is our home.

it's just
it'd be nice to have somewhere to belong down here.

the world is my coloring book

and i want to be all the crayons in the box!
you can be a box of crayons too :)

or maybe we're the boxes, and jesus is all the crayons in us!
because the colors aren't our own, we're just vessels-
more of You and less of me.

if i were a crayon box, i would definitely say that to my crayons.

oh, if only i were a pair of techni-colored lenses-
that way i could show the whole big beautiful world to everyone around me in more colors than they ever knew to dream in.

color, colors, colors ♥
potentially the one thing i love more than
words, words, words.

this is why pop art is such a joy-
andy warhol knew where it was at, yo.


there's nothing quite like being devoured by colors!

jesus loves me

this is how i know-

i love the window seat on flights. and every flight i've been on in the past few years, without any maneuvering of my own when booking the seats, i've been assigned a window seat. and each time as i sit there by my window, looking out at the world, sleeping against it, reveling in the freedom it gives that side of my body whereas the other side has to be on its best behavior, i say to myself with a smile, "this is how much God loves me."

so, i got to the airport, got my tickets and i saw that for my baltimore to chicago flight i was in 27A and for chicago to shanghai i was in 58B. having flown more times than i would prefer, i knew upon looking at my tickets that my first flight, the puny, manageable one hour flight, i had a window seat, whereas the dreadfully long thirteen hour flight, i would be stuck, squeezed, sqmooshed in the middle- when it comes to flying, the letter B is not your friend.

UA507- baltimore to chicago: and so the journey began. i buckled myself into 27A, leaned my head against the window to make the most of it. by the time we took off, not only was there no one sitting in 27B, there was no one in 27C either- i had the whole entire row to myself! it was quite the sweet deal but i couldn't help being a little frustrated that this wasn't the seating arrangement for the thirteen hour-er. but i was a little too sleepy from my save-up-sleepiness-for-the-long-flight-all-nighter to really be too bothered.

UA835- chicago to shanghai: 58 is a big number. i walked past rows and rows of seats, each one confirming that seat B was stuck in the middle. i could only hope that maybe it wasn't a full flight and there would either be no one next to me or a row available for me to conquer. but then! i got to 58B and lo, and behold, it was a window seat! now you may be asking, how can this be? well, starting from row, yes, you better believe it, fifty-eight, the rows became indented into two-seat rows to accommodate the curve of the plane, doing away with seat A, and giving me a glorious window seat-
this is how much God loves me ♥

why, hello jetlag. i'm thinking it's bedtime.

oh the beauty of it all- home.

with my freeze ray

i will stop the world
& with my freeze ray
i will find the time to find the words
- dr. horrible's sing-along blog

3:27 am. flying soon. oh actually, maybe not that soon- though sooner than i've ever been. "so far, this is the soonest it's ever been." (okay, i may be the only one to catch the allusion to my threadless shirt- "so far, this is the oldest i've ever been")

7:30 am flight. leaving the house at 5 am. the hours aren't so hard to wait out when there aren't so many of them. usually it's a 9 or 10 am flight. those are the hardest. too little hours to sleep. too many hours to wait.

but i mention all this because as much as i hate traveling and all the lines and things to be carried and set down on conveyor belts and rearranged back into manageable carrying positions, i love the actual flight. i love the hours that stretch before and the oceans that stretch below, limitless. i love the flavor of nostalgia fostered in my dim pocket of light as i reflect on the faces i'm leaving and the ones i'm approaching- in that middle ground, i can be completely unbiased and miss both equally. i love observing the people next to me, noticing their nuances and writing about them to you. i love the perfectly assembled little trays of food and the cute little rectangular desserts. i love feeling closer to You as i quiet down my heart amidst the clouds. i love feeling the endless possibilities graze my unfurled fingertips as i let go of one world and reach out for the next- and in that moment, for once, my hands are unclenched and receptive to everything.

and above all, i love finding the time to find the words.

better learn balance- balance is key

"whole life have a balance. everything be better."
- mr. miyagi

oh, wise words. if only i had remembered it this morning as i poured my cereal. i might've been able to save myself a lot of grief. so, here's what happened:

i was choosing between cookie crisps, peanut butter captain crunch, and this healthy flakey stuff that had honey oat clusters. naturally, i went with the healthy option. but i couldn't deal with just eating plain flakes so i started looking for raisins, because bananas turned my milk goopy last time and i didn't really want to repeat that. however, after locating bags and bags of dried pitted prunes and craisins grouped together, i came to the conclusion that if there were raisins, they would've been there, among its dried fruit counterparts. so i did what i had to and settled for craisins. in that state of mind, i made my first big mistake- i poured the milk first. now, any child can tell you this is a bad. idea. you never pour the milk first! it can never lead to anything good. ever. predictably, when i poured the amount of cereal i wanted to eat, i found that i had way. too. much. milk. knowing that i had brought it upon myself and unwilling to waste the milk, i decided to stop being such a child and accept this disastrous disproportion. i moved on and added in the craisins. however, seeing the craisins just bobbing there in too much milk was more than i could take so i grabbed another handful of cereal and doubled the cereal. at this point, the cereal could no longer be submerged by the milk, even with some coercion from my spoon, and i realized what i had done- i had gone too far to the other extreme! i knew what i had to do. i approached the fridge and once more removed the milk and began pouring into my bowl, cautiously, mind you. and the milk and cereal proportion was right at last and i saw that it was good. but then, i couldn't see the craisins anymore and i was like oh, maybe i need more craisins. so i light-heartedly poured in more craisins, unknowingly upsetting the balance once more. when i mixed the whole thing, i uncovered the terrible truth- i had way too many craisins! what could i do but add more milk and cereal? but i put my foot down and said, enough is enough. i decided i was going to brave through all the craisins. keep in mind, i don't really like craisins. i was just using them to substitute for the absentee raisins. so there i was eating, eating, eating and when i got 2/3 through my bowl, i couldn't do it anymore- i couldn't stand to eat all those craisins by themselves, for they were all that were left basically, and so, i added more milk and more cereal and finally achieved a perfect balance at a perfect breakfast amount. but sadly, at that point, i had already eaten 3829472034 times as much as the perfect amount and i not only did not enjoy it, i had to force it all down. life's hard. the end.

"regular jelly"

the age old question- strawberry or grape.
i enter into this conversation on average once a month-
uh, i may or may not initiate all of them.
come on, it's not entirely unlikely that i happen to look like a peanut butter and jelly connoisseur and people just feel a natural urge to approach me with their pb&j related inquiries.

anywho. i never know the answer, so clearly, their pb&j-dars are off. i mean, personally, i think it's strawberry, but that's just because i grew up on strawberry jelly in my pb&j. however, this may simply be due to my parents' general preferences; they do love their strawberry ice-cream. but then in opposition to my own authority, there are cartoons which always portray pb&j as purple. however, this is by no means conclusive and can be attributed to a number of reasons:

1. they (yes, them) ran out of strawberry-scented ink and wanting to do a quality job decided to settle for grape-scented ink rather than settle for scentless red ink.
2. they overused their red colored pencil down to a useless stub and although they tried to make it work, a hand cramp resulted that was so intense that they finally settled for the full-length purple colored pencil.
3. although recognizing strawberry to be the "regular jam," they feared that the red jam would convey communist undertones.
4. after an extensive child development psychology studies, researchers reached the conclusion that purple promoted playing nice with the other kids, or in their words "constructive peer interactions."
5. the artist didn't really care and grabbed the first color at hand which happened to be purple, if it had been green, the age old argument may have turned out to be apple or strawberry.
6. the vendor that sold the studio their colors didn't speak english and even though they meant to buy a lifetime supply of red inks for all their jam needs, the vendor gave them all purple inks and then stubbornly stood by a no returns, no exchanges policy.
7. a strict deadline was approaching and the last two things to be colored in were a fire engine and the jelly and everyone knows that fire engines gotta be red and of course, there was only one red so the person coloring in the jelly had to settle for the next best jelly color- purple.

with all this being said, i believe it goes without saying that strawberry is, in fact, regular jelly, and i am, in fact, a pb&j connoisseur after all- sweet deal.

oh boy, now i just smeared a huge streak of (delicious) peanut butter on my shirt and i can't even lick it off because it would defeat the purpose of removal since my tongue is still all peanut-buttery goodness.

merry-land: day two

time goes by slower here. i swear it does. okay fine, i just bum around more. and the bumming is inversely proportional to the speed of the passage of time. inversely proportional? is that right? it doesn't roll of my tongue the way it should. inversely proportional. bah. that's gonna bug me. oh well. so once again, i am going to attempt to write every single day this summer, so as my brain shan't becometh rusty. i don't even know what i'm saying. i'm not really in a writing mood. not to mention there's nothing much to write about today. all i did was download music. and i ate cereal. but that's it. i haven't had cereal all year basically. unless i ate cereal at home this winter which i may or may not have done. but i definitely didn't have cereal once at tufts. what kind of cereal did i have this morning, you ask? well, i had peanut butter captain crunch. is that the proper order? should it be captain crunch peanut butter? no, no. definitely the former. it was slightly antagonistic towards the roof of my mouth and the bananas i put in it made the little milk that was available all thick and almost took on the consistency of yogurt. interesting, huh. peanut butter banana. awh, makes me think of summit. i miss never being for a lack of people. i miss tufts a lot more than i expected- i was so homesick! but now, i really really miss tufts and that lifestyle.

i made a tumblr but i think i'm gonna go disband it and all of its one post. i must. i gotta. no matter how aesthetically pleasing and brand-spanking-new and shiny it is. goodness. i’m such a compulsive blogger- the self-proclaimed pokemaster (hyphenated word?) of the blogging world: gotta catch’em all. xanga. myspace notes. facebook notes. blogspot. twitter. words, words, words, i’ve dabbled in them all. dipping in each of them to paint a wildly disjunct reflection of my life. it’s like finger stamps. or skin stamps? you know, when you use a ball point pen and draw on yourself & then squmoosh your finger on some other part of your skin or paper and it inks on like a stamp? but the more you do it, the fainter the image gets. yea, something like that. i’m about out of ink here- no more. oh two more places i store my heart: flickr and my diaries. oh my. i’m like voldemort! and the horcruxes? hahaa. maybe not quite as damaging. but i’ve split my heart and mind and words into 283947029384 mediums and now i just feel all over the place. oh my. i think there was one more, pre-xanga. but i don’t even remember the name of the domain anymore. i can picture it in my head though. we posted stories. was it with kate? with bids? and quizzes. did the domain name have a z in it, an x.. some letter of the alphabet? was it simply old-school blogspot? gah. okay, okay. it doesn't matter. and i think that's enough out of me for a day.

history sucks

and i've finally figured out why.

it's because people only ever really feel like writing or journaling or recording events when things absolutely, positively BLOW. most people, myself included, don't feel like sitting ourselves down, quieting our hearts, and writing a few words when our hearts are BURSTING with joy, when we feel satisfied or content with the little things, when we're over-awed with beauty, when we're just happy to be alive and living that one moment. those moments speak for themselves and we don't want to undermine them with our words so we keep quiet and simply revel in them. while when we're overcome with sadness the darkness eats away at us and we try so desperately to find the words to bind the darkness, to contain it, stop it from seeping into everything we own. if anyone were to read my blogs, my diaries, it would seem like my life was very dreadful indeed. i fill pages with heartache and stuck in the cracks of all the brokenness, there is the occasional page with a huge smiley face scrawled in there- because in that moment of joy, that's all i could say without delimiting the bliss i was feeling.

and all those characters in our history books, all we ever read about are wars and tariffs and riots and other unpleasantries because no one bothers to write about the days when they sat under their favorite tree with the sun streaming down on them and they just felt peace and joy, or how blessed they felt sitting down at breakfast with people they loved eating their favorite foods in the whole world, or the presents they got for their birthdays or the surprise birthday banquets they were thrown by their best buddies. happy memories die with you, but sad memories brood in dusty pages waiting to be read.

i've been happy. i've been sad. last night i sat in the midst of all my boxes and dust and luggage and unpacked junk at five in the morning and just cried. but today is sunshine.

sunshine is also like jesus. it helps me love people better, love them more.

so ten boxes become sixteen and my crap is still all over my floor.
asdf, back to it.

a hollow chocolate bunny

today i feel nothing but lack.
if i even feel at all.

a lack of everything and anything-
of passion and purpose
of fire and fancy
of heart and hustle

i feel like a shell.

i am a shell.

a shell composed entirely of pixels and calories-
chocolate calories.

all time low, much?

i don't even know what to say.
i just feel empty.

and sad.

do i feel so invincible, so immortal that i don't even flinch when i waste an entire day of my life? today is a day i will never get back. ever. april 18, 2009. i did nothing with it. absolutely freaking nothing. i don't think i've ever wasted a day so entirely in my life. never have i gone an entire day without speaking a single word. what if i've forgotten how to speak? never have i gone an entire day without breathing the same air as someone else. but today, i managed to do all that, on my bed, in my pjs, behind locked doors. nobody saw me. i saw nobody.

i try to make a point of being seen. sometimes when i'm out, i'll buy a juice even though i'm not thirsty. if the store is crowded i'll even go so far as dropping my change all over the floor, the nickels and dimes skidding in every direction. i'll get on my knees. it's a big effort for me to get down on my knees, and an even bigger effort to get up. and yet. maybe i look like a fool.

all i want is not to die on a day when i went unseen.
- nicole krauss, the history of love

i feel like something's died inside of me,
but i can't think of any reason it would.

i'm just tired all the time. worn out.
and my light just keeps fading dimmer and dimmer.

God, what's wrong with me?

all i know is,
today really wouldn't be a good day to die.