getting out of the blanket



where have i been? living.

i was inspired tonight to revive this board. i read a blog and it touched parts of me that have been asleep for a long time. and it made me very sad. sad that i had lost my desire to write and to have these tangible introspections.

i just spent the last half an hour or so reading the last page of posts since i vanished, and i almost can't believe that i typed those words, and that those were my thoughts.

almost two years have passed and i'm almost a completely different person, almost. i wouldn't recognize the j (-2 years) if i met her on the street.

i regret having lost the desire to write because i have so many stories to tell. stories about life, real life not just the life of hurt and sadness, or the life of budding discovery of oneself, but true living as i know it. a life that i didn't, and couldn't, imagine for myself.

where shall i begin? how about today.


the end.


it's amazing what kinds of documents one can find on their computer. i was browsing in the many layers of folders i have created, and tucked in a folder was a letter i had written to a dear friend. i wrote this letter on dec 23, 2001. there were two paragraphs that stopped me in my tracks:

In the span of that week, I realized the connection I have with people – with or without my efforts. The knowledge that I derived from the coincidences is that I cannot force people to be or not be in my life, I can only be myself and hope that they will be with me.

My birthday was last week. I had one wish when I blew out the candle. I know they say that your wish won’t come true if you tell someone…but I will share it with you. I wish for love in my life in the coming new year. I want the love that inspires poetry, songs, paintings, miracles…

is it irony that these two statements shared the same body of a letter? how prophetic these lessons for the few years that followed. and, of course, words that hit very close to my current wounds.

this week has been something of a "coming full circle." feb 17, the first day of a long tutolgy and the last day i will speak to him in that way.

i was putting away some clothes and had to pull out one of the bureau drawers. there, hidden for many months, two t-shirts that i had neatly folded for him. found. shirts that represented a time gone. shirts that held a history that was different from the now. shirts that existed without me knowing their presence. i know the significance i'm placing on this find may be toeing the line of insanity but finding these t-shirts made me very sad and wistful. i'm sure when i had washed and folded them i put love and care into each action. placing them in the drawer meant that i had a made a place for him in my life. there's no place now.


i think i'm done.

but didn't i say this last week too?

ok, i'll try again.

i'm done.


932 miles and worth every ache in my butt.

Cleveland Museum of Art

and this was one of the highlights from the visit:

Visions of Japan

i love the detail of japanese art. each line and spot of color is deliberate and seem to have a purpose. what was also very interesting is the reverence japanese art pays to courtesans. almost all the women in the prints were of the comfort kind.

hg, no giving up until we make it to CA or London, whichever comes first.


happy birthday to me :)

today i pledge to take responsibility for my life and for what makes me happy. it may sound simple but it's a task that requires unwaivering committment. i get one shot at life and i'm going to give it my all.


Brooklyn Museum

really amazing exhibition on J.S. Sargent

and to paraphrase hg: you spend more time reading the narratives than viewing the portraits.

i've always been drawn to the sociological aspect in pretty much anything. i remember taking my first sociology class in college and was simply fascinated with the lectures and required readings. i really loved reading about people -- how the environment or a series of misfortunes or events influenced their behavior and the choices they had to make in order to survive.

i guess that part of me is always there to filter information -- a collector of people. i think i can find something fascinating in anyone's story. how did they get here? what affects them? where are they going?

so, hg, can you blame me? i feel more connected to the portraits when i know who the subjects are and what became of them. and, of course, the mindset of mr. sargent when he put his brush to canvas.


i was invited to join k’s family for thanksgiving this year in Chicago. at first i was grateful to get away from everything. take a break from the city.
my visit there made me think a lot. i can’t say i enjoyed my trip to the fullest. i found my thoughts wandering to a lot of things. one particular incident resonated in me for the entire trip.

i spent most of my time with k and her parents and witnessed much of the interaction between them. i found it fascinating and lonely at the same time. fascinating in the sense that their interaction was so alien to me. something so very simple as sharing a couple of books between mother and daughter was so striking to me. i’ve never experienced such a gesture. my parents don’t have the capacity to do such a thing. this simple, simple exchange stuck me so hard because to me it stood as the perfect representation of my confined relationship with my parents.

it’s taken me a long time to accept the fact that my parents cannot change and they will never be the parents that i want them to be. i accept that and i don’t blame them. they do not have the capacity to be who i want them to be. i will be trapped by the energy in hoping that they become somebody else. i will be living in an illusion. this is not to say that i don’t feel disappointment! i do feel sad and i do feel an emptiness! the fact is that i will never have the relationship that i want with my parents but that doesn’t preclude me from creating the relationship that i want with my children. not having the ideal parents doesn’t mean that i don’ t know what is important between a mother and child. it is the very fact that i didn’t have the interactions necessary to feed a thriving child that i am more aware of the building blocks needed to create a healthy bond between parent and child, and ultimately to create the space and safety for my child to become whoever she wants to be.


probably one of my favorite songs. recently i found out it's about a vampire (?!). for the past 9 or 10 years i thought it was just a damn fine love song...still is, fangs and all.

Make up your mind Decide to walk with me Around the lake tonight Around the lake tonight By my side By my side I'm not gonna lie I'll not be a gentleman Behind the boathouse I'll show you my dark secret I'm not gonna lie I want you for mine My blushing bride My lover, be my lover, yeah... Don't be afraid I didn't mean to scare you So help me, Jesus I can promise you You'll stay as beautiful With dark hair And soft skin...forever Forever Make up your mind Make up your mind And I'll promise you I will treat you well My sweet angel So help me, Jesus (hey, hey, hey) Give it up to me Give it up to me Do you wanna be My angel? So help me! Be my angel Be my angel Do you wanna die? I promise you I will treat you well My sweet angel So help me, Jesus Jesus Jesus Jesus...


i have to stop living in the past. past memories, past experiences, past everything. it’s time to live in the present and for the future.

brave words when i’m not feeling so brave.

sometimes the best comfort is sitting and thinking about him. just him. it’s not very healthy, sorta like taking a drug. when you take it you feel better, and you keep on taking it to make yourself feel better. eventually you start getting sick and realize that you’re trapped. it’s no one’s fault except your own.

i’ve experienced some major swings. there are days where i’m feeling very confident and feeling like i’m in the midst of self-progress. and then there are days, like tonight, where all i want is to hear his voice and tell him how much i miss him. when the only thing that can possibly comfort me is him.

it really sucks to love and not be loved.


i'm officially a proud owner of the iPod; now i'm waiting for it to change my life.

i thought i was going to give up writing but i decided that that was mainly because of fear, a fear of being vulnerable. anyway, this will be good practice for me to express my thoughts, whether they be offensive and wrong or simply raw and honest.

a few weeks back i had this overwhelming feeling that God had forgotten about me. what i mean by this is that i believed i had hit the lowest point in my life. maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but at the time i felt it was impossible to ever recover from our breakup (and i can’t say i don’t believe it now). a fact. i had never experience such despair and hurt. this time was 100 times worse because it truly felt like The End. so, i was talking to a friend and when i came upon this idea that God had forgotten about me, it summed up exactly how i felt – alone, discarded, unwanted and unrecoverable. i just cried and cried. i felt that God was not on my side anymore. how could He be on my side and let this happen? how could He be on my side and let my heart break into 1,000 pieces again?! in the Bible there are a lot of stories where God tests the faith of his disciples. i will not begin to compare my test to any of the biblical fathers, but in my life, this is a great test. no one will read this and say, “ah… now i see the moral of the story and the true way to live a good life.” this is not their story, this is my story. life is about finding yourself in your story. living is about listening to the advice from others and interpreting it for yourself.

everyday God is testing me to show me that He is on my side. this past month every day has been a struggle. a struggle to stop loving him and to stop caring for him. it’s tough. i don’t think that’s the true test though. the true test is to love myself as much as i loved him. cliché? i suppose but it’s quite true.


it's official, - 6 lbs.


deja vu

i posted that on my blackboard two years ago. tonight i sit here and read the words. stunned by the if i were a fortune teller predicting my own story. the conclusions that i had back then are the same conclusions that i have now. does this mean that we didn't grow these past years? no, we have. i have. my capacity to give love, to give compassion and to want for another person has grown a hundred times more and a hundred times stronger than when i was that girl. the girl who strung those words together to help pick up the pieces of her heart.

in a way, it's still not my choice but at least it's a choice that i can better understand. again, i believed that if we could only make it to the next stage then we would be okay. of course, i'll be wrong again. i need to go to the next stage on my own. it would be too hard to live my life and hope to live another at the same time. it would be too hard to give up all the qualities that i love about myself and forfeit them for a so called ideal. my learning and growth require love, compassion and a willingness from another.

i've had some time to think about what i could have done differently. of course there's a million turns i could have taken and a million other turns i should not have taken. i was myself and i wasn't myself. i was myself because i wanted to give; i wasn't myself because i buried my desire to take. hopefully, i can give as freely and now take as freely.


i'm too tired to write but wanted a few words on my board to remind me of life these days.


here are a few more footprints on our journey:

Yale Center for British Art

Yale University Art Gallery

and tomorrow i'm hopeful about the future in my new workplace.