Saturday, February 10, 2024
Wow.
I directed my phone browser to blogger.com and some long lost connection logged me on to here again. I love reading at our posts from so many years ago. Maybe this is something we should start up again. :)
Thursday, July 01, 2010
From time to time I will wake from a dream about some lost love over the coarse of my life. There are only a handful but like ghosts they come and visit me in my dreams as though I'm Scrooge McDuck on Christmas Eve. The list seems absurdly short now in relation to the number of partners I've accumulated over they years. My twenties has acted something like a filter of all these men, leaving behind a potent, bitter concoction that produce the sensation of regret, euphoria and nostalgia all wrapped into one.
I'd say the most regrettably lost was my first boyfriend Jeff who perhaps yearly visits my dreams and seems so real and close in slumber that it nearly pains me to return to the waking world. He is my high school sweetheart who treated me so well (in fact our last parting words as I stood there breaking up with him in the church basement for another guy was "No one will treat you better than I will"). Of course, he was right or at least I imagine so. He went on to become a high school biology teacher whilst in college at Cal before becoming a medical student and now a doctor of oncology who is married. Sigh.
Then there is Scott, the most recent to invade my dreams. It is surprising that he makes the list since we were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend. He was the dreamy Asian frat boy of my college days who I dated for two years. I absolutely adored him. He had milky white skin, great build, amazing little bachelor's pad. We went to raves together and restaurants and he taught me the difference between hip-hop and rap (quite a distinction around the turn of the century). He played Maxwell at night before turning the lights off which if you know Maxwell made lovemaking surreal. Big problem was he never referred to me as his girlfriend except once to a stranger, and that is what finally did us in. I believe he would have liked to keep things open ended for a little longer but after two years I was ready to move on. It wasn't entirely his fault - I freely dated other guys but perhaps only because I sensed he was a hopeless case from early on. Or maybe I was selfish. I am very selfish as you can tell by reading that first paragraph.
I just hate the way I feel when I wake up from these dreams. I have currently relegated myself to a life where being in love and getting married are being suppressed. I love Michael because he's Amelie's dad and because I genuinely love him but there are two problems. He's never once expressed any intention of us getting married. Second, he has a horrible unmanageable temper. And so perhaps it is not so big a problem because I do not think I really want to marry Michael after all.
But I do think I want to be in love the way I was when I was young. I must - even my dreams point to yes. The emptiness upon waking from these dreams is palpable. Perhaps being in love is not the problem but feeling loved is. I always ask Michael if he loves me and he asks me why do I ask? to which I reply I just need to know. And he answers with another question, Don't you already know? I like to hear it, I say. After all this weary extraction he answers yes and gives me a squeeze. Still I wake up feeling empty.
What do I do? Where do I find the answers?
I'd say the most regrettably lost was my first boyfriend Jeff who perhaps yearly visits my dreams and seems so real and close in slumber that it nearly pains me to return to the waking world. He is my high school sweetheart who treated me so well (in fact our last parting words as I stood there breaking up with him in the church basement for another guy was "No one will treat you better than I will"). Of course, he was right or at least I imagine so. He went on to become a high school biology teacher whilst in college at Cal before becoming a medical student and now a doctor of oncology who is married. Sigh.
Then there is Scott, the most recent to invade my dreams. It is surprising that he makes the list since we were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend. He was the dreamy Asian frat boy of my college days who I dated for two years. I absolutely adored him. He had milky white skin, great build, amazing little bachelor's pad. We went to raves together and restaurants and he taught me the difference between hip-hop and rap (quite a distinction around the turn of the century). He played Maxwell at night before turning the lights off which if you know Maxwell made lovemaking surreal. Big problem was he never referred to me as his girlfriend except once to a stranger, and that is what finally did us in. I believe he would have liked to keep things open ended for a little longer but after two years I was ready to move on. It wasn't entirely his fault - I freely dated other guys but perhaps only because I sensed he was a hopeless case from early on. Or maybe I was selfish. I am very selfish as you can tell by reading that first paragraph.
I just hate the way I feel when I wake up from these dreams. I have currently relegated myself to a life where being in love and getting married are being suppressed. I love Michael because he's Amelie's dad and because I genuinely love him but there are two problems. He's never once expressed any intention of us getting married. Second, he has a horrible unmanageable temper. And so perhaps it is not so big a problem because I do not think I really want to marry Michael after all.
But I do think I want to be in love the way I was when I was young. I must - even my dreams point to yes. The emptiness upon waking from these dreams is palpable. Perhaps being in love is not the problem but feeling loved is. I always ask Michael if he loves me and he asks me why do I ask? to which I reply I just need to know. And he answers with another question, Don't you already know? I like to hear it, I say. After all this weary extraction he answers yes and gives me a squeeze. Still I wake up feeling empty.
What do I do? Where do I find the answers?
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
updating to keep the blog active.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
i'm really not sure.
i hear that when you're in love, you just know it. but i wonder--is love something that you feel with such passion that it consumes your entire soul, or is it something that creeps up on you?
in the relationships i've found most impassioned, i've later come to realize that it was the level of insanity (there's no other word) that held us together, and that looking back on those strange, irrational relationships, i'm really glad i got out of them, even though i was sad when they ended.
is the love we see in movies and read about in books really just an illusion? maybe part of growing up is realizing that love is in fact a conscious effort by two people to stick it out through thick and thin, with the knowledge that each is very far from perfect. maybe love isn't always passionate, because people aren't always passionate.
he treats me the way i've always dreamt of being treated, and really, what more can i ask from a guy?
i guess the question i keep asking myself is: am i staying because i'm scared of searching, or am i stupid for wishing the impossible?
i hear that when you're in love, you just know it. but i wonder--is love something that you feel with such passion that it consumes your entire soul, or is it something that creeps up on you?
in the relationships i've found most impassioned, i've later come to realize that it was the level of insanity (there's no other word) that held us together, and that looking back on those strange, irrational relationships, i'm really glad i got out of them, even though i was sad when they ended.
is the love we see in movies and read about in books really just an illusion? maybe part of growing up is realizing that love is in fact a conscious effort by two people to stick it out through thick and thin, with the knowledge that each is very far from perfect. maybe love isn't always passionate, because people aren't always passionate.
he treats me the way i've always dreamt of being treated, and really, what more can i ask from a guy?
i guess the question i keep asking myself is: am i staying because i'm scared of searching, or am i stupid for wishing the impossible?
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Wrote this while in Hong Kong. I wonder if I still feel this way...
Of a loss
You used to lay at night thinking: if only you could meet a man who was kind, gentle, compassionate, who treated you like you were precious, special. Someone who would put up with your demanding moods, your sometimes irrational requests, your moments of neediness and overbearing bossiness. Someone who listened intently every time you opened your mouth, who would stroke your hair and kiss your forehead when he thought you were asleep. Who treated all his friends with the same kindness with which he treated you. Who would never, ever raise his voice at you.
Then one night you met him, that boy who was all of the things you wished for.
Two of the happiest years of your life are spent, evenings by the beach, in smoke-filled rooms, at parties, at home cuddled on the couch, whispering so as not to wake your roommates.
And –oh!- the travels, all over the world, kissing in the Piazza San Marco, meandering the streets of Amsterdam, tangled in sheets and sea-breeze in Mallorca, fish-taco eating contests in Rosarito, sitting on a beach in Hawaii, both of you shutting your eyes so tight, “let’s try to remember this moment, never forget it,” you said then. And you haven’t.
With time came the familiarity, he became an old friend. Last valentine’s day you spent playing poker with friends, you had gotten so comfortable.
Your friends, you know, look up to your relationship.
Yet you’ve felt an emptiness growing inside.
It was always there, but its presence became more apparent after your time away
It’s an echoing void, a silence that is deafening, and when you think of him you feel it even more. But it’s not coming from him—it’s coming from you.
Perhaps it’s because you’ve never really allowed yourself this kind of love, you’ve never fully let yourself reciprocate.
Deep inside you feel a hunger, one that will not be satiated unless you hurt him, and you would never ever want to hurt him.
Really, truly, you don’t know what it is. But this is what you think it is: you want to be alone, to find yourself. You think it is perhaps impossible for you to find someone else until you have found who you are—until you are ready. You want to live life, if just for a few years, unfettered.
You feel—tethered, like a satellite that can’t go farther than the bounds of gravity.
He’s given you so much freedom, has never demanded anything of you, any more commitment than you would give, yet despite it all there’s this feeling that you can’t knock.
You fear that if you don’t leave, if you stay, you might end up staying forever, wondering for the rest of your life what would have happened if you had gone.
Is it better to be untrue to him or untrue to yourself? Is it better to be grounded than floating in space, aimlessly, for you can view your commitment as a tether or as an anchor.
Maybe it’s none of this. Maybe this is your greatest flaw, the constant discontent at everything, even the best things, in your life. Always searching for something, you cast all other things aside to find that they are, in the end, the things you had been looking for in the first place.
A saying inspires you:
If, in your fear, you hold on to love that you aren’t supposed to hold onto, it is better that you pass out of love’s threshing floor, into the seasonless land where you will laugh, but not all of your laughter, and cry, but not all of your tears.
You don’t want to live life this way. You want to laugh all of your laughter, you want to cry all of your tears.
How trite—despite all your reasons, it’s really just come down to a form letter, the classic “Dear John”: I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s me.
It’s a tugging feeling, something you had felt two years earlier—sitting here alone you feel it most acutely.
You always say that upheaval is a catalyst for change. And change is in the air, it’s in your future, you can feel it’s weight already.
How do you leave someone so suited to you?
You are lucky, this is the second time someone has really truly loved you. The first time, you left.
Which has betrayed you, is it your mind or your heart?
Of a loss
You used to lay at night thinking: if only you could meet a man who was kind, gentle, compassionate, who treated you like you were precious, special. Someone who would put up with your demanding moods, your sometimes irrational requests, your moments of neediness and overbearing bossiness. Someone who listened intently every time you opened your mouth, who would stroke your hair and kiss your forehead when he thought you were asleep. Who treated all his friends with the same kindness with which he treated you. Who would never, ever raise his voice at you.
Then one night you met him, that boy who was all of the things you wished for.
Two of the happiest years of your life are spent, evenings by the beach, in smoke-filled rooms, at parties, at home cuddled on the couch, whispering so as not to wake your roommates.
And –oh!- the travels, all over the world, kissing in the Piazza San Marco, meandering the streets of Amsterdam, tangled in sheets and sea-breeze in Mallorca, fish-taco eating contests in Rosarito, sitting on a beach in Hawaii, both of you shutting your eyes so tight, “let’s try to remember this moment, never forget it,” you said then. And you haven’t.
With time came the familiarity, he became an old friend. Last valentine’s day you spent playing poker with friends, you had gotten so comfortable.
Your friends, you know, look up to your relationship.
Yet you’ve felt an emptiness growing inside.
It was always there, but its presence became more apparent after your time away
It’s an echoing void, a silence that is deafening, and when you think of him you feel it even more. But it’s not coming from him—it’s coming from you.
Perhaps it’s because you’ve never really allowed yourself this kind of love, you’ve never fully let yourself reciprocate.
Deep inside you feel a hunger, one that will not be satiated unless you hurt him, and you would never ever want to hurt him.
Really, truly, you don’t know what it is. But this is what you think it is: you want to be alone, to find yourself. You think it is perhaps impossible for you to find someone else until you have found who you are—until you are ready. You want to live life, if just for a few years, unfettered.
You feel—tethered, like a satellite that can’t go farther than the bounds of gravity.
He’s given you so much freedom, has never demanded anything of you, any more commitment than you would give, yet despite it all there’s this feeling that you can’t knock.
You fear that if you don’t leave, if you stay, you might end up staying forever, wondering for the rest of your life what would have happened if you had gone.
Is it better to be untrue to him or untrue to yourself? Is it better to be grounded than floating in space, aimlessly, for you can view your commitment as a tether or as an anchor.
Maybe it’s none of this. Maybe this is your greatest flaw, the constant discontent at everything, even the best things, in your life. Always searching for something, you cast all other things aside to find that they are, in the end, the things you had been looking for in the first place.
A saying inspires you:
If, in your fear, you hold on to love that you aren’t supposed to hold onto, it is better that you pass out of love’s threshing floor, into the seasonless land where you will laugh, but not all of your laughter, and cry, but not all of your tears.
You don’t want to live life this way. You want to laugh all of your laughter, you want to cry all of your tears.
How trite—despite all your reasons, it’s really just come down to a form letter, the classic “Dear John”: I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s me.
It’s a tugging feeling, something you had felt two years earlier—sitting here alone you feel it most acutely.
You always say that upheaval is a catalyst for change. And change is in the air, it’s in your future, you can feel it’s weight already.
How do you leave someone so suited to you?
You are lucky, this is the second time someone has really truly loved you. The first time, you left.
Which has betrayed you, is it your mind or your heart?
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Hello girls. It's been a while since I've even looked at this page, much less wrote on it. Can you believe that it's already May 2004, and that the year is nearly halfway over? Talk about changes. Karen's going to HK this summer and I will miss you terribly... Carrie is making her seasonal trip to NYC again... and Janet, you are still in NZ. My changes need no explanation I think, what with baby on the way.
I might disappear for the summer months. where to? I do not know. Just need to get away from Cerritos and try to remember what things were like before all this started. Sometimes I really wonder if I can do this on my own. It would be so easy and it would make me so happy to break down and talk to M. again whenever I felt down or hopeless. It would be nice to get calls from him here and there, asking how I am and everything. But I made it pretty clear that I didn't want to talk to him anymore, last week. I don't know if I did the right thing. We're going to have to face each other again eventually, won't we? I don't want to give up, but I had to.
There are times when I just feel like the weight of the world is lying on my chest and I cannot breathe. Isn't it awful how not only our hearts but our bodies, our very flesh will betray the only part of us that really knows what is for the best, our minds?
I might disappear for the summer months. where to? I do not know. Just need to get away from Cerritos and try to remember what things were like before all this started. Sometimes I really wonder if I can do this on my own. It would be so easy and it would make me so happy to break down and talk to M. again whenever I felt down or hopeless. It would be nice to get calls from him here and there, asking how I am and everything. But I made it pretty clear that I didn't want to talk to him anymore, last week. I don't know if I did the right thing. We're going to have to face each other again eventually, won't we? I don't want to give up, but I had to.
There are times when I just feel like the weight of the world is lying on my chest and I cannot breathe. Isn't it awful how not only our hearts but our bodies, our very flesh will betray the only part of us that really knows what is for the best, our minds?
Monday, December 08, 2003
wow. karen. i could not have come up with a more eloquent, touching way to say what you had to say to will. i think your solution to his problem is infinitely better than his... and i hope that he will get over you too. friendships with guys are so strange, and you're right, i wonder if guys and girls can really be close and stay just friends. something must go off in our brains that any sort of intimacy, platonic or romantic should start leading somewhere. i'd like to think it could happen.
I am such an idiot. I folded again. Good God, even though I've learned terrible terrible things about Michael, I can't seem to get rid of my feelings yet, or stop caring about him. wht the hell is wrong with me? I think I'm more inclined to give in to my own desire to feel good again about anything, even temporarily, than to take the time and do it all the right way: slowly, painfully and without him.
I am such an idiot. I folded again. Good God, even though I've learned terrible terrible things about Michael, I can't seem to get rid of my feelings yet, or stop caring about him. wht the hell is wrong with me? I think I'm more inclined to give in to my own desire to feel good again about anything, even temporarily, than to take the time and do it all the right way: slowly, painfully and without him.
so here is the letter i wrote him. poetic and sad, no? i make myself cry....
Dear Will,
I can’t believe I’m writing this.
I guess I wanted to say I’m sorry. I have always known that you liked me, and I tried to avoid it because, well, it’s easier to pretend I don’t know and keep our friendship going so we wouldn’t end up in some awkward situation like this.
I should never have slept with you…does that have any connection with the way you feel? I totally thought that ftf was exactly that, no more…so I never really let myself fall any deeper, somehow making myself believe that as long as it was “just sex” we’d both be the better off. But I got the idea a little later on that it wasn’t just sex to you, so I stopped. Meeting someone else made that a lot easier on me, but not on you, I realize that.
Deep down, I think I’m just a coward, taking the easier way out of difficult situations. But I wonder, is there any other way I could have dealt with this?
I have no idea why I don’t feel the same way about you as you do about me, but I am sure you know you aren’t just any other person in my life.
I can’t find the words to describe our friendship, but I think it is the color of a bright purple sky, who-knows-how-many- sunsets over the ocean
I think it would sound like hundreds of late night conversations, the distant roars of cars on a freeway just close enough to see in the distance, to remind you of civilization, but far enough for you to hear the invisible croaking of frogs in the grass,
I think it would taste like constant comment tea laced with an acid-infused sugar cube,
It would feel like eight years of laughter, warm summer nights, cold winter ones, the best and worst trip you ever had.
I agree that if it’s worse for you to talk to me than not, we shouldn’t talk anymore. I had no idea you were so disturbed by this whole thing. I think I am the last thing that should be on your mind right now.
So, even though we won’t talk for awhile, I’m sure this isn’t the end of our friendship. Find it in yourself to get the hell over this, and call me when you do.
Karen
Dear Will,
I can’t believe I’m writing this.
I guess I wanted to say I’m sorry. I have always known that you liked me, and I tried to avoid it because, well, it’s easier to pretend I don’t know and keep our friendship going so we wouldn’t end up in some awkward situation like this.
I should never have slept with you…does that have any connection with the way you feel? I totally thought that ftf was exactly that, no more…so I never really let myself fall any deeper, somehow making myself believe that as long as it was “just sex” we’d both be the better off. But I got the idea a little later on that it wasn’t just sex to you, so I stopped. Meeting someone else made that a lot easier on me, but not on you, I realize that.
Deep down, I think I’m just a coward, taking the easier way out of difficult situations. But I wonder, is there any other way I could have dealt with this?
I have no idea why I don’t feel the same way about you as you do about me, but I am sure you know you aren’t just any other person in my life.
I can’t find the words to describe our friendship, but I think it is the color of a bright purple sky, who-knows-how-many- sunsets over the ocean
I think it would sound like hundreds of late night conversations, the distant roars of cars on a freeway just close enough to see in the distance, to remind you of civilization, but far enough for you to hear the invisible croaking of frogs in the grass,
I think it would taste like constant comment tea laced with an acid-infused sugar cube,
It would feel like eight years of laughter, warm summer nights, cold winter ones, the best and worst trip you ever had.
I agree that if it’s worse for you to talk to me than not, we shouldn’t talk anymore. I had no idea you were so disturbed by this whole thing. I think I am the last thing that should be on your mind right now.
So, even though we won’t talk for awhile, I’m sure this isn’t the end of our friendship. Find it in yourself to get the hell over this, and call me when you do.
Karen
this just in...
SO, i haven't heard from will lately so i saw him online and immed him, whereupon he informed me that he can no longer talk to me anymore because he has feelings for me.
first of all, it's not MY problem he's been in love with me for so long even though i have made it substantially clear that i don't love him. second, i can't believe he's ending our friendship over this! i feel horrible for having made him pine away for so long (i should never have slept with him to begin with, hehe) but there's nothing to indicate that he wouldn't feel this way even if we never slept together.
anyway, i'm shocked since he is one of my best guy friends and i'm beginning to think that guys and girls can't just be friends.
why are men all about their dicks?????
SO, i haven't heard from will lately so i saw him online and immed him, whereupon he informed me that he can no longer talk to me anymore because he has feelings for me.
first of all, it's not MY problem he's been in love with me for so long even though i have made it substantially clear that i don't love him. second, i can't believe he's ending our friendship over this! i feel horrible for having made him pine away for so long (i should never have slept with him to begin with, hehe) but there's nothing to indicate that he wouldn't feel this way even if we never slept together.
anyway, i'm shocked since he is one of my best guy friends and i'm beginning to think that guys and girls can't just be friends.
why are men all about their dicks?????
