On Christmas Day, I found myself making time for me-time. Granted the first few hours of my me-time was with Mahal, it was still precious me-time nonetheless :)
I made my way yesterday to one of my happy places, Starbucks Temple Drive! I know it's "just a Starbucks" but I've made many personal breakthroughs (naks!) sitting in some of the (kinda ratty) chairs/cushioned seats! So this Starbucks will always have a special place in my heart :)
I intended to catch up on my reading yesterday and do my personal goal setting for the coming year. After some much needed sharing and catching up with Mahal, he left for dinner with his friends and I started making my lists.
So my Christmas List is not a list of 'naughty and nice' friends. I only call it a Christmas list cos I made it on Christmas Day haha. I finally have a Bucket List! YAY! I didn't know how exciting it was to write one until yesterday! And I know it's only the beginning. Now that I got the 'ball rolling' in my brain tank (bra! - haha it's always cooler said the Barney way) , I'm pretty sure I will be coming up with more things to do and more adventures to begin! So exciting!
My current list is at 50 things and I can't believe how psyched I am to start working on the list. I really believe it's true what they say, that the best way to get out of a slump is to start setting goals. It probably doesn't sound like me cos it's not fluffy and it's too stiff and straightforward, but it really works
Just some highlights of my list (and some really embarrassing revelations about myself), I apparently already know the names of my 4 children! I never pegged myself as that kind of person, but surprisingly, I am that kind of person haha.
That's all for now from me. Have you written Bucket List yet? From my heart to yours, Merry Christmas :)
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
I Can't Tell You
This is why I love Chelsea Fagan. I think the best writers are the ones who not only write their stories but also write other people's stories with their own :)
Thought Catalog hurts so much, sometimes hahaha.
***
I can write about you in every forum except the one you might read —
well, even then I might write about it, but I’d dance around your name
like a fire whose warmth I want to feel without quite being burned. Yes,
if you’re wondering, it’s about you. That open letter, that song lyric,
that wink and nod in your direction that is not quite explicit enough
to call me out on directly. I want you to see my words and be motivated
enough in them to take the first step yourself because, no matter how
much I want to burst into your life with the truth of exactly how I feel
about you, I know that I am not going to.
You would likely be upset if you knew how much I thought of you, how much what you are doing with your life factors into my daily routine. The world tells us we are supposed to live in cold, disparate camps of “together” and “separate” — but what about those who fall into neither category? No, we are not together. No, there is no part of you that I can lay claim to and nothing I am within my rights to demand, but are we really separate? Is the degree to which you have touched my life unimportant because it hasn’t been sealed with some kind of title?
And “I miss you” — is that only appropriate to someone who has left, someone you imagine will come back or at least longs to do so? What about the people who have never fully entered our lives, who have passed by it like a shiny car driving just slowly enough to get a glimpse at the people inside? Are we allowed to miss someone whose presence we sensed in our very bones, someone every fiber of our body told us we should have reached out to but did not? Is there an acceptable way to phrase “a nostalgia for something that never quite happened,” or is that a sentiment which is relegated to the pathetic spectators of life?
We praise honesty the way we praise kindness, and a lie of omission is still a lie. So I suppose, by that definition, I am lying to you each day that passes in which I do not say “I think about you, I wish I could talk to you, I wish my fear was something I could put aside and forget for even a moment.” I don’t mean to lie, you know. In a perfect world, I would be the kind of person who feels something with great conviction and acts upon it with unerring focus, who is sure of themselves in a way that radiates confidence and puts others at ease. If I were this kind of person, I would have come to you so long ago. I would have told you everything I really felt.
(Yes, even about that one night where I told you I needed to talk and then let you go home with a “never mind.” You and I both know that what I wanted to say was “Every time I see you from across the room and don’t talk to you, it is a punch in the stomach which reminds me just how much of a coward I can be.” But who wants to actually say that to someone at a house party?)
But I have long since accepted that I am a coward of this nature, that I am happy to write letters to myself instead of sit down with the one person who needs to listen. I will listen to music which at once dulls the more acute pains of not having the courage to be honest with you and allows me to imagine the life I could have if I did. I will lie awake some nights, looking at your name, only a click away. I will hover over your name and consider writing you, finally getting everything out that I feel dirty for not having said, and accept that even a flat “no” is preferable to hanging suspended in the unknown. But then I won’t, and I’ll pretend as though it never crossed my mind. And you will ask me how I am at a party some day, and look at me as though you really want to know, and I will say “I am fine.”
Thought Catalog hurts so much, sometimes hahaha.
***
I Can’t Tell You
You would likely be upset if you knew how much I thought of you, how much what you are doing with your life factors into my daily routine. The world tells us we are supposed to live in cold, disparate camps of “together” and “separate” — but what about those who fall into neither category? No, we are not together. No, there is no part of you that I can lay claim to and nothing I am within my rights to demand, but are we really separate? Is the degree to which you have touched my life unimportant because it hasn’t been sealed with some kind of title?
And “I miss you” — is that only appropriate to someone who has left, someone you imagine will come back or at least longs to do so? What about the people who have never fully entered our lives, who have passed by it like a shiny car driving just slowly enough to get a glimpse at the people inside? Are we allowed to miss someone whose presence we sensed in our very bones, someone every fiber of our body told us we should have reached out to but did not? Is there an acceptable way to phrase “a nostalgia for something that never quite happened,” or is that a sentiment which is relegated to the pathetic spectators of life?
We praise honesty the way we praise kindness, and a lie of omission is still a lie. So I suppose, by that definition, I am lying to you each day that passes in which I do not say “I think about you, I wish I could talk to you, I wish my fear was something I could put aside and forget for even a moment.” I don’t mean to lie, you know. In a perfect world, I would be the kind of person who feels something with great conviction and acts upon it with unerring focus, who is sure of themselves in a way that radiates confidence and puts others at ease. If I were this kind of person, I would have come to you so long ago. I would have told you everything I really felt.
(Yes, even about that one night where I told you I needed to talk and then let you go home with a “never mind.” You and I both know that what I wanted to say was “Every time I see you from across the room and don’t talk to you, it is a punch in the stomach which reminds me just how much of a coward I can be.” But who wants to actually say that to someone at a house party?)
But I have long since accepted that I am a coward of this nature, that I am happy to write letters to myself instead of sit down with the one person who needs to listen. I will listen to music which at once dulls the more acute pains of not having the courage to be honest with you and allows me to imagine the life I could have if I did. I will lie awake some nights, looking at your name, only a click away. I will hover over your name and consider writing you, finally getting everything out that I feel dirty for not having said, and accept that even a flat “no” is preferable to hanging suspended in the unknown. But then I won’t, and I’ll pretend as though it never crossed my mind. And you will ask me how I am at a party some day, and look at me as though you really want to know, and I will say “I am fine.”
Monday, December 03, 2012
I think I'm in-friend love with you
I can't even begin to describe how awesome and spot on and amazing this comic is. GALING! I claim no ownership of this material. You may find original source here:
http://www.sadiemagazine.com/issue-no-11/arts-letters/comic/i-think-i-am-in-friend-love-with-you
May we all find that friend :)
****
Issue 11 • Summer 2012
I Think I Am In Friend-Love With You
Written by and illustrated by Yumi Sakugawa
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