Thoughts just rumble in my head as I try to make sense of them. They never stop long enough for me to evaluate them. They just zoom this way and that way, passing to the forefront of my mind to the back of it. It comes and goes.

Thoughts that just range from mundane to life altering. What is to become of me?

Why can’t I just shake these fears of writing and just write? I just need to write, to compose these ideas that I have in my head to form the scenes that composes this particular script that I’m writing. But nothing comes. I’m petrified by the mere thought of not writing it correctly that it just dies before I even start.

It has tons of potential, like I have tons of unlocked potential that just needs to be released. I just need to jump right in and shed my inhibitions. I need to shake the fear that clouds my mind. I just need to put that important first word on to paper and then it will all come flushing out like a bursting dam. I just need to find the right word.

Wedding. It is a wedding. Here the lovers or the thrown together pair will unite. Here is where they make it official to the world. Here is where they make it official to their parents and permanently lock themselves in this matrimony of impulse. Will this union last or will it fizzle as fast as it came to be?

The ending just escapes me. I can’t picture it in my head. I just need to worry about the next step, the next scene and then worry about the scene after that and ultimately it will lead me to the final scene. It should come to me organically. It should just come to me when it comes, so it doesn’t feel forced.

I just need to find the right grove again. Stella’s got her groove back, but why can’t I? Is it because I am at home, writing, which I haven’t done in years? Is it because of that? I just need to break into this room, this office slash bedroom and be comfortable in it and then my mind will just be able to release the potential that is in me.

Routine. Schedule. I need to come up with one. Days where I will write. Days where I will watch television or movies. Days where I will go to school. Just focus. I just need to focus. Finish this script and jump on something else that is either new or create something else in a different medium.

I’m just at a total loss. I can’t think straight. Girls clouding my head, relationships that just taunt me.

I’m addicted now. I had a taste, more than a taste..I lived high and favored what was before me. But now it is gone, and I miss it. I miss the touch, the warmth, the nights of wrapped around arms. I just miss that certain feeling to have someone there. It just clouds my mind and it is coming back with a vengence. I just need to focus and not think about it anymore. Put it out of my mind. Brush it aside. That’s where it needs to be…to the side, out of my mind.

I’m not going to think about it. I’m not going to think of the possibilities. I’m not going to think about those that I was chatting to. I’m not going to think about the past. I’m just going to focus on what is in front of me, and that is my job and my work, my passion, my dreams and goals. Those take the main stage. They are more important to me now than ever. Life is just passing me by and I’m not even making an effort to fulfill this passing dream.

Writing. Directing. Creating. The opportunity is always in my hand, but I just look at it and not participate.

I don’t know what is going on with me lately. I am just wandering around with my head in the clouds, blinded by the sweet doughy marshmallows that float ever so softly in the sky.

I am just an aimless wanderlust coming and going from life destinations that were never planned. Things just happen and happen and I just experience and experience.

Talking and joking, finding new relationships and new people to just chillax with. Just someone to trade barbs with. Just someone that can keep me on my toes as they help me stretch my mental process and save me from the boring daily grind of punching buttons all day.

Oh, how my life is just a series of connect the dots that form no discernable shape. It is a jumble mess of chaos.

Look closer. Look deeper. Just look and you will find a faint hint of form in the criss-crossing lines of traveled destination.

Where the next destination is, no one knows, but I open it up for discussion. Left. Right. Up. Down.

I have lost my word, I have lost my thoughts. I have lost the flow that flowed so easily. Maybe, I have just changed the way I write things. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Things have changed. Maybe I just need to write again without censor; to bring back the writing to where I started. From the heart, plain and simple without any lyrical sidebars. Maybe that’s all I need. Simple heart. Simple truth. Just me and my feelings and my thoughts.

Maybe.

Oh, to sing the song of the songs of love is a wonderful thing that everyone must experience. It is like the existence of Heaven here on the mundane Earth, making life bearable and existence worth living.

But, those are things that people say. Those are things that only people hear. Does true love exist? It is so elusive, ever wandering and fluttering its proud wings and never landing in your presence.

It flies by, teasing us with what happiness and dreams that we think of ever experiencing, only to fly off again, leaving us with nothing but the lonely despair that fills the void that we call a life.

Go in search of love, many will say. Make acquaintances that lead to friendships, which in turn lead to relationships and then ultimately end up in love oh love! Oh, if only it is so easy. If only the reality of the directions are so simple.

Love is not a Lost Ark or a sunken treasure that needs to be found to truly experience its glory. Love should never be sought after because it will always fly away, just out of our reach. Ever so elusive.

Love is something that should happen out of the blue, when you least expect it. Love.

But, love is always on my mind, always thinking and searching for the inevitable truth and later reality of it. When will it present itself to me? When will I be truly blessed and be given my moment in life? When?

I let things be, I let things go, never to think about relationships or finding someone again. I let all hopes be lost, only secretly, hiding from my subconscious that ultimately, true love will bravely land right in front of me when I least expect it, surprising me with all its glory.

Love is genius. Love is cunning, always knowing when people are pining away for that one true experience. Teasing us with the possibility and then leaving us to dread on its potential.

Happenstance. Things should just happen in happenstance; a destined fate of chance meeting that leads to the story book movie romances that sweeps all hearts. We all are the heroes in our own movie life, ultimately leading to the glorious happy Hollywood ending that cap the ending of our single-ness and the beginning of our love affair.

Oh where oh where can my love be? I ask this question aloud unabashedly as I do believe that my lover is out there someone in this mindless empty 1s and 0s. She’s just there waiting patiently for our destined fate of chance meeting. Whether she’s out searching about for a quick read or a perusal of this online ad; who knows?

Time ticks by and by and by, ticking my sentiments away. Losing another second in another minute of another hour in another day of my life without the one that can make my insides melt with painless ease.

The acid rumblings of my stomach due to the flapping wings of fluttering butterflies as I see you day in and day out and just thinking to myself, where have you been all my life. How am I so blessed to have you in my life? How is it that I am graced with such love and beauty; something that I do not deserve? How is it?

I look into your eyes, and I am lost, plunged deeper and deeper into the depths of your soul where we commingle and become the one being that we once was, finally reconnecting to the times of legend and myth; before the jealous Zeus tore us apart. A love before time. A love eternal.

To feel whole again, instead of limping aimlessly with an arm and leg with the no depth-perception sight hoping for that reconnect to help me function like everyone else. My other half, my better half….complete.

Even Hedwig would be proud, finally realizing the Origin of Love is true and true. No longer lost and searching to fill that void. We are all connected, making that sweet music that only we both can.

Sometimes I dream that all I have to do to catch this little elusive bird is to just close my eyes and spin around and reach out my arms and out of amusement, it would just fly into my grasp willingly. Oh, then I will wake up groggy with the remnants of the dream; thinking of the ease of finding the love, giving me a little brighter hope for the day that it may happen today.

Dreams and dreams will come and go, come and go, fading away into the distant light like smoke into the atmosphere, only to dissipate. Fizzle away, out of reach, out of my grasp. Nothing to hold on to. Nothing.

But, I hold my heart, in the shattered pieces that it came to from the experiences of life and slowly piece it together with double-stick scotch tape, hoping that this will be the last time that I will have to piece it back together again. Hopefully, I didn’t lose any pieces from the last time and that these shattered pieces are a shattered whole.

So I reach, I scream, I throw this question out there, are you the one to complete me?

Sitting in the cloudy mists of sadness; echoing thoughts that bounce around in my head looking for the tiny hope of escape.

Nothing goes as they search desperately bouncing off its peers hoping for the elation they should expect to feel with freedom. But alas, there is no freedom in the dark dank cavernous dome that is my mind, my brain, my heart and soul.

There is no freedom of this lurking borderline depression that I can’t shake. Weeks and days go by without a release. I see things in the misty silvery gray black that I was so use to. But now, this old friend of mine seem more like an unwanted stranger invading my glimmering hope of fantasy and happiness, tainting it with its sadness. Tainted.

Blood black flooding through my spirits and my veins draining the happiness from me. All that is left is the empty shell that once was empty before.

This is a new kind of mutated emptiness that I never felt before. Borderline. Just a sense of blah and rutting in a standstill of petrified livelihood that I am to live day in and day out.

All my desires are gone, my hopes, my dreams, my ambitions. Gone. Lying dormant in this fragile eggshell just waiting for that spark of life to bring it to the excitement that it has the potential to become.

Patience is a virtue that I once had, but now is lost and gone as I get angrier and angrier with my old age. Tempers flare over the minutest of minute infractions of life that should be just left as a passing thought.

Boiling heat and blood turn the timid in the hulking rage that I am experiencing with my envious color. Hulk.

Turning the repression into action of kinetic force transmutating it into rage. Rage full of angst that I thought was gone out of my body my soul my heart without hesitation. Fixed to the point of release from commitment. Done. Gone.

But I was wrong, like I’ve always been wrong about things that I rush into without thinking. Upon experiencing and thinking is when I truly find the exact nature of the experience and realize that it isn’t what I bargained for.

Going back to my roots, going back to my hometown of the Forbidden City in a glorious historic land. I find myself drawn to my grassroots of home, of China and all things Chinese.

From music, to movies, to books, and mainly to family. All things Chinese; things that I am longing for.

I will fill my empty clinical colored apartment with the things that bring a familiarity and color to me. Pictures of family, friends, drunken moments and just things that I have taken from long ago on my long lonely journeys of soul searching. I will fill it with useless trinkets that I still feel is useless but it brings a purpose of fulfillment in an empty place that needs to be filled to make it feel like a home.

I long for home. I long for a home to call mine. I long for unlocking a door that is mine, entering a living room that is mine with my precious dog to greet me as I enter.

I long for my own life full of pleasure and pain and life that I forget that I am alone and wandering listlessly searching for the time in my life where my life will officially begin.

Just riding on the train to nowhere’s land of waiting and searching and just strict cynical contemplations of life and love. Where is my life going to go?

I have everything there is to see. I have; even though I have never set foot away the west coast since I first came to the west coast, but I have all there is to see. I’ve experience all there is to experience.

What is left is the long wait for the quiet peaceful sleep. All is left is the enduring of life and the fulfilling of my purpose of dying when it is time for me to go to make room for my posterity and others. Just a wait of waiting in the game of life.

1. Fob

First of all…Fob’s are immigrants a.k.a. Fresh off the boat. There are many kinds of fobs (i cant really take credit for this becuz i got this off a site. I added some in)

Twinkie
– Besides your nationality, there is little to distinguish you from white people
– Your significant other is not Asian and never has been
– You have few Asian friends, if any
– You are embarrassed at family events because you cannot speak your language and everyone has to switch to English to communicate with you
– You have no idea that the other types of Asians on this list even exist
– You think Hello Kitty is dumb and do not know what Sanrio is
– You are the only Asian on this list that does not know what Bubble Tea is
– You drive a Ford or some other domestic car and if you drive a Honda, it is stock

Asian-American
– You claim yourself as Asian, but real Asians think you’re whitewashed and non-Asians see you as a foreigner. You fit in nowhere
– You have heard of Bubble Tea but have never actually had any
– You are confused about your cultural identity and express this frustration through spoken word performances at your college
– You read A. magazine and think it’s great
– You do not know who Leon, Aaron, Sammi, Hikki, or Kangta are
– You are only vaguely aware of the other Asians below

Yap (Young Asian Professional)
– You are in one of these professions:
a) Medicine / Pharmaceutical
b) Engineering
c) Finance
d) Investment Banking
e) Accounting
– Most of your wardrobe was purchased at Banana Republic
– You go to “mixers” on Thursday nights to meet other Yaps and talk about the Dow Jones.
– You did exactly what your parents wanted you to do and as a result, your life is hella boring
– Your apartment/home is decorated almost exclusively with stuff from Pier 1
– Your parents always talk to their friends about how much money you make. If they don’t, then you’re a dissapointment

Fob (Fresh Off tha Boat)
– You were not born in America
– You know who Leon, Aaron, Sammi, Hikki, and Kangta are. In fact, you have seen them at Atlantic City or Las Vegas recently
– You speak your native language fluently and so do all your friends
– You do not have any non-Asian friends
– Your parents do not speak any English
– When you speak English, you like to make everything plural
– You get extremely good grades in school
– You cannot dance
– Your fashion sense comes from whatever country you’re from and you incorporate nothing from American fashion into your wardrobe

SuperFob
– Your command of the English language is minimal and you don’t care
– You like dim sum chicken feet
– You do not own a single CD, VCD, Video game, or DVD that isn’t bootlegged
– Your only hangout is Chinatown
– All the lights in your house are fluorescent
– You dry your cloths outside your window
– You need a haircut
– You either smell like cigarettes or food

Fobabee
– You are an Asian-American or Twinkie who has recently “awoken”
– You have a newly found fetish of Asian girls/boys
– You have taken the Asian Studies course at college
– You are trying to learn as much as possible about your culture to make up for your lifetime of trying to be white (Twinkie ; Banana) or Black (Chigger ; Tea egg)
– If you are lucky, you will grow to become Fobulous

Gangsta Fob (Fobsta)
– You have shot another Asian
– Your favorite hangout is a pool hall
– When you talk, you sound like a cross between a Fob and an urban black kid
– Your hair looks silly, but no one will tell you because you’ll shoot them
– You have a serious gambling problem
– You are a Rice-boy, but your mods are cheap and are never painted to match the rest of your car
– No one tells you your rice ride looks cheap because you’ll shoot them
– You want to have a Tab girlfriend, but can only get Hoochie Tabs

Tab (Trendy Asian B*tch)
– You shop at A/X, Bebe and Club Monaco
– You only wear black and will occasionally wear white to “mix it up”
– You do not weigh more than 105 lbs
– You have never paid for dinner at a restaurant in your life
– Platform heels are your favorite
– You are a makeup expert, in fact, you appear completely flawless
– You do not smile in public
– You are the object of desire of all Asian men and you know it
– You smoke
– Your cell phone is completely customized
– On the inside flip of your cell phone is a sticker pic of you and your man
– Somewhere in your purse is a Sanrio item
– You only date Asian and will only date a boy with a nice car
– You are often seen with Rice-boys
– You never travel alone. You are either in the company of other Tabs or your Rice-boy boyfriend

Hoochie Tab
– You are an import car model
– Your boobs are not real
– There are naked pictures of you floating around on the internet somewhere
– Stiletto heels are your favorite
– Your role models are Francine Dee and Kaila Yu
– Your boyfriend is a Gangsta Fob
– You cheat on your boyfriend
– Unlike most Asians, you do not do well in school

Rice-Boy
– You drive an Asian import. Usually a Honda or Acura
– Your souped up car (known as a Rice-ride or Rice-rocket) is unrecognizable from it’s original stock form
– Your exhaust pipe is big enough for your head to fit in
– The spoiler on your car looks like it was made by Boeing
– The interior of your car also looks like it was designed by Boeing
– You always drive like you are racing someone
– You are not afraid of dying in a crash, but you are afraid of speed bumps and parking lot on-ramps
– The only other person besides yourself who can sit in your car is your 105 lbs Tab girlfriend. If anyone else sits in your car, the entire bottom of it will be touching the ground
– Even though your car is a Honda, it goes faster and is worth more than a Lotus Esprit
– If you drive a Civic, your dream car is a Supra. If you drive a Supra, your dream car is a Skyline (which you can never have). Poor Rice-boy.

Fobulous
– You speak perfect English and you are fluent in your native language
– You have Asian friends as well as non-Asian friends
– You listen to Asian pop as well as American music
– You are equally aware of both popular American culture and Asian pop culture
– You are a good dancer
– You date Asian by choice even though you could rock the opposite sex of any other race
– You are a good designer and have superior Html skills
– You have an Apt107 page AND an AA page and the guest books in both are packed
– For you, FOB stands for Fabulous Oriental Being
– You have lots of Asian pride

Pob
– A Filipino fob.
– Words that start with F tend to be pronounced with a P. (Fuck you..Pobarized version: PUCK you)
– FUll accent

“Lets go take some sticker pickiez la! xD Kekezzz”

“Puck You mother pucker!”
by Rebecca Mar 5, 2005 email it

* * *

2. phong

a supersweet, superhot guy

my bf is such a phong!
by muse Aug 7, 2004 email it

The above definitions were found at http://www.urbandictionary.com.

While going on my cousin’s Xanga blog, I noticed that he found a definition of our name. I found it funny. And since it is an dictionary of slang, I thought I’d find what definitions of fob and azn they have.

I already knew what a fob is. It is basically an acronym for Fresh Off the Boat. But I never thought that there would be such a thorough breakdown of the different type of asians there are. I guess I’m just not that asian to realize that.

Looking at the definition of what a fob is, I guess I’m a culmination of those. Maybe I was a fob way back when I was still in diapers. I don’t know.

Looking up azn in the dictionary, I was pleasantly surprised by some of the definitions. I always thought that azn is just a short way of saying asian. I never knew that there was a particular subculture of all things azn. The wannabe black guy who speaks ghetto talk. The dumb people who type in short form with alternating cap words LyKe WrTng DINgs DiS WaY iz LykE SO KeWL. I never even knew that it was an “asian” stereotype. I always thought it was some stupid kids way of thinking that they are cook because they are writing things differently.

I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this. I guess I’m just searching for things to write about or things to talk about.

Lately I have been reminiscing on my childhood and old TVB television shows that I watched. The classics like The Legend of the Condor Heroes, The Return of the Condor Heroes a.k.a The Legendary Couple, and The Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre. All three were serials by Louis Cha. I grew up watching these television shows when I was younger and I remember being totally in awe and taken in by the action and the drama. They are classics.

Just recently being back home, I don’t know, for some reason, I’m just reaching back to those old days and my little good Asian, no Chinese roots. I guess it really started when my brother and I went to Powell’s bookstore in Portland and we came across the foreign language section. He told me that he’s been wanting to read these old Chinese books like Journey to the West and the above mentioned books.

I’ve always wanted to read them, but out of sight out of mind. I haven’t seen or thought about those shows in a while. But when hearing my brother wanting to read those, it just brings back memories of the old days. So I tried to track down these books, they aren’t translated yet. Not many are. There are rumblings that there is a new translation of The Legend of the Condor Heroes coming out soon from the Oxford University Press.

I still remember in 2002 when my parents came down to visit me, we found the VCD collections of these shows in Chinatown. My mom looked so excited that they have them collected in a better medium than video cassette. But they were just too expensisve. Doing research on these shows now, especially those VCDs, it is revealed that those were abridged versions of the shows. How disappointing. But it is good to know that the complete uncut The Legend of the Condor Heroes and The Return of the Condor Heroes are out in DVD. I am so tempted to get it. Eventually I will, along with my brother, as a gift for our mom. She will be excited.

As for the books, I don’t know what it is. I am a lover of words. I am a writer. I am a lover of literature. Throughout my life, all I have been exposed to is American and Western European literature, or strictly Anglo literature. I guess with my age and my maturity, I want to venture to other modes of literature. African literature, South American, East Asian, etc. etc.

I guess I’m looking for something new, a new perspective in how to see things or how other see things.

The excitement of life just passes me by yet again as I sit actively watching it run by. I wave to it as I see it off into the unknown future. Going going going going…

Blissful and blessed the union went off without a hitch. Small and warm, cozy and cuddly. The wedding of perfection. My perfection at least.

The intimacy of family and friends, throw a few strangers in there, it’s not just a beerfest but an incestual ménage a trois. Love is in the air, all around and I just swing my fly swatter to just shoo it away from my proximity.

Away away, they go off in their peace. Small and intimate.

Held in their parent’s backyard with the familiarity of home. That’s where love is, home, and no where else.

It was a cryfest from the first word. As I sit in the first row, listening intently to the sacred words that were exchange, the lovely vows of together forever. Tears flowed and they were not mine.

Here’s a change of prose, maybe a mixture. Maybe something new.

It was just nice to be around family again, all family, not just those that I hang out on a regular basis when I’m out here. But family. Family that I never hang out with because I rarely get to see them. Long lost cousins of out of touch, cousins I haven’t seen for years and years, catching up and seeing how they have made a life for themselves.

Catching up again with the long lost sisters that came back for this particular event; their big sister is getting married.

Again, it was a nice lovely wedding. It is a wedding ceremony that I actually wouldn’t mind throwing if I ever get in the marrying mood and eloping is out of the question. Very simple and just….classy. Again, perfection in my book.

They held it in their parents’ backyard. 40 chairs set up and then there was standing room. It was a perfect Washington summer day, temperate and almost clear skies.

They had a judge preside over the ceremony. There wasn’t any father walking the bride down the aisle. Just the bride, Hue, and her sister, Tu, the made of honor. It was just nice.

They didn’t go out and make a big deal out of it. No renting out a space, no enormous amount of guests, just close friends and family.

The Chinese banquet was nice well, even though there wasn’t many people dancing. It was a good mix of Chinese and “American” people. A good mix. But there wasn’t much dancing going on and many of the guests left after the dinner, before the activities were done. But that should be expected in a Chinese wedding.

She had a good time on her wedding day, or at least that’s how I felt, and that is all that should matter.

But it was just good to be back here again, and that was just my first day.

So my week seems pretty packed already, and it always seems packed whenever I come back here. I’m going to make use of these 10 days and actually make it a vacation instead of just coming back and being with family.

Well, here is something regarding me and my doings. Originally, I was to bring a friend up here for the wedding. But things didn’t work out between us for no better reason than that they just didn’t work out.

I told my mom that I was going to bring this friend up with me months and months ago because my friend and I were planning on going to Vancouver together. Of course, word got around, especially during the days of my uncle’s funeral.

But again, we, I, ended things and I went up alone. So, no I came up alone and my family, especially the elders, bugged me about this much talked about friend. Where’s your friend? they would ask continually. This coming from each on of them. I heard you were going to bring your girlfriend back. Where is she? You lied and said you were going to bring your girlfriend back. Liar. I played around with them with my usual flare but what it boils down to as I tell them. We got in a fight and we are now no longer friends.

Things like that just happen. My auntie would just joke around and say, “fight or not, just wait until after you bring her back first, then you can do whatever you want.” Unfortunately things just don’t work that way. They never work that way. T

They just never do. You just have to go on living life in the pace that life goes and can’t expect anything more out of it. Just live.

Lost and never to be found is where I am going. Deep deep into the tunnel of despair; climbing my way to the endless abyss.

I’m back. The depression is back. Back with a force, a vindictive vengeance for shoving it out the window not so long ago. You can’t throw away something that is a part of you, it’ll always come back and haunt you the way it only knows how. Depression, my friend.

Fortune. Destiny. Il Destino. Fate.

It’s the year of the dog this year and apparently it is a horrible year. Dogs and me don’t mix; which I find fitting since I have a lovely dog that just tests my nerves with his bouts of lonely frustration; chewing up my window blinds because of the constant abandonment as I go out and spend the night with friends.

How can I curb this little indiscretion that my dear Pickles throw from time to time?

How indeed. So dogs are trouble.

I went to a Chinese fortuneteller today in Chinatown. It’s been about 4 years since I’ve gone to him. I just wanted to see what changed, if anything.

Not much has changed within in my destiny in the past 4 years. My 27th year is still the year the poses the most problems. A XX bad year for me. Money and wife issues. I don’t have a wife, so in my case women issues.

Here is some new tidbit of information. I am not to marry until 30. If I marry before I’m 30, it’ll end up in divorce. I will have two girlfriends before I’m 30. The best range for me to marry is between 30-38. If anything later than 38, I’ll have no children. There is a possibility for me to have 2-4 kids.

Potential mates.

I am to stay clear away from these three signs. Rat, Ox, and Dog (especially the Dog. They are the XX kind). A good year to marry is 2010. I’ll be 31.

I’ll have a long life. Strong and healthy. Nothing to fear there, but the family history of heart problems. 96. That’s a long time to live. I can’t even imagine another 69 years.

By the age of 40, I will have a second career/business in which I will be successful. It’ll bring forth fortune for me to buy and resale property in which will make me rich.

I’m a fire sign. I guess with a fire sign comes my short temper. It’s a family thing. We all have it.

The only season that works for me is summer. Winter and fall are horrible especially winter. It is the XX variety. My spring is a mixed bag. So maybe with summer here, my luck will turn?

Direction.

Apparently I’m a east/south type of guy and not a west. North is not bad. According to the fortuneteller, when finding a potential partner, I should steer clear of any westerners, i.e. Caucasian and Mexican. Two races that I find the female population to be very attractive. For a good fortunate life, I should stick with the easterners. I guess if the girl is a lovely sweet one, she’ll have to do.

That is my fortune. No different from what he told me 4 years ago and not so different from the fortunetellers that read me when I first came down here. Not so much. No.

* * *

Back to my fortune, back to my life. This despair.

Looking back, this has been a bad year for me. Ever since last December. Things just started to go wrong; since I started to date. I’m not saying that girls were the problem, no, that isn’t the case. I guess it is more the fact that I’m going out more.

Where one relationship ended another one started. Things were going great. They were, but then they didn’t.

There are no fingers to point here. Not one person can take the blame as to why or how things ended between us. We were both to blame and we were both the victim. Our differences in who we are got in the way of things.

Now she was a year of the Dog. Not that I’m saying that the fortune had anything to do with why things ended, it was mere coincidence that she just happens to be from the year of the dog.

She’s a sweet girl. Smart, sassy, and independent. Any guy would be lucky to have her. Sure, these are things that people say to make the other party feel better about themselves, but they are also true. She has a mind for business and she knows what she wants to do. She’s sure of it. With that sureness and with where she came from, she has a certain lifestyle that she likes to live. Who doesn’t?

I have a lifestyle that I love living too and it conflicts with my love for my independence. She pinned me right. I’m too laid back. I just am. I’m not going to disagree with that. I’m just a fairly easygoing guy, just going with the flow, whatever is whatever for I don’t care what it is that we do.

“What do you want to eat?” and I would answer, “I don’t care”. It’s not that I’m indecisive as to what I want to eat. No, that’s never the case. I’m not a picky eater. I can eat anything and will definitely try anything that is offered. I can always find something to eat on the menu, so when I say “I don’t care”, it really means, I don’t care. I don’t care what I eat as long as you enjoy it, as long as I get the pleasure of you company. You take my nonchalant reply as apathy when it is anything but.

That’s how I am. My philosophies of life is that life will just bring you obstacles and things in life and you will have to just go with it and take things on. I don’t seek out life because life is all around and it comes to find me. Things that I experience, I experience because they are in front of me to experience; an opportunity came up or that it is a predicament that happened to me. Life always happens, so I’m not in a rush to go out and to find things to experience because one day or another, life will give me that chance.

Different people are satisfied in different ways. I’m not a big spender on food or clothes. These material matters do not matter to me, because they are all surface. It took me 26 years to find myself. 26 years to find who I am, and it is this very laid back, casual, smart ass prick that sits here before you spilling his soul.

It took me 26 years to finally get comfortable in this yellow skin that is me. I’m going to dress in my usual jeans and t-shirt with flip-flops because that is my particular style that I’ve grown to find to be my style. That’s how I roll, and I’m not going to change the way I dress because someone wants me to.

A person can’t change because they are forced to. Change comes naturally with age and revelation. Change comes with a readiness to change. Change comes when you want to change.

I see there’s no point in me in changing that part of myself and currently any other part of myself because I’m comfortable with it. This is me. This is who I am. I’m not the nicest guy, I’m not the meanest guy. I’m not the sharpest dresser and I am surely not the worst dresser. I’m not the most outgoing person and by far, I am not the most passive guy either. I am just a guy who has figured out for the most part who he is and he finds no rhyme or reason to change. None.

Change comes with age and time and maturity. Again, currently there isn’t anything about me that needs changing. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have any flaws. I’m full of them. My life is full of them, unlike any one else. We are all flawed creatures. That’s what makes this life unique.

My personal demons of trust, my coldness, and definitely my short temper are traits that I could definitely work on. Without a doubt, they are traits that can be rectified, but sometimes they are hard. Many of these issues are instilled in me from culture, upbringing, from family traits and genes. Some other reasons are just from experience. They are a few of my flaws out of the many I do have. Again, I’m not a perfect guy, but I’m not a bad guy. Just an average guy with his personal demons.

That is me, and I’m sure there could me much more about me that I can discuss, but given the forum, I’m sure I’ve addressed those issues already. Again, I just don’t deal with people well because for the most part, I don’t socialize well. I’m a newbie when it comes to socialization and especially to relationships.

Wrong.

Again, not everything can be blamed on a particular person. A relationship involves two. We are both to blame.

Near the end, I didn’t make an effort. I know I didn’t. It was all one sided. She would come out to visit me. Sure I’ve made my trips early on, but she was the one who drove out to see me, after work or after a outing with her friends. She would always stop by. I wish I could do the same, but I couldn’t. I have my responsibilities that prevented me from going out there. I couldn’t leave Pickles on a whim because I wanted to spend time with her. I couldn’t neglect him like that. I was just torn.

Maybe the novelty of the relationship worn out, but I didn’t call as much during the night. I had no problem when I was at work, but not when I was home. Maybe I’m just so use to the life I lived before, the hermit shut in that I am. I’ll be watching a movie or a television show that I’ve invested so much time in. Near the end, it was my writing that I was focused on. With each call, it’ll put me behind of what I need to do, achieving my dream. I couldn’t prioritize her to fit my needs to work. And for that, I was wrong.

She would make the effort, she would care. Again, she was right. I can’t tell her what I want, because I don’t know what I want. I’m torn with my selfishness and what I want for the relationship. I was too much the idealist to let the realist get comfortable.

My stubbornness hinders my actions too. My need to be chivalrous because chivalry is a dying action now a days. I was too stubborn to let her pay for things. I was uncomfortable in that aspect of the relationship because I was taught to pay for dinner, for things. I was taught that way because that was the Chinese way. But the sad thing is I just couldn’t afford the dates. Our luscious dinners and lunches were taking its toll on me. We will fight for the bill and if she wins, bravo, but if I win, I’ll pay hands down because that is what I am supposed to do. I know, it’s an ass backward chauvinistic logic there, but that’s how I was taught. Blame it on society and my socialization.

Maybe it was after our first serious talk that I feel things weren’t going to work out between us. Maybe I was just too tired to deal with another tantrum, or maybe I really did feel that I am wasting my time; no, not wasting my time, but hindering myself from finding the right one that I am destined to be with. I don’t know what, but I’m sure that was the catalyst that started our potential downfall. It was then. We just weren’t the right fit. We were just on different planes and different wavelengths. Our misconnections.

Things weren’t working out. Deep thoughts of forever came into my head and I asked myself, “Could I live with this forever?” and the answer is no. I couldn’t. The relationship took its course in the next few weeks.

I thought that I could stick it through, see it to the end, and that ending was months down the line, but to my surprise it was only weeks. Only weeks. Talks of money and budgeting surfaced and then talks of other things. Trust. Questions keep popping up in my head and I didn’t have an answer that I liked. One final call and one final argument that ended it all. A simple misunderstanding, but if we kept on, all we will have are misunderstandings.

Breaking up is hard to do. For those who have been in it, they should know. I had to end it. I agreed to the relationship and I pushed for it, being naive to think that I can make it work. I had to take responsibility here. I didn’t want her to waste her time with me, because it was just not going to go anywhere. I can’t imagine living my life that way, walking on eggshells or constantly fighting and making up. It wasn’t worth it. Things had to end. They did.

I feel horrible for what I’ve done. I drew away, cold and distant, not giving into her. I had to. It hurts, it stings. My heart aches for what I did, but deep inside I knew that it was the right thing to do. It had to end, because it wasn’t going to go anywhere good. So why waste the other’s time. Why? I just wished that it hadn’t been so rough. I wished that we could have came to terms amicably, but when it comes to break ups, one party has to hurt more than the other and I’m not sure which party is the one that is truly hurting.

There are parts of me that want to call; to work things out and to mend things together so we can try to be friends. But I don’t know if it is possible. I don’t know if it can be mended. Sometimes it is just best to leave things broken and in shreds. It saves time that way.

Nothing to mend.

So I am now in that dark place again. There, not because of what happened, but for what I’ve done. I broke a heart and this time it wasn’t mine.

Take two.

The gray clouds wisp through darkening this bright summer day so it matches the mood that I’m feeling. Dark and gray, in a horrible place. A cave filled with thoughts emoting nothing but the despair that I feel.

How did this ever come about? How did this ever happen?

Days go by in the sunland of So-Cal like they were the Days of Heaven, leading to the perfect Garden that only myths are made of. Things fall in line to the perfection of existence before the contents of Pandora’s Box were spilled into this world; the perfection ruined by the single act of consumption and sin brought forth by the talking snake. The bite; the fall; the loss of innocence; the world that we know.

Things were going so well, but then things started to change. Feelings started to wane as perfection coasted. Things were just just as life progresses. The chase was over as we both stopped playing tag and rested together. Coasting with nothing between us but the empty void of gray concrete.

The game stopped and life took over as we took our turns reaching out and grasping for the attention that we both need. For the most part, we reach out and grab what was intended, but other times, things just miss, grasping at empty air.

Life gets in the way. Personalities just clash, and pure selfishness just bulldoze everything over.

Me. It’s all about me. Things have to go my way, as I only want what I want and never compromise and kowtow to others. I just strictly do not participate if it ever gets that way, and it seems it is my way or no way.

A uneven seesaw as I sit high on my high horse looking down at the peons taking care of me. I thought I was a great ruler but I’m only a selfish king destine to fall.

What ever happened?

The difference of time between may have been a bigger reason as to the ending that was. I’m on a different path, going to different places, looking at and for different things. I live my life grounded by my hermitude, looking for nothing out of the ordinary; comfortable in the life that I lived before; my life in the shell.

Once in a blue moon I will brave the surroundings and leave my dwelling to feel the touch of people, to feel that I am alive, but then I realize something, as I get too involved in these ventures. I realize why I left society in the first place. I can’t deal with people. I can’t deal because they are not like me.

They push and pull, wanting me to change whereas I am content with who I am.

There are many things about me that need to change. I will not argue that, but these are things that I am fine with being. These flaws make me who I am; this fractured soul; only I can be content with these shards. To others, these pieces cut and they cut deeply, leaving them scarred and never to heal. I am not for everyone. I am not for every soul; just for those who understand the damage that I call myself.

I constantly look for things that strike my attention; always getting bored with things that I’m familiar with; looking for some new distraction. Once it is a new routine and the novelty is gone, my mind wanders and I fall astray, leading only to disaster.

Cold and distant. Far and wintry. I am everything because that is how I was taught to be. Not to blame anyone but me, but that was how I was taught to love.

I realize something as I’ve gotten older. I’m not the nice person that everyone thinks I am. I am the jaded, cynical, bitter man tired of his weary life. I am the jaded soul tired of the company that he so madly desires. A living contradiction lost in a nightmare searching for a dream.

I am that sweet onion that loses its layers leaving only the distasteful bitter hot heart that pumps nothing by cynicism.

It’s not the environment that changed me to who I am today, but it is I who’s changed from that sweet soul that was born a little over 27 years ago. Through life we lose our innocence and naïveté. We lose the life that we were born with only to become what we grew up to be; a product of our environment and our teachings and our life experiences.

Over a quarter of a century I’ve experienced. I’ve overcome my quarter life crises and have fallen and finally found who I am; comfortable with the asshole that I’ve become. I’m not an easy pill to swallow, but I am medicine for those who are still naive to know that I’m not really good for them or for the masochists who know I’m bad from the start.

Almost 30. My life priorities are so different than those who haven’t even passed a quarter century. Looking ahead, I have to think about my security. Responsibility. My family taught me that. I need to save up to secure a future, live life comfortably and enjoy myself while doing it.

………….to be continued.

Flinching ticks of REM. Eyes moving under the cover of his lids. A nightmare or a dream? What is it that bothers his mind as he slips into the unconsciousness of sleep?

What is it indeed.

The look on his face tells me nothing as he just lies there sleeping his sleep, dreaming his fevered dream.

The sad look in his face tells no story of how he is feeling. His happy tail betrays his sad face. Swaying back and forth, to and fro, his happiness he cannot suppress.

He disappears into the night as I do my usual finger tapping. A little “snap snap” he comes to my call. Such a good dog he is, such a good pickle.

Up in my bed, laying there, getting to his level of comfort ness before he succumbs to his unconscious state again.

I just have to wonder what does he really think about me? I can never tell. Is he bored to have me as his master, his best friend? I don’t pay enough attention to him as I should, and I don’t play with him enough for him to actually bond with me. But for some reason, I feel that he does like me. Always attached at the hip he always is.

We have our fights like anyone. I’ll leave him for hours on end while he’s stuck at home. I wonder what it is that he does to pass his time. Does he play with the large selection of tennis balls that I have laying around the house or with the little dirty stuffed squeaky sheep that he likes for me to throw at him.

I guess my fascination with him has come and gone. The novelty has worn off and now I’m with him. He’s just another being that keeps me company as I pass through my off hours at home alone.

Such a nice dog he is. He has the greatest temperament I’ve ever met in any dog. Quiet in his own way, rarely barks unless there’s another canine around. Always over anxious to play with other dogs and whines when I don’t ever let him.

Nowadays you can never trust other dogs and even your own.

Trust.

That is always an issue. Stress. That is always an issue. Where will things go? What will happen? I don’t know. I have no idea where things are going to go. I guess I’ll know when it gets there and either one of us have to make the decision as to where we want to go. Will we go our separate ways? Will she can’t stand me or vice versa.

I’m a difficult guy to get along with. Many of my friends and even family know this about me. Sure, I’m very laid back and easy going, but I’m also very stubborn and more selfish than I like to be. This causes me to be very very particular and difficult.

I just like things to go very easy and smooth. I’m just the type of guy who likes to understand everything and if I don’t understand something, that just frustrates the crap out of me. That’s just me.

Sometimes I just don’t understand why people do the things they do, and hence, I just don’t get along with them, or I’m just too inquisitive and ask them a billion questions or just sit back and let things unfold, hopeful to get some answers to the mystery that is them.

And once I have and inkling of understanding and I don’t agree with what they are doing, I can’t do anything about it. It’s not my life to change, and again, I’m very particular. If I don’t agree with something, I’ll just ignore it until I finally get use to it and just move on. Sometimes I just can’t move on that easily.

Life is kind of crazy that way. And the shitter is that there’s nothing that I can do. I just have to live with it or make a decision that will change things. It will have to be discussed and come to a mutual agreement of sorts. It’s just how things work. It’s just how things are going to be. A series of compromises from both parties to come to a decision that changes their lives forever.

What will happen? I have no idea what is going to happen. I honestly don’t know. I have an inkling as to where things are going to go, but I don’t want to be thinking about that just yet.

Alone.

Come to think of things, I’ve always enjoyed my independence. I’ve always enjoyed living on my own schedule and never having to facilitate other people’s demands to match my own or vice versa. I love the fact that I could go and do anything I want without having to discuss it with another party. I like the fact that I could go out and do this just because I want to and not because someone wants the company.

But, now with Pickles, it’s kind of difficult sometimes. I would love to go out and write more often, but I just can’t. I leave him at home alone for about 9 hours in the day. I come home walk him and try to take a nap or watch my movies or television shows while trying to catch up with my web surfing, then I’ll fix myself some dinner and then it is time to unwind with more movie watching or tv watching before I have to write.

Not so long ago I would just go out and write at Tanner’s or my much beloved bridge, but now I can’t. I just feel so guilty that I leave Pickles alone so much as is. I’m rarely home on the weekends anymore, whether I’m going to work or going out. I guess life just gets in the way of responsibilities.

Responsibilities.

That’s something I find myself losing as I get older. I’m becoming more and more careless with my actions and my spending and I just find it disappointing. I am disappointed in myself for letting it get to this circumstance where I am almost broke and I’m making the most I’ve ever made. But again, life gets in the way.

I have so many aspirations and it seems that all of them seems so out of reach because life is getting in the way. I would love to write more, but company and outings and sheer fatigue or laziness keep getting in the way. I would love to make another short, but money issues get in the way. There are just so many things I would love to do, but I just can’t do it because of one thing or another. I envy those who are able to manage everything, to make everything work in their favor. I need lessons on how to get my life together. I just need life lessons in general.

I look at my brother. He has his life already. Good solid job and a nice house while I’m in a decent job living in an apartment. I’m sure he may think that he’s envious of me, but there is no godly reason for him to be. To each his own I guess. To each his own.

Life escapes me with every breath that I take. Life just escapes me and I wonder where I will be.

Looking in the cloudy future, I do not see where I will be.

Looking into the misty silver, I can’t make out who will keep me company.

I’m not a lucky guy. Everything that I’ve done and gotten I’ve worked for. Nothing was ever handed to me on a silver platter. I’ve either had to work for it or buy it or kiss assed for it and I rarely, if ever, kiss ass. I’m just not the type.

The lottery, gambling, things that I suck at. I’m not lucky enough to have the free money handed over to me like that.

Maybe I just don’t make the effort or maybe I’m just full of excuses to bring me down to the level that I feel comfortable at and to keep me away from the level that everyone thinks I’m on.

Life escapes me. With each breath. Breathe.

The slow methodical breathing. In/Out. In/Out. The limbs twitch and flinch as he dreams of chasing dogs through the park, playing their little rough games of housing. Like us, they dream. They dream of happiness, games, play, life. They dream of life.

Where will he be with me in the future? Will I be a good owner to him, keeping him in a healthy state long enough for him to see his 100th birthday?

I’m not a perfect person. I never meant to do those things to you. Not even close. Damaged goods in a once fragile container that is now just broken shards. Pieces that can never be glued back for I am too messed up to fix.

So jaded and cynical. I just can’t seem to see the light in things anymore.