Writing.

Creative writing — not these little rambles I do here from time to time.

It’s getting a little tougher. I thought I had it back, but right now, there is no motivation to get onto my current project.

Maybe it is because I know that I have a little break away from reality coming up soon or maybe I haven’t figure out exactly what happens next and I’m just procrastinating until that time comes when I get that little light bulb above my head and scream for joy.

Maybe I am just tired of it already….not even half finished, not even started.

Maybe.

* * *

This week has been a little long week. It seemed that I was kind of busy throughout, doing little things here and there that just add up to a full day. Even now, today, I still don’t understand what it is that kept me so busy.

Sure there were the usual time of just surfing and sitting and zoning out that I am familiar with, but there were some legit work I had to do, but I just don’t remember what.

Fucking stupid Outlook and printer problems in Chicago. That is one. Still don’t know if I fixed it or not.

* * *

I drifted alone in this little tin can that protects me from the cold burning void that is space. My crew never made it through the atmosphere. I drifted alone in the eerie silence that was only the soft his of recirculated oxygen, but then I heard a voice….

* * *

I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic as of late. Maybe it is the story I’m listening to, The Goldfinch, about a man who remembers the times of his youth after his mother died in a tragic bombing at the MET in NYC.

I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking of family lately, everyone that had passed away in my life. My dad. My grandma. My uncles and my aunt. Everyone.

Life is just passing me by. Our Jedi Council dwindled in what seemed like a blink of an eye. Blink and blink and soon, there will be no more. My generation are taking on the reins now. We are the new council.

As our family dwindled in numbers, it grows all the same. Everywhere I look, babies everywhere.

Cousins, first and second, are getting married, having children, starting families.

They become the adults and the responsible ones like my parents and my uncles and aunts before me.

And yet, I am here, by myself, living for myself and at times I do wonder, am I just being selfish, living for myself?

Am I ready to be the responsible one?

I think and it haunts me, this thought of needing to be married, of being my parents and being a parents, starting a family — ultimately giving up on my independence.

It’s scary.

I’ve been on my own for too long. I’ve been alone for too long.

I just don’t know how.

Freedom. Independence.

I fought so long, I struggled so long figuring myself out, finally getting more comfortable in my skin, putting myself first above all and living my life the way that I want to live, on my own terms.

I fought so long to get comfortable and to fulfill all my wanderlust dreams, which I am doing. I am exploring. I am seeing. I am experiencing.

I am living my own life.

I am just not ready to give that up yet.

I am just not ready for it.

* * *

It’s kind of funny when I think of how I grew up, my two sides fighting and always in conflict. My Chinese side always putting family and the others first — the collectivism pulling me to think of others first. Then there is the side I was taught in school and through all things America — the individualism pulling me to think for myself, of myself, and be selfish.

It had been a long struggle growing up, trying to find a way to identify and find myself. It wasn’t until a few years ago, 2006, I believe that things got better. I started to be more accepting of my Chinese side. I realize that yes, I am Chinese. I was going back to my roots, listening to more Chinese music, speaking more in my native tongue.

It felt right. It felt comfortable. It felt like I was truly me for once in my life, and I thought that conflict was over.

But looking at how things are now, it seems that it just took on a different turn. There’s still that conflict of wanting to start a family, because it is the traditional thing to do and because it’ll make my mom happy and then there is the side where I just love how I am living my life. I love living on my own with no one but my furkids. I love to just pick up and go, traveling alone, doing whatever it is without needing to call in and confer and compromise.

I love this independence. I love this freedom.

The conflict I grew up with is still alive and well. Family vs. Me.

In a way it kind of pulls at me equally, but then I just think I’m stubborn enough to just focus on me.

For the most part, my life right now, works. It works for me, because it is my own doing.

And maybe this conflict is preventing me from moving to Chicago.

I’m considering it, but there’s always that thought of leaving family here, or being the easy transport for my mom whenever she wants to visit relatives down here that is kind of making me reconsider this move.

If I do move, it’ll just be for myself. If I do stay, it’ll be for family.

And I don’t know what to do.

Sure there are fears and inconveniences, like having to relocate and having to find a new job and seeing if I would be able to survive living in the city fiscally and physically. They are real fears and concerns.

But when have I ever let those fears get in my way. I do love the idea of security. I know my mo when it comes to making decisions, especially big ones and that is I need to have a sense of security before I make anything that big.

But there’s always a part of me that will always believe that things will always work out. I’ll figure out a way. I usually do.

Where’s that strange sense of optimism go? Is it still there?

Things to consider. There’s just a lot to consider.

How would my pets deal, especially with the cold? Can I even make it there with the cold?

Would my mom even come and visit? What would she even do there?

I can imagine her now, walking the city and getting tired. She’ll give me the stink-eye, why do you want to live here? Move home!

What to do?

What to do, indeed.

* * *

A few days ago, I started to read Mockingjay again. It’s to get ready for the film adaption that is about come out. While on Goodreads, I reread my review of the book at that time, and I thought it was a good review. It was well written.

There are sometimes when I do go back and reread some of my old stuff and think that some of it is actually good. Maybe I’m just bullshitting myself, but I do think it is good.

There was a moment when I was reading the Mockingjay review and I didn’t believe that I wrote this review. I actually thought I was reading someone else’s review. I was pleasantly surprised.

* * *

I’m such a dreamer. I’m always dreaming.

I’ll always be dreaming.

Sometimes dreaming just gets in the way when I realize that my dreams may not come true. I just get disheartened.

But I’m still young.

Think positively.

Apparently, it’s The Secret.