Thursday, July 2, 2009
And more photos
As I think I've mentioned, we have a LOT of cameras. My father is a photography buff, and he has been encouraging some of my younger siblings to take it up as well. I do NOT have an eye for photography, so really, the most I can do to show my support is to put my reservations aside, slather on the make-up, and ham it up for the camera. I present our themed shoot:
The errr... some sort of tribal harem girl shot + National Geo shot:
The geisha shot (don't mind the piece of pastry, that's err... a long story):
And the tribal glamor shot:
The errr... some sort of tribal harem girl shot + National Geo shot:
The geisha shot (don't mind the piece of pastry, that's err... a long story):
And the tribal glamor shot:
2:39:00 AM
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Monday, June 29, 2009
a note about whatever... aka I'm rambling
I'm in what I call a 'space in my head'. That usually means I'm writing (and that I've been writing for awhile), and my mind is so immersed in a world of my own making, that it feels weird sometimes when I have to break the surface.
I've been in this same space in my head for a week now, more or less. If I didn't have a date and time stamp on my laptop, I would most likely have no concept of time. And it's been good. I feel productive. I feel sane. I feel myself... only...
It's the "only's" that will break you down, really.
Only. I can still remember the last time I felt like this, the last time I'd written like this. Strange how a memory can feel so distant and so close at the same time. I was still in our condo in Vegas. With John. Cooking lovely dinners. Making ice cream from scratch. Grilling steaks, baking pies, growing a veritable garden of tomatoes in a damn corner of the dining room.
I was living a completely different life, and I have to admit, the thought makes me sad. Don't get me wrong, I don't long for that life anymore; I don't want it back. It's just that it still makes me sad when I think about how we've had to break away from what was such a happy time (well, at least I was happy, can't really speak for the other party now, under the circumstances, can I?), so that we could find ourselves and become whoever we were meant to be. It makes me sad our togetherness was the price I've had to pay for my "I". It makes me sad that we had to break up for me to piece myself together.
And, well let's be honest. Every time a memory leads to the somewhat hazy knowledge that the person I was in love with chose to give me up, well, obviously I feel sad. I'm a romantic, and part of me would have loved to have been saved like a princess. But that would have been just one moment, wouldn't it? I don't want a love based on just one moment anymore.
Still, I don't blame him, I never have. He has his reasons, of course, and I know that. I even know a bit of the whys and the whens, and I can even understand them. I just still have a hard time reconciling myself to the hows, and the eventual nullification of a happily ever after, that's all. But I'm working on it. After all, people change, times change, the world moves on. As do I.
Well. Back to work then.
I've been in this same space in my head for a week now, more or less. If I didn't have a date and time stamp on my laptop, I would most likely have no concept of time. And it's been good. I feel productive. I feel sane. I feel myself... only...
It's the "only's" that will break you down, really.
Only. I can still remember the last time I felt like this, the last time I'd written like this. Strange how a memory can feel so distant and so close at the same time. I was still in our condo in Vegas. With John. Cooking lovely dinners. Making ice cream from scratch. Grilling steaks, baking pies, growing a veritable garden of tomatoes in a damn corner of the dining room.
I was living a completely different life, and I have to admit, the thought makes me sad. Don't get me wrong, I don't long for that life anymore; I don't want it back. It's just that it still makes me sad when I think about how we've had to break away from what was such a happy time (well, at least I was happy, can't really speak for the other party now, under the circumstances, can I?), so that we could find ourselves and become whoever we were meant to be. It makes me sad our togetherness was the price I've had to pay for my "I". It makes me sad that we had to break up for me to piece myself together.
And, well let's be honest. Every time a memory leads to the somewhat hazy knowledge that the person I was in love with chose to give me up, well, obviously I feel sad. I'm a romantic, and part of me would have loved to have been saved like a princess. But that would have been just one moment, wouldn't it? I don't want a love based on just one moment anymore.
Still, I don't blame him, I never have. He has his reasons, of course, and I know that. I even know a bit of the whys and the whens, and I can even understand them. I just still have a hard time reconciling myself to the hows, and the eventual nullification of a happily ever after, that's all. But I'm working on it. After all, people change, times change, the world moves on. As do I.
Well. Back to work then.
11:37:00 AM
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Thursday, June 25, 2009
A legend dies...
I grew up listening to quite a number of the Pop King's songs. Thriller. Black or White. They Never Really Cared About Us. Say what you want about the man, but to me, his death marks the end of an era.
May you find peace, Jacko. Whatever that may mean.
11:41:00 PM
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Monday, June 22, 2009
Scents
I've been reading Neil Gaiman's blog for awhile now, and found Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab through him. The site, which sells scents and smells, is amazingly evocative. It's gothic, and romantic, and not a little magical. I was browsing through its inventory, reading the descriptions, and suddenly had a strange lust for a perfume that could combine the headiness of flowers growing at the banks of the River Styx, the delicate tincture of early evening stars, the dewy-damp whiff of hot summer sleep, all gently rounded off with the top notes of the enigmatic, effervescent, ephemeral musk of angels.
I promised myself that I would indulge in a bottle or two once I get myself back to New York (since they don't ship outside the US). I don't really wear much perfume, but I think I could wear one of these, from various collections:
1. If I could smell like a dream:
DREAM FORMULA I: ONEIROI from SOMNIUM
"Created to invoke the ancient Greek deities of dreams. On the shores of the ocean, somewhere in the West, they dwell behind their gates of horn and ivory. Soporific, dark, and unfathomable."
2. If I could smell like a place:
CROSSROADS from WANDERLUST
"The forks of the road: an in-between place, sacred and tangibly magickal in innumerable cultures and faiths. This scent is dark with mystery, taut with power. A chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth and mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs."
3. If I could smell like a deadly sin:
WRATH from SIN AND SALVATION
"A scent aflame with rage, swirling in the red haze of hatred: dragon's blood spiked with black pepper, clove, and cinnamon."
4. If I could smell like someone from Shakespeare's imaginings:
DESDEMONA from ILLYRIA
"Innocent, soft and pure: sweet pea, carnation and water lily."
I promised myself that I would indulge in a bottle or two once I get myself back to New York (since they don't ship outside the US). I don't really wear much perfume, but I think I could wear one of these, from various collections:
1. If I could smell like a dream:
DREAM FORMULA I: ONEIROI from SOMNIUM
"Created to invoke the ancient Greek deities of dreams. On the shores of the ocean, somewhere in the West, they dwell behind their gates of horn and ivory. Soporific, dark, and unfathomable."
2. If I could smell like a place:
CROSSROADS from WANDERLUST
"The forks of the road: an in-between place, sacred and tangibly magickal in innumerable cultures and faiths. This scent is dark with mystery, taut with power. A chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth and mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs."
3. If I could smell like a deadly sin:
WRATH from SIN AND SALVATION
"A scent aflame with rage, swirling in the red haze of hatred: dragon's blood spiked with black pepper, clove, and cinnamon."
4. If I could smell like someone from Shakespeare's imaginings:
DESDEMONA from ILLYRIA
"Innocent, soft and pure: sweet pea, carnation and water lily."
Labels: neil gaiman, perfume, scents
10:45:00 PM
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Sunday, June 21, 2009
portraits and perspectives
There's a new D-SLR at home, and of course, it had to be taken out for a test run. Here are a few of my favorite shots from that shoot. All of me, of course. I haven't asked permission from the other "subjects/models" if I can post theirs yet.
Labels: lia, portraits photos, shots
10:35:00 PM
1 Comments
Friday, June 19, 2009
i just want to say...
I lost ALL my ebooks in the great computer crash of May 2009, and I am still in mourning. Over 300 visions of other worlds, gone into the ether.
I admit it. Most of my ebooks are sci-fi or fantasy, and I download torrents and torrents of the stuff. I do need my Terry Pratchett and Dianne Wynne Jones and Isaac Asimov like a junkie needs a fix. I had the Artemis Fowl books, a bit of Meg Cabot, most of Jim Butcher, and folders of Edgar Rice Burroughs and all those Mars and Venus stuff. Also Dune, and all of Neil Gaiman's Sandman (must find this asap, as I have been crushing on Morpheus for ages), and a few other authors I seem to have forgotten (mea culpa!).
I am a snob about many things, but I freely admit to fantasy and sci-fi geekdom. I watched ALL the incarnations of Star Trek, except for Enterprise, because honestly, that truly sucked, even for me. I always rush home to watch Doctor Who (because the Doctor is definitely MY sort of man). I stood by Torchwood and yes, even Sarah Jane - my friends laughed and called me all sorts of names, but I stood my ground. I still have complete seasons of Merlin and Demons and Dollhouse and Primeval on my computer. Hey, they kept me sane throughout my unbreak-my-heart hell, when all my brain could handle was light and easy, and it was pleading pleading pleading for me to take it far, far away.
So now I find myself needing to rebuild. With the promise of backing up regularly and consistently. Hah. All you people who laughed whenever I said I had to stay home to catalog my books, well, those nights now serve me well! (Note: This is how completely dorky I am: I have a spreadsheet of all of my lovelies - with ISBN's, authors, publishers, years, etc. And if you include the newly vanished virtual copies, I had over 600 books in my room alone! And you know what's even geekier? I actually have a true blue BARCODE SCANNER to make data entry of the tangible copies easier.)
I had a point to this post... ah yes. So if you have any ebooks you would like share, hit me up. I will owe you. Thanks.
I admit it. Most of my ebooks are sci-fi or fantasy, and I download torrents and torrents of the stuff. I do need my Terry Pratchett and Dianne Wynne Jones and Isaac Asimov like a junkie needs a fix. I had the Artemis Fowl books, a bit of Meg Cabot, most of Jim Butcher, and folders of Edgar Rice Burroughs and all those Mars and Venus stuff. Also Dune, and all of Neil Gaiman's Sandman (must find this asap, as I have been crushing on Morpheus for ages), and a few other authors I seem to have forgotten (mea culpa!).
I am a snob about many things, but I freely admit to fantasy and sci-fi geekdom. I watched ALL the incarnations of Star Trek, except for Enterprise, because honestly, that truly sucked, even for me. I always rush home to watch Doctor Who (because the Doctor is definitely MY sort of man). I stood by Torchwood and yes, even Sarah Jane - my friends laughed and called me all sorts of names, but I stood my ground. I still have complete seasons of Merlin and Demons and Dollhouse and Primeval on my computer. Hey, they kept me sane throughout my unbreak-my-heart hell, when all my brain could handle was light and easy, and it was pleading pleading pleading for me to take it far, far away.
So now I find myself needing to rebuild. With the promise of backing up regularly and consistently. Hah. All you people who laughed whenever I said I had to stay home to catalog my books, well, those nights now serve me well! (Note: This is how completely dorky I am: I have a spreadsheet of all of my lovelies - with ISBN's, authors, publishers, years, etc. And if you include the newly vanished virtual copies, I had over 600 books in my room alone! And you know what's even geekier? I actually have a true blue BARCODE SCANNER to make data entry of the tangible copies easier.)
I had a point to this post... ah yes. So if you have any ebooks you would like share, hit me up. I will owe you. Thanks.
Labels: books, call to arms
11:44:00 AM
3 Comments
Thursday, June 18, 2009
and so it goes...
He's tall, and that has always been my lure of lures. And the fact that he's well-traveled and independent and always up for an adventure seemed tailor-made to reel me in. He's smart in his own way of course - he has a depth borne not out of classrooms, but of the way he has lived his life. He's admirably efficient, thoughtful, confident, self-reliant. He seems so incredibly anchored, and yet he isn't tied down to any single place. He's uncommitted, unfettered, and yet so gloriously at home with the world. He has a quirky, offbeat sense of humor that tends to catch people off guard.
It helps, of course, that he's also good-looking and built with the kind of arms that can make me feel physically, wonderfully safe. It helps that he has a beautiful, secret, childlike smile. It helps that he has eyes that remind me of the ocean. And he flirted back. He may even have flirted first.
He absolutely fascinated me. He was - is- the first man I've been truly attracted to post-John.
And yet. For all his worldliness, for all his sophistication, for all the crazy adventures still unraveling in his life... he still wants the same thing every other good man (or boy) I've met longs for in a woman. At the end of the day, he still wants her.
Her. That beauty of pearls and princesses and proprieties. She of kitchens and kindnesses and kittens. She of stovetops and settling downs and stay-at-homes. She of babies and baked goods and bending-over-backwards. And she is something I simply cannot bring myself to be. I cannot - will not - pour myself to fit. I'm not that girl. More to the point, I don't want to be her.
I'm sad that I've had to be disappointed. Sad that at the end of the day, he really is just like the rest of them. Sad that underneath all those marvelously strange and crazy layers, he can be so normal and traditional, and well, average.
But the worst bit? He has pushed himself off his pedestal, and I am sad, sad, sad to find that I am no longer of a mind to pick him up.
And that's all I have to say about that.
It helps, of course, that he's also good-looking and built with the kind of arms that can make me feel physically, wonderfully safe. It helps that he has a beautiful, secret, childlike smile. It helps that he has eyes that remind me of the ocean. And he flirted back. He may even have flirted first.
He absolutely fascinated me. He was - is- the first man I've been truly attracted to post-John.
And yet. For all his worldliness, for all his sophistication, for all the crazy adventures still unraveling in his life... he still wants the same thing every other good man (or boy) I've met longs for in a woman. At the end of the day, he still wants her.
Her. That beauty of pearls and princesses and proprieties. She of kitchens and kindnesses and kittens. She of stovetops and settling downs and stay-at-homes. She of babies and baked goods and bending-over-backwards. And she is something I simply cannot bring myself to be. I cannot - will not - pour myself to fit. I'm not that girl. More to the point, I don't want to be her.
I'm sad that I've had to be disappointed. Sad that at the end of the day, he really is just like the rest of them. Sad that underneath all those marvelously strange and crazy layers, he can be so normal and traditional, and well, average.
But the worst bit? He has pushed himself off his pedestal, and I am sad, sad, sad to find that I am no longer of a mind to pick him up.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Labels: of mice and men
9:53:00 PM
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Photos
I wanted photos with my books, so my sister took some. I wanted images that were soft and dreamlike, with the whisper of beautiful, forgotten things, and the texture of a different time... like secret secondhand bookshops, and gold-tipped fountain pens, and embossed stationery, and beloved hope chests of (not that) long ago.
***
I am a bookworm, and the books are mine.These old ones are from my great grandfather's library. I love that out of all the branches of our family tree, out of all the grandchildren and great grandchildren, the clan elders chose to hand them down to me -- not to my mom or my dad, but to me, specifically. They now reside in my room, nestled among younger tales and newer stories. I love them, and everything they stand for: history and roots and family; the intrinsic beauty of old, well-loved things; knowledge; imagination; the stunning internal landscapes of dreamers long since gone...
***
***
***
***
***
And here I am, my favorite backpack behind me, an open box beside, always coming, always going. And always waiting, waiting for things to begin, unaware (or perhaps I've simply forgotten) that the world is still going round, and that things have already started to move, and that the beginnings have, somewhere, begun to fall in place.
In a completely different way, I must say that I love my cowboy boots too. I got them while I was still living in New York
***
The dress is from Manila
***
The cup I'm holding is one of MY cups (I have two), and it goes where I go. Coffee doesn't taste any sweeter, and tea doesn't taste any purer, but somehow, the experience of sipping a hot drink from one of my beloved cups makes my mornings (or afternoons, or evenings) just that much better. The cup is a simple, stark white, and there's a caricature of a naked girl in front, with "bookslut" written just below it. I had it specially made for me, while I was living in Vegas.
***
Feeling (and probably looking) like a kid in a candy shop. I'm quite partial to the smell and feel of books in general, but I think OLD HARDBOUND BOOKS are especially orgasmic. There's something about the gently yellowing pages, the old, delicately mottled leather, the brittle glue that's always in danger of coming undone, that simply undoes something in me.
***
And here I am, my favorite backpack behind me, an open box beside, always coming, always going. And always waiting, waiting for things to begin, unaware (or perhaps I've simply forgotten) that the world is still going round, and that things have already started to move, and that the beginnings have, somewhere, begun to fall in place.
11:01:00 AM
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An homage to exes
You and I, Un-interwineI am open skies and open minds
You are desks and darts and drawers
I am nights and never neverlands
You are beds and bars and borders
I am trains and trips and tastes
You are homes and harmonies
I am wanderings and wonderlands
You are melodies and mysteries
You ask where do we overlap?
At what point do we meet?
I say you are the pillow beneath my head
I am the cushion underneath your feet.
And when I've rested my weary mind
And your legs uncoil for more
We un-entwine, we unhold hands
and quietly, walk out the door
10:07:00 AM
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Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Oddly enough
Oddly enough, this picture, and the corresponding caption, made me smile.
"A scowling boy with a stripey cushion..."
From Peonies and Polaroids: http://www.peoniesandpolaroids.com/2009/05/things-to-banish-blues-or-greys.html
"A scowling boy with a stripey cushion..."
From Peonies and Polaroids: http://www.peoniesandpolaroids.com/2009/05/things-to-banish-blues-or-greys.html
4:14:00 AM
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Random
I am not an easy person to miss. I am not the type of person who is hard to live without.
Worlds did not crumble when I left. Realities weren't shattered. Nobody curled up in a ball, shivering in a space dwarfed by my absence. I left no gaping holes, no empty gaps, no vortices and vacuums.
I've been asked many times how it can be so easy for me to uproot myself, and take off, and disappear. It's never easy. But perhaps it's not quite that difficult for me, because there are a few things that I do know.
I have never been the sun in anyone's solar system. I still don't know how it must feel to be the center of a universe that isn't mine. When I walk a certain path, my footprints are easy to sweep away. My departures are not cause for grounds to crack or skies to fall. When I leave, I leave with the knowledge that the tides need only to fall back, that life must shift only a few degrees, and everything will be alright, routine, normal. Perhaps I am remembered, sometimes I may even be missed, but only in the way that summers are longed for, and mangoes craved out-of-season. I am rarely ever needed in the way that needs can cause aches and tears and pains.
I know this about myself. And it's not entirely a bad thing. Not entirely sad. It moves my story forward, makes my world go round. It's a choice I made, to live life my way, and most times, that's enough.
But there are days -- like this one -- when I wish it wasn't.
Worlds did not crumble when I left. Realities weren't shattered. Nobody curled up in a ball, shivering in a space dwarfed by my absence. I left no gaping holes, no empty gaps, no vortices and vacuums.
I've been asked many times how it can be so easy for me to uproot myself, and take off, and disappear. It's never easy. But perhaps it's not quite that difficult for me, because there are a few things that I do know.
I have never been the sun in anyone's solar system. I still don't know how it must feel to be the center of a universe that isn't mine. When I walk a certain path, my footprints are easy to sweep away. My departures are not cause for grounds to crack or skies to fall. When I leave, I leave with the knowledge that the tides need only to fall back, that life must shift only a few degrees, and everything will be alright, routine, normal. Perhaps I am remembered, sometimes I may even be missed, but only in the way that summers are longed for, and mangoes craved out-of-season. I am rarely ever needed in the way that needs can cause aches and tears and pains.
I know this about myself. And it's not entirely a bad thing. Not entirely sad. It moves my story forward, makes my world go round. It's a choice I made, to live life my way, and most times, that's enough.
But there are days -- like this one -- when I wish it wasn't.
1:58:00 AM
1 Comments
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Random Reflectionary Rants
Something's been bothering me a bit over the last couple of days, and I really just have to get this out of my system.
It's been over a year since my break-up. I've kept pretty quiet about it, because I was never one to air my dirty laundry out in public. But girls and boys, this has to stop. It truly bothers me that people automatically assume that I was the one who first let go. That I was the one who backed away from commitment. That I was the one who gave up.
I didn't. I wasn't. The truth? I would have loved a happily ever after. No matter how misguided, I would have fought for forever. But I couldn't, because he had already let me go. Simple as that. Clear cut as that. No ifs or buts.
It's not his fault, of course. People change, emotions shift, men fall in and out of love. My ex was -- is --- a good, good man. But even good men have to make tough choices, and really, it was the only choice he could have made for himself. I've always understood that. And I appreciate his honesty, his candor, and, strangely enough, I also appreciate the courage it must have taken to break his best friend's heart.
I like to believe that he knew me and trusted my strength. I like to believe that he understood that I was looking for something else, and that although we were good for the time that we were together, our paths had ceased to intertwine. I had become antsy. I was beginning to resent being tied down and held to a certain place. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: he helped me find myself by loving me, and then he helped me find myself again by letting me go. And really, what more could I have asked?
***
I've realized that although I sometimes do envy my friends their perfect white weddings, I've come to accept that a marriage may really just not be for me.
The next person I share myself with (and god only knows when that's going to be) will have to be fundamentally like me, I think: introspective, a bit nomadic, open-minded, assertive, and absolutely okay with an unconventional relationship. I DO NOT want to be one half of a whole. I am whole in and unto myself. I DO NOT want to complete anyone. I want someone who is complete in and unto himself.
I want someone curious about the world, someone who doesn't mind me coming and going as I please, someone who thinks and pauses to examine "places far and deep in his mind". I want someone who is okay on his own, who doesn't need me to prop him up, but who WANTS me nonetheless, simply because he can feel himself "shining under the light of my gaze". I want someone who won't tie me down, but who will be there when I need him most. I want a romantic, an idealist, a part-time philosopher. I want someone who can meet me halfway, who can be alone, who can leave me alone. I want someone who has the balls to tell me off when necessary, in ways that will make sense to me.
Finally, I want someone I can truly love. Unconditionally. No holds barred, no exits, no plan b's. And I want someone who will at least try to love me the same way, warts and all. Tall order, huh? Well, I've always been a closet romantic.
Plus if things don't work out, I can always adopt cats. Lots and lots of cats. ;)
***
Ask and you shall receive. Let's see what the universe comes up with.
It's been over a year since my break-up. I've kept pretty quiet about it, because I was never one to air my dirty laundry out in public. But girls and boys, this has to stop. It truly bothers me that people automatically assume that I was the one who first let go. That I was the one who backed away from commitment. That I was the one who gave up.
I didn't. I wasn't. The truth? I would have loved a happily ever after. No matter how misguided, I would have fought for forever. But I couldn't, because he had already let me go. Simple as that. Clear cut as that. No ifs or buts.
It's not his fault, of course. People change, emotions shift, men fall in and out of love. My ex was -- is --- a good, good man. But even good men have to make tough choices, and really, it was the only choice he could have made for himself. I've always understood that. And I appreciate his honesty, his candor, and, strangely enough, I also appreciate the courage it must have taken to break his best friend's heart.
I like to believe that he knew me and trusted my strength. I like to believe that he understood that I was looking for something else, and that although we were good for the time that we were together, our paths had ceased to intertwine. I had become antsy. I was beginning to resent being tied down and held to a certain place. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: he helped me find myself by loving me, and then he helped me find myself again by letting me go. And really, what more could I have asked?
***
I've realized that although I sometimes do envy my friends their perfect white weddings, I've come to accept that a marriage may really just not be for me.
The next person I share myself with (and god only knows when that's going to be) will have to be fundamentally like me, I think: introspective, a bit nomadic, open-minded, assertive, and absolutely okay with an unconventional relationship. I DO NOT want to be one half of a whole. I am whole in and unto myself. I DO NOT want to complete anyone. I want someone who is complete in and unto himself.
I want someone curious about the world, someone who doesn't mind me coming and going as I please, someone who thinks and pauses to examine "places far and deep in his mind". I want someone who is okay on his own, who doesn't need me to prop him up, but who WANTS me nonetheless, simply because he can feel himself "shining under the light of my gaze". I want someone who won't tie me down, but who will be there when I need him most. I want a romantic, an idealist, a part-time philosopher. I want someone who can meet me halfway, who can be alone, who can leave me alone. I want someone who has the balls to tell me off when necessary, in ways that will make sense to me.
Finally, I want someone I can truly love. Unconditionally. No holds barred, no exits, no plan b's. And I want someone who will at least try to love me the same way, warts and all. Tall order, huh? Well, I've always been a closet romantic.
Plus if things don't work out, I can always adopt cats. Lots and lots of cats. ;)
***
Ask and you shall receive. Let's see what the universe comes up with.
12:19:00 AM
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Monday, May 25, 2009
The Choice
I am ready to leave. I will leave by late this year or early next. I just need to concretize the plans: job, lodging, etc.
I have been so antsy it's making me crazy. I thought coming here would help me de-stress a bit, and it did for a little while, but I'm ready to take the next step now. And staying here, feeling like my life is in limbo, is just not good for my health (sleepless nights and stress patches can't be healthy). I tried to convince myself to stay, but I JUST CAN'T. And that trip to Europe just put everything in perspective. I want to travel, and if I stay here, that's just going to be a pipe dream for many, many years. I am not attracted to Filipino guys (and by the looks of things, I may be too strange a brew for them as well), so I'm not sure I'll ever find any kind of romance here. My credentials never seem to be a good fit with Manila's various industries. I feel like an outcast here sometimes, like my perspective, my whole paradigm is askew, and I am so sick and tired of asking myself what's wrong with me. I know what's wrong. I am not where I belong right now. Here is not where I need to be. That's what's wrong.
I am 28 years old. I have two master's degrees, both from the US. I have BEEN married (yes, past tense). I've traveled. I've been a dog-walker, a licensed real estate agent, a New York City public school teacher, a nanny, an editor, a writer, and a personal assistant. I've been published (nothing to write home about, obviously, but my byline HAS been printed in magazines and newspapers across the US, plus I did that editorial stint for manhwa). On paper, I've actually led a pretty decent life.
And yet. I feel discontent here. I feel that dreaded mediocrity nipping at my heels here, and I am SO SO SO afraid of getting sucked into the vortex that is Manila, because I know this is not where my dreams are. I feel an urgency to get away, because I know that the longer I stay, the easier it will be for me to forget who I want to be.
The world is too big to settle in just one spot. I will never get over the regret I will feel if I don't move this story forward, if I don't do what I really want to do. I love my family with all my heart - they're all I have, really -- but I love myself too. And this is what I have to do, for myself, to find my place and my purpose in the big, wild world.
It's a big decision - a decision that comes with its own trail of tears. It's not like before, when I first left, because then I always thought I'd come back, and spend the rest of my life in Manila. Now I'm not so sure. Now everything is just a big unknown.
My parents did not raise me to be a spectator. They raised me well, with backbone, with gumption, with the courage to act on my desires and to pursue my dreams, no matter how convoluted they may be. And I am so grateful that they have never hindered my path, no matter how circuitous, no matter how strange. I was made for a different kind of life. I want the adventure, the highs and lows, the multiple passions, the universe's drama.
At this point, I don't know exactly where I'm going. All bets are off now. New York. San Franciso. Maybe even Europe, if I can put together a life there. I don't know what I'll be doing. Dog-walking, tour-guiding, even a desk job --all fair game now. But I will leave, of that I am certain. Because I can't NOT. Because my happiness has always been tangled up with taking the journey.
Wish me luck.
I have been so antsy it's making me crazy. I thought coming here would help me de-stress a bit, and it did for a little while, but I'm ready to take the next step now. And staying here, feeling like my life is in limbo, is just not good for my health (sleepless nights and stress patches can't be healthy). I tried to convince myself to stay, but I JUST CAN'T. And that trip to Europe just put everything in perspective. I want to travel, and if I stay here, that's just going to be a pipe dream for many, many years. I am not attracted to Filipino guys (and by the looks of things, I may be too strange a brew for them as well), so I'm not sure I'll ever find any kind of romance here. My credentials never seem to be a good fit with Manila's various industries. I feel like an outcast here sometimes, like my perspective, my whole paradigm is askew, and I am so sick and tired of asking myself what's wrong with me. I know what's wrong. I am not where I belong right now. Here is not where I need to be. That's what's wrong.
I am 28 years old. I have two master's degrees, both from the US. I have BEEN married (yes, past tense). I've traveled. I've been a dog-walker, a licensed real estate agent, a New York City public school teacher, a nanny, an editor, a writer, and a personal assistant. I've been published (nothing to write home about, obviously, but my byline HAS been printed in magazines and newspapers across the US, plus I did that editorial stint for manhwa). On paper, I've actually led a pretty decent life.
And yet. I feel discontent here. I feel that dreaded mediocrity nipping at my heels here, and I am SO SO SO afraid of getting sucked into the vortex that is Manila, because I know this is not where my dreams are. I feel an urgency to get away, because I know that the longer I stay, the easier it will be for me to forget who I want to be.
The world is too big to settle in just one spot. I will never get over the regret I will feel if I don't move this story forward, if I don't do what I really want to do. I love my family with all my heart - they're all I have, really -- but I love myself too. And this is what I have to do, for myself, to find my place and my purpose in the big, wild world.
It's a big decision - a decision that comes with its own trail of tears. It's not like before, when I first left, because then I always thought I'd come back, and spend the rest of my life in Manila. Now I'm not so sure. Now everything is just a big unknown.
My parents did not raise me to be a spectator. They raised me well, with backbone, with gumption, with the courage to act on my desires and to pursue my dreams, no matter how convoluted they may be. And I am so grateful that they have never hindered my path, no matter how circuitous, no matter how strange. I was made for a different kind of life. I want the adventure, the highs and lows, the multiple passions, the universe's drama.
At this point, I don't know exactly where I'm going. All bets are off now. New York. San Franciso. Maybe even Europe, if I can put together a life there. I don't know what I'll be doing. Dog-walking, tour-guiding, even a desk job --all fair game now. But I will leave, of that I am certain. Because I can't NOT. Because my happiness has always been tangled up with taking the journey.
Wish me luck.
2:06:00 PM
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