"What could be better than two people falling in love and giving to each other their lives?" mum said. I almost instantly cried (I know, I seem to be or want to cry a lot these days...). "It doesn't really matter who they are, as long as they love each other."
She said she's been "researching" and reading up on things, and she has come to accept "it" more. "It" being homosexuality. Of late, she said she has been watching "Dream of the Red Chamber", a Chinese classic text that vividly describes all sorts of friends and relationships and beautifully captures the human psyche. In it, with its multitude of characters, all sorts of relationships are portrayed. Love between man and woman, and love between man and man. Mum said she cried many times watching the tv dramatisation of this great classic text (which for a while was banned due to its controversial themes), and she recommended I read it someday.
Toward the end of our daily phone conversation mum said to me: "As long as you are happy, and he provides you with much love and support, then that is the most important." He meant no other than my friend, my ex, which was awkward, because I had told her that we are no longer together before. But I guess the way we hang around one another, the way we contact one another and speak to one another when we are apart makes it hard for the outside world to believe that we are really not together.
So I told her again that we are no longer together. "Shame," she said, "He is such a nice boy and he cares about you so much." I could say nothing else, but deep inside can only wonder again why we are no longer together. I guess I'll never really understand.
But the reason why the topic of homosexuality came up was not about me. It was about someone in my extended family, whom mum somehow found out is gay. He recently went to university, and soon afterward he met this guy and they have been together since. How innocent, how beautiful... I can imagine it (or perhaps I am beautifying it...): eighteen year olds, perhaps their first romance, first love, first experiences of being in love. How beautiful, how wonderful that is...!
The mums on both sides know, are alright with it, at least as ok as they can be. "I realise more and more," mum said, "There are so many [gays] here, and I am more accepting." And she told me how the other day, when mum went to see dad, she told him about me, and asked him for understanding and acceptance.
I am glad, for deep down inside a knot that has been tying me down has been untied even more.
17 September 2011
Games?
I found myself lying awake in bed this morning, merely a few hours after going to sleep. Piercing through is the glorious bright light of a chilly autumns day, and the hint of change on the trees outside my bedroom window. I lie next to my friend, hear his faint breathing, find myself wanting to lean close, to hug him. But find myself hesitating too.
Last night was a wonderful evening spent with friends, drinking and socializing. At times, I found my friend looking at me, winking at me playfully from the corner of his eyes... And yet, at times I saw him distracted, looking down and frantically tapping away on his phone, communicating with i can only guess is the guy he wants to be with...
I lie next to him and wonder... All the conversations we have had over the course of the last months, weeks, and we are still in a limbo, in that in-between place of having it all, and having nothing. I told him if he wants to be with the other person, go for it, there is nothing standing in his way now. And he told me outright that there are issues he feels he must resolve with me before he can move on (and indeed, in a couple of months, he is moving away to another city...).
I lie next to him and wonder... What am I doing with him, and what am I doing to myself? I'm giving him warmth, affection, little playful and intimate touches and pokes, I put my arms around him when we sleep next to one another to keep him warm. And he does the same too, wrapping his arms around me and leaning against me in a snug, beautiful fit. What does he still have to resolve with me? What is
there to resolve...?
The other day, he sang the lyrics of the song "Quit playing games with my heart"...
It's a horrible indictment to make, and I'd like to believe otherwise. My friend has on a number of occasions told me that I'm the "best" person he's come across. He says he can envision life with me, building a family and home with me, being comfortable and happy with me. In fact, he said a wonderful period of time we had was when I moved into my current apartment and were painting and decorating the place together. It was the first time he did that with anyone, and he said he felt he was building a home, a feeling I share too...
The other day, when he is ready he wants to be with me and will give me one hundred percent, for life. How am I supposed to respond to that when I see him trying again and again to pursue someone he knows somehow deep down inside may very well just be a short lived romance and momentary infatuation? Am I supposed to wait and wait till he's gone out and experienced something to make him realise what he really needs in life? How long should I be in this limbo and feel so drawn to his winks and smiles, touches and hugs?
And yet he has conflicted feelings which he cannot explain, which he is unable to overcome. Of course i am a (if not the) source of his confusion and of him having conflicted feeling toward two people, and I have very little say in what he should do or who he should be with. But even though we have broken up, we still spend many nights a week together, sleeping next to one another, enjoying the comfort and warmth we provide one another. For me, I can receive that comfort and warmth only from him... but he has options, and I am but one of the options...
Am I for the time being, before him and the other person officially get together, just a source of comfort and warmth that is readily available? Perhaps I am the very reason holding him back and preventing him from going into something deeper by being around. Perhaps I'm feeling the way I've made him feel during all that time when I was with him physically, but never really said outright I would be committed to him as the one and only...
I said to my friend the other day I hope he can really find what he wants, who he wants, and gain more clarity so he can move on, literally and metaphorically. Who does not want that, and who does not wish that to someone who is your best friend and whom you care about so very much? For his own sake first and foremost, and also for the sake of the people who have become entangled in this relationship triangle, he needs clarity, closure so he can start a new chapter in life, without lingering feelings, without wondering what if and why not...
Someone will get hurt in the short run, but with time, wounds will heal, and the past will be forgotten. If he feels so strongly for the other person, do something about it, I said, Don't linger and torture himself and others... If it is me who has to be resolved, then so be it. I will retire and distance myself and remove myself slowly and slowly from his life, and move on...
And going away in a few days for almost two weeks is a start to doing just that. I feel, and in a way, I admit, I fear, that when I come back there change will have blown in in my absence with the wind. Change, like the changing of the colours on the trees outside... Positive or negative, change is usually for the best.
At least I hope so...
Last night was a wonderful evening spent with friends, drinking and socializing. At times, I found my friend looking at me, winking at me playfully from the corner of his eyes... And yet, at times I saw him distracted, looking down and frantically tapping away on his phone, communicating with i can only guess is the guy he wants to be with...
I lie next to him and wonder... All the conversations we have had over the course of the last months, weeks, and we are still in a limbo, in that in-between place of having it all, and having nothing. I told him if he wants to be with the other person, go for it, there is nothing standing in his way now. And he told me outright that there are issues he feels he must resolve with me before he can move on (and indeed, in a couple of months, he is moving away to another city...).
I lie next to him and wonder... What am I doing with him, and what am I doing to myself? I'm giving him warmth, affection, little playful and intimate touches and pokes, I put my arms around him when we sleep next to one another to keep him warm. And he does the same too, wrapping his arms around me and leaning against me in a snug, beautiful fit. What does he still have to resolve with me? What is
there to resolve...?
The other day, he sang the lyrics of the song "Quit playing games with my heart"...
I live my life, the way
To keep you coming back to me
Everything I do
Is for you
So what is it that you can't see
Sometimes I wish I could
Turn back time
Impossible as it may seem
But I wish I could
So bad, baby you'd better quit playing games with my heart
It's a horrible indictment to make, and I'd like to believe otherwise. My friend has on a number of occasions told me that I'm the "best" person he's come across. He says he can envision life with me, building a family and home with me, being comfortable and happy with me. In fact, he said a wonderful period of time we had was when I moved into my current apartment and were painting and decorating the place together. It was the first time he did that with anyone, and he said he felt he was building a home, a feeling I share too...
The other day, when he is ready he wants to be with me and will give me one hundred percent, for life. How am I supposed to respond to that when I see him trying again and again to pursue someone he knows somehow deep down inside may very well just be a short lived romance and momentary infatuation? Am I supposed to wait and wait till he's gone out and experienced something to make him realise what he really needs in life? How long should I be in this limbo and feel so drawn to his winks and smiles, touches and hugs?
And yet he has conflicted feelings which he cannot explain, which he is unable to overcome. Of course i am a (if not the) source of his confusion and of him having conflicted feeling toward two people, and I have very little say in what he should do or who he should be with. But even though we have broken up, we still spend many nights a week together, sleeping next to one another, enjoying the comfort and warmth we provide one another. For me, I can receive that comfort and warmth only from him... but he has options, and I am but one of the options...
Am I for the time being, before him and the other person officially get together, just a source of comfort and warmth that is readily available? Perhaps I am the very reason holding him back and preventing him from going into something deeper by being around. Perhaps I'm feeling the way I've made him feel during all that time when I was with him physically, but never really said outright I would be committed to him as the one and only...
I said to my friend the other day I hope he can really find what he wants, who he wants, and gain more clarity so he can move on, literally and metaphorically. Who does not want that, and who does not wish that to someone who is your best friend and whom you care about so very much? For his own sake first and foremost, and also for the sake of the people who have become entangled in this relationship triangle, he needs clarity, closure so he can start a new chapter in life, without lingering feelings, without wondering what if and why not...
Someone will get hurt in the short run, but with time, wounds will heal, and the past will be forgotten. If he feels so strongly for the other person, do something about it, I said, Don't linger and torture himself and others... If it is me who has to be resolved, then so be it. I will retire and distance myself and remove myself slowly and slowly from his life, and move on...
And going away in a few days for almost two weeks is a start to doing just that. I feel, and in a way, I admit, I fear, that when I come back there change will have blown in in my absence with the wind. Change, like the changing of the colours on the trees outside... Positive or negative, change is usually for the best.
At least I hope so...
16 September 2011
“…quietly breaking down”
On the field of lower campus, there is a statue of James McGill. With one hand holding onto his hat as the other clutches a walking stick, he seems to be braving much resistance as he struggles forward. The other day, a dozen metres in the direction he is headed, hundreds of protesters gathered in support of a strike that has crippled much of the university.
Since the first day of September, exactly at the height of very hectic and busy time that characterises every new term, the core of the university’s administration has been on strike. Potentially, the strike could last for months if no compromise can be reached. Various picket lines have formed just outside the campus premises (law prohibits them from entering McGill premises), with staff rattling tambourines, striking metal bins, braving the rain and heat, and walking around in circles to defend their right to equitable pay.
The industrial action was called by McGill University Non-Academic Certified Association (MUNACA), the body that represents some 1700 McGill support staff. It was triggered by a breakdown in negotiations about the terms and conditions of employment, which have drastically been changed over a number of years. Salary increases have not met up with inflation or wage increases at other universities in the province, and a number of benefits have been unilaterally cut. “It’s the economy”, the university says.
“McGill is quietly breaking down”, as one of the speakers described it addressing the crowd. Security staff stood, stern faced and silent, and eyed the gathering crowd with folded arms. In the lukewarm sun, hundreds stood assembled and cheered as different speakers representing different communities of the university came out to speak in support of the strike. Disappointed, yet resilient, sidelined, yet not deterred, the crowd chanted slogans in unions and sang modified versions of popular songs to further their cause. In a further demonstration of solidarity, the student unions which represent undergraduates and postgraduates, as well as a number of professors and organisations, have voiced their staunch support for the strike.
It comes down to how much so many have dedicated their lives to this university, to ensuring the continued life and thriving of this community, and yet get very little recognition in return. And now they must make do with even less. The clapping of passersby and the honking horns of supportive drivers galvanised the protesters even more, and fueled the mutual feelings of unity and solidarity. A sea of placards with clever and succinct sentences described the workers’ discontent.
“McGill works because we do!”
“Support our support staff!”
“McGill students in solidarity!”
Among the crowd, I recognised a number of familiar faces. The librarian who works late into the night, and who must also work the whole day on Saturdays and Sundays… the secretaries who does everything and anything that is asked of them… Men and women I have seen around campus, maybe even nodded and smiled at as we crossed paths at times, but now, with their matching T-shirts, I have come to recognise play a vital role in keeping this university we cherish running. I greeted a number of people I work with, and they greatly appreciated the solidarity many students have demonstrated in marching with them. The echo of a clap, the heart-warming effects of uttering a few words of encouragement, the recognition of the look in a stranger’s eyes that say “I’m with you”… Little gestures and words go a long, long way in bringing people together in the struggle against a seemingly unresponsive and stubborn bureaucracy.
In an email circulated among McGill students and staff recently, the university underlined the “substantial deficit this year as well as a significant accumulated debt” McGill is facing, and notes that the situation is further “aggravated by the recent additional turmoil in economic markets”. Cuts have to be made, no doubt. But why does it have to come out of the pensions and benefits of the university’s support staff, when the principal earns much more than the Prime Minister of Canada, and over two million is spent on the renovation of one floor alone? Budgetary constraints may require the university to “make choices, some sacrifices”, but why does the university’s administrative support staff, the very people who makes everything function, have to bear the brunt of these sacrifices?
Long queues are forming at circulation desks and administrative offices due to reduced staff, as are the grumblings. Paperwork is piling up, salaries are being unpaid, libraries have reduced opening hours. Even the internet connection, which normally works so smoothly, seem to have its moments of breaking down. These are just some of the small tasks and chores we take for granted, but when left undone, greatly impacts the ability of students and the academic staff to go about their daily business of teaching, research and learning. Complaints are mounting, and the impression of McGill as a renowned institution of learning and teaching has no doubt become tainted by its inability to placate demands and meet the needs of its vital support staff.
I feel the strike, and every day when I walk on campus, I see and hear it too. The deafening din of bells rings, metallic banging, and horns being blown may be distracting, and may even be annoying. But the sight of colourful banners, buttons and children marching alongside the men and women who keep this place running remind us of how dependent we all are on them, and how they depend on our support so they can continue to support our time at McGill under better conditions and with better pay.
14 September 2011
So torn
I don't know why often after a few minutes or so on the phone, mum seems to be eager to hang up the phone. I call to ask her how she's doing, whether she slept well, whether she feels any pain... Always the answer is "Fine, I'm fine, don't worry..."
Do I remind her too much of her illness?
Do I ask too much?
Do my daily calls make her feel unpleasant and pressured to face her own fragile health, something she would rather forget?
Do my calls remind her of the child she has, but who is so far, far away?
I never wish to do any of this to her when I call. I only call to cheer her up, to encourage her to get out of the house more... I wish to tell her, perhaps not in so many words, that I care, that I care deeply about her and her wellbeing.
Just now, I sat on the floor and as she recounted her day yesterday. I cried. She said she went to this restaurant she would go to every time a day or two after her chemo treatment to replenish on much needed nutrients... Every time it's always the same dishes: dumplings, chicken soup, and sometimes a fried pork rib. I can picture those dishes, steaming before my eyes. I can smell those dishes, so fragrant, so delicious. Every time time I go with mum, I would look at the food with such intensity and pray and hope and wish that the food will give her much needed strength and nutrition for her to quickly recover...
I cried.
Deep down inside, I miss her very much. I would so much want to be able to take care of her, to help her, to ease her pain and fears (should she have any...). But I know I cannot keep on going back to be with her. I know I cannot continue to put my plans and life on hold and must do something for myself, for my sake. So torn... so very torn, and yet I cannot say it.
I dare not tell her the emotional downs and relationship troubles I am going through... I dare not tell her about the many days and nights when I cry thinking about her, worrying about her... I wish I could, I wish I could tell her about my life, every detail of it, but I am selective and have to hold back events, places, words spoken, pain felt.
I have to hold back, just as I hold back the sound of my sobs when I am talking to her sometimes.
Do I remind her too much of her illness?
Do I ask too much?
Do my daily calls make her feel unpleasant and pressured to face her own fragile health, something she would rather forget?
Do my calls remind her of the child she has, but who is so far, far away?
I never wish to do any of this to her when I call. I only call to cheer her up, to encourage her to get out of the house more... I wish to tell her, perhaps not in so many words, that I care, that I care deeply about her and her wellbeing.
Just now, I sat on the floor and as she recounted her day yesterday. I cried. She said she went to this restaurant she would go to every time a day or two after her chemo treatment to replenish on much needed nutrients... Every time it's always the same dishes: dumplings, chicken soup, and sometimes a fried pork rib. I can picture those dishes, steaming before my eyes. I can smell those dishes, so fragrant, so delicious. Every time time I go with mum, I would look at the food with such intensity and pray and hope and wish that the food will give her much needed strength and nutrition for her to quickly recover...
I cried.
Deep down inside, I miss her very much. I would so much want to be able to take care of her, to help her, to ease her pain and fears (should she have any...). But I know I cannot keep on going back to be with her. I know I cannot continue to put my plans and life on hold and must do something for myself, for my sake. So torn... so very torn, and yet I cannot say it.
I dare not tell her the emotional downs and relationship troubles I am going through... I dare not tell her about the many days and nights when I cry thinking about her, worrying about her... I wish I could, I wish I could tell her about my life, every detail of it, but I am selective and have to hold back events, places, words spoken, pain felt.
I have to hold back, just as I hold back the sound of my sobs when I am talking to her sometimes.
definition
I opened a letter this morning, and on inside was an insurance policy which is supposed to protect my credit card payments should something, anything, happen to me.
And there in the most lawyerly and very dry, unfeeling way, cancer was defined. I read the description, again and again. For a moment, I was empty of feeling. But at one point, my mind drifted to a dream I had during the night. I don't remember the details, but reading the definition of cancer triggered a flashback...
"...malignant tumour characterised by unctonrolled growth of malignant cells". I can see it when I close my eyes. I can see it growing, growing, spreading and taking over. I could see the back of mum's, swollen and sore, terribly sore. And she was crying, she was in pain...
A definition in my insurance policy, and the nightmare I did not want to remember was remembered...
12 September 2011
Mid Autumn Festival
And today is the Mid Autumn Festival, a traditional day of family reunion and get-together. Though I was drained of energy from the night earlier, on my way home, I stopped by Chinatown and picked up some groceries...
Roast duck (dad's favorite), grilled chicken (chicken being a symbol and homonym of the world "family" or "home"), and three different types of green vegetables, including chives (symbol of longevity). For my grandma, I specially bought a can of cucumber pickled in soy sauce, which she loved to eat, especially as she often ate congee (soupy rice) due to her lack of teeth. I made rice and turnip soup ( symbol of prosperity and good luck), and offered a variety of sweets and drinks I had in the food cabinet. And of course, no Mid Autumn Festival could be without mooncakes and pomelos, so those I also laid out on the table as part of the offerings.
As I was cooking, a package that mum had mailed to me earlier last week also arrived. I opened it, and was immediately touched by the little packets of dried food she had sent me, and by the delicacies she wanted me to give to my friends and colleagues. "Thank them for taking care of you," she had told me previously. A number of what mum sent me also made it onto a separate table of offerings.
I knelt before the table, closed my eyes and whispered in my heart... "Grandma, grandpa... dad, and all the ancestors..." I motioned to the few simple dishes I had cooked, as I promised I would. I 'invited' them to come and enjoy the food, and asked them to continue to look after and bless our family... to watch over and take care of mum, who is all by her self and earlier this morning told me of how "quiet" this festival has been for her. I did not ask anything for myself. I shed a tear instead.
I asked the ancestors to watch over brother, his wife and the new born child. I even connected online so that I could 'show' the ancestors what the new family member, the first of the next generation, looks like. Seeing my nephew's little face, his frown and eyes somehow reminded me of dad, of dad's face, and triggered another avalanche of emotions...
I lit an incense coil, and retreated quietly to the side as my ancestors 'ate'. I thought of the people who had come before me, of dad and the memories we shared... I was not sad, but still numb from the outpouring of grief and painful memories the night before. Preparing the feast, chopping vegetables and cooking made me recover and heal somewhat, as did the classical music in the background.
As silly, as superstitious as the entire ceremony is, the cooking and offerings made me connect once more with myself and the people who matter(ed) in my life. And they are still in my heart, on my mind, even so many years have gone by, even if I am so far, far away from where I originally came from...
Fragile peace
I felt so drained, so empty inside in the morning after such an intense release energy and emotions and tears the night earlier. Everything, everything there is to know about me and my life I have let out...
I was afraid to go home, but I knew I had to, even though I dreaded, dreaded being alone.
After letting the pent up emotions go, you become numb... So numb. Numb. Just numb. For a few moments, it is as if there are no emotions, no feelings, nothing but emptiness. Is that a sort of peace? No, it is a fragile peace, a disturbing sort of peace. Fragile because it can easily shatter and break. I could easily shatter and break down. The past, mum's health, the loneliness I feel... all of it consuming me, swallowing me, haunting me. Can I stand up again? Can I mould despair into strength? Can I transform sadness and pain into inspiration?
I know I am still breathing, I am still alive, but the world becomes a blur, the past becomes a fading shadow. And the present? I'm in the present walking around, talking like a lost soul searching for a home, a safe haven. But it seems I will be searching a long, long time....
I can feel the rawness, feel how very sensitive and fragile I have become.
No more hiding, no more concealing dark, dark secrets of the past. I am exposed and very very vulnerable...
I was afraid to go home, but I knew I had to, even though I dreaded, dreaded being alone.
After letting the pent up emotions go, you become numb... So numb. Numb. Just numb. For a few moments, it is as if there are no emotions, no feelings, nothing but emptiness. Is that a sort of peace? No, it is a fragile peace, a disturbing sort of peace. Fragile because it can easily shatter and break. I could easily shatter and break down. The past, mum's health, the loneliness I feel... all of it consuming me, swallowing me, haunting me. Can I stand up again? Can I mould despair into strength? Can I transform sadness and pain into inspiration?
I know I am still breathing, I am still alive, but the world becomes a blur, the past becomes a fading shadow. And the present? I'm in the present walking around, talking like a lost soul searching for a home, a safe haven. But it seems I will be searching a long, long time....
I can feel the rawness, feel how very sensitive and fragile I have become.
No more hiding, no more concealing dark, dark secrets of the past. I am exposed and very very vulnerable...
11 September 2011
The past
I broke down, again. I didn't mean to, but the memories were too difficult and painful...
I didn't want to make it about my past, that unmentionable past. The main issue was that I had, consciously or unconsciously, lie about my sexual experiences. I had led my best friend / ex to believe I am an 'angel'. He felt manipulated and hurt, said he had held me with such high esteem, but now has difficulty trusting me. All he ever wanted, he said, was a boyfriend who he could trust, and who was true. But I can't even be that... I've not been that.
I broke down in tears because it is all related. 'Full' sex and the past, what happened to me long ago, yet haunts me still. Twice I was close, but it did not work out because I was too scared, too tense, and unwilling. And to my friend I said that nobody had ever done that with me. Because someone did try, even though it failed. And the time this one guy tried with me and it didn't work out, he told me in my face something that hurt me for a long, long time. His words still echo in my head to this day, and made me often doubt myself and sexual maturity...
I sobbed for i don't know how many minutes... Just cried and cried, and the sobbing was so intense I felt my ribs and stomach ache so badly. I was blinded by the tears, consumed with ugly, ugly memories and images, and saturated with pain, with guilt, with shame, with the question "Why? Why did it happen? Why me?"
But there is no answer, it just happened. And my phobias, my bouts of guilt, victim mentality, my fear of of full-on sex, my deep deep sense of alienation, loneliness and insecurity all flow from those experiences. The tears just flowed and flowed and I could not stop shaking, shaking, shaking...
Why was I crying? Crying because I hurt and disappointed my friend... crying because deep down inside, there is something fundamentally wrong with me that causes me to lie, hide, conceal details and behave so strangely when it comes down to sex... I cried because I realised that the past will forever cast a shadow over whatever relationship I enter into with anyone...
I have always had a difficult relationship with sex and intimacy. I long for it, yet dread it at the same time. Sometimes I find myself blocking out sexual experiences and encounters... I don't know if I do it consciously. I don't think so, but I simply do not know. Which may explain (but in no way justifies) why I do not fully reveal the details my sexual experiences, even to the one person I trust most of all.
But I do remember as a child, when 'it' was happening to me, I would close my eyes and drift away... It was my escape, escape from pinned down, from being forced, from being subjugated and victimised. I would dream, fantasise of being somewhere else, doing something else. It was my way of coping, shield invisible shield, even though my body had been compromised. My body may have been 'taken', but my mind, my thoughts are free and can attempt at escape...
And at times today, even engaged in intimate love making, my mind drifts and wanders. It is as if I'm not there, even though I am engaged in the act. It happens less today, but there are sometimes lapses of memory and concentration I cannot account for. Sex is not just sex for me, not just something pleasurable and fulfilling, something that compliments a healthy relationship with someone I love and care about. For me, sex also draws out at times memories that are painful to bear, too difficult to forget...
I sat on the sofa and continued to sob and shake. It was not out of wanting sympathy or compassion or an easy way out of how deeply I had hurt and disappointed my friend earlier that I cried. I could not control my tears, no less my stop shaking and my and the painful sobs that shook my body and lips...
When was the last time I spoke so frankly, so openly about what I went through? When was the last time I poured out how it affected me so pervasively, so toxically like a plague I cannot control, cannot stamp out? I thought I could let it go, but no, it comes back again and again. Again and again when I least expect it, in my relationships with other people, in my relationship with sex, and in my ability to trust and be intimate... Once abused, forever scarred and forever scared.
He hugged me, he cried for me, he encouraged me. But I felt so undeserving of all this attention, of his time, of all this comforting and care I was again receiving from him, from the very person I had hurt and disappointed a few hours earlier. Who am I to deserve all that after all the hurt and pain I've caused him, not just today, but over the past three years we've known each other?
And told me again how strong I am, how strong I have been to have gone through it all, and yet come out the beautiful person I am. Beautiful, he said, as beautiful as he first met me, as beautiful as he got to know me more and more. Despite the lies, and the ways he felt I had manipulated and deceived him, he was still there, still wasting his time and energy trying to make me feel whole and feel like I deserve love and care, for whatever reason...
I wiped my tears eventually, collected myself and my belongings, and prepared to leave. I felt I could not stay around much longer. I felt like burrying myself under the blanket and sleeping so I could forget, so I could have that temporary peace of mind when my mind is 'off' and when I do not think and do not remember...
"More than ever, I want to lie next to you", he said. For my sake, for his sake, for our sake, whatever that meant... I was torn... I had not, and cannot, forget that hurt and numbed facial expression earlier in the day when he found out about my sexual past. And yet he still wants to lie next to me? I was conflicted and confused. The negative and traumatic memories do paralysed me and I could not think, could not make up my mind... what do I want? What is best for me? I looked at my friend, standing by the door, his innocent eyes red and damp from tears he had shed.
And I stayed, for better or worse, and once again found comfort, acceptance, and warmth, all those elements I have so looked for and longed for, in his arms.
I didn't want to make it about my past, that unmentionable past. The main issue was that I had, consciously or unconsciously, lie about my sexual experiences. I had led my best friend / ex to believe I am an 'angel'. He felt manipulated and hurt, said he had held me with such high esteem, but now has difficulty trusting me. All he ever wanted, he said, was a boyfriend who he could trust, and who was true. But I can't even be that... I've not been that.
I broke down in tears because it is all related. 'Full' sex and the past, what happened to me long ago, yet haunts me still. Twice I was close, but it did not work out because I was too scared, too tense, and unwilling. And to my friend I said that nobody had ever done that with me. Because someone did try, even though it failed. And the time this one guy tried with me and it didn't work out, he told me in my face something that hurt me for a long, long time. His words still echo in my head to this day, and made me often doubt myself and sexual maturity...
I sobbed for i don't know how many minutes... Just cried and cried, and the sobbing was so intense I felt my ribs and stomach ache so badly. I was blinded by the tears, consumed with ugly, ugly memories and images, and saturated with pain, with guilt, with shame, with the question "Why? Why did it happen? Why me?"
But there is no answer, it just happened. And my phobias, my bouts of guilt, victim mentality, my fear of of full-on sex, my deep deep sense of alienation, loneliness and insecurity all flow from those experiences. The tears just flowed and flowed and I could not stop shaking, shaking, shaking...
Why was I crying? Crying because I hurt and disappointed my friend... crying because deep down inside, there is something fundamentally wrong with me that causes me to lie, hide, conceal details and behave so strangely when it comes down to sex... I cried because I realised that the past will forever cast a shadow over whatever relationship I enter into with anyone...
I have always had a difficult relationship with sex and intimacy. I long for it, yet dread it at the same time. Sometimes I find myself blocking out sexual experiences and encounters... I don't know if I do it consciously. I don't think so, but I simply do not know. Which may explain (but in no way justifies) why I do not fully reveal the details my sexual experiences, even to the one person I trust most of all.
But I do remember as a child, when 'it' was happening to me, I would close my eyes and drift away... It was my escape, escape from pinned down, from being forced, from being subjugated and victimised. I would dream, fantasise of being somewhere else, doing something else. It was my way of coping, shield invisible shield, even though my body had been compromised. My body may have been 'taken', but my mind, my thoughts are free and can attempt at escape...
And at times today, even engaged in intimate love making, my mind drifts and wanders. It is as if I'm not there, even though I am engaged in the act. It happens less today, but there are sometimes lapses of memory and concentration I cannot account for. Sex is not just sex for me, not just something pleasurable and fulfilling, something that compliments a healthy relationship with someone I love and care about. For me, sex also draws out at times memories that are painful to bear, too difficult to forget...
I sat on the sofa and continued to sob and shake. It was not out of wanting sympathy or compassion or an easy way out of how deeply I had hurt and disappointed my friend earlier that I cried. I could not control my tears, no less my stop shaking and my and the painful sobs that shook my body and lips...
When was the last time I spoke so frankly, so openly about what I went through? When was the last time I poured out how it affected me so pervasively, so toxically like a plague I cannot control, cannot stamp out? I thought I could let it go, but no, it comes back again and again. Again and again when I least expect it, in my relationships with other people, in my relationship with sex, and in my ability to trust and be intimate... Once abused, forever scarred and forever scared.
He hugged me, he cried for me, he encouraged me. But I felt so undeserving of all this attention, of his time, of all this comforting and care I was again receiving from him, from the very person I had hurt and disappointed a few hours earlier. Who am I to deserve all that after all the hurt and pain I've caused him, not just today, but over the past three years we've known each other?
And told me again how strong I am, how strong I have been to have gone through it all, and yet come out the beautiful person I am. Beautiful, he said, as beautiful as he first met me, as beautiful as he got to know me more and more. Despite the lies, and the ways he felt I had manipulated and deceived him, he was still there, still wasting his time and energy trying to make me feel whole and feel like I deserve love and care, for whatever reason...
I wiped my tears eventually, collected myself and my belongings, and prepared to leave. I felt I could not stay around much longer. I felt like burrying myself under the blanket and sleeping so I could forget, so I could have that temporary peace of mind when my mind is 'off' and when I do not think and do not remember...
"More than ever, I want to lie next to you", he said. For my sake, for his sake, for our sake, whatever that meant... I was torn... I had not, and cannot, forget that hurt and numbed facial expression earlier in the day when he found out about my sexual past. And yet he still wants to lie next to me? I was conflicted and confused. The negative and traumatic memories do paralysed me and I could not think, could not make up my mind... what do I want? What is best for me? I looked at my friend, standing by the door, his innocent eyes red and damp from tears he had shed.
And I stayed, for better or worse, and once again found comfort, acceptance, and warmth, all those elements I have so looked for and longed for, in his arms.
Weaker
She sounded weaker, noticeably weaker when she picked up the phone. It had been a rough, rough night. She said it wasn't because she was lying awake thinking, but that every time the first night after chemo she cannot sleep well.
She sounded tired, but we still talked for almost quarter of an hour. "I'll take care of myself," she said, "You just do you thesis, and see what you need to do after that..."
I asked her if brother knew about her continuing treatment. He does, and when he heard it, there appeared to he much regret... about how things ended when mum left Europe. What is the use of regret now? What is the use of being sorry and causing so much upset, perhaps even contributing to her relapse...? Maybe those days she spent with me, when she could not sleep and when she was upset about my sexuality also contributed to her having to return for treatment...
"Rest," I told her, "Take good care of yourself please..." but I felt so bitter, so angry at myself inside. What am I doing here...? Really, what am I doing here?
I have such a severe headache, and the mixture of anxiety and fatigue is dragging me lower and lower down...
She sounded tired, but we still talked for almost quarter of an hour. "I'll take care of myself," she said, "You just do you thesis, and see what you need to do after that..."
I asked her if brother knew about her continuing treatment. He does, and when he heard it, there appeared to he much regret... about how things ended when mum left Europe. What is the use of regret now? What is the use of being sorry and causing so much upset, perhaps even contributing to her relapse...? Maybe those days she spent with me, when she could not sleep and when she was upset about my sexuality also contributed to her having to return for treatment...
"Rest," I told her, "Take good care of yourself please..." but I felt so bitter, so angry at myself inside. What am I doing here...? Really, what am I doing here?
I have such a severe headache, and the mixture of anxiety and fatigue is dragging me lower and lower down...
09 September 2011
Rock climb
I strained hard, so very hard I felt large, warm sweat beads escape from my pores. My muscles ached, my resolve and will was being tested. I felt dizzy, and gravity pulled on me, wanting me to fall. It is a long, long way down to fall...
But I fought and I fought, told myself I could do this, told myself I will do this. My fingers ached, as if the skin were being torn and my nails being stretched. My body was burning, but I had one thing in my mind:
"For mum... I can do this for mum... This is nothing compared to the struggle she has to face against the cancer that is eating her from the inside..." I told myself, however much it hurt, however painful my muscles were, nothing, nothing can compare to mum's pain...
I pulled myself up, leapt with faith in my own ability to grab on and hang onto the little holes on the vertical wall. I could do it, I knew I could do it. and I did do it.
I hung on the railing close to the ceiling and looked down at the great distance upward I had just conquered. What a feat, what a rush, what a relief it was...
"For mum... I did it for mum..." For her health, for her well-being, for her happiness, for her peace of mind. As silly as it may be, it is so naive and so childish to think that my rock climbing has anything remotely related with her illness or recovery...
But deep inside I so wished that every success I have, every bit of personal triumph I achieve, can somehow reflect back to mum, and make her stronger, and make her better...
But I fought and I fought, told myself I could do this, told myself I will do this. My fingers ached, as if the skin were being torn and my nails being stretched. My body was burning, but I had one thing in my mind:
"For mum... I can do this for mum... This is nothing compared to the struggle she has to face against the cancer that is eating her from the inside..." I told myself, however much it hurt, however painful my muscles were, nothing, nothing can compare to mum's pain...
I pulled myself up, leapt with faith in my own ability to grab on and hang onto the little holes on the vertical wall. I could do it, I knew I could do it. and I did do it.
I hung on the railing close to the ceiling and looked down at the great distance upward I had just conquered. What a feat, what a rush, what a relief it was...
"For mum... I did it for mum..." For her health, for her well-being, for her happiness, for her peace of mind. As silly as it may be, it is so naive and so childish to think that my rock climbing has anything remotely related with her illness or recovery...
But deep inside I so wished that every success I have, every bit of personal triumph I achieve, can somehow reflect back to mum, and make her stronger, and make her better...
new day
Struggling hard to contain myself and my emotions, I pick myself up and brace myself for the day ahead. Put on a brave face, i tell
myself, and it'll soon all pass....
I head into metro and I see... A crippled man on crutches struggling hard up the stairs... A woman wearing a thin head scarf in the middle of a hot day. She had such a pale, pale complexion, her face was so thinned and fragile, her hairline nowhere to be seen, her arms brittle and bony... And across from me is an elderly woman with deep imprints of life on her face, wrinkles and sadness scrawled all over her face... Three different lives, but in common is their 'shared' sense of loneliness, suffering
I turn away and close my eyes, and swallow the pain of seeing people in pain, and my mind drifts, drifts to my mother far, far away...
myself, and it'll soon all pass....
I head into metro and I see... A crippled man on crutches struggling hard up the stairs... A woman wearing a thin head scarf in the middle of a hot day. She had such a pale, pale complexion, her face was so thinned and fragile, her hairline nowhere to be seen, her arms brittle and bony... And across from me is an elderly woman with deep imprints of life on her face, wrinkles and sadness scrawled all over her face... Three different lives, but in common is their 'shared' sense of loneliness, suffering
I turn away and close my eyes, and swallow the pain of seeing people in pain, and my mind drifts, drifts to my mother far, far away...
Treatment
Warms tears rolled down my cheeks almost immediately.
She could not see them, and for the next ten minutes or so, she could not hear them. Mum could not see her child was crying as he spoke to her on the phone.
She was hesitant to tell me at first. And I had to ask to find out. If I didn't ask, she would have just told me how a friend came by to visit and how they had a lovely dinner and walk afterwards together. The fact that she went into the hospital to see her main physician and that she immediately went to do chemotherapy would have gone unmentioned if I didn't ask...
The latest scan revealed the tumour on the spine has grown only bigger. "Cancer cells are so scary," she said, "They're growing..." She needs to restart chemo, and five, six sessions are planned ahead.
"Please, focus on your future..." she said, "Do what you need to do..." She said she can't go to Europe as planned to see her grandchild. Chemotherapy is planned for the next ten weeks. It's best, according to the doctor. Will she even see her grandchild in person, ever...?
I could not contain my tears, just as I cannot control them now. Warm, blinding, comforting and yet painfully they escaped my eyes so naturally... But I could contain my whimpers, my sounds of grief, suppress them, silence them until I pressed "End Conversation" on Skype and put down my phone. Then the sounds of grief, of sadness came pouring out... Luckily I was alone at home. The sighing, gasping, the pain, the loneliness, the sense of having lost all control is so immense, so overwheliming.
I wished I could comfort her... hold her and reassure her. But I am so powerless, so very, very powerless... I feel drained already by the latest news, so sapped of all energy to even eat, to even get out of bed. Mentally, I see myself packing, jumping on a plane and returning home.
Was I crying for her, or for myself? Was I crying because she has to once again face the treatments, the hospital visits and the side-effects all by herself? Was I crying because I am again so very, very torn by what I should do, need to do...? I just began to tie up the loose ends of my thesis... I just enrolled in a language course, I had set myself to starting preparations for my equivalency exams... Again and again, it seems every time I try, every time I want to do something for myself, something pulls me away...
All I can say is that my fears, my worries and anxieties, already rising after our brief conversation last night and which made me sleep so badly, are surfacing and taking over my mind like a violent, violent storm.
How much more can I take...?
She could not see them, and for the next ten minutes or so, she could not hear them. Mum could not see her child was crying as he spoke to her on the phone.
She was hesitant to tell me at first. And I had to ask to find out. If I didn't ask, she would have just told me how a friend came by to visit and how they had a lovely dinner and walk afterwards together. The fact that she went into the hospital to see her main physician and that she immediately went to do chemotherapy would have gone unmentioned if I didn't ask...
The latest scan revealed the tumour on the spine has grown only bigger. "Cancer cells are so scary," she said, "They're growing..." She needs to restart chemo, and five, six sessions are planned ahead.
"Please, focus on your future..." she said, "Do what you need to do..." She said she can't go to Europe as planned to see her grandchild. Chemotherapy is planned for the next ten weeks. It's best, according to the doctor. Will she even see her grandchild in person, ever...?
I could not contain my tears, just as I cannot control them now. Warm, blinding, comforting and yet painfully they escaped my eyes so naturally... But I could contain my whimpers, my sounds of grief, suppress them, silence them until I pressed "End Conversation" on Skype and put down my phone. Then the sounds of grief, of sadness came pouring out... Luckily I was alone at home. The sighing, gasping, the pain, the loneliness, the sense of having lost all control is so immense, so overwheliming.
I wished I could comfort her... hold her and reassure her. But I am so powerless, so very, very powerless... I feel drained already by the latest news, so sapped of all energy to even eat, to even get out of bed. Mentally, I see myself packing, jumping on a plane and returning home.
Was I crying for her, or for myself? Was I crying because she has to once again face the treatments, the hospital visits and the side-effects all by herself? Was I crying because I am again so very, very torn by what I should do, need to do...? I just began to tie up the loose ends of my thesis... I just enrolled in a language course, I had set myself to starting preparations for my equivalency exams... Again and again, it seems every time I try, every time I want to do something for myself, something pulls me away...
All I can say is that my fears, my worries and anxieties, already rising after our brief conversation last night and which made me sleep so badly, are surfacing and taking over my mind like a violent, violent storm.
How much more can I take...?
08 September 2011
strange mood
I reached mum finally after a long time trying. Eventually I got a hold of her at the hospital. She was waiting for the doctor, her main physician. But there was something in her voice...
I can't tell what, and she wouldn't tell me what. I could hear from the background noise she was at the hospital. Was it for her return visit? Is not today the day she'd get her results? Or is something happening...?
"I need to go," she said, and there ended our brief conversation.
Something is up...
I can't tell what, and she wouldn't tell me what. I could hear from the background noise she was at the hospital. Was it for her return visit? Is not today the day she'd get her results? Or is something happening...?
"I need to go," she said, and there ended our brief conversation.
Something is up...
07 September 2011
Changes
I notice little things. Changes, displacements, disappearances. I can sit in a room, look around and notice the little things, the little details.
I stayed over at the ex's place last night. Under the pretext of wanting to dissect the movie we had just watched together. But as so often, we ended up in bed, and I succumbed to the the intoxicating lure of his body and warmth.
At breakfast, we sat in the living room. And I noticed. A calendar- poster I had once scribbled and drawn on with unerasable marker that had been placed behind the tv was now gone. Gone, put away like the rest of the little notes I had once written and left behind. Little marks, little reminders of me, of us, mostly gone, hidden away from sight. Even permanent markings can be removed.
Again, I don't blame him. Move on, I had said to him. And what better way to do that than hide memories of the past? Especially if he is going to have the boy he feels for in his apartment. Perhaps soon enough, the gifts, soft animals and mementos I once gave him will also vanish from the shelves and bookcases. All those trips, moments together, hapiness shared commitments made... They will slowly fade with time and fading memories and make room for new ones, and I do hope for his sake, for his wellbeing and happiness, much happier and more memorable ones. The apartment will be emptier, emptier of a past gone by, and of the presence and role I once had in his life.
There was an awkward silence.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said, breaking the silence. I was on my way to a lecture. But that phrase had another meaning too.
I'll walk out that door, the door will shut behind mere. And I will be gone.
I stayed over at the ex's place last night. Under the pretext of wanting to dissect the movie we had just watched together. But as so often, we ended up in bed, and I succumbed to the the intoxicating lure of his body and warmth.
At breakfast, we sat in the living room. And I noticed. A calendar- poster I had once scribbled and drawn on with unerasable marker that had been placed behind the tv was now gone. Gone, put away like the rest of the little notes I had once written and left behind. Little marks, little reminders of me, of us, mostly gone, hidden away from sight. Even permanent markings can be removed.
Again, I don't blame him. Move on, I had said to him. And what better way to do that than hide memories of the past? Especially if he is going to have the boy he feels for in his apartment. Perhaps soon enough, the gifts, soft animals and mementos I once gave him will also vanish from the shelves and bookcases. All those trips, moments together, hapiness shared commitments made... They will slowly fade with time and fading memories and make room for new ones, and I do hope for his sake, for his wellbeing and happiness, much happier and more memorable ones. The apartment will be emptier, emptier of a past gone by, and of the presence and role I once had in his life.
There was an awkward silence.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said, breaking the silence. I was on my way to a lecture. But that phrase had another meaning too.
I'll walk out that door, the door will shut behind mere. And I will be gone.
Hospital visit
It started a few days ago, when a friend (and former flatmate) was admitted into the hospital. Ever since she moved out, we've not had much contact but are on friendly terms.
I wrote her a message hoping her a speedy recovery and let her know that if she needs anything I can help.
Yesterday, after a series of tests, she was admitted into the emergency ward. I just finished watching a movie with my friend, and she had asked to have contact lens solution delivered. This was minutes before midnight, closing time, so I ran and ran and was so out of breath by the time I arrived, and was lucky enough to have a minute to spare before they announced the pharmacy was closing. I picked up what she needed and a little card with flowers. Not much choice, but it had orchids on the front, her favourite. And quickly, briefly I scribbled a little message inside.
Originally I didn't want to go visit her, but accompanied my friend anyways. She looked so pale and frail when I saw her, and she was shivering. From the cold, or from fear? I wasn't sure. I hugged her and told her again if she needs anything.... she needed to be in hospital for observation and more tests. More tests and waiting...
It was already after midnight, yet the emergency ward was busy. A young girl in tears wiped her eyes as a nurse spoke to her quietly. A few were asleep in armchairs, a lady had red, red eyes, moist from tears. A man sat forlorn and looked out the window. And elderly man, unshaven, with a wrinkled face and pale, pale hair sat up on his hospital bed and reached his arm out, as if in need, as wanting help or company.
They were all waiting, waiting... Just waiting, for how long already I don't know. For how much longer perhaps they don't know either. Strangers brought together in a bright place that smells of medicine in the middle of the night The tv was silent, but showed a late night talk show, the host of which made funny faces and was surrounded by colourful, big captions.
I found myself surrounded by patients, and reminded of the drab and dreariness of hospitals. It was a reason why I was hesitant to go inside and would have preferred to stay by the door.
In truth, I did not want to see patients lying around with tubes attached to their arms... I did not want to see the sadness, the tears and hurt of family and relatives and witness unnecessarily the fragility of health and being human. It reminds me too much of... Of what I don't want to be reminded of.
I went out to buy something for my friend, who had not eaten much for the day. I ran and ran up and down the steep hill leading to the hospital. Despite the running and the sweat running down my cheeks, for some reason I smiled. Not at the situation, but what little I could do to make the situation a little better, just a little better. Even if it's just getting a small slice of pizza in the middle of the night, or giving my friend a little card or warm hug... A little gesture says a lot.
Once again, it is what I do "best", what allows me to shine and show care and compassion. Not to boost my own ego, but to let people around me be touched in little ways.
And I like that.
I wrote her a message hoping her a speedy recovery and let her know that if she needs anything I can help.
Yesterday, after a series of tests, she was admitted into the emergency ward. I just finished watching a movie with my friend, and she had asked to have contact lens solution delivered. This was minutes before midnight, closing time, so I ran and ran and was so out of breath by the time I arrived, and was lucky enough to have a minute to spare before they announced the pharmacy was closing. I picked up what she needed and a little card with flowers. Not much choice, but it had orchids on the front, her favourite. And quickly, briefly I scribbled a little message inside.
Originally I didn't want to go visit her, but accompanied my friend anyways. She looked so pale and frail when I saw her, and she was shivering. From the cold, or from fear? I wasn't sure. I hugged her and told her again if she needs anything.... she needed to be in hospital for observation and more tests. More tests and waiting...
It was already after midnight, yet the emergency ward was busy. A young girl in tears wiped her eyes as a nurse spoke to her quietly. A few were asleep in armchairs, a lady had red, red eyes, moist from tears. A man sat forlorn and looked out the window. And elderly man, unshaven, with a wrinkled face and pale, pale hair sat up on his hospital bed and reached his arm out, as if in need, as wanting help or company.
They were all waiting, waiting... Just waiting, for how long already I don't know. For how much longer perhaps they don't know either. Strangers brought together in a bright place that smells of medicine in the middle of the night The tv was silent, but showed a late night talk show, the host of which made funny faces and was surrounded by colourful, big captions.
I found myself surrounded by patients, and reminded of the drab and dreariness of hospitals. It was a reason why I was hesitant to go inside and would have preferred to stay by the door.
In truth, I did not want to see patients lying around with tubes attached to their arms... I did not want to see the sadness, the tears and hurt of family and relatives and witness unnecessarily the fragility of health and being human. It reminds me too much of... Of what I don't want to be reminded of.
I went out to buy something for my friend, who had not eaten much for the day. I ran and ran up and down the steep hill leading to the hospital. Despite the running and the sweat running down my cheeks, for some reason I smiled. Not at the situation, but what little I could do to make the situation a little better, just a little better. Even if it's just getting a small slice of pizza in the middle of the night, or giving my friend a little card or warm hug... A little gesture says a lot.
Once again, it is what I do "best", what allows me to shine and show care and compassion. Not to boost my own ego, but to let people around me be touched in little ways.
And I like that.
06 September 2011
One (more) day
After the movie I turned to my friend and kissed him on the cheeks. He returned the gesture with a kiss on his fingers and placed them on my neck. Was it because he was uncomfortable, feeling awkward about kissing in front of a cinema of people? Or was he just uncomfortable, feeling awkward to kiss me, period? I don't know. I know I gave him that kiss and meant it.
I invited him to the movie, partly because the last time we watched something it had been a terribly long and growling film, and I wanted to make it up in a way. I had mentioned the movie to him earlier, when I first saw the ad. Two people, in the middle of the street, in the middle of what seems like a long, intense and passionate kiss. The French title is "Vingt ans" ( Twenty Years), the English one is "One day".
I had guessed what the movie was generally about before going, but it was in no way predictable. I wanted to go alone at first, but the movie seemed something "perfect" for us to watch, especially because (or despite?) of our break up. And I was glad he came in the end.
Two people meet in university, have a passionate night together, and they keep in touch. The movie moves forward with scenes from 15 July of (almost) every year that passes by over the span of some twenty (?) years- the date of their first night spent together.
We see how their lives progress or descend into chaos, see how they lives diverge and change, how their personalities and feelings for one another wane and change. Many things in life change, people come and go, people move around, people grow older, and perhaps more bitter and cynical, and people realise what is really important to them an to their lives, realise what or who it is that makes them happy, genuinely happy. Though feelings for one another may change, the deep connection and emotional bond that was somehow forged, even so long ago, still was alive and passionate.
Throughout the years the two manage to stay friends, or delude themselves that they are mere friends. They talk often, and write long letters to one another. When one is having a crisis, the other person is the first person who comes to mind and who is contacted.
After so many years, and numerous failed relationships, the two meet again and realise they are meant for one another. They stay together, promise each other to be true, to not let anything stand in their way again. Both are older now, with graying hair, and both may have lost that vitality and carefreeness of their youth, but the emotional connection, the physical attraction and unexplainable depth of connection between their hearts and minds has remained constant, and perhaps grew even stronger.
But happiness, genuine happiness, does not, and never does, last forever. However deep the devotion, however precious the relationship, somehow, sometime one person leaves first. All too abruptly perhaps, and in ways beyond our control. And as for the main characters, the period of time it took them to finally get together was too long, and the time they were together was much too short.
The movie touched me, and personally spoke to me. It made me cry, partly because the mother of one of the characters is taken away by cancer, leaving behind a lonely husband and son who was never really able to reconcile with how he behaved as she became weaker and weaker. One particular scene, when the son had to carry his frail, pale-looking mother up the stairs, left a lump in my throat. I swallowed deep, swallowing away most of my tears and the pangs of pain.
The movie touched me too, because I find myself in a similar situation, a tragedy even, with my ex. We both know (at least I think so...) deep down how much we mean to one another. We both reminisce how beautiful, how compatible we were when we were together. But because of circumstances beyond our control, undesired even, we simply cannot be.
The movie also left on me, and echoed, this glimmer of hope that perhaps, perhaps, if we are meant to be, we may still meet again and come together somewhere down our lives. But it also left that question, that annoying little rhetoric of why wait? Why torture the hearts and lives of two people who deep down knowingly feel so strongly for one another any longer? For what? Happiness, genuine love and the beauty of two people meeting and falling in love, should be treasured and held onto, for as long as you can, whenever you can.
After the movie I turned to kiss my friend on the cheek. We walked quietly away, and I reflected on the movie somewhat as my salty tears dried on the corners of my eyes and cheeks.
Maybe one day we will wake up from this all, and live, and love, and be happy, truly happy.
Sushi
I just came out of the French language course I started. it was late and I was hungry. Quickly I went to pick up sushi from a place that was closing and made my way to the cinema where I was supposed to meet my friend.
I walked and walked, and by the bright shop window of a high end fashion store, saw a bearded homeless man begging. His face was soiled, but he had a warm smile. Before him, in a blue upturned cap, were a few meager coins. I smiled at him, and he smiled even more back. I gestured with my sushi, wanting to offer it to him.
But selfishness and my own hunger took over me, and I stopped my gesturing before he really noticed and quickly walked on by. I walked quickly and left the man behind me.
But though i had left him behind, his image did not escape me as I hungrily devoured my sushi.
I felt terrible, however hungry I was, he must have been hungrier. I ate a few pieces out the box and quickly walked back. I saw him and approached slowly.
I felt terribly embarrassed. perhaps he recognized me. I bent down and handed him the remaining five pieces cucumber rolls. Not much, really not much, perhaps even too little. He could have had a whole box when i walked by him the first time. But despite my embarrassment and shame, he greeted me again with a smile, and as he took the box with both hands and sincere gratitude, a "Thank you".
"Have a good night" I wished him He certainly made mine, and I left him feeling warmed inside.
I walked and walked, and by the bright shop window of a high end fashion store, saw a bearded homeless man begging. His face was soiled, but he had a warm smile. Before him, in a blue upturned cap, were a few meager coins. I smiled at him, and he smiled even more back. I gestured with my sushi, wanting to offer it to him.
But selfishness and my own hunger took over me, and I stopped my gesturing before he really noticed and quickly walked on by. I walked quickly and left the man behind me.
But though i had left him behind, his image did not escape me as I hungrily devoured my sushi.
I felt terrible, however hungry I was, he must have been hungrier. I ate a few pieces out the box and quickly walked back. I saw him and approached slowly.
I felt terribly embarrassed. perhaps he recognized me. I bent down and handed him the remaining five pieces cucumber rolls. Not much, really not much, perhaps even too little. He could have had a whole box when i walked by him the first time. But despite my embarrassment and shame, he greeted me again with a smile, and as he took the box with both hands and sincere gratitude, a "Thank you".
"Have a good night" I wished him He certainly made mine, and I left him feeling warmed inside.
Olivia Chow interview
Last night, I watched her on the giving the first personal interview since her husband passed away. Dressed in black, a mourning widow who had just lost her rock and soulmate, she was however elegant, composed and bravely answered questions.
Even the difficult ones. About Jack Layton's illness, final days, about what was most memorable in their marriage of over twenty-five years. At one point she shed a tear, and the sky too was crying. My heart ached and went out to her...
She talked about the cancer that took Jack's life, even though he fought so hard. She explained why she and the family didn't want to reveal what cancer he had or what treatment he underwent, despite the media's obsession and probing:
And reading a magazine article about Jack and Olivia Chow together brought me again to tears. A chance meeting, at a fundraiser... two people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, connecting so deeply on so many levels, sharing their passion of politics and community involvement together with their passion for life and one another... "It is a uniquely Canadian, multicultural, inclusive love story". As Jack himself once put it, "I fell in love with Olivia in four nano seconds [...] I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, but I was smitten from day one..."
How very beautiful, how very romantic....
Video tribute to Jack Layton from the Celebration of Life gathering at Roy Thomson Hall
Even the difficult ones. About Jack Layton's illness, final days, about what was most memorable in their marriage of over twenty-five years. At one point she shed a tear, and the sky too was crying. My heart ached and went out to her...
She talked about the cancer that took Jack's life, even though he fought so hard. She explained why she and the family didn't want to reveal what cancer he had or what treatment he underwent, despite the media's obsession and probing:
"For what purpose? We know what cancer do to people. The majority of people who have cancer are fine, are able to continue […] We all die one way or another. Let’s live in that moment of hope and optimism, the kind of love he talked about."
And reading a magazine article about Jack and Olivia Chow together brought me again to tears. A chance meeting, at a fundraiser... two people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, connecting so deeply on so many levels, sharing their passion of politics and community involvement together with their passion for life and one another... "It is a uniquely Canadian, multicultural, inclusive love story". As Jack himself once put it, "I fell in love with Olivia in four nano seconds [...] I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, but I was smitten from day one..."
How very beautiful, how very romantic....
Video tribute to Jack Layton from the Celebration of Life gathering at Roy Thomson Hall
Gifts
I got emotional when she mentioned what she had done. "There are two boxes... one for your colleagues at work, one for your friends. Please thank them again for taking care of you..." Doing so much, doing too much. For me...
Mum spent a whole afternoon going around town to buy pineapple cakes, a delicacy from Taiwan, and she just mailed them over. She went out of her way to go to a shop which sells the 'best' (award winning) pineapple cakes, and bought dozens of them. She was very happy with her purchase, and in the same box slipped in other things she wanted to give to me... tea, seaweed, and other tastes of home. I was extremely touched, and had to lie down. At one point maybe because of the tears, she asked me what was wrong. The love and care of a mother toward her child is immensely powerful. I felt it, just by her recounting what she had done and went through. Imagine when I receive the gift box...
I called her as promised... after that initial talk, there was something else on my mind. It is always awkward to ask and begin the conversation... "How was it today?"
She went in and spoke to her neurosurgeon. Whereas before, he recommended surgery as soon as possible, today he said perhaps it's best to wait until we cannot wait any longer. He is worried if he operates now, the tumour growing near the spine will, instead of being under removed and control, spread dramatically. At least for now, the situation is more or less stable. And it's best to keep it that way.
Mum says she has pains in her left arm. How much it affects her, how painful it is, I do not know. I cannot see her face when she groans in pain. I can no longer see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead when the pain comes and seizes her senses. She said she was drowsy and going to sleep soon. The doctor prescribed more painkillers, and she is taking them at regular intervals.
At one point during her appointment, the doctor asked whether she has anyone to take care of her at home. I know the answer to that, she knows the answer to that. If need be, she will hire someone to take care of her. "Please," mum said, "don't come rushing back again. I'll be fine."
I say that often sometimes, even when I'm not. It's not a lie, not really, especially expressed in the future tense, because one day, I will be fine. But of course it does not mean that "I am fine" at this very moment. But when all's said and done, this moment will disappear into the next, and whatever I am feeling, whatever is bothering me, will most likely also disappear.
"Don't base your treatments on me. If you need surgery, if it is urgent, do it. Don't stop your treatments because you are afraid I might come back again", I said.
I don't like to talk about her illness every time we talk, because I can only imagine how sensitive it is for her, and how after a long afternoon waiting at the hospital, she just wants to unwind and forget. But I want to know, I need to know. Because I care, I really do care. More than most other things...
Mum spent a whole afternoon going around town to buy pineapple cakes, a delicacy from Taiwan, and she just mailed them over. She went out of her way to go to a shop which sells the 'best' (award winning) pineapple cakes, and bought dozens of them. She was very happy with her purchase, and in the same box slipped in other things she wanted to give to me... tea, seaweed, and other tastes of home. I was extremely touched, and had to lie down. At one point maybe because of the tears, she asked me what was wrong. The love and care of a mother toward her child is immensely powerful. I felt it, just by her recounting what she had done and went through. Imagine when I receive the gift box...
I called her as promised... after that initial talk, there was something else on my mind. It is always awkward to ask and begin the conversation... "How was it today?"
She went in and spoke to her neurosurgeon. Whereas before, he recommended surgery as soon as possible, today he said perhaps it's best to wait until we cannot wait any longer. He is worried if he operates now, the tumour growing near the spine will, instead of being under removed and control, spread dramatically. At least for now, the situation is more or less stable. And it's best to keep it that way.
Mum says she has pains in her left arm. How much it affects her, how painful it is, I do not know. I cannot see her face when she groans in pain. I can no longer see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead when the pain comes and seizes her senses. She said she was drowsy and going to sleep soon. The doctor prescribed more painkillers, and she is taking them at regular intervals.
At one point during her appointment, the doctor asked whether she has anyone to take care of her at home. I know the answer to that, she knows the answer to that. If need be, she will hire someone to take care of her. "Please," mum said, "don't come rushing back again. I'll be fine."
I say that often sometimes, even when I'm not. It's not a lie, not really, especially expressed in the future tense, because one day, I will be fine. But of course it does not mean that "I am fine" at this very moment. But when all's said and done, this moment will disappear into the next, and whatever I am feeling, whatever is bothering me, will most likely also disappear.
"Don't base your treatments on me. If you need surgery, if it is urgent, do it. Don't stop your treatments because you are afraid I might come back again", I said.
I don't like to talk about her illness every time we talk, because I can only imagine how sensitive it is for her, and how after a long afternoon waiting at the hospital, she just wants to unwind and forget. But I want to know, I need to know. Because I care, I really do care. More than most other things...
05 September 2011
Appointments
"How do you know?" she asked.
Of course I know. I remember it, every detail when she tells me about her condition. I know and remember when she has to go into the hospital again for check up. I write it down in my agenda, and a reminded just before the day comes.
There's an appointment with the neurosurgeon today, and another with her main physician. She will get her results and a diagnosis. And then soon enough, a decision will be made. More painful, grueling treatments? More hospital visits? More waiting and waiting until no more? A life-threatening major surgery? Or just let things be... let the cancer grow and grow and spread until one day, until one moment her body or mind, whichever first, cannot take it anymore...? A decision will be made, and once more my life will most likely be influenced by it.
Mum told me not to worry or think too much. "Just focus on your work..."
Was it me or did she sound down? Did I hear hesitation and perhaps fear in her voice? I wished I could see her face when she spoke to me. I wish I could see the expression on her face. Her appointment is number 93 today, which means most likely she'll be waiting till the afternoon... waiting, waiting... waiting, waiting... sitting and being surrounded by other patients, by cancer survivors, by nurses and doctors rushing to and fro....
"Are you going to be alright?" I asked. What kind of question is that...? What weak attempt at showing care or compassion is that? What could I do if she were not alright? So very, very little...
I'll call again, I said.I'll call again in the morning (my time) to see how today went.
In the mean time, while I try to sleep, my thoughts and my warmest wishes are with mum far, far away...
Of course I know. I remember it, every detail when she tells me about her condition. I know and remember when she has to go into the hospital again for check up. I write it down in my agenda, and a reminded just before the day comes.
There's an appointment with the neurosurgeon today, and another with her main physician. She will get her results and a diagnosis. And then soon enough, a decision will be made. More painful, grueling treatments? More hospital visits? More waiting and waiting until no more? A life-threatening major surgery? Or just let things be... let the cancer grow and grow and spread until one day, until one moment her body or mind, whichever first, cannot take it anymore...? A decision will be made, and once more my life will most likely be influenced by it.
Mum told me not to worry or think too much. "Just focus on your work..."
Was it me or did she sound down? Did I hear hesitation and perhaps fear in her voice? I wished I could see her face when she spoke to me. I wish I could see the expression on her face. Her appointment is number 93 today, which means most likely she'll be waiting till the afternoon... waiting, waiting... waiting, waiting... sitting and being surrounded by other patients, by cancer survivors, by nurses and doctors rushing to and fro....
"Are you going to be alright?" I asked. What kind of question is that...? What weak attempt at showing care or compassion is that? What could I do if she were not alright? So very, very little...
I'll call again, I said.I'll call again in the morning (my time) to see how today went.
In the mean time, while I try to sleep, my thoughts and my warmest wishes are with mum far, far away...
Goodbyes
Our eyes were red and moist. There was a chill in the air, and I longed for his arms around him to keep me warm. Later when we hugged goodbye, he said my body was very warm.
We spent a couple of hours talking. Work we wanted to, but I for some reason needed, wanted to see him. Perhaps it was against my better judgement, and actually I didn't know why I wanted to see him. Maybe find that reassurance, or offer him reassurance, that despite all odds, despite all uncertainties, we can still talk, cry and laugh...
We spoke about goodbyes. Childhood goodbyes... how he always, since he was a kid, looks back when saying goodbye. I recounted the difficult, difficult and teary goodbyes, the many goodbyes I have had since my parents left me in Europe.
He cried as he listened to me recount vivid memories of my childhood. He cried because he loves me, he says. He cried also, at one point, because I said something that had been on my mind for so long but never had the courage to say... How I wish to find stability... how I sometimes wish mum would just pass away, quietly, peacefully, so I don't have to worry, so I don't have to always have the suitcase half prepared in the event that I need to buy a ticket and hop on a plane the next day. Such a terrible and selfish though that is... how can I even think of that at all? How can I place my own future and happiness before the wellbeing of my very mother who is unwell and afraid? I burst out in tears as I said those words... however much I want her to be around and to make the most of her life, sometimes I do think it would be easier if she just quietly left...
He cried because I cried. He cried because he cares so very much and wants to see me happy and have a stable life, without having to think of the next plane journey... But how can he feel so deeply for me, love me so much, when he wants to be with someone else? How can he say that we are so compatible in so many ways, and yet have doubts of us together? Deep down inside, he knows and he admits I am the 'best' person he has encountered. Yet how painful it is to hear that when he for some reason still clings on hope and feelings for another person... When I hear those things, when I hear him say "what if..." or "if only", I go quiet. It is all in the past now...
I'm not bitter and angry at him, but instinctively I want to stay away from him for my own benefit. When he asked me whether I still love him, I said at first, less and less... But truth be told, perhaps I am just convincing myself of that, telling myself that if I could say that, then I feel it too. But no, I still care about him, think about him, lie in bed missing him and his body next to mine... I wonder what he is worrying about, what is weighing him down, and what I could possibly do to take his burden and worries away so that he may smile that beautiful smile of his again. Truly, I think about him, care about him the way I care about my own mother, and nobody has able to make me feel that way, ever.
But perhaps that is the problem... We have become too close, to intertwined in one another's lives that it is hard to let go. I told him, again and again, I want to 'disappear', be on the margins, especially as his heart is set on being together with the other guy. I am ready, however difficult it may be, however irresistible the temptation is to go see him or want to talk to him, to slowly fade away from his life. Because that is the only way I can think of that will make him think of me less (and make me think less of him...) But he said he cannot stop caring, cannot stop loving... and he will never stop caring or loving me...
We hugged just before parting ways and exchanged silent goodbyes with shallow nods and deep gazes into one another's eyes. I walked away, slowly to my own desk on the third floor of the library.
And contrary to what I have always done, I did not look back... Consciously or not, I am not sure.
But look back I did not...
I heard
That your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things
I didn't give to you
Old friend
Why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back
Or hide from the light
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over
Love drug
This friend I met recently told me that love is like a drug. It induces chemical reactions that make you addicted and yearning for more. It's more than just a feeling, an emotion, but when you're lacking it, changes in your brain and body actually occur that make you experience a "low"... You become agitated, impatient, and look for ways to satisfy your needs and desires.
The point is, after a breakup and you're still hanging around the ex, the same sense of familiarity and comfort and all that is related to what we call 'love' is triggered. But it's not healthy. Imagine an addict trying to wane off a drug, and then being exposed to it now and then. How is he going to recover if the addictive substance is dangled in front of his face from time to time? The recovery and rehab will no doubt be more painful, and take much longer.
So cut the source of the addiction. At least for a while.
But I do miss him deeply... his presence as a rock in my life, as the source warmth and light that keeps me safe at night. If anything, he is the best friend I have ever had. And how do I let go of that so easily?
The point is, after a breakup and you're still hanging around the ex, the same sense of familiarity and comfort and all that is related to what we call 'love' is triggered. But it's not healthy. Imagine an addict trying to wane off a drug, and then being exposed to it now and then. How is he going to recover if the addictive substance is dangled in front of his face from time to time? The recovery and rehab will no doubt be more painful, and take much longer.
So cut the source of the addiction. At least for a while.
But I do miss him deeply... his presence as a rock in my life, as the source warmth and light that keeps me safe at night. If anything, he is the best friend I have ever had. And how do I let go of that so easily?
Retreat
Who would have thought that as I was sitting in that library and missing what we had together earlier tonight, my ex was spending time with the guy he is so infatuated with...? And how very bizarre that I had a nightmare about this very thing happening the night before...?
How painful it is to find out about that...
My head hurts terribly, and I cannot sleep... I lie awake so hurt, so hurt, so disturbed...
Time to enter a new era of isolation and retreat.
How painful it is to find out about that...
My head hurts terribly, and I cannot sleep... I lie awake so hurt, so hurt, so disturbed...
Time to enter a new era of isolation and retreat.
04 September 2011
Longings
Sometimes the longing is so strong it is difficult to overcome... I know if I just close my eyes and meditate, the feelings, the urges will go away. Since I have met my friend and till recently, the desire for physical and emotional contact has been more than fully satisfied. And now, after promising to myself and to him to keep some distance, I find myself wanting, and feeling empty without... I know if I want to talk, if I want a hug, he is just a phone call or a text away.
But I cannot do that, I cannot keep on running to him, especially as he is trying to forget about me, trying to move on and pursue the boy he feels so deeply for. And I cannot keep on running toward him in search of comfort and assurance when I am trying to build a life without him being there all the time when I need someone to hold and to listen to me.
I have to admit, there is an emptiness inside that is eating me, even as I sit here in the empty library on a rainy Sunday evening... I long for that intimacy again, that human contact, that human feel and warmth, that connection which makes me feel whole, even if only temporarily. And I'm so scared of going out there, just hooking up and descending into a world where I seek out people just for pleasure. Because I know I am not like that. Because I know I deserve and want so much more than just the physical...
If I close my eyes, meditate for a while, the urges, the feelings, the longings will go away.
I must tell myself that, and resist...
But I cannot do that, I cannot keep on running to him, especially as he is trying to forget about me, trying to move on and pursue the boy he feels so deeply for. And I cannot keep on running toward him in search of comfort and assurance when I am trying to build a life without him being there all the time when I need someone to hold and to listen to me.
I have to admit, there is an emptiness inside that is eating me, even as I sit here in the empty library on a rainy Sunday evening... I long for that intimacy again, that human contact, that human feel and warmth, that connection which makes me feel whole, even if only temporarily. And I'm so scared of going out there, just hooking up and descending into a world where I seek out people just for pleasure. Because I know I am not like that. Because I know I deserve and want so much more than just the physical...
If I close my eyes, meditate for a while, the urges, the feelings, the longings will go away.
I must tell myself that, and resist...
Surprise
Out of nowhere I received an email asking me to go.
I gladly accepted, and will leave in about two weeks' time.
I will not tell any one until the day before I leave. And then I will just leave. No looking back, no regrets. And I will be away for some time.
There is a part of me that is hesitant, as the timing is difficult, especially with equivalency exams I had registered for at the beginning of October. Hesitant too because I am afraid of what I may be coming back to when I eventually return. But life continues, even when you hide yourself in the seclusion of somewhere, life continues. And I will just have to deal with things when I eventually return.
But now is a better time than ever to go away, to get away from things here. I need the time alone, to reflect, to escape and to realise myself rediscover what is more important in life...
I gladly accepted, and will leave in about two weeks' time.
I will not tell any one until the day before I leave. And then I will just leave. No looking back, no regrets. And I will be away for some time.
There is a part of me that is hesitant, as the timing is difficult, especially with equivalency exams I had registered for at the beginning of October. Hesitant too because I am afraid of what I may be coming back to when I eventually return. But life continues, even when you hide yourself in the seclusion of somewhere, life continues. And I will just have to deal with things when I eventually return.
But now is a better time than ever to go away, to get away from things here. I need the time alone, to reflect, to escape and to realise myself rediscover what is more important in life...
Change
The days roll by, one after another, and it is suddenly already September. The summer is officially over.
Went on a walk with friends yesterday, and I noticed a change. Most trees had green, thick foliage still, but bits of the forest was changing in colour. Ever so slightly, and perhaps unnoticeable to most people, especially under the blaring sun. But there were hints of red and yellow, forespelling the arrival of another season...
I look forward to cooler temperatures, to the changing of the coats, to the colours that will brighten up the world a little more. Change is a good thing, as it shows life is moving forward and onward...
Went on a walk with friends yesterday, and I noticed a change. Most trees had green, thick foliage still, but bits of the forest was changing in colour. Ever so slightly, and perhaps unnoticeable to most people, especially under the blaring sun. But there were hints of red and yellow, forespelling the arrival of another season...
I look forward to cooler temperatures, to the changing of the coats, to the colours that will brighten up the world a little more. Change is a good thing, as it shows life is moving forward and onward...
Restless night
I went to sleep soon after coming home.
I remember waking up often, my head disturbed by strange dreams and images.
Strange, because it was of this person I've never met before--- the person my ex is so infatuated with. Why was I dreaming of him? I don't fully recall shat happened in the dream, just that he was there and it caused some discomfort... I think my ex and he were in the same room, but I'm not sure what they were doing. They were just both in my dream.
What's happening between him and my ex, I'm not sure, and I'm afraid to ask too. They were supposed to go away this weekend, on a trip that's supposed to make clear what their relationship is. But it got cancelled.
I'm not sure what to make of this all, as whenever he mentions the other person or is tapping away on the phone with him, i get apprehensive and wonder what I'm still doing hanging around my ex so much...
I remember waking up often, my head disturbed by strange dreams and images.
Strange, because it was of this person I've never met before--- the person my ex is so infatuated with. Why was I dreaming of him? I don't fully recall shat happened in the dream, just that he was there and it caused some discomfort... I think my ex and he were in the same room, but I'm not sure what they were doing. They were just both in my dream.
What's happening between him and my ex, I'm not sure, and I'm afraid to ask too. They were supposed to go away this weekend, on a trip that's supposed to make clear what their relationship is. But it got cancelled.
I'm not sure what to make of this all, as whenever he mentions the other person or is tapping away on the phone with him, i get apprehensive and wonder what I'm still doing hanging around my ex so much...
Quiet
I woke up after a few hours of disturbed sleep, and took myself to the library in an attempt to get some work done. There is little progress, but at least there is progress. Every word, every sentence one step closer to the end of this long and seemingly endless journey to finish my thesis, finish something I began two years ago, but only made halting progress.
In the evening, I got together with friends I had not seen for a while. It feels like forever, especially as a friend was away for a number of weeks. I missed the evenings chatting away and laughing, sharing our lives over drinks and bags of chips when we would ask one another about going-ons in our lives.
"How is your mother?" I froze, and went quiet. I stared into the distance, eyes watering, knowing full well what had been asked but not knowing what I should reply. Do I lie or do I just answer with a simple "alright" and let the difficult, difficult question pass? My eyes became a little moist and I looked away. My friends understood from my silence that something was not well. They extended their toes to touch me, to comfort me. I withdraw and went quiet. The quiet, the silence, not having to think about things, not having to talk about things do not make things go away. They do make things disappear from my mind temporarily so I can fill my mind with distractions and make myself believe that things are alright.
A friend asked about plans in the coming period, whether my mum is going to go visit the baby in Europe. There is an open ticket for her return, but who knows whether she can make the trip... who knows what treatments she may have to undergo... who knows what her health or condition will be tomorrow, next week, let alone next month or next year?
I changed the subject, smiled, and let the topic drop. My ex offered to talk and spend the night together. But I was not in the mood, and quietly left...
03 September 2011
First step to becoming a lawyer
I started studying, the first time in a long, long time. Studying for an exam I'm going to sit in a little over three weeks' time. It'll be my first exam in Canadian law, and it'll mark the beginning of getting qualified to practice law in Canada.
I want to qualify as a lawyer. It is a promise to myself, and a promise to my parents (yes, to mum, and dad too) that I will one day become a lawyer. I don't need to be a big-shot corporate lawyer. I want to work with the law to help people, to make a little difference in this world. Even if that difference is in the world of one person, that is enough. That is my ambition. That is my dream. That is what I will achieve one day, I know it.
I've been just reading the recommended text books for the last two days. A slow start, reading and taking notes, and progressing at twenty pages or less an hour. The five hundred or so pages will take me a long while to cover, and this will be the start of perhaps days and nights of studying in the period to come.
I'm not really sure what to except, but there are reading lists and core readings that have to be covered. This is the first time I'm going to sit an exam where I'm preparing by my self, and will not have attended any classes. I'm not too sure whether that will hurt or benefit me, but at least all that I need is to get enough score for a "pass" (it's either a pass or fail, doesn't matter what score).
I'm wishing myself good luck... I may just need it.
I want to qualify as a lawyer. It is a promise to myself, and a promise to my parents (yes, to mum, and dad too) that I will one day become a lawyer. I don't need to be a big-shot corporate lawyer. I want to work with the law to help people, to make a little difference in this world. Even if that difference is in the world of one person, that is enough. That is my ambition. That is my dream. That is what I will achieve one day, I know it.
I've been just reading the recommended text books for the last two days. A slow start, reading and taking notes, and progressing at twenty pages or less an hour. The five hundred or so pages will take me a long while to cover, and this will be the start of perhaps days and nights of studying in the period to come.
I'm not really sure what to except, but there are reading lists and core readings that have to be covered. This is the first time I'm going to sit an exam where I'm preparing by my self, and will not have attended any classes. I'm not too sure whether that will hurt or benefit me, but at least all that I need is to get enough score for a "pass" (it's either a pass or fail, doesn't matter what score).
I'm wishing myself good luck... I may just need it.
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