Today, in a spur of the moment decision, I decided to get a hair cut.  You can't tell that I've cut my hair because I just went for a trim...but, on the whole, I feel fresh and light.  Fresh like spring. Light like....er...I don't know.

After I went for the cut, I went home and took a bath.  From now on, I will take baths forever.  One, because the gas guy did something funny to my water tank so the water only comes out super hot or super cold.  If I take a shower, I alternately burn myself or freeze myself to death.  However, if I bathe, then I can mix the two together and get a nice balanced bath.  I know it's dirty to soak in your own juices, but in the end, if you don't tell anyone, you still feel clean.

Of course, I could call Town Gas and ask the dude to come fix my water heater.  But then, I don't want to make time for him.  He's just not important enough.

Things I would like to get done in the next 2 weeks:

1.)  Go to my facial.
2.)  Visit Frankie.
3.)  Sleep by 10:30 pm.

It's 10:20 pm right now.  I can complete number 3 today.  Good nite.

Ug.  I don't want to pack.  I should just bring my purse and hop on the plane. 

For the most part, my Japan trip is planned by Crystal.  I can't complain about it because someone planned everything for me and all I have to do is show up with my passport.  I am a bit weary about her doing all the work because, as I've learned, there is no such thing as a free ride. 

People will plan for you, do stuff for you, but I believe there is some dark unspoken price that you have to pay.  Some seedy little thing that is expected back but, honestly, I don't know what.

It's Oliver's birthday in 2 days.

Happy Birthday, Loser Face.   May your cup over-followeth with the love and glory of the Lord.  And then some. 


I found out that Oliver might leave for grad. school this year.  I was actually sad when he said that.  I mean, talk about taking your emotional shots all at once.   Today was not a good day.

Anyway, I'm happy for him because he got accepted into a lot of good grad. schools and he's doing something he likes.  But I felt I grew closer to Oliver this year (as in, I can choke him around a bit and be honest and tell him he sucks at stuff) and now that he's talking about going, I'm somewhat not anticipating September anymore.  It feels too uncertain with high possibilities of barrenness and want.  I sorta like my world to stay the way it is...with a certain number of friends and a certain number of events that rotate in a predictable and friendly order.  I like that he remembers certain things about me that nobody really does and that he never said one bad thing about my singing.  Ever.  But, on the contrary, making fun of him and telling him he sucks takes the cake.  I feel whole.

Secretly in my heart though, I hoped he'd defer so come next year, we'll leave together.   Only I was pretty sure I'd leave first and he can live with the heartbreak of missing me...not the other way around.  It'll probably hurt me more anyway, because I actually have a heart and he has 2 livers and no heart.   And I get attached and I miss people a whole lot and parts of me die and I secretly cry but when I see you I'll call you a nasty name and punch you in the arm.  Probably just so I can touch you.

On a whole, Oliver reminds me a lot of my best friend.  Maybe that's why he's something special to me, special like a thorn on my side. They're picky in the same ways, they're lazy in the same ways, they're both very good at making excuses not to do things, they both have the pride of lucifer and 3 of his warrior demons, they both over-indulge and over-pamper themselves.  If left alone, both of them won't work and would party everyday and they make you feel stupid for working at all.  If they had money, they won't at the end.  They're both deceivingly straightlaced but they're not.  They're both phenomenally clever yet, somehow, emotionally crippled at the same time.  Did I mention stubborn?  We miscommunicate in the exact same ways, and we probably get along only because we chose to tolerate each other.  Which is the best because it gives expression to one of God's greatest gifts to man: free will.  And anyway, this type of personality is so new to me.  I've never met lazy people in my life.  Not like this, not so unapologetically luxurious and slothful.

And I like it.  I'm comforted by it.  By the familiarity of the unnerving difference.

I wish I can be one of those people who have a million friends and do a million waves good-bye that actually mean hello new friend instead of see you later old friend. 


Those people are so much happier. 

Right now, I'm quite stable. 

I mean, my headache.  I've been feeling it since Friday.  I HATE MY LIFE.  I always get sick on the weekend.  Monday comes rolling around and I'm fine.  A mule, I tell you, I'm a mule.

Speaking of headaches, I spoke to Norman about saving money.  And we were talking about opening something in my bank account so that I can invest.  And I said, well, I don't know what to choose.  And he said, I do.  Ask me.  It's my job.  And I never really thought about that.  Like, I wouldn't ask my doctor friend for medicine, why would I ask a personal banker friend for banking help?  He said he'd give me some advice regarding a savings portfolio...esp. for retirement.  Usually, people my age worry about owning a house or a car; maybe their wedding or traveling.  I, on the other hand, am dead afraid of being 65 and having no money.   And this is a legitimate fear as I purposely don't exercise control in the moolah department.  With a personal motto that is:  Buy Happiness, you can't expect me to be rolling in the g's unless I get serious and plan for it.

I know, I know it's fear driven.  I promised myself that if I do anything in this life, I would do it out of positive motivation, like for pleasure or for the good of mankind.  Worrying that I'd have no money when I'm 65 is quite ludicrous as I can't be sure I'd be 1.) alive 2.) alive 3.) alive.  However, my theory is the more you want to die early, the later in life you'd die.  Perhaps, you won't die at all.  So, in my case, I'm just going to live forever.  And I'll need money for that.

I also don't bank on being married or having children.  So no support there.  Was talking to Jenny today and she said that she can just feel her soul-mate somewhere in the world waiting for her.  She is positive, POSITIVE that there is a man with her named stamped on his heart. I said, rather surprisingly, that I'm not quite sure I feel that way.  Of course, she was shocked.  I really liked the part where she tried to comfort me.  I'm sure God has someone planned for you, she said.  I liked that she cared more than I did.

She said she had felt love once and it was marvelous.  It was sunny everyday (her words).  And I asked in a sober tone of voice, was it romantic love you felt or Christ-love?  She blushed.  Romantic love. 

Sigh.  Jenny is always so sad and hopeful about her love life...that is exactly how I feel about my money. 

1 Cor. 13: 11

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

I had a dim sum lunch with my colleagues and I thought, for a moment, what it would be like if they all transformed into children.  And it wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, seeing that I'd be the only adult.  Then I thought about loving these colleagues as I do my students and realized how grueling it is to have no respite from being responsible and selfless. 

Yet another terrorizing aspect of love.

* * * * *

Crystal has a new boyfriend.  Potato.  I asked her what's it like to be in love again.  She said comfortable.  I've often fantasizied about being in love.  And comfortable reminds me of sinking into something gooey and warm and then disappearing forever.  I suppose, the alternative isn't any better--to burn passionately--coz it's a different kind of hurt.

On a BBC show last night, they say, statistically speaking, we, as in human beings, would fall in love on the average of 3 times in life.  I told Rennie that I don't think I've ever fallen in love.  She said, well good for you, now you have 3 chances left.

To die.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, Christina is brilliant.  We walked out of the church to head to our BSF discussion class and she said this:

C:  Where's Oliver? 

B:  I didn't see him. (And I was thinking who cares, he's always late anyways.)

C: Was his first day of work that bad?

B:  (Laughs) Oh, that's right!  His first day back! SMS him that!  Ask him!  Ask him!

C:  (Looks at me funny and walks away)

SMS between Oliver and I:

B:  Where r u man? Was da first day dat bad?

O:  Heh, no pretty good actually besides slight headache.  Stuck in a freelance meeting.  Just got out

Ok, and then I see him after discussion class sitting in the pews.

B:  So how you feeling?  Do you still have a headache?

O:  I think it might be the florescent lights (rolls his eyes back to indicate pain and distraction).

I laughed throughout the hymn.

 

* * *

On another note, that is not funny, but totally serious, I think thinking too much makes me look ugly.  Esp. when my thinking is ugly.  After BSF, Clem, Elijah and I went to eat.  I was puzzled about a relationship I'm having with a friend and I asked for their opinion.

1.)  I really respect these two friends.  Because they made me feel listened to, they were patient and they were thoughtful.  However, I had to be patient and optimistic with their response, because initially, I thought they were ignoring me with their quiet calmness, but actually, they were just thinking.  And when they did begin to respond, they kept going and going and going...

I'm sorta the opposite.  I process faster, or I react faster and then after I give you a hit, I'm gone.  See?  Ugly.

2.)  From listening to my brothers-in-christ, I realize, they were more inclined to show love than they were at gaining justice.  The crux of my problem is that I felt rather disrespected by this friend and I was looking for ways to justify my negative attitude towards her.  I sent her one of my infamous angry emails.  I even ended with, You understand, we can't really be good friends? I wanted retribution in the 'godliest' way as possible, which at the end, isn't Godly at all.  I was surprised at how fast Clem resorted to prayer to solve my problem.  Did you pray for her?  And I'm thinking, simultaneously, are you nuts? I think you actually mean it.

3.)  He means it.  I think that blew me away.  I hardly use 'did you pray for your friend? colleague? etc.  because I don't pray for my enemies.  I'm usually strategizing and building fortresses.  And if I do, I do it in secret, laced with the silent poison of indifference.  He just meant it.  You can see it in his face.  And he didn't say it over and over as if he was trying to convince me and himself that prayer would solve everything.  It was more along the lines of, you're thirsty?  There's water in the fridge.  Help yourself.

4.)  Elijah told me to leave it for 3-4 month, (well they both told me to let go of it until I calm down), but it wasn't because I was crazy or over-emotional.  They didn't make me feel like a nut job for being disturbed about a girl-problem.  It was for me to gather my thoughts and to be in a better place before I approached her again.  Which was important because I certainly felt like a nut job with a girl problem.

4.5) They also didn't make any comments about my We can't be friends thing.  I'm sure to anyone it sounds brutal and vindictive. And it wasn't like they were avoiding it.  But it seemed like that comment had no consequence.  So they just left it alone.  They treated my hurt and frustration as something temporary, so I felt like I could stop being negative.  I felt like, I can stop feeling hurt. 

5.)  And it was always Clem who suggested that I call her out for coffee to talk about the issues.  Maybe when you get back you can get together to do stuff with her.

I was observing the faces of my 2 friends and listening to the beautiful words of love and reconcilation that came from their mouths, and I thought, they are such beautiful and gentle men.  They were so umimposing and natural.  They believed what they believed and that was it.  And here I was caking on the make-up, layering on the expensive clothes only to be totally hard and knarled on the inside. 

 

 

  

 

 

 

Ha-ha, not me.  Crystal.  I woke up in a rather pleasant mood. 

Was thinking about  love :

In a perfect world, I'm not supposed to want anything from it. I'm not supposed to be satisfying myself while loving someone else.  As in, the point of loving someone is for that person's own good.  And all that lingo about being treated unjustly and enduring really drive the message home. So, in conclusion:

Love = Suffering

I can't really reconcile this in my mind because a lot of what I choose to do satisfy me in some way: I deliberately choose not to suffer.  Like, it's very obvious that feeling good and not suffering is important to me.  For example, I usually choose do to things that I find interesting and fun.  I listen to music that make me feel good.  I talk about things that stimulate my mind and provide insight into what I'm curious about.  Every decision that I've made is geared towards releasing my delight and about 0.2 oz.of endomorphins.  I  like to feel good about my choices.  I like meeting my own needs and having a good time doing it.  Feeling good means correct, happy and right.  In fact, I feel so good about some of my choices, I make them over and over and over again.  And they've become part of my character.  Feeling good created me.

So, I'm thinking, if loving someone is difficult for me, but I have to do it anyway, and at the same time, it doesn't provoke me to feel good about it, I'm going to help myself feel good.  While I'm taking up my cross and loving someone well, I will also take the liberty to make myself feel excellent.  That way, I can help myself love others properly, selflessly and completely while requiring nothing from the recipient party.  I can love agape love. 

I just need some concaine first.

 

 

 

 

  

Nice day number 2.  Smell that sweet air.

Well, I'm going to refrain from doing that, but you can, because my school is about a block away from a crematorium, and there's a bit of an updraft right now and everything smells like bbq. 

Hong Kong has such beautiful days.  I will take a picture and post it up and let everyone back at home droooollll... at how beautiful it is.

I'm so glad it's only the beginning of March and we'll have a continuous stretch of this awesomely awesome weather until about May/June before the blessed heat descends on the city.  I love Hong Kong heat waves.  It's so exotic and wet instead of being hot, hot, hot and crispy, desert dry.  And since we're not so close to the North Pole, the UV index isn't as crazy high.  Plus, being in the city is hyper cool, too, because Vancouver isn't one and everything about Vancovuer is so luke-warm.  So pseudo-etre.  It doesn't make sense to drive a porsche in Vancouver.  But in Hong Kong?  It makes a lot of sense.  As do bikinis, plat-form wedges and halter dresses. 

Beaches here are also amazing.  It's like kits beach over and over and over again.  I have to start planning my weekends better.  Now that Oliver is starting to work again, I'm so positive he'll appreciate his weekends and so maybe he'd stop booking Saturdays for praise practice, or harmony practice or whatever practice.

Saturday should be official beach fun day.  Or bikini and board shorts day.  Or sunglasses and awesome tan day.      

Or archery day.

Starting from the end of March, Diamond, aka Crystal, and I, aka Ruby, will be taking our 10 hour/4 sessioned archery lessons. 

 

Move aside sagittarius.