Wounds.

It's all because of my skin and my bones and my heart.

stop.

We only hurt because we're human and we're only human because they told us that we are.

stop.

How does the present become the past? How does the future become the present that becomes the past?
How do moments turn into memories when they were promised as "forever?"

stop.

I was thinking about Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin and how they defined my childhood idea of friendship.

stop.

"Forever and ever is a very long time, Pooh." "Forever isn't long at all, Christopher, when I'm with you."

stop.

Forever wasn't long enough. It wasn't long at all.

stop.
stop.
stop.

There's a tattoo on my heart. And it's small. But somewhere, if you read the fine print, you can make out the word "always."

stop.

I didn't pay for it.

stop.

It paid for itself.

ok go.

some stuff. cause i don't always have to actually write, do i?

1/photobooth in dylan's candy bar in nyc 2/a nice rothko, why not?

3/just another gorgeous gaudi building. obsessed. 4/ phillip's hands on the last day of class

5/the flatiron building (i have a thing with architecture, k?) 6/jenny on the playground at swan lake

i think there's a good chance i'm already in love with 70% of the redheaded male population. datemeplease.

today i got a pair of maroon pants at old navy for a dollar fifty. seriously.

i'm 90% sure that i want to grow up and being an education curator, working with family programs in a museum. slash work at a non-profit that works with art education with kids.

i'm discovering a real fascination with architecture. can i specialize in architecture & non-western art? sounds good.

allie's dad makes the best chili sauce in the world. just throwin' that out there.

officially registered for floral design this spring. that's my backup plan in life. can we create a plants minor just for me?

i'm going to graduate in december '14. okay, nearly two years, but when i say i'm going to graduate next fall it sounds REALLY good.

my mom's dating a baker. tonsssss of free baked goods. score.

just found out that if i get married, i can go teach english with ilp again for free AND potential spouse can go free too. going back to china with me is now a condition of marriage. i've already planned how we can go have one of those really cheesy asian photoshoots and i'm really excited.

k-pop, guys. is it embarrassing that i honest-to-goodness love this song?

enough embarrassment for now.

see ya.

nativity

today, this painting was my valentine.
somehow february 14th has a way of making my solitude all too evident. even when i don't care at all every other day! i don't feel a lack of love, but i am always alone on campus, so my literal solitude was very real. i walked around all day and ate lunch by myself in the moa cafe and went to the mall and walked around by myself before work (and let me just throw in there that gosh i hate the mall) but i stopped in front of this painting for a good fifteen minutes in the middle of it all.
it brought me to tears. it really did. looking at those faces and imagining what it was like to look down from the heavens on baby Jesus and what kind of reaction i would have. so many are surprised, or curious; many are joyful and are singing out to the heavens on their way back. there are four faces, though, with tears in their eyes, and they are what gets me. the man in the very right cranes his neck back to catch every glimpse he can of his Savior, while the rest around him make their ascent singing. he seems to deeply understand that one day this sweet baby would die for him, for all of us, and he is overcome with love. so am i.
we're never alone.

together

tuesday night was the first in years that my entire family was under one roof.

my parents left and they took my little brother to the emergency room

(he gets really bad coughs and can't breathe)

and it was strange to know that they were together with him, but it was good.

and even though our parents aren't together,

they are our parents, together. 

and really, no matter what happens, we'll always be a family unit.

i think that's nice.

我很神的孩子

i went to new york city last week,
and i went to the chinese ward in brooklyn.
i helped in primary and a little kung-fu jack lookalike
pressed his forehead to mine,
just like jack did before i ran onstage for the goodbye talent show.
we sang songs about faith and God
but i could barely squeak them out
because i was choking up.
because i was a teacher but i couldn't teach the one thing that i'm 100% certain about:
that i'm a child of God. and they are too.
that was lovely and that was hard
and i'm keeping it in my prayers that one day,
in heaven or on earth,
i will be the one to tell them.

Don't go chasing waterfalls.

Pardon me, but I have been diagnosed with hopeless-romanticism.
And as little as I like to say it, I just can't deny it anymore.

So I'm packing my things again.

And I'm just going to leave.

My destinations are always unknown, but I just get places. And that's okay with me.

You don't have to know who you are or where you're going.

You just have to know that your feet will get you there. They will get you anywhere.

And I will try not to be honest with you anymore.

Third time's the charm.

I feel obligated to preface this by saying that I am due to speak of "love" here shortly, and apparently there are individuals who have a problem with that. I would like to remind people who read my words that reading is a personal choice, and no one is forcing you to do so. If you have a problem with me, don't associate with me. It's as simple as that. So you may either close the tab or disagree and criticize silently. Or, if you truly feel a need to vocalize or express such negative opinions, then you clearly have some deep-rooted issues you need to sort out, and you should consider a journal or a shrink. I'm happy to help with the funds for either. Thank you.


You're the goosebumps on my arms when I read Shakespeare.


And I hate the way my feet fall asleep when I cry.

It's like when Radiohead runs all the way through my hair and all I can hear is your voice saying, "It's just you and me for always, Mea."

There's nothing quite like gulping in oxygen in -8 degree weather to wake you up from the coma that your last heartbreak put you in.

I remember the calluses on your hands because they were real.
And the freckles on your left ear because they were perfect.

My memory is a haunted place.

But I just tell myself, "One more song. You can run for one more song." And then eight songs later, I'm five miles in and "there's no point stopping now."

I wish I would have taken more pictures of your face. And spent my money on others instead of myself, because that's what you always said was the most important thing: giving.
I wish I would have put my hands up and trusted the roller coaster to hold onto me through the loops.

I should have kissed you more and hit you less.

Everyone says "stop pretending" but I can only be real when I'm watching The Truman Show or yelling at you because you got a stain on my Biggie Smalls shirt.

Oh, how I will miss that love.
And I will even miss that hate a little, too.


And if there's ever another, God please let it be Ryan Gosling.