Love birds.

Do you think we use our parents' relationship as a model for our own?

Can we break the cycle, if theirs was less than perfect?

via

Words will heal you when you are broken.

Years ago, someone rather useless told me one, single useful thing.

You must write it all out, she had said, when I told her what initially brought me to her cold and sterile office.

You must write it all out to clear your head before bed, even if it's imperfect or doesn't make any sense or makes you angry or cry, or breaks your heart or makes you feel like a complete and utter fool.

Write it out. Read aloud what you've written. Then tear it up, throw it away, forget it. It won't solve the problem, but at least you will get to sleep a little more soundly that night.

And then, just maybe, you will find that things will be better in the morning.

She said something to that effect, all in one breath, in the most indifferent and nonchalant of ways, but of course not nearly as lengthy because we all know therapists of the traditional kind never really say much. Their job is to ask more from you than what you'd like or care to share or expose.

And so I was scared to talk to another one again recently. But that ship has since left the shore, and to my small surprise, this new one is letting me set my own sails, steer my own way. With this one I have complete control. The conversation flows easily, gently, without any judgment.

I don't know when I'll see land again, but for the moment I am content just floating along, working my way through the storms.

And the saying goes, "Keep calm, and carry on."

Ghost. I've been a total ghost this past week and a half, as I struggle to make sense of what has happened; to accept that it did happen; to confront the fact that the road ahead, wherever it may lead, is mine and mine alone to start walking down.

Because like all else in life, "this, too, shall pass." Life is impermanent, my mother reminded me tonight, as she held me and I forgave her and let my sobs and tears wet the front of her sweater.

It will be a long and arduous process. Already, nothing has been easy. And already, I've been cruel and unfair and dishonest; needy and desperate and insecure and just basically all sorts of other adjectives most people would avoid. But despite the listless and hapless feelings permeating my being these days, hopeless has never once been one of them at all.

And so, all is therefore not lost. And for that, I have to thank my no-longer-a-teenager brother, closest girlfriends, and new friends for it the most.

This, too, shall pass.

DARKNESS DOESN’T resent the dawn for making such a racket. Darkness settles back on its haunches and waits. Darkness knows the light will exhaust itself by evening.

- SY SAFRANSKY'S NOTEBOOK (The Sun Magazine, MAY 2011 | ISSUE 425)

Crossing that bridge.

I want to. I really, wholeheartedly, heartbreakingly want to. But I can't do it - I won't do it, if you won't be waiting on the other side.

Traveling Thursdays: The very first time.

My first trip abroad happened exactly two Memorial Day weekends ago. I had flown across the Atlantic on my own, and randomly met a French boy named Alex while getting lost, trying to find my hotel. Then, for the rest of the weekend, he showed me the City of Lights by foot, bus, metro, and a few times, via piggyback as well. I got to see everything -- Notre Dame, la Seine, Moulin Rouge, le Louvres... I lazily lounged in les Jardins des Tuilleries, enjoyed the warm weather and people-watching in le Parc Monceau... yes, it was truly an unforgettable experience.

Two years later, I still feel incredibly nostalgic whenever I think about those 48 hours in Paris. Not because I fell in love while I was there -- oh no, far from it, that would have been such an unfortunate cliche -- but rather, I still feel a certain sense of sadness whenever I remember how carefree I felt; how utterly alive, and young at heart, I was.

And yet...

And yet, I had also felt so empty, and so hollow that very first night, in that wonderful foreign city, as I laid there by myself, with the windows wide open. I had tried to run away, telling myself I was running towards something. But the truth was that I had come to Paris with a heavy, broken heart then -- a broken heart that shattered into pieces again when I saw the Eiffel Tower light up the evening before I returned home. And as everyone around me marveled aloud and cameras flashed away -- in that moment of laughter and noise and beauty, I realized that it didn't really matter where I was.

All that mattered -- all I wished for and wanted so badly and still so fervently hope for -- was for love to find me and be with me again soon.

Choosing happiness.

It's a decision.

Why follow when you can lead?

I was ecstatic when I received the latest issue of BAZAAR in the mail. As I go through the next few days trying to hold it together in the midst of work, deadlines, and getting my personal affairs in order... I am reminded of this woman's words.

"Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn't love you anymore."

"Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no trouble, noise, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."

Amen.

Lust like love like lust like love.

Alice: No one will ever love you as much as I do. Why isn't love enough?

Closer (2004). Strangers to lovers to strangers again. Heartbreaking. A dull, throbbing ache, the size of the world weighing down on your entire being.

And then you keep on drowning and gasping, hoping, reaching for life again.

Three years ago.

It's been three years since I graduated college but oh how I wish this author's beautiful words were part of my commencement speech, then. Reading the full text moved me to tears as I read and reread certain passages, over and over and over again.

Here's to hoping her words inspire you, too.

***

There’s a line by the Italian writer Carlo Levi that I think is apt here: “The future has an ancient heart.” I love it because it expresses with such grace and economy what is certainly true—that who we become is born of who we most primitively are; that we both know and cannot possibly know what it is we’ve yet to make manifest in our lives.

...

I’m here to tell you it’s okay to travel by foot. In fact, I recommend it. There is so much ahead that’s worth seeing; so much behind you can’t identify at top speed. Your teacher is correct: You’re going to be all right. And you’re going to be all right not because you majored in English or didn’t and not because you plan to apply to law school or don’t, but because all right is almost always where we eventually land, even if we fuck up entirely along the way.

...

You have to do what you have to do. You can’t go to law school if you don’t have any interest in being a lawyer. You can’t take a class if taking a class feels like it’s going to kill you. Faking it never works. If you don’t believe me, read Richard Wright. Read Charlotte Brontë. Read Joy Harjo. Read William Trevor. Read the entire Western canon. Or just close your eyes and remember everything you already know. Let whatever mysterious starlight that guided you this far, guide you onward into whatever crazy beauty awaits. Trust that all you learned during your college years was worth learning, no matter what answer you have or do not have about what use it is. Know that all those stories and poems and plays and novels are a part of you now and that they are bigger than you and they will always be.

...

You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score. Anyone who expects you to do any of those things has no sense of history or economics or science or the arts.

...

When I say you don’t have to explain what you’re going to do with your life I’m not suggesting you lounge around whining about how difficult it is. I’m suggesting you apply yourself with some serious motherfuck-i-tude in directions for which we have no accurate measurement. I’m talking about work. And love.

...

The most terrible and beautiful and interesting things happen in a life. For some of you, those things have already happened. Whatever happens to you belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will.

I have learned this over and over and over again.

...

I hope you will be surprised and knowing at once. I hope you’ll always have love. I hope you’ll have days of ease and a good sense of humor. I hope one of you really will bake me a pie (banana cream, please). I hope when people ask what you’re going to do with your English and/or creative writing degree you’ll say: Continue my bookish examination of the contradictions and complexities of human motivation and desire; or maybe just: Carry it with me, as I do everything that matters. And then smile very serenely until they say oh.

...

Dear Sugar on The Rumpus, you're my ultimate new girl crush.

Oh, it's DJ Steve Aoki and those Harajuku girls.

Saturday night at the Smithsonian: DJ Steve Aoki spinning, and some Harajuku girls sightings at Asia After Dark's "Tribute to Japanese Art and Fashion" event.


This event, specifically, sought to raise awareness and funds for the recent Japanese earthquake victims who still need our help.


Manfriend and I found it so strange (and amusing!) that there was literally a SEA of people surrounding Aoki (can you spot him?), just standing there, bobbing their heads in a trance.


Fabulous! I have no idea how he was able to walk around in these.



Cherry Surprise!
If you have never partied after-hours at a museum before, I highly suggest you get on their mailing list soon; trust me, tickets always sell out!

Traveling Thursdays: Always look forward.

This photo was taken in San Jose del Cabo last June, while Manfriend and I waited for the public bus going into downtown Cabo San Lucas. It was my first time visiting Mexico, and I absolutely loved it. We came back with so many pictures and memories - including getting your ear licked by a lizard (Manfriend), literally flying off an ATV and landing head first onto the sand (me), and getting full-body, hour-long massages right on the beach (both of us). Looking back on all of our most wonderful trips together, makes me look forward to upcoming ones, even more .

Because that's the key to beating the blues: Always have something to look forward to, whether it is an easy commute home after a long day at work, a sunny weekend roadtrip to the beach, or a fancy multi-city Europe trip abroad.

Hustler.

I looked at my calendar the other day, and something in me snapped when I realized that my first graduate class is only a mere few months away. Only a few more months to squeeze in as much volunteer and freelance work as I can before I have absolutely no semblance of a social life come August since I will be working and schoolin' at the same time.

Currently trying to write up a 75-word bio for my new DC style column, and I am completely stumped. I've always hated writing about myself, mainly because I'd like to think that I am one of those people who can't be properly summed in a few words, or a short paragraph... (And, yes, I'm being facetious, stop taking things so seriously.)

In any case, can I just write "HUSTLER" somewhere in there and get it over with? Sigh.

On reading and writing like you're breathing and living.

"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited."

"Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences."

"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt."

- Sylvia Plath

The 8th Annual French Market in Georgetown.

The last day of April was an absolute glorious one yesterday. Manfriend and I hopped on the motorcycle, bypassed traffic, and snagged a premium parking spot, right in the middle of the 8th Annual French Market event in Georgetown, the chic, historic shopping district of DC. The sidewalks were too crowded for me to comfortably browse the sales and snap photos as I would've liked, but amazing pastries, a pretty park, catching up with friends, and wine-tasting with new ones totally made up for it. Oh, and how can I forget? I now have a pretty new pink blazer in my closet that I can't wait to wear out soon.

On days like yesterday, I fall in love with this city all over again.

{happily wine-tasting at Bacchus Wine Cellar}

{escaping the hustle and bustle atop Book Hill Park}

{delicious things to eat at Patisserie Poupon}