The talk

I just got a text from a good friend that read "Going to meet the ex--he wants to talk."

They've been broken up for a couple of months and although she seems to be getting on without him, he doesn't.

I've been there. Broken up with someone, then regretted it, then fallen into a can't eat, can't sleep period of blue. I've also endured the "Can we talk?"...talk. Those talks always ended the same way for me. In a split second I'd be overwhelmed by pure attraction and within minutes all was forgiven--until one or two days later when the same, heavy issues surfaced all over again. Sometimes, talks are just about a quick fix, more of an "I miss you" impulse than anything else. Jumping head first into the same old situation ultimately doesn't solve anything. After all, there was a reason for the split, right? Then again, sometimes "talks" actually do the trick and help clear the slate for round two.

Do you believe in second chances?

LOVE THY SELF

I say it without shame: I love myself for who I am and what I have become! And credit goes to the Little Eva who loved playing with remote control cars, robots, built Lego towns and then made short animated clips out of the characters there, who kept diary after diary filled with poems, stories, and odes to then-crushes. I am a product of the choices that I had made as a child, and it’s only through the power of hindsight that I can say that I am happy to have made those choices.

My childhood wasn’t perfect, though. I grew up lonely and self-conscious. People (family, friends and strangers alike) ostracized me for being a little too overweight and that unfortunately crippled my self-belief (until now to a certain extent). But I managed to get through it (though it was unbearably painful at times) by being everybody’s teddy bear. It was the only way I know that people would respond to me in a positive mode.Ironically, however, it was in facing the scars and facing the pain once again that I have learned to make peace with myself. There are certain things that can no longer be changed, but these all carry valuable lessons that I will bring with me as I move forward. When I came face to face with myself and saw things as they were, I appreciated once more how everything turned out the way they did. It’s like that wonderful pause in the middle of a conversation with your best friend when you sigh contentedly and say, “Things have a funny way of working out, don’t they?” They sure do.

LOOKING THE OTHER WAY

Yesterday I was taking the trains home from my meetings in Potts Point as i didn't particularly feel like driving. When I arrived at Central station, it was a HORROR to see a long queue on the exit counters! Hundreds of people were squeezing their way through two or three turntiles, and you had a choice of getting stepped on, getting elbowed out, getting groped where you didn't want anyone's hands on (though this never actually happened to me—heheheh).
In my moment of confusion and desperation, I looked over to the left set of exit counters... and there they were, free, empty, and practically calling out to me with their open arms. With a smug smile on my face, I stepped back from the mob, stepped a little to my left, and sauntered onto the exit which I had all to myself. I could not believe it--hundreds of people pushing and jostling their way into the right exit counters, totally forgetting that you could exit from two sides of the station.
And that's how it is with us and life, sometimes. We're too focused on "the usual route" or on doing things "the way it's always been done" that we forget about the multitude of options that exist around us. We stress over making the perfect pad thai when there's a good thai restaurant a few blocks from home. We curse the heavy traffic on the main thoroughfares when the side streets often offer a quicker way home. We cry over a fool of an ex-lover and let who could potentially be The One get away.
We stress over so many things, make so many excuses for ourselves and for other people... when, sometimes, all it takes to get things done, to meet the love of our life, or to discover our true path... is to swivel our stubborn heads to the other side, and look the other way.

COURAGE COMES IN DIFFERENT SHAPES

if you're ever thinking of giving up on life, then take a look at the most amazing girl i know...

Meet Faith---a dog born with severely deformed front legs. This brave soul is a one-of-a-kind miracle. As a pup, she was rescued by the Stringfellow family after the mother dog was found trying to smother her. Faith could only move by dragging herself along the floor, a habit the veterinarian said would rub a hole in her chest and chin. Although their vet recommended they put Faith down, Jude and the family chose to give her a home.

And thanks to the care of her adoptive family Faith managed to survive and grow into an amazing dog. She learned to move by using only her 2 remaining legs, but, according to her owners although it was a very difficult process, it was also natural.Faith has become a star and her owners have started the WITH A LITTLE FAITH Foundation and they travel along with their pet, spreading their faith and God’s love to as many people as they can.

RECLAIMING AN OLD (BUT TRUE) LOVE

There are some things that we mustn’t ever do—like hold on to something that isn’t working out anymore, pine for an old flame that will never be rekindled, or stay stuck in the past when there are so many wonderful things to look forward to in the present and the future. But there are those times when love is just too strong to ever deny—and when the opportunity presents itself for true love to bloom once more.

Last night, in a place where sunlight filters in through the windows and lights up the courtyards during the day and where night unveils a buzz of activity that is both exhilarating and soothing, I reconnected with an old flame. It was something I had been hiding from these past few months; I flirted with the idea around a year ago, but I chickened out and tried to deny my real feelings. But every encounter would light up a memory so vivid I could almost see, touch, taste, smell, hear, and feel it again. Every reminder of that old life would tug at me so strongly that there was no way I could deny it anymore. It was yet another string of coincidences, another episode of “Seeing Signs” that Mr. Coelho would definitely acknowledge as real. It was in my mind, in my soul, in my blood. And last night, I came home.

Por eso, este año, empezaré a una aventura magnífica que seguramente encende otra vez a las emociones que ha sido guardado celosamente en la profundidad de mi alma. Esta aventura no será de amor erótica—será una viaje encantada sobre los caminos de la cultura española, así como las palabras, los sonidos, los imagenes, y las sensaciones que yo perdía—y después discubrí otra vez. No hay punto en escapar de este camino. Estoy enamorada, estoy apasionada… y nadie, especialmente no yo mismo, puede separarnos para siempre.

After all, it is emblazoned on my skin, for as long as I live, and for the whole world to see, las palabras eternas del gran escritor Federico Garcia Lorca: «Lo que mas me importa… es vivir…»

RACIAL DISCRIMINATION

Don’t you just hate it when people stereotype you because of your background? So I get it, racial prejudice is still prevalent nowadays---I just never imagined that I’d fall victim to it here in Sydney (the city that’s been dubbed the most multi-cultural in the land down under). I went shopping the other day and as I went about the business of putting some unwanted items back into an empty rack outside the change room, this short, robust blonde saleslady from hell practically came out screaming at my face, “HEY! EXCUSE ME! YOU DON’T PUT THESE CLOTHES HERE! THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO GO TO THAT RACK OVER THERE!” And she then proceeded to point at a filled-up rack nearly 20 meters from the change room. Too aghast to even blink, I stared at this psychotic yobo for a good 10 seconds. Unfortunately, she was on a mission to ruin my day. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ENGLISH, DOLL?!! TAKE THESE CLOTHES TO THAT RACK OVER THERE!!!” At this point, I was seriously contemplating sucking the air out of her big, fat, ugly face. But since I’m not one to commit manslaughter, I held my ground and in the iciest tone I could muster, I calmly retorted, “Yes. I heard you the first time. But last I checked, I don’t work here. So why don’t you put these clothes to that rack over there. It’s a bit of a walk but hey, you look like you need the exercise…. “ When I saw the stunned look on her face, I knew that I’ve broken through her façade. Embarrassed that she is now the object of everyone’s attention, I saw her cower a little bit. But unfortunately for her, I was just getting started. In an attempt to salvage what’s left of her dignity, she muttered “I’m just telling you the store policy, doll…but I don’t suppose you get it…” ------- ??????!!!!!!!!------- ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? !!!!..........”Oh please! Spare me that crap” I piped. “And I suppose it’s your store policy to come yelling at customers? Now I’m no retail genius but where I come from, people in your position are paid to serve people like me. So if you’re so fixated at having these clothes on that rack over there, do it yourself. And oh! While you’re at it, take these with you as well.” And with that, I shoved a handful of clothes into her pale, stubby freckled hands and walked away with a grin. Ha! Sucked in Bitch! She saw that I was an easy prey because I’m asian but OH how she got it wrong! She picked on the wrong asian girl and her ego certainly got a thorough bruising.

THE TRICK IS TO KEEP BREATHING....

A few months ago my friend texted me in the middle of the night and asked how he could pick up the pieces of his broken heart. The pain was excruciating, he said. “You’ll get over it soon enough.”, I replied… and then I bit my tongue.
Fast forward to this morning…I watched a sad movie where this lady heard mass for her husband's first death anniversary. Her eyes spoke of her pain.
I’ve only had my heart broken once and it was squarely between God, my bestfriend and me. Anything else ---whatever pain, disappointment, hurdle--- after that fateful day would be incomparable. The pain is incomparable. People often say time heals all wounds. I’ll have to wait and see if that’s true. People shouldn’t be so general. After all, there are so many degrees of pain. My favorite writer once wrote, “You should never believe anyone who says they know exactly how you feel...” We’re all bound to suffer a broken heart, that is, if we haven’t already. You know what I mean, right? Losing someone we love feels as though we’ve been hurled into the great Void. You’re on top of the world one second and suddenly you’re falling down down down. And you wait…to hit rock bottom. Except, how do you know you haven’t hit it already? We attempt to smile and hope people can’t tell we’re faking it. We stay up trying to decipher God’s message. We attempt to laugh and find ourselves stopping midway. We attempt to make sense of it. This life---or this semblance of a life. At times the pain seems too much for us to bear. When will the tears be enough? How much loneliness can my heart take? Why? Why her? Why now? The questions are endless. And each morning we get up from bed and stare out the window. Look at that, the world is still up and about. Why do we do it?
I don’t know about you but I think it’s because we’re hoping today could be the day we finally get an answer. Take it from Garbage, “The trick is to keep breathing.”