The pen is mightier than the heart

The other night, I was doing a little spring cleaning and a piece of folded paper fell on my lap. It was a copy of a love letter I’d written years ago to a boy who was moving away. It was beautifully composed (in my humblest opinion), with a delicate balance of emotion, honesty, vulnerability and age-appropriate cheesiness. As I read it, I was quickly transformed into my 27-year-old self who carefully penned that heartfelt tribute and even more carefully, quietly left it in a Pepperdine University envelope on the recipient’s bedside table the morning of his one-way-ticket flight. His closet was empty and there were two large moving boxes on the bedroom floor.

Anyhow, that relationship wasn’t meant to be but the words and emotion expressed on that paper are very much alive, or rather, they come to life when they’re read. The memories and bittersweet feelings of sadness, longing and acceptance all flooded back… but dissapated as soon as I refolded the letter.

Much of my life is documented in writing, from innocent childhood stories to angry adolescent poetry to the “What’s it all mean?” journal entries I keep to this very day. Most make me laugh, others cause me to cringe, some I just don’t remember… and then there are those that are still too painful to read.

Raw emotion on paper is sometimes just too real.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with it all. I’ve said that they should all be buried with me because I don’t ever want anyone to read them. At the same time, the writer in me says there’s a story in there somewhere. Until I can wrap my brain around it, the plot continues. But whenever I want to take a trip down memory lane to learn a lesson from my past or to keep things in perspective, all I have to do is pull one of those papers, notebooks or journals out of my secret hiding place and read.

Time travel is possible.

Just Say “Yes”

For two days during an amazing, random getaway to the ultra-luxurious Grand Del Mar Resort in Del Mar, California, not a single “No” was uttered to us. Top-notch customer service with a smile.

Q: “Can we surf in the less kelpy water?”
A: “Yes.”

Q: “Can we have late checkout?”
A: “Yes.”

Q: “Can we go in the pool even though it might be after hours?”
A: “Yes.”

Q: “Can we have a ride in a golf cart?”
A: “Yes – in our LUXURY golf cart.”

Q: “Can I have your crank-powered keychain light?”
A: (as he hands it over) “I’m not supposed to but I can’t stop you from taking it.”

Plus, even without asking we were so graciously given free champagne (just because they overheard us making fun of the name), free wine (because the first glass was sooooo divine) and free MAGICAL truffle oil fries.

Cue the heavenly music.

Surprises

I’m not really big on surprises.

I like planning my own birthday parties because I don’t want to be disappointed. I don’t mind knowing how a movie or book ends before I watch or read it because suspense can be a gut-wrenching process. And I actually prefer knowing if any of the movie’s main characters die because then I know not to get too attached.

I’m not a consummate planner or a total control freak. I like to roll with the punches… I just like to have an idea of the direction they’re rolling.

However, I also relish being completely and pleasantly caught off-guard, whether it be a chance meeting, a spontaneous confession, a second glance, a bad night ending beautifully, or an unexpected delivery. The majority of life’s most thoroughly delicious moments happen when you aren’t looking for, planning or expecting anything.

En*dor*phins

For the life of me, I can never remember the word “endorphin,” the feel-good hormone released during exercise or other strenuous physical activities.

But after a day of being stuck inside my own head, stressing about the past and trying to predict the future, I started craving that  certain feeling… the high that combines out-of-breath satisfaction with pure, physical exhaustion; the feeling of supreme accomplishment that doesn’t really require brain power.

Simply put, I needed to f@$#in’ ruuuuuuuun.  

And I feel so much better now. With my kicks on, my gaze soft and my iPod bumping, I sweat out my angst. Other people vanished. Problems slipped away. The constant inner dialog disappeared. It was just me focusing on what my body needed me to do in order to keep going: straighten my back, adjust the speed, fix my headphones, drink some water, increase/decrease the incline, etc. But most important, I had to remind myself to just breathe, something we often forget to do on and off the treadmill.

Now I’m just basking in the afterglow of my endorphin-induced high. Life is pretty simple.

This Never Gets Old

USC 38 – Penn State 24

Rose Bowl champs three years in a row. 

Pac 10 champs seven years in a row. 

The cost to bask in the glory? $120,000 in student loans, scholarships, grants and federal work study. 

Totally worth it though.

Good Meal + Good Friend + Good Conversation

+ Good Wine and Martinis… Is there anything better??

Old People Rule!

“Elizabeth Taylor, 76, drank tequila shots and apple martinis over dinner at gay landmark The Abbey Food and Bar in West Hollywood. She was sporting cowboy boots, a black fur coat, horse-print leggings, and a cowboy hat.”

I hope to be this awesome when I’m 76. Seriously.

Gloating

USC 28 – UCLA 7

We’re headed to the Rose Bowl!

The Return of the Appetite

Maybe it’s just me but when you’re Asian and sick and miles away from mom’s kitchen, there ain’t nothing like Chinese fast food delivery. In my own “Survivor: Flu Edition,” I’ve been living off of orange juice and wheat thins for almost four days, so I’m stoked that I’m starting to get my appetite back (however small).

For better or for worse, my tummy’s been talking to me for the past couple days, so I figured I should play it safe: no kung pao chicken or spicy shrimp. I just ordered egg drop soup and chicken with broccoli. Not the most flavorful or exciting things on the menu, but I feel comforted just looking at my hardly eaten spread of Chinese goodness.

Besides, the old, Asian delivery man pulls at my heartstrings every time: “I have your food,” he says in broken English. “Will you open the door and let me inside?”

(in retrospect, however, it was a very, very bad idea to eat that egg roll and fried wonton that came free with the lunch special…)

I (Heart) Carbs

Just the other day I gave an appreciation for my rice cooker as I was putting it away. I’ve had that thing since college, so I obviously don’t use it as much as other Asians or Filipinos (my parents replace theirs every year it seems). But I can’t imagine a life of low-carb or no carb. No bread, pasta or rice? Even brown rice? Is that really necessary? Is that even considered living? I would rather run four miles every day than give up the foods I love, so bring it on, I say! Gimme, gimme, gimme my chocolate, beer, and a big bowl of rice and sauce.