summer reflection

This is a lengthy post. Written somewhere's between 1:30 am and now. Beware. It's also a bit telling, and I was wary about posting it, but it did make a serious impact on my summer and me as a person, so read on and enjoy, dear friends.

Wow. What a summer. The posts on this blog don't even sum up or totally describe what this summer has meant to me. Or me to this summer. If that's possible, and I think it is.

Firstly, I turned 21, which is the all-American turning point. I can drink. I can gamble. Wow, all vices. Anyway, it was a turning point, and I didn't think it would be. I did sort of save myself, and I rarely drank before 21. There was just one occasion since C. turned 21 months before I did, and I wanted to drink then, but that was probably it.

But the major thing, the HUGE thing, and it will seem so little and so trivial to you, but let me let you in on it first and then explain. Here it is, the major act that I did that is totally not part of my normal behavior is...I told a boy I liked him. That I had a crush on him for the past year.

Okay, okay, okay. Small, I know, just that first part. And in this day, and at my age, I even agree. 12 year olds tell other 12 year olds they like each other. The "past year" part though adds a punch, I think. And the fact that I'm 21, and that this is the first time ever I told a boy I liked him.

The thing is...I am old-fashioned. My aunt once referred to me as the "nun". I like letting fate, or destiny, intervene i.e. do the work. I believed, in my heart of hearts, that if something was meant to happen, it would happen, and it would not be because I made a daring choice or set myself up for hurt or took a chance. No, I didn't like taking chances. I didn't like getting hurt. I didn't like trying things knowing that one of the two outcomes would be me not getting where I wanted to be. And that meant missing out on a lot of things. Remember, this is the girl who wouldn't go outside through a crowd of people to get a plate of meatballs (see post titled "the meatball story") unless there was some sort of prize in the end. This is that girl.

You have no idea how crippling this kind of mentality is. This has been my past adolescence. And a good part of my college years. Because it's so easy, and nice, and comfortable to be shy and not say what I really feel and then just go blog or write about it somewhere and let that be my outlet. It was so easy. But this isn't a way to live.

I have books of my reported shyness. I have a blog somewhere on the internet (that you will never find, hopefully) about my first 2 years of college in which my pen name was Prufrock*(see footnotes). I had loyal readers who begged me, urged me, to change. I didn't. I mean, I thought I did, but I really didn't. The blog got a bit depressing, and I moved on.

So you see, it's not small. It's not miniscule, telling a boy I liked him. Not to me. A regular "normal" girl might have done it at least once before hitting 21. I am clearly not normal, and this was clearly a turning point. Even more so than my 21st birthday**. And it really changed everything. This crush became more of burden with each month that went by that I didn't tell him. And it would go away and then come back, and ugh, what a mess. But finally letting him know...that felt so good. I had reasoned in my head that it wouldn't even matter what he felt about me, whether he'd like me back or not. It would just be better to tell him, to rid myself of this shyness in one simple act. I, as I like to call it, "set myself up for hurt" (because not being shy always ends negatively to me, hence the "hurt") but at least it would be done. And even if it did hurt, it would be temporary. I seriously figured he didn't feel the same way about me, but at least I said it, got it out before I left for Paris, and maybe I can start new.

I did it though. Finally, finally. And you know the nice thing about taking a chance is, about telling someone you like him? I found out that he likes me too.

What have I been missing all these years? Argh. What a Prufrock I am.

FOOTNOTES
* T.S. Eliot's patron saint of shyness and not taking chances. Read his "Love Song for J. Alfred Prufrock"
**Actually turning 21 did help and give it some edge as I did tell said boy how I felt about him the day after I turned 21.

je ne dors pas

I can't sleep. It's 1:13 in the morning, and I just had a lovely day at Universal Studios with friends, and I can't sleep. How unlikely is that? It makes sense though. I'm less than two weeks away.

I just can't stop thinking about how horribly bad my French is, how crazy it's going to be when I get there, and all the people I'm leaving behind. It's insane to grasp. I once equated leaving with dying. I mean, I'm saying goodbye to all these people I care about, I'm doing things I'm going to miss, and I'm going somewhere very far away...At least I can be visited. At least it's not actually death. God, I'm rambling, please forgive me, but it is 1 am.

lovely news!

My brother proposed to his girlfriend this past Sunday! Yes, I should have written about it in my last post, but I wasn't sure if they wanted to keep under wraps. He started by going to her parents' house and asking them for their permission--so sweet! Kuya is old school. And the Mom replied with, "YES! YES! YES!" And the father was just stunned. Kuya asked, looking towards the father, "Mr. A?" And the mother just answered for him, "YES! YES! YES!" Haha.

Then he went to her work (she's a pharmacist just like Kuya), and she got angry at him because she wanted them to meet at a party that they were going to. And he propsed to her in a parking garage at her work. Not exactly the most romantic of places, but totally cute nonetheless. She had no idea. And days before, he'd ask her douchebag questions like, "How long does it take to get a ring? Two months?" And she wouldn't answer him at all. She'd just stare at him in angry silence. Haha.

The ring is absolutely GORGEOUS!!! I don't usually like jewelry, but this one is lovely. The diamond is an heirloom, given to Kuya by my grandmother. Kuya got it set in a vintage style ring. I lurve vintage. It looks like the ring has history, and it doesn't look like any other ring I have ever seen. God lovely.

Kuya had planned on proposing before I left, and the wedding is set for next fall, when I'm back. I'm glad he did propose, because now I've been spending time with Kuya and his fiancee, Kat, as they look at places to have the reception. Neato! I'm also a bridesmaid!!! I've never been a bridesmaid before. Fun fun fun.

To read Kat's post on her engagement, check it here!: http://karrogan.blogspot.com/

it's getting close!

Wow, I'm less than three weeks away, and I'm not really sweating it. Seriously. There are times when I feel a bit scared for the future, and then the feeling evaporates and leaves behind all this excitement: I'm going to live in Paris! I'm going to improve my French! I'm going to meet loads of people from all over! These thoughts take over, and then I am okay. It's going to be okay.

I received my international driver's license at AAA for $15. I bought a raincoat when I went shopping with my friend Cher (aka Cherilin). I've set my winter clothes aside so that Mom can ship it to me. Everything is slowly coming to a close, winding down, leaving me to enjoy time with my family and friends.

Went to Coronado Beach down in San Diego for my cousin's daughter's birthday this past weekend, and it was absolutely gorgeous outside. And I walked along the beach with my cousin and brother's girlfriend, and we talked about boys and traveling, and it was lovely. Went to a casino with my Grandma, brother, and brother's girlfriend, and we had a grand old time too. It so weird knowing that I won't see them for close to a year. What can I do to somehow make up for all that lost time that I won't have with them? I can't. I have to make things count now.

Right now I'm cleaning my room, donating old clothes, and just throwing things away or recycling them. I'm listening to the Bottle Rocket soundtrack. It's very soothing and certain songs remind me of funny parts in the film. I can't go anywhere right now cuz I don't have a car, but that's okay.

visa

I just got my visa today at the French consulate in Los Angeles on Wilshire Blvd. My appointment was this morning, and Dad took me. We first got breakfast at this place he used to frequent when he was still working. It's called Grinder or The Grinder, and it's on Figueroa and 28th. I had an omelette, and it was tasty. Dad had pancakes.

We arrived pretty late, but it was okay. I walked to the visa section, which was behind this door that had a window, but it was covered up, and I don't know why, but I was scared. I really had no reason to be because behind it were all these chairs and some people, and even one of my classmates, Lucia! We saw each other, and I was all, "Hey!!!" And then I piped down because everyone looked at me, and even the visa ladies behind the glass heard me.

She was ahead of me in line. The girl, she was young and had an accent, called me up, and I gave her my passport and application. She asked me if I spoke French, and I said, "Un peu." Which means "a little". She was really happy though that I spoke French, I think, because after that she was really nice and sweet. I paid and waited for the other French lady to call me up.

When she did, she was really curt and asked for all my papers, and "where's this?" and "do you have that?". After she had everything, she finally took a good look at me, and I was just all smiles because I was so happy about how smoothly this was going. And she said in a light accent, "You stay away from French boys!"

And I laughed and said sure. It felt like a compliment. I told her that I won't even look at them. She added, "French boys are more aggressive than the American ones." And I said probably. She told me what to do when I get to France. She gave me back my passport and even Lucia's and bid me farewell, and I said merci.

Then Lucia said when I sat back down next to her, "She was so nice to you!" And I just shrugged. We exchanged numbers and might hang out together before we both leave for Paris.

Afterwards, Dad and I just drove around LA. It was nice. He wanted to drive by his work, and we did. Then we headed home.

So I'm done with the most important stuffs. I saw my doctor, and I'm healthy. I saw my dentist, and she said I'll get my wisdom teeth out when I get back next summer. Now I need to see my optometrist. Today, I'm going to go get my international driver's license. Yay!

the meatball story

Okay, enough sad things. I have to stop being "saddo". I first saw the word "saddo" in a message from my cousin Fah to my brother Noel (also known as "Kuya" in recent posts). And I've adopted it and have been saying it. It's also fun to say. Say it out loud: "Saddo". Here's a link that explains the word: saddo.

So the meatball story. It's a funny story, and I've been saving it for after the sadness that is leaving my friends in San Francisco. It's truly a testament to me and my brother's social awkwardness and just one of many interesting and funny adventures that we share together.

Two weeks ago when I was here in LA, Kuya and I went to a wedding for a family friend. She went to my high school (Rosary) and was in the same year as my brother who went to Rosary's brother school (Servite). We went to the Mass first. We sat in the back since we were late. I asked him if he was getting communion, and he said no, and I said, "Is it because all your high school classmates are here?" I don't remember what he said, but he didn't get communion. What a dork.

We arrived at the reception that was in the heart of Orange County at this golf course. Kuya and I always make fun of Orange County, and I think we both secretly knew that this was going to be a riot. Sometimes, when we see some emo boy walking down the street or some skinny boy with tight pants on, we'll just look at each other, and then start laughing. Outside on the deck, there were loads of people heading to the open bar and socializing. I'd go and get drinks from the bar for my brother and parents, and we stayed inside in this sort of darkened sitting area, away from the crowd, but perfect for people watching.

Kuya then started eyeing all these people who had small plates of appetizers. I didn't know where they were getting the food. Here is what transpired.
Kuya: Go get me some meatballs.
Me: What?! No you go get meatballs. I'm not even hungry.
Kuya: I think there's meatballs and fried dumplings. They're outside on the deck. GO GET ME SOME!!!
Me: NO! You get your own! Why don't you want to go out there?!
Kuya: Why don't you want to go out there?!
Me: 'Cuz there's people out there.
Kuya: (silence)
Me: Why are you shy?
Kuya: Why are YOU shy?

This conversation went on for a while...I tried going out there to get his stupid meatballs, but then chickened out at the last second. We even prowled around the lobby area if we could see exactly where the appetizers are outside without having to go outside. It was fruitless.

Kuya: Okay...if you get me meatballs and dumplings, I will buy your backpack for Paris.
Me: Really?
Kuya: Yes. How much did you plan on spending?
Me: At the most $150.
Kuya: Okay.
Me: So you're willing to pay $150 for a small plate of meatballs and dumplings just because you don't want to have to see or talk to people.
Kuya: Just go!

I went. I thought about the deal for a second, and my Dad just told me to go already and get the stupid meatballs. I did it and was pretty stealthy about it, and I didn't have to talk to anyone. What dorks we are. What hermits. We won't even get a freaking plate of meatballs if it means having to navigate through a crowd.

goodbye san francisco: the last 2 days...

Everything is such a blur. From the packing, the lack of sleep, and the drive home I can't remember it all. And at one point I even fused the last 2 days in nor cal into this great, huge day in which so much had happened, some of it very personal, that I won't even share all of it with you. Sorry folks.

Day 7, Sunday
Breakfast with friends at a lovely cafe near the house. It was my first time there. I had French toast (appropriate no?) and potatoes on the side, and I barely finished either of them. I had no appetite for obvious reasons.

Went to see Sunshine with C., and it's funny because we saw my friend Jason there too. It was either Sunshine or Rescue Dawn, and we chose the lesser of the two downers. It was pretty deece, and I love Danny Boyle, and sci-fi, but this combination didn't totally work for me. It had some good parts though.

Went to my Grandma's (Dad's aunt) house and had a lovely dinner there. I wanted to see her before I left because she's been so hospitable to me and I was always welcome in their home in San Francisco. They have an amazing house, a truly San Franciscan home that could be a setting for something like The Royal Tenenbaums. My parents drove up that night and met up with me there too. I went home early though since I still needed to pack.

Day 8, Monday: the last day
Woke up pretty tired. I had a long but an amazing night, and I couldn't get to sleep because there was so much to think about. Everything was ready and downstairs.

C. and I got coffee, our last time getting coffee. Ben came over and he and C. helped me move out when my parents came with the truck. C. even called in sick to work and missed part of her class to help. It was so nice of them to be there for me when I left.

When I said goodbye to them, I cried. I couldn't help it; and I couldn't hold it in, as hard as I tried. But I hugged them, and then drove off following my parents in the truck.

And I swear that was the hardest drive home in my entire life. I've never driven from SF to LA alone, but I was so glad I was because there was so much to think about. And it would be so comfortable, so nice to be able to stay and go on with my warm, routine life in SF, but that was not going to happen. The choice of going abroad for a year had really cemented itself. I had willingly chosen a difficult path, and there as no turning back now. Even though there were so many good reasons for staying, I couldn't. And that was my choice, and I will have to deal with that.

Got home pretty late and pretty tired. I unpacked everything the next day.