Advice, korea, Love, Mental Health, Teaching, Womens Health, Writing

I miss you like crazy

Soundtrack: We Move Lightly

Dear reader,

A few days ago I was ready to give up on love. L didn’t get into the Masters program in Korea. His Barack Obama character, fluency in 3 ruling languages, 3.6 GPA, and caramel Gu Jun Pyo good looks, weren’t even worth an interview. He applied to smaller universities to increase his chances, but no dice. Given the sexism I’ve already faced at work(men looooove roomin’ with roaches), let’s address the pink latino in the room: his third world passport. My interview for Korea lasted the amount of time it takes me to eat a snickers bar. But I’m a US citizen with a pulse.

While in NYC, I survived a long distance relationship for 5 years. We both lost loved ones to cancer. We were laughter and light: the only salve to unbearable numbness. Until we weren’t. I changed. I used to want a diamond, now I’m good with a tattoo. I used to want babies, now I prefer passport stamps. I used to drink like a Bostonian, now I don’t need booze to bare all.

First cut is the deepest

The last time L and I held each other was May. If you read the post about my abortion, then you remember my devastation. Our goodbye. I felt his absence most acutely during my first month in Seoul. A meteor shower, in celestial harmony with Quito’s blood red moon, welcomed me to the Han River with 3 of the nicest teachers and their plus 1’s. Not for one instant did they make me feel like a 7th wheel. Instead, we inflated vagina-shaped lawn chairs and cuddled a little black dog named Tux. Feasted on fish tacos. Gawked at bike-size Afghan hounds(the dodo bird of toy breed Korea). Discovered Daiso, the dollar store equivalent where bitch I’m rich. Admired boy piggy-back girl, crutches n all. Matching couple outfits.

I was having a fucking blast, which compounded into resounding sadness upon seeing my super single bed.

L and I couldn’t make any of these memories in the same time-space continuum. Share a coffee. Take a walk. Binge watch LOTR. And let’s talk about sex. Per OTNB memoir: after 3 months of abstinence, you could’ve spit on me and I’d sizzle. Rio Olympian, starved out for the gold. Sure a big mac is a quick fix, but I’d rather wait for the Shake Shack (grand opening in Gangnam July 22!) 

IUD. Not DIY. 

Don’t fret: I’m armed with 3 letters: I.U.D. “Expect 3 mild cramps,”the gyno said. She held up a silver tong the size of timbuktu to pull my uterus out so this tiny piece of plastic could go in. Any tattoo artist will tell you I have a high pain tolerance, but this was intense. I had to take deep birth-video breaths and find my happy place: instinctively L’s face. After a minute or 2, she patted me on the back, “Good job! Some patients faint on the table.”

Ladies, this is not to scare you, but to prepare you. Take ibuprofen before you go. I got the hormonal IUD cuz I prefer no periods whereas the copper one may give you worse ones. Like a pair of shoes, try out different kinds of birth control till you find one that works best. Liletta is good for 3 years and I don’t have to do anything.

Given my gamut with womanly health, one burning question remains: why do we call weakness a pussy? Who came up with this flawed concept? Did they ever have a period/abortion/baby/IUD? If you punched a pussy and a penis, who do you think would be standing first? “You’re such a testicle” makes way more sense if you ask me. Or we should just stop using gender-specific body parts as insulting adjectives altogether.

Taiwan Thanksgiving 

Thank universe L’s back up plan to study Chinese in Taiwan went through. I booked my flight for September stat. I made it a priority to see him. So when he completely forgot to research hotels and call my therapist from Ecuador…I flipped a shit. It didn’t matter that he recognized his mistake immediately and apologized. 

I wish I could tell you I rolled like ghandi. Instead I chose the worst of two evils: fight and flight. Stage 1: mad as hell: “What the fuck? Am I the only one trying here?” Stage 2: weeping willow. “You hurt me. You really hurt me.” Stage 3: lost girl. “We should break up.” 

I didn’t sleep that night.  Perhaps, the debris wasn’t all due to L, though the residual pain created a perfect storm. In my anger, I forgot everything that L had shown me. I lost faith in him and myself.

When L faced failure, I expected some semblance of guilt, jealousy or stress to bleed over. He did the exact opposite. He stayed proud. Excited. He never made me feel like I was leaving him behind. His capacity for forgiveness is something I’m still working on. When I go bananas, he’s got just the right box. (That’s for you TEFL)

It’d be too easy to give into old habits. To cut and run, like a bat out of hell. For many of us, it’s far simpler to give love, than to receive.  Carson McCuller writes: “the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself. It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved.”

The morning before Boston, L surprised me with his college diary. Bold move buddy. I perused 4 years of the mind of someone who shares great visions and horrible nightmares. Few people understand me on this level: how blessed I am to know one. No matter what, we will make our greatest effort to learn from our love. I can’t think of anything more worthwhile.

In 3 weeks, I’m visiting L for Chuseuk( Korean turkey day). 6 days with bae! He may try again for Korea or I may head to Taiwan later on. Then this chinita will apply to NYC Teaching Fellows. Uhhhh, subsidized Masters of Education for only $8K what?! It’s one of the only affordable on campus programs out there. I refuse to go into debt for higher ed. Plus, I’ve gotta get certified pre-UAE.

Master of None

No relationship exists without fears, worries, doubts. No show on TV explains these WTF moments in modern romance better than Aziz: long term relationships are tough. You can’t just expect a big, roaring fire right away, right? You know, you can’t put the big logs in first. You start with the small stuff. Kindling, all right? Then you add that, *then* you put in the big logs and *then* you have a roaring fire. And that’s a good relationship. But be careful, sometimes kindling is hard to find, you know? Good wood. So, don’t take it for granted.

Folks: tend to your fine pine. For me, that means continuing therapy.  Eating cake and patbingsu. Working out. Teaching kids that ‘different’ is good. Finishing the first draft of my self-help book…tentatively titled The Co Dependent Diaries: A Teacher Tells All. 

Remember: distance makes the heart grow stronger.

To me. To you. To L.

writinginsoysauce

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Advice, Career, Love, Travel, Writing

Once Upon A Blue Moon In Aquarius

Dear Friends,

9 months and 20 days ago, I took a hiatus from blogging.

1 week ago,  I lugged 15 lbs of tables and chairs to my 2nd year of Diner En Blanc. Kudos to the stranger who shared a jug of Simply Lemonade (not virgin). THANK YOU to my beautiful, ever blunt friend Christina who demanded I blog again(“I’d tell you if it sucked”).

Point taken.

4 AHA! MOMENTS 

1.The Mother Of All Journeys

Your friends are doing “adult” things. They are Zuckerberging (creating empires and mini me’s). Be happy for them. Show your support. Then continue doing things that make no sense to anyone else, but feel right to you. This September 19, I’ll be volunteer teaching in Ecuador for a year. Do I speak Spanish? Nope. Do I know what I want to do with my life? Not at all. Am I one step closer to figuring it out? F^_^ yes.

A wise man once said: What if the journey does not hold an all illuminating answer? What if the journey…is to keep having journeys?

2. Leave Your Heart On

I ended a 4-something year relationship. Breaking up sucks, but so do 99.9% of important decisions. A huge takeaway that seems obvious, but too few take seriously? LIVE TOGETHER. It’s a surefire way to understand whether you’re meant for longevity.

Oh, and I’m going to write more about sex. Before you get too excited, or grossed out, let me caveat it’s not the square peg round hole kind, but rather, the art of INTIMACY. Gorgeous, ecstatic, emotionally and spiritually-fulfilling intimacy, the kind that comes with the sweetest sleep you’ve ever known.  If we were taught intimacy-ed, instead of learning how to put condoms on moldy bananas, then maybe, just maybe, our grown-a$$ selves would have a shot at understanding the complex, encompassing, amorphous nature of love(gay, straight, purple).

Leave the lights on. Leave your heart on. Belove your pairdom. Delight in your singledom. Brace yourself for kindred spirits. When you seek a lifelong bond the least…the universe may beg to differ.

3. Let Me Take A Selfie

It has taken me a long time to accept my family is ape-sh*t crazy: my verbally and physically abusive dad, my anxiety prone mom, my schizophrenic grandma. Would I drop everything to help them? Yes. Is it healthy for me to be in that head space more than once a month? Abso-fricken-lutely not. Share your family’s struggles: they are the truest extension of you. Denying their neuroses(or yours) is like Van Gogh trying to selfie without a mirror.

4. Unicorns Are Real

If you’re like me, music dominates your life. It’s hard to think with all that noise.  Take out your headphones. Listen to the wind tickling the trees. Observe. Reflect. Pray. Look up!

Once upon a blue moon in aquarius, you’ll stumble into a grassy knoll and come face to face with a unicorn: a person, place, or thing that alters the course of your destiny.

Forever? Forever ever?

Forever ever.

All my love,

writinginsoysauce

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Books, Writing

Tolstoy Knew Best

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At 5:50 pm on September 23, I was strolling along the empty, post-apocalypse Pittsfield, MA, thinking “Wow these drivers are so nice to pedestrians,” when a mini van nearly sliced my legs in half at a STOP SIGN.

I was already in the road, directly in front of the car, and had to RUN so I could, well deeply put, not die.

The blue-eyed, mousy-brown coiffed lady squeaked “Sorry,” like she was apologizing to her kids for being late to soccer practice.

Me: “Are you kidding me? You were *this close* (hand gesturing) to hitting me!”

Idiot driver: “Sorry!”

Me: “Don’t drive if you’re not paying attention!” (rage with wisdom)

I diverted my angry eyes in the homeward direction not because I was causing a scene, but rather, I was inhabiting the road where other cars were trying to turn. Again, we New Yorker Mass Hole hybrids are exemplary examples for the swift footed.

Concluding thoughts?

1. Some dumba&& b**#@ almost killed me.

2. Damn health insurance. It’s never there when you need it.

3. Live writing. Die writing.

At my it-almost-happened wake, strangers would sigh over my sexy as hell embalmed body: “*Sniffle* So young. So talented. So smart. To think she just started doing something she loved.”

I can think of far worse eulogies.

-writinginsoysauce

 

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Advice, Writing

TOM HANKS IS A TYPEWRITING GENIUS!

After my visit to Shakespeare and Company a la Paris last week  I’ve been obsessing over how to buy a vintage typewriter that 1. never breaks and 2. doesn’t shatter my piggy bank. All hope was lost. Until…

BEHOLD! The Hanx Typewriter APP! With this baby, you should be able to type, share and print!  Looks gorgeous so far on my iPad.

My celebrity obsession with People.com actually led to something useful.  Who woulda thunk it?

Forrest Freakin’ Fantastic Gump just brought oldie but goodie to an astronomical level!

Blog_Tom_Hanks_Typewriter_App_Trust in the universe,

writinginsoysauce

 

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Advice, Travel, Writing

Post Europe 2014 Decisions!

After an AMAZING trip to Germany, Italy and France(more to come), I’ve made a few key decisions:

1. I’m 100% applying for an MFA this fall.

2. Writinginsoysauce is the right place for my blog. The one with my name is way too corporate. Just like the past 5 years of a my life.

3. I will STOP being a perfectionist about all my blog posts. The control freak side of me needs to let go. So what if it’s a sloppy mess? Writing should never be about perfection. This means I’ll be sharing my DRAFTS *Gasp* with the world. Hoping you’ll have me.

4. Social media is the source of all my stress. I went 2 weeks without it and DAMN, I feel good.

Lots of love,

writinginsoysauce

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For if I am to lie awake, when all reason tells me to dream, then there is no better companion than Grimm himself. For I do not fear the dark: only the mysteries yet to be discovered. This is what great artists should do, must do. We venture to galaxies others may not, all the whilst wondering “Am I insane?”

 

 

 

 

thedark

“The Dark” by Lemony Snickety

 

 

 

 

Maybe.

Books, Writing

The Dark

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