Small thoughts from the previous post...

Well I was going to add a bit more to the previous post about us watching Tarzan...but decided that it would fit more appropriately with this one.

So when she felt tired, she leaned on the arm rest. Both her hands fell under her blanket and she leaned away from me. At the beginning, a plate of fruit sat between us. Then...nothing more than the distance we needed to remain "just friends." And...I'll tell you...that just...killed me at the end because I really liked having her lie on my shoulder. When, at Red Squared, she curled up against me and her head rested on my heart. She...I don't know.

Then...I wondered...last night...why does it all have to be a relationship to have things like that happen? Like...why can't people just hold hands and hug normally without getting attached or anything? Is it because we are human and are capable to developing feelings that we can't hold hands without feeling something? That morning...after Red Square...I hugged her and didn't want to let go. If I let go, she would go away. If I didn't let go, nothing would happen. We could just stand there and forget everything. Nothing mattered...no worries, no obligations. And then all those things would appear and bam, we are buried with work.

It really is my fault...no matter how many times she tells me not to blame myself. I should never have gotten close to her...I should have either said something much earlier or distanced myself more. And while I tell her not to worry about me, she tells me it is her choice whether or not to worry about me. I'm really nothing...I'm the most average guy in the world with nothing to offer other than...I don't know...comfort? And random thoughts and ideas...

Sometimes I wonder if she really...I don't know...feels too guilty about the past. It really isn't her fault at all...she dated someone and I...I just got too emotionally excited and jealous. So...in the end...I've forgiven her and maybe that forgiveness is too much for her to handle. Maybe being a nice guy should have its limits. I don't know...I mean...I'll survive. I'm not going to die...at least not yet. But is it really appropriate to always forgive people? Forgiveness is one of the most fundamental human and ethically responsible facets to human thought. Morally, we should all forgive...but to what extent does forgiveness become impractical? She didn't harm me physically...nor did she harm my friends or family. I don't know...she always asks me what's on my mind...yet I can't tell her. What the hell is wrong with me?

I ask her often if she is ok. She usually responds that she is tired...and yet...I don't know. Even if you don't smile you can still be happy. But...most emotion comes from the eyes. And whenever I look at her eyes...she's...I don't know. She has this painful look in her eyes and I don't know how to help her smile more. Not just show a smile, but be happy inside. In the heart. I don't know...I made her pancakes for dinner, we walk downtown and go shopping...I show her pictures of me in China...we have yet to watch the sunset on Lake Champlain. Is that still possible? Would that be breaking the boundaries of friendship? I really want to watch the sunset with her because...making people happy makes me happy.

Although Twilight may be a bad metaphor, I keep thinking to when Jacob tries holding Bella's hand at the movies and she pulls away, saying that it might mean something different for him than for her. Kinda lame...maybe...but I guess that's how she might interpret things I do. I just...look, when someone is cold, you take off your jacket and give it to the person. You just...hug people when they are cold...or to comfort them. I think that's my thought...but society in general has placed this notion of "oh, only couples to that!" Why? Why can't people go out together for dinner without it having to be a date? Why not just go as friends? Why does everything have to have a reason like that? Are humans really that emotionally involved and am I just emotionally detached? I would think...if a guy broke up with his girlfriend, he might cry. Just a little. Maybe a lot. Stop being that tough guy-guy. I mean...if I could cry, I would. I re-watch Mufasa's death alot. Even the scene when Simba calls for help and when he sees his dad again. I really like watching the scene in which Will's dad leaves him in the Fresh Prince. It is one of the most emotionally gripping scenes in television. I've watched A Walk to Remember about...a dozen or so times. But I can't cry...I haven't cried in so long...that...I've forgotten. Maybe you don't forget how to cry...I just need to be beaten so emotionally that it kills me. Then...I guess I can cry...haha a guy who wants to cry...a guy who can cook...

Also, if you want to learn how to cook, check out my Chinese recipe blog Hou-Mei Cooking!

Oh well...class begins at 11...and then...yeah...too bad the roads are wet and it's raining. Longboarding right now would be great...

When you've forgotten how to cry, the raindrops fall in place of the tears...

So here I am...sitting in the room we broke-up...why?

Perhaps it's the last place anyone can find me...but you're not thinking of finding me. Instead, perhaps you are wondering when and how did the breakup happen, and even more importantly when did we start dating?

Um...well it goes a little like this. See...no one knew when we began dating. When I first told her I liked her, she thought we were dating at that point. I thought that was just us getting our feelings out...and nothing happened yet. So I thought I was actually supposed to ask her out...and I didn't even ask what she thought of the situation.

Last time I put up a post, I basically wanted to express how and why I'm not boyfriend material. But it turned out to be something completely different. Instead, it further complicated things and that's why she became so distant Friday afternoon and into the evening. She commented that I no longer need to be confused and that she believes my friend/ex-roommate will soon be out of my sight very soon. I saw that after I came back from the CCA dinner and she wasn't home. I was extremely worried. That was one of the saddest things I read and I didn't know what to do. Would she come back? Was she ok? Should I call her? Just as I was about to take a shower, she knocked on the door and I opened it and was about to give her a hug...

Well...Saturday night we went to the bars. And...she and I snuggled, slow danced...all these really romantic things and I felt so close to her. More close to any person I've known or met. I mean, even before the bars and the beer, we separated ourselves from our friends and walked together. Then...well drunk me came out and I became very confident at stepping up and holding her hand, her back...I knew what to do, what to say. We found the spaces between our fingers...wow it was magical. Later that night, I couldn't sleep. I laid on the floor next to her while she took the couch. And for most of the night, it was me trying to hold her hand from the floor and comforting her...which I'm not sure why when she kept asking me to sleep and not worry.

Oh...so back to the drinking. We spoke a lot of Chinese. I don't know where it came from...but I wouldn't shut up. And I apologized that I was telling her my feelings when drunk and that I didn't want to ask her out on a date because of the time constraints. But I told her...pinky swore...that I'd ask her out when I was sober.

So the following morning...which began with a headache...began with me joking that we didn't take out the pork chops the previous night for dinner. Then...I asked her out...which she accepted.

I really thank her for this. I mean...she is the first person I asked out and the first person to say yes. That’s just...wow...I just felt really connected to her at this point. We showered (separately or course), had breakfast and went to school. Then we fell asleep from exhaustion...

She then went on the do her play recital and I finished up some homework. Then we went on our date.

Now I don't know if it is me or something else, but I'm always afraid of physical contact. Maybe a high-five or something between guys is ok, but I have a hard time holding a girl's hand. I actually told her that she might even like the drunk version of me better because of his confidence. And then we held hands going to dinner. When we came back...that's when things turned around.

Arguments are very strange. You always remember what they are about, but you tend to forget how they began. We argued about whether or not we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and if we were dating or not. Was it when she asked me not to tell someone, or was it when I asked her if were really dating? She thought we were dating when I told her my feelings. I thought we had to date more in order for it to be official. And this...we talked for about an hour and a half about this. Maybe two hours...and there was so much heartache involved. She...dammit I really hate myself. Because...she had to be the one I broke. I think...no matter what she did to me, it is nothing compared to what I can do to her. Even if the scale is different, I think I can hurt people much more. Because honestly...I do have that nice guy persona. So whenever I make people upset, I think I hurt them much more because no one expects that from me. So we decided to be friends...and see what happens...

I don't know if I can do that. I think...I really like her. I would stay in Vermont...I could. I have everything here...and yet I really want to get out. I'm kinda tired of Vermont...I was born and raised here and I dislike the snow. And random rainfall. But really...I....I don't want us to fall apart as friends because I like hanging out with her. We are almost...so different because of how we grew up (she in China and me in America) and yet it is our differences that helps us teach and grow. The American-Chinese and Chinese-American...haha...sigh...

Last night we watched Tarzan. I kinda...well she helped me wash dishes. I really wanted her to help...and I'm glad she did. Just like...old times. I haven't washed dishes by hand in a week (I've been using the dishwasher). Then...we watched Tarzan...after every other movie link we tried finding failed. Even Tarzan took forever to find. The first few links had sound and video off sync. Then...well we watched and began falling asleep. She fell asleep away from me...on the armrest...

So she left around 10:30 and I...well I went into my room and woke up around 7 feeling like shit. After brushing my teeth, I fell on the couch with her blanket as my pillow and iPod on. I wanted her to see me actually. I knew I couldn't fall asleep...but...I don't know. I just wanted her to see me in a weak position...kinda like a drunk person with sad music in the background...then...after changing the song a second time she said, "Tommy, stop pretending that you are sleeping!" in that...cute little voice of hers followed by a laugh and hand over mouth. Yeah...um...well I wasn't in the mood for happy thoughts. And...I basically just got up...and said, "I need to catch the bus." Then, only five steps from leaving my room I realized I forgot my iPod and cell and went back. She wasn't in the chair when I left...and bam she was right there at the bathroom sink. I don't know if she saw that I forgot my things and knew I'd come back and was planning to jump out and scare me, and she just happened to walk over there or was planning on bringing me her things. And...that saddens me...cause...well last night she remembered to check her purse for my friend's key. And she goes, "Tommy, the key is missing!" Instead of me...I don't know...somehow I didn't joke with her and gave her a look that I've never given her. A look that said, “Just give me the key." It's so sad...dammit...I...I don't know. I thought of treating her like a lot the girls I know...just...ignore them and act like nothing ever happened or will happen...

I took out pork chops for tonight...maybe I can make them for her...

An Unconnected Love Triangle...

Sometimes…I wonder if I would be the right boyfriend. Well now at least.

On the morning of the sixth, well VERY early morning around 1:00 am, my friend/ex-roommate and I said good night and she left for her room. Just as I finished brushing my teeth (or was I still brushing me teeth?) she returned, grabbed something and said, “Don’t worry; this will be the last time I come down.”

Of course, I went to bed and laid there for a while, going on Facebook. Then, I heard the door open again and knew that was her. I just didn’t know what she was doing. I heard the kitchen water running. I heard some papers shuffling. Then quietly, the door closed. As a small joke, I posted on her wall that I thought she was in my room.

The following morning, when trying to find my iPod charger I found some offline text messages from her. She somewhat pleaded me to stay awake, saying she had something tell me and she decided not to since it might upset me.

Let me tell you something first. For about a week, maybe two even, I had a hard time coming to terms with my new feelings. It felt very out of place at the time, yet it made perfect sense to feel them. I consulted two of my closest friends about my new feelings, and was actually very scared she felt the same. She’s always encouraged me to go after the other girl (QQ), helped me with my little issues and we just hang out a lot. We drink together, eat together. Um…watch movies, make dumplings. I don’t know. We just do a lot of things together that people may actually assume we are dating. She actually told me that last time we went to the bars, I left the table and her ex-co-worker asked if I was her boyfriend. She said yes, and he still gave her his number and said, “Don’t let your boyfriend know.” She threw it away…but yeah…funny stuff?

Um…well back to the morning. Actually, I finally realized I wanted to tell her. I didn’t know if it was the right time, but after texting each other and persuading her to come down, I told her my feelings. After 15 ridiculous minutes of me explaining everything, from QQ to her and the past and trying to hard to actually say the three words that matter. Not, “I love you.” That’s a little too far. Just like. Writing it to QQ was hard enough. Saying to the girl in front of me was ridiculously painful. Funny thing was she said, “Is it alright if I don’t look at you?” I said, “Don’t worry. I’m going to take off my glasses so I can’t see you.” And then…after trying 5 different methods, I told her. And she texted me, “I feel the same.” And then…well you can guess the rest.

So for a few nights, she has told me about meeting her old co-worker (not the one from the bars) to just talk and chat. Last night, while we were watching The Notebook, she mentioned how it’s strange I don’t get mad or angry when she talks about him. Actually, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. Am I supposed to feel angry or jealous? I mean…we’re not even dating, so would that be appropriate? Maybe jealous, but of what? I’m not even sure, but I guess that’s the reason I can’t talk about QQ to her anymore. I don’t know…I told her to do what makes her happy, but she said that’s not necessarily about happiness. The only thing I’m more uncomfortable with is her…last boyfriend.

Actually…the morning I told my friend I liked her, QQ suddenly came back in my mind. Even though QQ rejected my feelings and whatnot, I still felt somewhat connected to her. I asked my friend, we’ll call J, if I should de-friend QQ. I don’t know if I can. It doesn’t have to do with me hoping one day QQ will return the feelings. It’s just…I don’t know. And it’s because of that I don’t know if I’d make a good boyfriend. While I’m with you I’m still thinking of her sort of deal. That’s…that’s not fair.

So last night, while watching The Notebook, I guess we got as close as we could for the moment. She rested on my shoulder, I kinda passed out on her head. And as sweet and whatever silly romantic comparison, it kind of felt out of place.

What if I don’t really like her? What if now my feelings are just…there because I have no one? That would mean I’m using her, wouldn’t it? And yet…does that mean I complete forget QQ and move on? The best way to forget her is to completely erase her from everything…but…I can’t do that. It’s just..it’s not me.

This morning…when I was thinking about this blog post…it just seems that no matter what happened, past and present, she’s always been there. She mentioned to me yesterday as we sat outside that she read all my blog entries. Honestly I can’t remember all of them by heart, but I do remember what most of them talked about. And…she apologized. I mentioned to her, actually, that fate may have played another game. Perhaps I only met QQ to test my true feelings. Maybe I was never meant to fall in love or like QQ. Maybe, at the end of it all, QQ was a test to see how far and long I could last, enduring that one year and seeing if I could forgive my friend just to tell her my feelings. As my friend J says, that is very unlikely, but would make a great story. But yeah…back to…I just think that even through the negative things that happened, she’s always been there. Even if I didn’t like what happened and all the cruel things I said, she’s always been there. So now…I don’t know.

The nice thing is her respect. Cause…I just feel that this blog is the best way for me to cope with things and express myself more honestly. And I asked her if she wanted me to stop…because in the end if this is the only way I can talk about certain things, then here it will be. She told me to keep writing, because I am a writer after all. O boy….

Against Free Will

From the author: This is a short story I wrote on a simple idea I had. What would happen if someone challenged God's final judgment?

I lost track of how long I stood in line. You sort of just get used to just standing here. The shock of just waiting in line to be judged by God Himself made time trivial. There were about a hundred people ahead of me. Everyone wondered when they would receive their wings and fly amongst deceased family and friends. From their friendly conversations, I couldn’t tell if they were friends in their previous lives or became acquainted here. Apparently there were some mothers who carried their children.

“You’re a young one,” said a man leaning on a cane. Still dressed in a black suit and matching tie, he smelled of preserved flowers and ointments. An orange lily peaked out from his breast pocket.

“Somewhat,” I replied, not wanting to attract attention. In fact, I was much younger than most people here. “I live a good life.”

“A good life, or a short one?” the man grinned at the inappropriate joke. When he regained his composure, he extended his right hand. “I am Mr. Smith.”

My grip felt insecure in his bony hand. Even though we were in Heaven, I was sure I could break his hand with a firm grip.

“Come on, ya pansy!” he exclaimed, and I jumped. I hardly felt a change, but he tightened his grip.

“Mr. Smith, not to be rude,” I replied, lightly squeezing his hand, “but I’m not comfortable making friends now.”

Mr. Smith nodded and returned both hands to the cane. I thought he was going to strike me for being rude, but he simply smiled.

“It’s not that I am not friendly. I just don’t want to complicate things.”

“How much more complicated can you get? We’re all dead!”

“Some of us would rather go to Heaven than Hell,” said a guy with a deep voice.
Jagged ritual scars, or so I assumed, curved over his eyebrows.

“I don’t think he meant it in that manner,” I replied. “I just don’t want to become friends with you guys here and never see you again.”

“We are all living in one world now,” said Mr. Smith. “You have no reason to go to Hell, do you?”

My mind felt numb and my cheeks became warm. Not a legitimate enough reason for God to send me to Hell, but an extremely personal one.

“I accepted God into my life.”

“Then you shouldn’t be denied Heaven,” the man with the scars said. “No matter my excuses or reasoning, I will go to Hell.”

From the healing scars on this man’s shoulders, I felt his sorrow. His eyes told a personal story that I only knew from human rights’ classes. My life, no matter how short, was something fortunate. I doubted his life was something that could be forgotten, or even cherished. I wondered if God would be merciful to ease this man’s memories or torture him with regret. I wasn’t here to make friends, but I wanted to ask this man questions of his experiences. Perhaps I could help him reach Heaven.

“If God is merciful, then your sins did will be forgiven,” I said.

“God does not forgive those whose fingers are stained with his brother’s blood.” At that I thought back to the Biblical account of the first murder. I wondered if we would meet a God of mercy or justice. “My brother would be better left off without me.”

Sunlight rippled against his eyes, and his jaw tightened as he held back the tears.

“God would be most merciful to allow my brother not to see the eyes of his murderer.” He cleared his throat and turned to me. “So Mr. No Name, it sounded as though you have doubt of going to Heaven.”

“According to what I have been taught, I believe I will go to Heaven.”

“Then what’s the doubt?”

This man’s story moved me. I don’t know if my story or reasoning could even be compared to his. He had reason to argue with God to be in Heaven. I didn’t.

“There are many people here, I would imagine, who have reasons to be in Heaven. Maybe there are some who don’t deserve to be there and will fight to be in Heaven.”

“Yet you’re doing the opposite?”

I wondered if my heart still pounded in my chest. There was no pulse in that space between my eyes and ears, yet the unwanted truth heated my cheeks. Everyone around me had their personal reasons for going to Heaven, whether their beliefs gave them hope or a longing to see family.

“When I was younger, their faces were like a photograph,” I said, keeping a low voice. “I closed my eyes and felt my mother’s arms. My father’s laugh. Now when I close my eyes, the memories are like a movie without sound and scenes out of sequence. I don’t know which memories belong where. Even the sounds are redubbed from my own imagination.”

Two words came to the man’s mind and yet they served no purpose other than filling the silence. The ritual scars on his forehead wrinkled as he thought of a more meaningful response.

“So you would argue with God to be in Hell? To see your parents?”

Hearing it come from someone else made me cold. It surprised me that this man I only knew for a few minutes understood my reasoning. Some of my friends couldn’t figure out the reasoning on their own until I told them. Even then the more conservative of my friends would say God comes first.

“That’s very noble of you, my friend.”

Silver rays of light came into my peripheral and I noticed we reached the gates of Heaven. What happened to all the people that stood ahead of us? Only a single figure stood at the gates. Sunlight appeared to reflect against his wings, producing an aura of silver light.

“Welcome to Heaven,” said the angel, his voice smooth with a resounding echo. “God awaits His children beyond these gates.”

The angel waved a hand at the gates and curtains of light warmed our faces. For a moment, I felt euphoria and wondered if my acquaintance forgot his troubles. All the light around us softened until I noticed a row of pillars circling me. Emblems of crosses, doves, pentagrams and other unrecognizable religious symbols sat atop each pillar. Perhaps God’s influence extended beyond a single religious sect. Blue sky opened above me and the clouds were few. I was alone.

“Welcome, my child.”

I spun around, looking for the source of the voice. It was a voice I never heard before, but I knew the speaker. Some people heard Him in prayer. Others found comfort in Him from watching the sunset. At this moment, I understood why people sought His guidance. I didn’t know where or how I’d find my comfort.

“Your heart desires that which is beyond your vision.”

“So you’ve already decided my fate?”

“Can it be true that you would rather suffer in Hell than a life of eternal grace?”

“My previous life lacked any suffering that should qualify me for peace. The only suffering I endured was never knowing my parents.”

“Is it not I who gives life to all creatures?” God’s words caused my shoulders to tense. “I am the Father of all life.”

I felt His presence evading my mind. He knew I disapproved, yet how could I challenge His omnipotence?

“I would not suffer in Hell. Even without the luxuries of Heaven, my parents would provide me unconditional comfort.”

God’s voice left my mind. I wasn’t sure if He no longer looked over me from every direction. Perhaps I said something that upset the Father. I couldn’t imagine anyone else arguing against God to enter Hell. Maybe righteous men who knew they deserved Hell argued against Heaven. That’s a possibility. Millions died before me. I couldn’t be the only one who would ask to be damned for eternity.

As I stood waiting in God’s absence, I wondered how much my mother changed from the photographs. Had those wrinkles faded from the corners of her eyes? Did her hair remain curled at her shoulders for these past twenty years? Well she must have cut her hair once in a while. My last memories of her were sad. From her taking out a splinter from my left hand to shopping for bubble gum, I didn’t know which happened first. I guess the latter happened often.

I didn’t remember my father too well. Every waking hour he worked. I rarely saw him other than on the weekends, and even then he rarely talked. Too exhausted from working twelve hour shifts six days a week. Friends and family remembered his kindness for every customer and the dedication to his family. No one expected his dedication to providing for the family would create distance memories. I don’t even remember what we last talked about, but I figured I never said good-bye.
One of the last memories I had of my father, or at least I thought, was of me arguing with him about wearing a pair of socks. Could that be how I last saw him? I wasn’t sure.

As I tried reliving the past, a surge of pain filled my eyes. These weren’t simply memories. Even though two decades passed, I knew they happened. They weren’t something I created. I remembered living in that time.

“I do not wish to interrupt your thoughts, child. There is no return if you wish to reunite with your parents.”

My lips didn’t move. God must had known I had no intention of letting go. His utopia remained empty.

“What of the others who are sent to hell? What of that man I met before I entered heaven?”

God remained silent. I wondered if He knew what I wanted to say and was allowing me to speak, or He had other intentions.

“I don’t know what caused the man to kill his brother,” I said, somehow becoming a lawyer, “but he shouldn’t be sentenced to hell.”

“Do you take me as a merciful God, or a God of proper judgment?”

I’ve always wondered how a merciful God would differ from a rational God. Forgiveness comes from mercy. If that were the case, then every criminal would be forgiven for their sins. A rational God, one who judges without remorse or pity, would damn the lives of even those who accepted Him if they committed inhumane crimes. It must be difficult being God.

It then occurred to me that I hadn’t chosen what mattered most. This wasn’t a decision of heaven or hell. Rather this was a decision of choosing my family over God. My whole life was clouded by religious ideals. Heaven or hell didn’t matter.

“I choose to be with my parents,” I said firmly.

Wherever God was, I felt His smile. A circle of radiant light swirled around me. A sense of warmth caressed my skin and I no longer felt alone. There she was, her hair glowing silver. Stepping next to her was a slightly taller figure with three freckles on his scalp. I didn’t need to rely on the pictures anymore. Before the light faded, I fell into their arms.