letting go. let it go.

Earlier this year, I met someone with whom I instantly connected. I thought Person X and I were so very similar. We had some of the same household goods, and fashion products, and subscribe to similar eco-friendly companies. It's been a very interesting but more so draining experience to learn that X is not at all what X showcases to the world.

I have a problem with letting go. Anxiety usually has me gripped on some level, and if I felt I've been wronged, watch out. Harboring resentment must have been inherited or something. My husband and father are two shining examples of human beings further emotionally evolved than me.

At the same time, neither of them have this dumb nurturing desire to take care of people. My 29 years have been full of helping others more than I help myself. That's kinda cool, mostly, but not when it's at a disservice to myself. Now that I've come face to face with the most selfish individual I've ever known, I don't think I can do it anymore. Not only have my kindnesses been abused, but my 6th sense is telling me that my name is being bashed by the same person I spent countless nights consoling, feeding, and sometimes holding as tears made both our torsos damp.

You know what's most amusing? Every time I notice any shared bit of information thanks to stupid Facebook from this Person, it's an obvious ploy for attention. Like, so obvious and obnoxious I've wanted to defriend X for months now, but I just can't do it. In part, it's for fear that X will say awful things about me on a public forum. It's not pleasant to roll my eyes every time I see some asinine tidbit that relatively sucks. Well, objectively it sucks, but that's the funny thing with social media: really lame people have ways of making themselves seem really cool and as if they are people of substance.

I will content myself in the truth, for it always has a way of being known. Person X can try to get in good with people who are in my life in whatever form, but the person I am, and the nature of my character, is pretty undeniable. If behaviors are repeated, and I think anyone reading this knows they are, X will burn whatever bridges X is scrambling to build now. And I know this.

If only I could let it go.

I will let it go.

After one last thing: If someone tells you they hate me and doesn't have a single good reason why and instead gets defensive OR someone gets REALLY quiet when you ask them to hang out with me, in a group, and doesn't respond, it's probably because someone knows I know him/her for what he/she truly is and does not want to be exposed.

Good heart?

So, the government is shut down. I guess?

It's interesting how different my life with no television and cable is than those who subscribe to different media outlets.

I'm not proud of this, but the bulk of my info comes from social media. At the same time, it's an instant cross-reference from resources that range from people I knew in elementary school to public figures I've learned to respect through various careers and modes of learning.

A sweet friend of mine posted that the on base commissary will be closed after 8 pm tonight and there is a "huge sale" on all perishable foods.

My father buys most of his groceries from that place, as he is a military vet. I thought of him and wondered if he did his weekly shopping yet.

Then I started to think more... My mom bagged groceries there when I was in middle school. She always had odd jobs, as we were always just above the poverty line. After my father retired from the military, he also stocked some perishable food products and worked in the meat department. Not only did we depend on this institutionally run store for our food, but my parents earned the money with which we purchased this food at the same place. How difficult would this furlough have been to my 12 year old self? My hard-working parents who always barely made ends meet?

I called my dad to inform him of these developments. He was sitting down and paying bills and wasn't aware of the shut down, which is weird, because he has a TV and a Facebook account. Anyway, we start talking about it, why the shutdown even occurred, what affordable healthcare means and should mean, and then I brought up our shared past.

He could tell by the tremble in my voice that I was getting upset and asked me not to. "This doesn't have anything to do with you, Angie," he said, in vain attempt to comfort me. But it DOES. It has everything to do with me. I could be the kid with overworked overstressed underpaid parents in the shit town just outside the army base. I know that kid. I was that kid. My best friend now teaches those kids in the same halls of the middle school we once attended.

So I cried. And we talked some more. And my dad kept saying he knows I have a good heart, but I shouldn't let this stress me out because I have my own stresses.

I don't mind feeling the pain of others. That's fine by me. I'd rather feel it than be numb to it like most others.

Engagement Announcement - how it went down

You don’t need an online community of women to help and support you as you plan your “big day.” No one does.

Based on some of the information gleaned from friends who did buy into various websites that host estrogen-fueled bickering, I’m glad I did not succumb to advertisers’ temptations ever present on the periphery of my Facebook wall from the first day I changed my relationship status to “engaged.”

Maybe my situation is a lot different from other people. My mother’s cancer came back some months before my engagement and such news forced me to consider my own mortality, as well as the desire to make her happy by witnessing my vows to the man she trusted would be my partner throughout the rest of my days.

He didn’t propose in any flagrantly romantic fashion. We happened to find a bench overlooking Central Park because he had an appointment with the doctor that 4 years ago surgically removed his cancer. I was having a hypoglycemic fit and felt he was acting strange. I wanted to sit and eat my pastry and drink my damn diner coffee in the chill of the early January afternoon. When my sugar levels normalized and I realized that he was cancer free for a 4^th year in a row (they say 5 years with no signs of return greatly increase the percentage of never having the same form of carcinoma again), I started to kiss his face. The sweet nothings I’m prone to spew started flowing as I found immense joy in knowing that my love was clear of cancer for another year.

“We are going to be healthy and happy and I will make sure we eat well so that your body is in great condition and do you know you’re really handsome? Why are you so good-looking? I want to kiss your face all the time! Like, every day I want to kiss it until both of us can’t breathe.”

::kisskisskiss::

Mind you, he is sitting on the bench completely quiet and I was smothering him a little, because that’s what I do… it’s kinda cute, though, OKAY?! My praises prattle on for what seems like several minutes and then, in a very normal manner, he spoke,  “So, will you marry me?”

The casual tone with which he asked, the sudden break in my logorrhea of love, the entire situation seemed to halt for an awkward moment as my brain tried to make sense of the bauble in his hand, down near our laps. Sally, the glorious little jewel that stole my heart at the elusive Philadelphian jeweler’s, which boasts no signage or public access aside from ringing a doorbell and being buzzed in, was in front of me, but it didn’t make sense!

He wasn’t on one knee. The ring wasn’t in a box. We had just walked all around Manhattan, including a visit to Tiffany’s, where I left stating that, though there seemed Sally-esque rings, there was none comparable to Sally’s intricate filigree and rich tones. Also, how the hell did he have Sally? I went back to the jeweler in search of her months before, only to be told she sold shortly after we first laid eyes on her.

Once it occurred to me that Sally was literally in my reach, I grabbed her and placed her on my finger. She was huge! She was beautiful. It was cold, which made my now bare hand pained in the crisp air, but I didn’t care and my face flooded with tears and I could not control myself. Bitter was the Christmas season that just passed, full of strife caused in part by a step-mother-in-law and a sickly mother both with propensities for drama and a demanding retail work schedule that left me little energy for much else. Added to the stress was the utter disappointment I felt that I did not enter into the New Year with a new ring and a new promise.

News of this development was only shared to closest friends and family via text message. Well, pictures sent via text message. I wanted to be alone with Nick but I also wanted to share the information, though minimally. The only persons I actually bothered to call were my parents. It was quite interesting to see the people who were offended that I chose such an informal way of notifying them. (Weddings make people act very strange.)

Social media networks are great for keeping in touch with people from past lives and careers, but the invasive nature of sites like Facebook have turned me off for years. I did not plan to share this information with that community any time soon because it was so very special and intimate and I wanted to savor in this very new thing with my love, alone.

Imagine my surprise the following morning when I awoke to 40+ notifications on Facebook. My early morning mind did not realize that it could at all be associated with this very private new life event, especially since I did not alert anyone aside from text or phone call. But, people congratulated me online. Individuals who are not even “friends” with my brother were able to see and comment on an embarrassing post and it was perplexing. Did Facebook just change its privacy policy for me to be mortified? The following is exactly what my brother wrote:

My little sister, __________, got engaged! Congratulations are due, for sure. Also, to all of my friends that wanted to bang her: RIP.

In addition to this undesired public announcement, he actually tagged 12 individuals who previously expressed interest in me. So! Since half of those people are in a completely different time zone, I woke up to the havoc of woe and well-wishing from various different communities. Livid is a good word to describe how I felt. Betrayed and robbed work, too. I wanted to be the one to tell people; in my own way and in my own time. Things don’t always work out like that, though.

Today is September 12th, and I have been publicly married for 11 days. (My partner and I were married on paper earlier this summer because I was scared about my health and paranoid that something would happen to me before the "big day," preventing us from having funds with which to put on any sort of shindig, so we filed for a Quaker marriage, which was really cool, because we united ourselves and had two special friends sign as our witnesses.) I anticipated that individuals would ask us the inane questions customary to newlyweds. "Does it feel different? Has anything changed?" I wanted to retort with a short, "Of course not!." Although, after giving it some thought, I realize that something has actually altered.

We lived together very soon after meeting. Our relationship was intense in that we spent every day together immediately. I knew after a number of months that  he would not give up on me, nor I on him, and we were IN THIS. Therefore, I could not fathom what might change after we exchanged vows we wrote in front of our closest friends and family.

Here's the thing: we are happier. A smile means even more to us now. Shortly before the wedding, we suffered two huge losses of life and I was not at all certain I'd be able to celebrate anything for fear that grief would grip me and not let go.

My mom battled breast cancer for 2 years but it won at the end of July. Then, our sweet, sweet pitmix baby love, who developed a mysterious lump in the back of his throat earlier in the year, a mass which biopsied as non-cancerous but would not yield to any kind of treatment, left us also. We have commemorated him in our own ways but the house seems a little empty without his dainty paws and soulful eyes peering at me from across the room.

Neither of those things could I have endured without the strength of my partner, my husband, the love of my life.

I've yet to give myself the time I need to grieve my mother's passing, but I intend to do just that, sooner than later. Right now, actually.

Here's to blogging! May it provide some catharsis and be a healthy outlet for any verbal creativity which my brain may decide to expound.

right now

today: she said it seems like the old me shows through sometimes. who i used to be still lingers, but it seems like i "suppress it." i don't even get this blogging business anymore, but here goes.

a person doesn't become old or new. one can become refined or regress, sure. but i am who i am. becoming aware of the world and a student of the universe requires growth and a certain level of dedication. progress is hard but we should all strive for it. if none of us changed throughout the course of our experiences, we would surely be nonsensical and have issues.

 this is weird. i don't know where i'm going. i just wanted to share that she has issue with who i am and who i was in her mind. in my mind, i'm still the same but different. a bit better, i think. i know i'm wrong sometimes. young me did not realize that having rigid beliefs created by a historic text condemns the rest of humanity. she also was scared of very many things and had very little exposure to culture. an ethnic culture in a low-income [but not technically low-income enough for all the good shit like welfare and free lunch and whatever else would have aided my parents to the point that they didn't have to borrow money from other koreans with interest and or work 2-3 jobs and never, ever spend time with young me] household varied my perspective enough for me to be willing to this idea that there are so many things to learn and so much for me to change; for the better.

and i know i should write everyday. but i don't.

and i know i should have gone to the gym to strengthen all the muscles in my leg b/c i will and do have knee problems that very well may intensify with inactivity. (not to mention this 10 year h.s. reunion which i've been planning with 3 others for the better part of 2 years... i have to look hot to death, right?)

but maybe this is just what i need to start.

maybe i can write and get out all of the ideas and stories that cloud my head and sometimes give me anxiety b/c i have a problem with stressing myself out and always assuming the worst.

maybe that psychic in the french quarter was really onto something when he stopped beating around the bush and straight up told me that i'm "a fucking writer" and starving the creative part of me is what gives me most of the issues i have.

maybe i should start capitalizing, but doesn't this look far more quaint and accessible?

maybe someone will read this.

maybe someone won't.

still feels good to have written it.

things

So, I guess I've been in Korea for a bit over a month now.

My situation is not at all typical. I may or may not be collecting funds and claiming that I am still in the states. There may be an empty apartment in northern New Jersey, containing only most of my material possessions and what I consider artifacts from a brief career in education.

Being here has again changed my outlook on life. I'm not sure if I can go back and actually live in the states again. This happens to me all the time, but THIS time, it's a little different.

There is so much that I want to do and I'm so lucky to be free and able to do it. I have no true ties to anyone or anything that will keep me from buying one of those huge backpacks, filling it, and traveling across Europe. Why am I such a pussy? It took mentioning these desires of mine to a tiny Korean girl whom I once tutored while studying here, and a nephew of mine who's actually about 6 years older than me, to realize that it's not as scary as it seems.

I guess I'm still scared to do something so liberating. I'm afraid I'll be jumped or mugged or raped in a foreign country whose native tongue I know not. Yet, a girl who I helped to get to Europe through studying abroad (I tutored her and helped edit her application essays and such about 5 years ago), said that it's no big deal.

I still sometimes feel like I need to attain all of my lifelong goals sooner than later. I now realize that's bullshit.

My back doesn't hurt nearly as much, thanks to the wonders of traditional korean treatments including acupuncture and massive amounts of hiking. I no longer feel bound to any religion whatsoever, thanks to my deep respect of buddhism and the beauty that is unquestionably composite with deep culture.

I always say I love Korea, but there is brutality in the archaic mores of this culture. It's still possible for individuals who are found to be HIV positive to be fired from their jobs, no matter how prestigious their work, no matter how talented. No severance pay is given to these individuals and many are left homeless. I've had the opportunity to meet such people and befriend them and see the love that is available and present even in such dire situations.

Do you know that HIV can affect someone the same way loss of sight does? It's not the functioning of the eyes that deteriorate, but the brain's ability to decipher and understand what it is the eyes see. Do you know how dependent and forlorn one can be under such duress? Do you know the joy it brings me to see someone live through this with hope in his heart?

I'm not sure where I belong. I've always been sure that my purpose in this life is to bring happiness to others, for that is where I find my own happiness.

I'm afraid to die because of all that I will miss out on if I cash out too early. I know my soul won't end on this earth, but I still yearn for so much more.

My heart is bursting with love and my mind bubbles with curiosity and I think, for once, I may truly be living in the moment.

kismet[ic]

In years past, when I've had almost an entire week off of work in early November, I was consumed by anxiety and depression and never able, nor did I even desire, to go the annual teacher convention. Fortunately, I'm more accustomed to my job and once again passionate about it. There was a time when I worried if I would ever feel enthusiastic about teaching again... I know it's largely in part because of the environment in which I work, but if I talk about that, I will never get to the awesomeness I'd like to share.

This week was crazy busy. Work + gym on monday, dentist + sudden orthodontist + wkshp = tuesday, car fixin and head fixin and back fixin on weds, and I finally made it to my hotel in AC later that evening. It was weird to be by myself in a really fun city, in one of the nicest hotel rooms I've ever seen, and to be hungry. I ordered room service and talked on the phone to a mutual friend who was a champ and kept me company for like 2 hours.

Next day, my girl/coworker/friend/fellow crime fighter and mom of 3-4 children accompanied me in my quest for teacher con goodness. We had no schedule of wkshps or even directions on how to get there. I knew there was a shuttle, and we were rushing to get down to the terminal. Unfortunately, the down escalator, which was all we needed to descend in order to catch the free shuttle, was out of order. I was tired, hungry, and extremely thirsty, and very annoyed that there were no clearly marked staircases anywhere around. Casinos are weird places, and I just don't like the difficulty I have at times when trying to navigate through them. Anyway, we ran down the UP escalator. It was exhilarating to do something so silly again. I mean, it was also somewhat justifiable, wasn't it?

We waited for the shuttle, I paid $2.5o for a bottle of water and $1.75 for a nature's valley granola bar, and we waited s'mo. Finally, we came upon the realization that we will probably only get there on time if we walk (I made sure to book a room that was not too far from the convention center).

There were some unfriendly people who had a map handy, in addition to some stank attitudes, and I tried to be friendly and figure it out together, but they were just uninviting. But then there appeared a nice girl who looked equally as lost as we were. I introduced myself and we became insta-friends and we got there way before the jerks w. the map.

It was PACKED! Workshops were extremely insightful, split up with homegirl #1 and walked back w. friend 2 after learning a lotta helpful stuff, but we were again deterred from progressing in our journey back to the hotel. The Sheraton seemed like a shortcut, but it was fenced in where we needed to access the sidewalk. I stated how I wouldn't mind jumping the fence, but it makes me self-conscious to do things like that when there are a bunch of teachers around, ya know? Plus, I just met this girl and I have no idea what she's comfortable doing, so I suggest we look for an alternate exit from inside the building, so that we could access the route more "properly."

There wasn't an exit. In fact, all of the "exit" signs led us merely into other rooms, up stairways, and a teacher that I once knew from my high school days (she's still at good ole ptown). SO! I restate the possibility of climbing that fence, and new friend is DOWN! She even says she WANTS to do it. I'm thinkin, "Of course! Who doesn't want to climb a fence?!"

So we go back outside and cheerily climb up and over and it was funnnnn. FUN I SAY! I have noticed that on days when I jump a fence, for whatever reason, those are days that forever stay etched in my mind b/c they are filled with fun and adventure, in addition to breaking a social norm. Maybe it's b/c doing something as liberating as physically going over something meant to trap you opens one up mentally, emotionally, or spiritually to what is around.

The rest of my day was wonderful and I met another amazing person with whom I vibed and everything seemed just right.

There's SO much that happened... when friend #3 and I left the pub (I met an old friend there and he was mutually acquainted, but left before we did in order to continue partying) this cab driver was reciting SHAKESPEARE to me. Apparently, his father was a struggling playwright who would drink whiskey and listen to old recordings of Shakespearean plays with his son, now turned cabby, in the 6o's. Even my cab drivers were ridiculous! The second one of the evening offered me "services"!!!!!!!!

I feel like there's even more to say, but I'm getting tired...

I just want to mention that my second day was cool, too, and everything that seemed to happen was happening for a reason. Even today, I just feel so right with the world, like it's all going the way it should.

I haven't felt this in a long time.

Goodnite.