run with me

Take the left, I’ll take the right. We’ll climb and see where we’ll meet, k?

again and again

finite

At the beginning of this year, I met a guy that I thought I was interested in. In retrospect, I think it was only because he was a nice guy and he was a breakdancer. I have a history of… looking for the “type” that I had just been with. After Big D, I would only check out tall, blond guys. Who majored in the sciences. And had a thinkpad laptop.

So, G, this new kid (Yes, kid, because he’s a sophomore) is now dating C, the girl down the hall from me. I don’t particularly like him anymore, and I can say that I’m pretty good friends with C. But everytime I see him in his PJs in our hall, a small part of me wishes I was still back with Bboy A. Because I’d like to see a bboy in PJs in my room once in a while too, y’know. I find it hard to be happy for them, even though I think that they’re a really cute couple. It’s as if their happiness takes away from mine, as if there was a set amount of “happiness” in this world and that I’ve just been robbed of my share.

I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about getting back together with Bboy A… and it’s been somehow soothing to think of that every so often and “know” that we’ll date again. I’ve also been thinking a lot, lately, about getting back in touch with him. I wonder how I’ll do it. Perhaps with stark honesty?

I miss you like a bboy mises the beat.

Or a brave demeanor?

Hey, how’re you doing? Things have been busy for me, but good.

Or the tried-and-true humour?

Yo, you never called me back like you said you would! Anyhoo…

Thinking about when we’ll finally talk again has given me something to think about other than just him, in a roundabout away. So if there really is a finite amount of happiness, then he must be ecstatic right about now.

illusions

I take far too much comfort in thinking we may get back together someday. What’s wrong with me? You weren’t that awesome to begin with.

Edit: I submitted this line to Dear Old Love. Through my Google Reader, I’ve discovered that two of my friends like the post. We are so much more alike than I had imagined.

break it down

I miss you like a bboy misses the beat.

I miss you like ska misses syncopation.

mothers

Me too.

My mother and I speak on a weekly basis, and since Bboy A and I broke up 2 months ago, she’s been asking me the same question on a weekly basis.

Have you spoken to him lately?

First off, wtf. Honestly. You’re my mom. You should be on my side. You should be the one who hates him even more than I do because he broke your daughter’s heart. You should be the one convincing me that I deserve better than that. You should be the one telling me to move on and meet “all the other fishes in the sea”.

Every week, I try to explain to you that “I really don’t want to talk about it”. No, I really don’t want to talk about it. No, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ve even hung up on my mom once or twice because she just wouldn’t let it go. Today, I asked her why she’s still asking me about my breakup.

I want to know if either he or you changed your minds.

Secondly, wtf. I got dumped and since then, we have never talked, e-mailed, texted each other. Fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dating someone else already. So no, we didn’t change our minds. I’m just waiting for you to change yours.

_____ me.

leave me.

interested?

I’ve recently been scoping out a guy. Very recently. So recently that everytime I see him, I kinda change my mind a little. In any case, my life would be made so much easier with the help of this:

Blogger? But I don't even know her!

change is coming / change has come

I saw Nicholas Kristof today. To be more accurate, I attended a panel talk in which he gave a presentation on “Modern Day Slavery” and the oppression of women in many developing countries around the world today.

I didn’t expect him to be so eloquent (but I guess writers usually are…) or so witty (which could have gone either way in a serious event such as this). Most of all, I think I didn’t expect my own reactions to what I was hearing. For most of the presentation, I felt a numbness in my limbs from the utter shock of the facts that were presented. I felt a cold paralysis, because of the seeming hopelessness of the situation. I also felt relief, for being so fortunate as to win some sort of birth lottery. I could have easily taken the place of any of the girls who were trapped in a cyclical world of oppression and abuse.

When it comes to charity, I’m not one to be quickly convinced. Sometimes, as powerful as I can feel as a priviledged Ivy-League student in the so-called first world, it’s easy to brush off the problems of the world as too large to tackle. It’s also easy to forget about what’s not immediately in front of me, that is, an Econometrics problem set.

It’s not often that my life is turned upside-down like this. Lately, it’s been happening more often. I think that’s a good thing; I like reinventing the person I am… the person I’d like to become.

i heart gay boys

Two realizations came from this video:

1. Gay men are one of the reasons why so many awesome girls at Columbia are still single. And yet, we still love ‘em. Does that make us masochistic?
2. At 0:03, I discovered the one thing my summer road trip was missing. A RAINBOW INFLATABLE.

in the dark

We were on the floor of your unusually large dorm room. This was because I was too shy to crawl into your bed, and you were too kind to let me sleep alone on your ground. We compromised by making a bed of blankets, sleeping bags and awkward limbs that were unsure of this new place. (You hated sleeping on the hardwood floor, but you loved the company.)

Sometimes, I like to scatter pieces of myself around.

You turned to face me. How so?

I only tell certain people certain things about myself, so that everyone only gets to keep a fragment of me. And, if they end up disappointing me, only a piece of me will get hurt.

That was the second time I moved something inside of you. Without a word, and just a hint of a sigh, you moved closer and folded your body over the curves of mine, as if to say:

I want to keep the whole you.