Crystal

Returning from CP (Cat Patrol i.e. RJ's term of endearment for dog-walking duty), our regular elevator was jacked. Someone was monopolizing it to move a bunch of mattresses. At 9:52 p.m. Seriously?

We live on the top floor, corner unit. That's the "penthouse". After two flights of stairs, i'm gasping for air.

Have i mentioned i'm very out of shape.

"I'm gonna take the other elevator," i informed RJ.

"Really?" Responded RJ in good spirit and amusement.

And so i embark on my adventure, having exited on the 3rd floor. I see sights that I never would've otherwise, gestures of goodwill, humor (e.g. plant of unique texture and succulence, clay figurine of pig, friendly welcome mats, one of which reads "wipe your paws").

I rise to the top and i peer down to the unlit courtyard. I can make out the shapes of the vegetation and landscaping.

I breathe in the crisp air. It was a romantic moment. I was reminded of my first camping trip, connecting to nature and such, feeling lost and grounded all at once, exhilarated.

I noticed that i was high up. That perspective reminded me of when i also lived on the top floor from age 11 to 16.

I placed my palms on those metallic railings and i gripped.

The visual, the visceral. I wondered what it would be like to jump off right that moment.

Not that i would. No. That was not the kind of person that i was. But i wondered. As i'd wondered many times in the past, long before i knew the true cause of death of my grandpa.

And then, after I'd learned: if i'd obsessed, was it because of my grandfather? I never considered the connection. But it clicked.

I wanted to know what it felt like. That final moment of deciding. To want to know you were in control. You had that choice.

That grip on the railings. It felt real. Not something I'd felt constant in my life.

But i let go. Someone would miss me. RJ would miss me. I was not alone.

I started the "long" walk home.

An apparition appeared before me just like Madeleine before Scottie in Vertigo. It's RJ.

He'd come for me. Because he cared.

He wondered out loud what was on my mind. Before i had a chance to answer, he wondered if i was ready to go home. "Or would you like to look at the stars?" He asked.

I looked up and there the stars were. Brilliant and pensive. Clear sky. I hadn't noticed.

"I was pondering jumping off the railings," I would've replied. But now, warm and safe, i took his hand. We walked home.

Conversational

In terms of ease of use (i.e. not having to think) (on an average day):

1. U.S. English
2. Cantonese
3. Farsi (equivalent to a first grader?)
4. British English (some version of it) (Laborious)
5. Spanish (often Farsi emerges instead) (So, really, NOT conversational)

Dabbles:

1. Tagalog (may still amuse/raise eyebrows at the right moment)
2. Japanese/Korean (1-2 phrases tops but I'd like to believe i've nailed the enunciation/intonation)
3. German (so harsh sounding, so fun)
4. French, Rosetta Stone. May the boy run and the girl eat.


In conclusion,

Identity crisis, anyone?

Quote 256

Some decisions in life, it turns out, are made for you, leaving you an unwitting accomplice and spectator at once.

- Dean E. Murphy

Snippet 212

V:
Do you mind if I play some music?

RJ:
No.

V:
You shore? Or you ocean?

RJ:
Both.

Undertaken

This afternoon I was in the shower while RJ napped a few yards from me. His presence was comforting, reassuring. It filled me with peace and bliss. Pondering the wonder of how we got here rendered me quite emotional.

There are so many clichés about love, so much literary and musical material pertinent to the subject already, how could one possibly have anything to add? It's all been said and done. No insight could sprout.

I have resisted the phrase "true love" which I find redundant. Love is or isn't.

So what is love?

Love grows, as it should. Everything about this person delights you. They smile and your heart sings. If you remember how you loved as a child, unrelenting, unbridled, unabashed. If you've ever loved a child. It allows you to care deeply, with no reserve, transports you to a paradoxical state of vulnerability and strength. Instead of fearing the vulnerability, you embrace it. You celebrate it. You so want this person to be happy. If they need a kidney, cornea, stem cells, bone marrow. Take it, take it so that they may live, even if they outlive you, you gladly want this. May they live, and be fine, just as soon as they are done mourning the loss of you. But, wait, may my beloved never have to grieve so, to experience such pain - not when you won't be around to emolliate any.

My Dad has said that when you love someone, the unthinkably illogical wish is that they'll pass before you, so that you will suffer in lieu of the beloved.

As my thoughts race, I am choked up. I have not loved with such abandon in a long time. Probably not as an adult.

No matter what kind of day I'm having, I remember that I get to go home to RJ at the end of the day. It always brings joy.

I may not have illuminated the subject of love in a new way. Love has certainly illuminated and renewed me.

Doe

This evening that ASPCA commercial came on again, playing "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan in the background, catching my attention, again. What a voice on that girl. I was reminded of another, earlier hit of hers, "Ice-Cream", from the 90's. Quite a catchy, cute tune.

Your love is better than ice-cream...

And in another verse, an analogy with chocolate.

I liked that song but I never fully connected. Any Joe Blow's love could readily beat those food items. I simply don't care for them. (I am cautious in sharing this sentiment lest i incite an angry mob.)

Now, if i serenaded you with "Your love is better than chow mein"? You'd know i meant business.

Can't Twitter Or Facebook 6

Kids: once and for all, the duckface? It is STUPID.