Unsure.

I like boys
They like me
They look so good
in they jeans

Want you to be the one
And my on-ly
I wanna be faithful
But I can't keep my hand out that cookie jar

I am conflicted. And the fact that it is eternal summer here, and my man isn't say the things that I want him to say, and that the temptation is always there is not making things any easier.

I am just sort of feeling that he is full of secrets. Not a lot of secrets, but just some that he does not want me to know about.

Like the girl that wrote on his wall for his birthday yesterday..:

"happy birthday, babe. It was great seeing you in Chicago. x"

Okay she could be a friend, but not a lot of MY friends call ME babe. Well, I guess, she's not even that pretty. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself to keep away from feelings of jealousy. But still...

And I would not call any of my non-single friends "babe". Just saying.

Don't get me wrong. I want this guy more than anyone else in the world. He just has to show me more sweet, sweet loving, loving.

Otherwise, it's not like there aren't any other viable options for extracurricular entertainment...

I'm just saying.

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Nighthawks

In this city of millionaires, lately I've been feeling like I'm not making a damn dime. This city's heart is so damn cold at night. Plus, my love life is a total hot mess. Plus, my attempts at a poetic prose just don't have the same ring to them when I write them out on a cocktail napkin.

Welcome to my world at twenty seven, where I can't sort anything out and the only thing I can't stop doing is making mistakes and continuing writing.

Writing like I'm some damn novelist-wannabe. Writing, writing, writing until my brain swells up and bleeds with words. Words that only make me more confused, yearn for the time lost, long for something that is only a creation of my mind.

You know what the most frustrating thing is?

No, it's not not knowing what you want. It's knowing exactly what you want and having no clue how to get it.

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Too Little, Too Late?

The last several weeks had all been leading up to one question. I knew it. He knew it. It's like the moment I started giving Mr J a cold shoulder, he instantly turned into a big Cling-o-saurus and laid out all of his feelings on the proverbial table.

Needless to say, I wasn't surprised when Mr J, after 2.5 years of informal, on-and-off dating, finally popped the question.

Well, no, he didn't ask me to marry him but, what do you know, during our video chat he just blurted it out:

"So would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Well, well. Color me surprised.

With those eight words, Mr J had officially outdone himself once again with his own shenanigans. Let's quickly review the craziness: he waited until I crossed the Atlantic and flew all the way across the world to live in another country for God knows how long to finally decide that he was ready for a very formal, very official commitment.

Now I am faced with a new dilemma. The problem in question is that I don't know if I want the same thing as Mr J any more. So I basically had no choice but to dodge the girlfriend question. I told him that I had to Skype with my mom and that, with the way he and I had been fighting about my going-out habits, it is not really a good time to be solidifying our relationship.

What I did not tell him about is the fact that I am still seeing The Banker who, despite his flakiness, has been quite a little charmer. Yeah, omitting this (not so) minor detail is a major faux pas on my end, but I am just beyond confused about my personal life and sorting this shit out just seems like too much work for me right now.

I am going to try and ride this wave for just a bit longer with, perhaps, disastrous consequences.

But what's a girl to do when she's not sure? When a guy she's been fancying for what seems like a lifetime now had always refused to define the relationship in specific terms, until now? When a guy she's been fancying now lives a 25-hour flight away? When a guy she's been fancying went from telling her that he's not sure if he can ever fall in love with her to professing his commitment?

And when the said girl no longer has all of her eggs in one basket.

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A Big What If...

There was one fine day in the middle of May when I checked my application status to Georgetown MBA and, after having been waitlisted for two months, I finally saw the words I so longed to see:

"Congratulations! We would like to welcome you as a member of the Class of 2013"...

But I was already in Singapore, for my work trial here in this far far away country. Oceans away from Georgetown, and DC, and America, for that matter.

So, I decided to waste away the money I had spent on b-school prep courses and the time I had spent preparing for my GMAT and writing my essays, and I said "No" to Georgetown.

Should I have changed my careers? The funny thing is, after all the hoopla and after so badly wanting to have been accepted to that prestigious university, I didn't feeling like getting my MBA was my calling. I was not excited. Proud, yes, for getting in. But not excited.

But if I hadn't picked to go Singapore, I could have been closer to Mr J. I would have never met The Banker (who I am on the fence about...) and I would have never lied to Mr J about The Banker (or the fact that I am not seeing anyone here). I could have been closer to my friends and family, only a three hour car-drive away. I wouldn't have had to sell my Jeep. I could have gone to my best friend's fiance's bachelorette party in Vegas. I could have....

Some decisions are really a big leap of faith. I am still trying to figure out if my decision to move thousands of miles away from my friends and loved ones and give up Georgetown was the right one.

Singapore is, amazing, after all. But my heart will always long to be closer to home sweet home.

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Where Did You Go, Love?

I'm gonna try and make it my first blog post with a video snippet. This is what I did last night. You can hear The Banker and I in the background talking...





Basically, to make a long story not so long, I am getting about neck deep in this shit-filled lake of juggling two guys on two different sides of the world. I can't get the courage to confess about what I am doing to either of the men and, as bizarre as it might sound, a part of me is hoping that I get called out on my devious doings by one of the dudes, so the final decision is made for me.

Now that was a paragraph that I'd never thought I'd type in my entire life.

And with the double life that I am leading right now, well, I am just hoping that I have more time to figure out if The Banker likes me for me (cause, honestly, I still think he's hiding something) or if Mr J can handle us being apart for two years. It's this double life... it's becoming so polarizing, a game of two extremes. The extravagant lifestyle beyond my wildest dreams by weekend and a homely version of (almost) playing house with Mr J that I am living during the week.

Last night, it's dinner, drinks, bottle service... with The Banker and his finance friends. Flirting over vodka drinks, dancing suggestively with my dude du jour.... deliberate hand touching, hips swinging in his direction, body heat between us... Music, enveloping us in its seductive spell.... Me, forgetting for the nth time about the other man on the other side of the world... Giving into the temptation that is right in front of me, like a dangling carrot.

The Banker, taking my hand and whispering in my ear if I want to get out of the club... Me, in a half-dazed state, nodding, smiling, brushing the strands of my hair off my face in an attempt to look sexy before I tighten the grip of my fingers around his hand and follow him outside into the warm night...

Late night making out... clothes falling on the floor...

I wish I could say it was all unplanned and not premeditated. But I would be lying. I knew damn well what I was doing.

And this afternoon, a different story. Skyping for three hours with Mr J...

"So you found some new friends in Singapore? You're hanging out with investment bankers now, you say? Anyone flirting with you?" He asks me with a not-so-subtle hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah, sometimes... but I brush them off..." I say. I look so convincing in my mirror image on Skype.

"So there are no other guys in your life? Does that mean you still like me and wanna make this work? You're not gonna cheat on me, are you?"

"No, there are no other guys..." I feel like a fool, trying to convince him of something that I know is a lie, "But are we even together at this point? With all the fighting we've been doing lately, I am confused..."

"Yeah, we're together. Of course, we're together..." he says. He seems so sincere and tender and I see the unspoken love in his eyes. It's 2am on a Saturday night in Chicago, and he's talking to me. He doesn't care about any other women... I know it for a fact.

I think he loves me. I think I am getting what I've been asking for for the last 2.5 years.

Except now I am not so sure that I want it any more....

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Abandoning the Ship

"Less than 30 days..."

His text message countdown is as vague as they come but I know right away what he is referring to - I, too, am silently and impatiently counting down until the day he comes back from Spain and I can see him again.

"Will you come visit me the day I come back?" he follows up his original message.

"What day is it?"

"Friday."

Friday is ideal for a weekend-long visit. It's a perfect day to make a six hour drive from Cincinnati to St. Louis and have him greet me with open arms, hug me, kiss me. Friday is a perfect day for a heartfelt reunion after months of texting, wishing and longing.

But that Friday is also a month away and a lot can change meanwhile. Despite wanting to follow my heart's desires, I can't help but hope to find a job and follow my career path wherever it might take me. The chances of me staying in Cincinnati for much longer are very slim.

He knows this - I keep telling him about my interviews in Philly, Cleveland, Raleigh - but he chooses to implore me instead about the exact time I will be coming to see him a month from now. Remaining deliberately or unintentionally forgetful of the fact that I am in the midst of an intense job search/quest to figure out my next step in life, he chooses to assume that I will be around for him. Perhaps it's easier to assume the best until it is proven otherwise. But still.

"So are you coming on the 16th?" I receive another text message from him. I am in the middle of a dance floor somewhere in Philadelphia on my weekend trip to revisit my college friends, but I pause amidst dancing and grinding bodies and reread the text message over and over until I notice my friends glancing over at me with growing concern.

"Yes I'll be there," I type back in haste and press "Send".

Am I lying to him? Am I lying to myself?

Only time will be able to tell...

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And After Tonight

To Grandma. I miss you every day.

You look up at the stars winking down at you from the sky and see them smirking back in silence at the tiny human speckles down below on the ground - speckles that are going about their daily lives, so immersed in the daily troubles that they cannot notice anyone but themselves. The stars look down from a distance that cannot even be grasped by your understanding. Your perception is that we are enclosed within this little box of a world, because we can't and don't want to understand our insignificance in the grand scheme of things that had happened and are yet to happen long after we are gone.

Yet there is a sense of comfort that can be found at gazing up at the stars in those late-night moments of loneliness. Knowing that there might be someone, somewhere on this tiny little planet looking at the very same star at the very same time creates an illusive but calming connection to another human being thousands of miles away. And at that moment, even though thousands of miles away might as well be light years of a distance, we can tell ourselves that we are somehow connected to each other and feel relevant and needed.

Dare I admit that in my moments of sappiness I, too, look up at the stars and become a hopeful, naive and wide-eyed sixteen year old, even just for a limited number of minutes? Because I do and because lately I've become more and more appreciative of my moments of innocence, which I crave and long for. That delectable feeling of opening your heart to the world, where you are not yet aware of all the hurt and pain and disappointment other people can inflict upon you if you are not too careful - those are the moments to live for. To never become too cynical or reluctant to experience and explore new things. To never settle for anything but the butterflies, as Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City would say.

Today was that day when I lived for the butterflies and I let my heart feel things, even where the sky was still much too bright for me to see the stars.

Today was the day that ended a chapter in my life with me successfully defending my Master's thesis for the very last time in front of an audience of 10 skeptical and very tired architectural critics.

Today was the day I had my heart broken by my career choice and the gloom of today's economy when I got rejected by a firm that I worked for three years ago, in the hey day of the architectural and construction boom. I have a 4.0 grade point average and I am unemployed. Let my brilliance sink in the ocean of unemployment, why don't you America.

Today was the day that I submitted my 170-page thesis document for the university's approval, but not before adding one more page - an acknowledgments blurb where I simply stated,

"To Grandma, I miss you every day."

- and surprising even myself by uncontrollably balling my eyes out as I struggled to type out the words.

Today was the day I looked up at the night sky from my balcony, soaking in the little triumphs and disappointments of the recent moments that are defining of my personal history but are, most likely, simple irrelevant inner struggles to anyone else but myself, and became grateful for all that I have, despite all that I don't have.

Grateful for being able to say that I have experienced the feeling of being in love and for being able to love unconditionally like a lusty seventeen-year-old at the age of twenty five, for being able to say that I've given my best to the profession that may never pay off for me, for being able to live and let go of the worries in my drunken moments. For being able to be myself.

At the end of the day... well, maybe not every day, but at least once in a while, I think we should all be able to be grateful to be in our own skin. Even when the grass seems a bit greener on the other side and the stars aren't shining down on us as brightly as they can be.

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The Girlfriend Experience

Many have heard of the service call girls offer called "The Girlfriend Experience." I, for one, have heard about it first on the Showtime series "A Diary of a Call Girl" a couple of years ago and have been intrigued by the topic since.

The main heroine, Belle, meets with her regular client who pays her not only to have sex with him but for her to act like his girlfriend for a weekend. That entitles going to the movies together, holding hands, cuddling, calling each other "honey" and "sweetheart" - all the usual things couples in love do. Belle is quite a diligent actress, as I suppose she has to be being a high-class British call girl, and puts on an excellent act transforming from a vivacious vixen at night into a googly-eyed girl-next-door by day. The only unorthodox exchange that occurs between Belle and her client is the transaction of money. He pays her to be his girlfriend and goes back to work a single man on Monday morning.

But can this "Girlfriend Experience" transpose itself out of the taboo world of paid sex and into the everyday real world. Do us singles not, even those single bachelors or bachelorettes who choose to be alone because they want to, all crave the "girlfriend/boyfriend experience" once in a while?

There is a level of connection created between a man and a woman (or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, etc) when there is more interaction between them than just sex. That is, cuddling, hugging, kissing, holding hands - it all involves a level of openness and trust in another person that is not present in the act of sex in it of itself. One night stands never connect us to another on an emotional level and, whether or not we consider one-night-stands to even be morally right or safe, their primary function is always pure physical satisfaction.

With the "girlfriend experience", the goal is to experience what it is like to feel a strand of a deeper connection and, whether that connection has been paid for with money or it genuinely exists and we just do not have a priority for it, we all want to possess it once in a while.

I believe what I had with Mr J was just that - I can call it the "Relationship experience". While there was no exchange of money, the distance was the dividing factor that only brought us together during holidays. During those times that we were together, it was very much under the pretense of forgetting about the fact that we would be separating again soon for a very long time. We ate dinner together, cuddled together, made breakfast together - and it was what we both needed to feel like we WERE, in fact, together. Except, in reality, there was never any official commitment made between us.

He called me late last night and the phone awoke me from sleep. I knew that he was out celebrating his birthday earlier and was returning home from a bar and, as he would usually do, he was calling me because he knew I would be there for him. And I wanted to answer, I really did but I had to let my brain dictate my actions in this case. And my brain said, "Remember how he behaved to you when YOU needed him in the emergency room? Go back to bed and don't worry about his drunk ass."

So I sent him a "Get home safe, Mr J" text and returned right back to dreamland. The "Girlfriend/Boyfriend experience" only works for so long. After a while, if all you can have is the experience and not the relationship, it is best to move right along all together.

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The Boy and The Indecisions...

Sometimes I think I am one of the most sane, normal and level-headed people on the face of this planet. Sure, I've got my moments of insanity that I am not proud of - but when I think of them in comparison to the insane fits of other people that I know, they pale in their quantity and magnitude.

However, I've got my flaws (my many flaws) and the one that I am currently having an issue with are my anxieties. As I can think of it right now, I can subdivide these anxieties into three categories - the good, the bad and the ugly.

The Good - I like to work, keep busy. I like to continuously better myself and I get that itch whenever I feel like I am being lazy. I cannot sit still for prolonged periods of time unless I am feeling absolutely exhausted or accomplished after a long day of work. I still know how to relax and, God knows, I know how to have fun, but in my down time - from work and from play - I work on my side projects, my art, my part-time job search, my writing, my learning, my reading. I like being busy and I wouldn't change a thing and I wouldn't want to stop being anxious because that will ultimately prevent me from being at the top of my game.

The Bad - I cannot live without the internet. I need to stay connected, constantly, excessively, all the time, without a break. When I was in the process of moving from Philadelphia to Cincinnati, from Cincinnati to Louisville, there were periods of time - days, in some cases - where internet was not available to me. I found myself, at different times of the day, anxiously thinking about my email inbox, about my facebook account, about my online bank statements, about my paypal earnings. I had that unsettled feeling, the urge if you will, to drive out of my way to a library or a friend's house just for five minutes to check on my online identities - to make sure everything in the web world was up to date. Kind of like a drug, I felt my anxiety slowly seep out of my body every time I got my hands on a good old keyboard and opened that Firefox.

How do I feel about this? A little alarmed - I know that today, everyone is wired, connected, networked-out. PDAs, Blackberries, IPhones, laptops, tweeters, facebooks, myspaces, linked-ins, etc etc - we all have at least one of these things/applications/accounts and we all probably put a lot of importance and pride into staying in touch and connecting to friends and coworkers. The anxiety, though, is a sign of something deeper for me - why can't I keep cool during those down times when I am left "out of the loop" of technology?

The Ugly - This one worries me the most. Let's dissect, shall we?

I am so career-driven that, in many ways, I can be like a guy. Cold-hearted, determined, business-oriented. As far as this characteristic translates itself into my love life, I can go from dating one guy to another one without feeling much of a heartbreak. Since my last super serious relationship almost three years ago, and with the heartbreak of 2007 as I like to call it, I have taken a different stance on dating, love and trust. I date a lot, I trust a little, and I don't love. This has been my crutch and my folly at the same time, but I have not seen this as a problem until recently. By recently, I mean yesterday.

The Bar Owner and I spent an entire day together yesterday. We had a lovely lunch in the afternoon, and then we went to the waterfront to meet up with his friends to pre-game before the Thunder Over Louisville - the big fireworks extravaganza that occurs every year, a week before the Derby. We sipped on some beer and we watched the beautiful skies darken and explode with a myriad of colors and lights. It was beautiful and my boy was so lovely to me the entire night. After the fireworks, we went out dancing to a night club, and around 3am I began to notice him getting progressively tipsier and tipsier.

I had to hold his hand on the way to my apartment because he was pretty inebriated at that point. Luckily, he was not sloppily drunk, but he was drunk enough to tell me all sorts of things about me being hot, and pretty and yadda yadda. You know, the standard stuff that elevates a girl's ego and makes her melt just a little.

We laid on my couch for a while watching the AVN Awards (it's like the Grammys in porn. Romantic, right?) and he held me ever so nicely. And he said something to me, something I don't think he remembers saying but something that sounded very sincere:

"You don't even know how much I like you. You... I just like you so much."

What he said was clumsy and simple, but it sounded so... genuine. I felt it resonate in my heart. His honesty was the sexiest part of his revelation, by far.

On to the disturbing part - my anxiety issue. This morning I woke up way before him and fixed myself a quick breakfast and did a little work. All the while, my awareness of the fact that this guy was sleeping in my bedroom, under my covers, was hovering above me like a menacing cloud. I wondered to myself why I felt that way - I felt like I've spent too much time with him and it was time for him to leave. Now. It was this weird anxiety... mixed with butterflies and infatuation... but still an anxiety.

When he woke up, we watched a movie, during which I tried to casually find out just what time exactly he was planning on going home:

"I think I am going to take a nap very soon, I feel so tired. What about you? What are you up to for the rest of the day?" I asked.

"Yeah, come to think of it, I wouldn't mind taking a nap with you for an hour or two. Let's do that and then go grab dinner when we wake up," he responded.

My anxious, panicky feeling settled in completely with his response. He was planning on TAKING A NAP AND THEN GOING TO DINNER WITH ME?!?! Was he ever going to leave?!

"Come to think of it... let's skip nap. I am soooo hungry right now," I blurted out, "Do you... wanna go grab a burger, like, right now?"

The Bar Owner agreed and the rest of the day went wonderfully. You know, the dinner, the food, the conversation were great. I keep finding out that this guy and I have so much in common and, even more flattering, I see this respect in his eyes when he looks at me. I see that he admires me for who I am, how I conduct myself, my ambitions.

But I still. wanted. him. to. go. home. My anxiety kept telling me that I just needed to go home and be alone, by myself, that I needed to go and do the "me" things I like doing so much.

I know that a part of this stress and anxiety is that I really like this guy and that I haven't been in a relationship in a while. But God, is it going to prevent me from getting close to someone, or dating someone, or moving in and marrying them? If I need so much 'me' time, will I ever actually be able to handle a relationship?

The answer is unknown. But I guess the good piece of news in the midst of this whirlpool of emotions is that I, again, can't wait to see the Bar Owner again. While in Vegas this week, I will certainty be thinking of him a lot. For now, I will take him one day at a time and I will do my best to minimize my intimacy-phobia before it ruins a potentially-amazing relationship.

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Time

The Neighbor asked me to be his girlfriend.
I'm not ready but then again, it's only been a week. I need more time.

It's funny because my last serious boyfriend also asked me out after only one week of knowing me. We ended up dating for two years with, at one point, him wanting to propose to me.
Marriage? Me? Ever? Never.

I don't feel like I am ever going to be able to open up to someone so completely so I could get hurt if they decided to leave me. I was always the one to got to do the leaving, save for one relationship. That one hurt me the most because I was left helpless in shambles for longer than I'd like to admit.

I work hard and, at times, tirelessly so I can always rely on myself, my finances. I feel that relying on anyone other than myself is like gambling with your safety and security. I hate how I watched Michael Phelps win his eighth gold medal yesterday and I saw his mother cry because she was so proud of her son. I hate that I feel that I haven't made my parents that proud yet.

And love is a feeling that still haunts me sometimes when I make dinners for one or when I watch my favorite movies online by myself. I want to share parts of me with someone... and maybe not the whole me. Not right away. But I want to know that someone can take me for who I am and not get sick of me.

Maybe someday it will be The Neighbor. Just not today. He's got potential but I just need more time.

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The Artist

Funny how I should be filling out my scholarship applications, as their deadlines are getting dangerously close, too close for my liking, but I am simply sitting here, refusing to adhere to schedules and time constraints. Also known as, procrastinating.

Next week I am off to Philadelphia to visit my fam, and the week after next - it's Harvard, for a symposium where I am supposed to represent one of my school's organizations. I need this. Travel helps me clear my head and calm my heart. I would travel all the time if I could. But I suppose I should be grateful, not restless - this year I am traveling to more new places than ever before. Let's hope this trend continues.

Though content about my professional and social life, I AM, however, deeply concerned when it comes to matter of my heart, hence my urgency of trying to get away from Cincinnati for a bit. Not that I am trying to dilute myself with notions that I can get away from my own emotions, feelings that are ever so persistent in my head, twirling around, disturbing my peace.

The PDA Guy, a bunch of my friends and I went out this weekend to an Italian restaurant downtown to indulge in pasta and chicken parmesan and various other culinary creations. After dinner I asked him, as we were walking back to my car:

"So are you coming out with us to the wine cellar? We're all going in an hour or two, and you should join us."

"You know... I hate to be a party pooper, but I am just a little tired from all the overtime this week. I am thinking about going to bed around midnight..." he said, and squeezed my hand, as if reassuring me that he's not simply bailing on me.

"Well, all right. I can understand that, but... if I get done early, do you want to hang out for a bit?" I was hoping he'd get my hint that I was really asking him if I could come over to cuddle and have sex with him.

"Sorry, I am just gonna go to bed early. I will definitely call you and we'll hang out at least a few times before you go away to Philly."

He sounded sincere and I believed him. I dropped him off at his place and drove down to the wine cellar to meet up with a bunch of my friends who already cracked open a few bottles of wines.

My friends brought other people with them, mostly strangers to me. As the wine kept flowing, and everyone began to unwind, I found myself talking to a couple of people I didn't know. One of those people was the Artist.

I've met the Artist before, during my first introduction of the PDA Guy to my circle of friends just a week ago. The Artist went out with all of us that night but we haven't really talked that much then, as I was preoccupied talking to the PDA Guy and the Artist was sitting all the way at the other end of our incredibly long table.

This night I, however, found myself standing right next to the Artist and him, his best friend and I talked about his girl troubles. Just about then it hit me like a rock. The Artist was gorgeous. Gorgeous and smart and aaaaahhh!!! What the hell?! How did I let my thought spin out of control when he is not the person I should be fantasizing about?

Later on that night, we all, including the Artist and I, went back to my friend's place to play some poker. As it got later and later, we all lost a track of time and it was time to call it a night. Or an early morning, as it was getting close to being 5am.

"I guess I'll start walking back to my place," the Artist said, looking up at the clock.

"I could give you a ride," I noted casually. "LET ME GIVE YOU A RIDE! IT'S NO TROUBLE AT ALL!!" was what I wanted to scream.

I drove him around the block. He lived surprisingly close to my friend's house and as I pulled my car up at his front door, I seriously toyed with the idea of asking the Artist for his number.

"Blah blah blah, blah blah. Blah," the Artist said. I can't recall what his words were to save my life. I was too distracted by his gorgeousness. His number, his number, I want his number now!

"...Yeah. I'll see you around, I'm sure," I mumbled, trying to hide my disappointment, because deep inside, the wicked part of me wanted him to lean in and kiss me. He didn't but I probably would have kissed him back if he laid those sexy lips on mine.

Now I know what I need to do. I need to forget about the Artist, right? The problem is, can I actually make myself do that or am I enjoying my fantasies about him a little too much?

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When The World Ends

Fridays come and I spend them at work in an absolute daze, counting down hours and then minutes, in the most tough of days perhaps even seconds, til I can get out and start prettying myself up for a night out. Will I ever grow tired of this routine? Will I some day wake up, mildly hung over, look in a mirror, notice the first wrinkle gently carving its way into my skin and starting to form a fold around my mouth cause I smile too much, and think to myself, "I think tonight I'm going to stay in. Perhaps read the Architectural Digest, have a cup of chammomile tea, call it a night around 10pm."

For now, I dread the idea. I do not want to get older. I'd like to be immortal, live forever, though I know it doesn't makes any sense. If I just stop aging, everything else around me will still need to age, including the world itself. And on the last day of Earth, I wonder, will I still want to stay alive forever?

It's crazy, I know, to even think of these things. Maybe it's a quarter life crisis talking, though I thought I already had one at 20. I mean, I am happy. Happy with life, job, the guy, upcoming grad school, even my move to Cincinnati. But a part of me can't stop thinking about mortality. As I drive to work every morning and roll my windows down to feel the smog-filled but yet still pleasant morning air, I can't help but feel a hint of sadness, knowing that some day I will feel nothing at all.

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Fool Me Once...

My undying quest for perfection gets the best of me sometimes... I question my happiness at times where I should be basking in the bliss of a good life. Oftentimes, I know I'm happy but I still question the authenticity of my happiness.

So this is where the saga continues.. This is where I am today. Oh vey. Boy problems, career decisions, grad school concerns, general madness are all about to ensue. If anyone cares - stay tuned... you're in for a ride.

-L

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