25 things on my 25th birthday

I’m not entirely sure how I feel – that’s how I’ve been quite often these past couple of months. Initially, I wanted to write something profound and spectacular for today, but my mind never stays in one place long enough for me to write something about it – that’s been happening a lot too. And every time I pause and dwell on these two observations, I get mad at myself and at everything else because nothing rattles me more than not knowing, especially when it comes to myself. So I’ve decided to just grab a pen and paper, and list down everything and anything that comes to mind because for my 25th birthday, I don’t want to be mad… I want to be honest.

#1: The one thing I’m most thankful for at this very moment is my sister. At 12 midnight, when I was in bed and so ready to sleep, Karen jumped on me and hugged the life out of me to greet me a happy birthday. Sometimes, when she’s in an exceptionally good mood and needs to express it through physical contact, she inadvertently becomes physically abusive with me. Sometimes, when she’s in an exceptionally bad mood and needs someone to witness her rage, she demands I stop everything I’m doing to be that person. But always, and I mean always, she is my rock.

#2: I wasn’t able to have a birthday breakfast because I woke up pretty late. But I had pizza for lunch. It was good pizza. And good pizza makes good birthdays.

#3: Halfway through the day, my mom asked me if I had already received a lot of greetings. I told her, without any hesitation or thought, “The people who matter already did so I’m good.”

#4: Up until that point, I had gotten less than ten greetings. I still keep my birthday hidden on my Facebook profile. So after thinking about that after my mom’s question, I felt good. I truly meant it. I am good.

#5: At work, Karen surprised me with my favorite cake and led all my students and co-teachers in singing Happy Birthday to me. I told you, she’s my rock.

#6: Aside from a chocolate mousse cake, I also received a new pair of red shoes (a first!), a good book and a coloring book. I’ve never expected gifts, but I’m always glad I get them anyway.

#7: My twin sister’s ex-boyfriend greeted me on Facebook. In his short post, he wrote, “Greet your sister for me.” That annoyed me. And since it’s my birthday, I felt bolder than usual. I wrote back, “Thanks! Also, my sister has a name. And I’m sure you know what it is.” Did I mention he cheated on her and broke up with her on our birthday? He apologized. That felt good.

#8: I’ve now spent three consecutive birthdays without my twin sister. This is the only time I wish we spent it together. I’ve always thought that I know Kat more than she knows me and I was always fine with that. Meaning, I didn’t care if she knew me or not. She acknowledged that when I visited her this past summer. But being with her for two months certainly brought us closer, and now I find myself wanting to literally grow old with her again. I find myself wanting her to know me the same way I know her.

#9: So naturally, I spent a huge part of the day thinking of her and how she’s doing everything she’s always wanted to do. And how I’m not.

#10: Last year, I wrote on my journal that I’d be somewhere else by now, a place that is at least one step closer to where I want to be. But I’m still exactly where I was when I wrote that.

#11: I’ve never felt as stranded as I do right now. I know where I want to be and I know how to get there. And I know I can.

#12: You know what else I know? The future I want is a balloon, the hand on my shoulder is the same one that taught me how to walk, and what I have in my hand is a tiny needle. I can either pop the balloon or I can prick the hand and watch it bleed. Both will hurt my heart.

#13: I feel the desire to let out a hearty “Fuck it.” more now than I did before. It’s the only word that comes to mind when I think of balloons and needles.

#14: I cried a bit today. Balloons and needles.

#15: But when I think of anchors, “Fuck it.” is the last thing that comes to mind. My best friend telling me how she’s quite possibly the luckiest person in the world to have me as her anchor is my anchor today.

#16: Ironically, the hand on my shoulder is also my anchor today. Because no matter how they unknowingly pull me down, nothing lifts me higher than my family.

#17: If I get married, I probably won’t let my husband call me sweetheart. I am forever my dad’s sweetheart.

#18: I’m 25 years old, I’m still single and, surprisingly (to me), I’m still okay with it. I think about love a lot more than I used to and I miss it more often than I normally do. But I look at my grandparents, who are sitting across from me at my birthday dinner, and I know I’d rather be single for the rest of my life than not have a relationship that is, at the very least, remotely similar to theirs.

#19: However, I’m hoping that won’t be the case because I like hugs, holding hands and long walks on the beach. And I can’t cook. So I agreed to a deal with my cousins. If I’m still single by the time I turn 27, I will sign up for eHarmony.

#20: Honestly, I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.

#21: Earlier today, I was also hoping for Chili’s Molten Chocolate Cake… And I got it! I got it because when my parents asked me what I wanted, that was my answer and they gave it to me.

#22: So maybe, I should just ask again. Their answer could be different. Their answer could be the same. I wouldn’t know unless I talk to them, wouldn’t I?

#23: Today I gave myself two gifts. The first one is self-pity. I got so tired of programming myself into seeing the glass half full that I smashed the glass into pieces so that there wouldn’t even be anything to look at. The second one – and I think this is the better one – is hope. False hope? Fake hope? Temporary hope? I honestly don’t know.

#24: I’ve said this before: Sometimes, I struggle with hope. And sometimes, I struggle, with hope. I’m not going to lie. Today and in days to come, hope will come and go. But today, and hopefully in days to come, I will choose to keep struggling.

#25: After all this, would you believe me if I say I still had a good birthday? Because I did. My 24th was full of happy things. My 25th had pizza, chocolate cakes, a midlife crisis, a good cry, my family and Karen. So I’m still good…. honest. 🙂

Karen. 12 midnight, September 17

Art on an airplane barf bag

On our flight back to California from Colombia, my cousin, Michael, took out the barf bag, borrowed my pencil and started doodling. I’ve known him since we were kids, but I never knew he draws and I never thought he did.

And then he shows me this!

I’ve always thought of him as someone who’s great at everything he does. And he is. It’s just that a lot of times, he doesn’t see it. Or maybe he does, but he’s just perfectly fine with not making the most out of it. Or maybe that’s the only time he felt he could share his talent with me.

Whatever his reason is, I will make sure to sit next to him the next time we get to travel together.

Tasting freedom, and then letting it go

I didn’t want to write about my two months away right after I got back. I was still on a high. And home felt like rehab.

I didn’t want to write about home that way. I didn’t want to be that person who goes away for awhile, and comes back high and mighty, suddenly feeling like she deserves more than the life she has now.

So I waited. I waited for the bitterness – I guess that’s what it is – of coming “back to reality” to fade away until the acceptance of the reality of what was and what is settled in. It’s in this frame of mind that I am writing now.

There’s no more bitterness. Only longing.

I realize now that I’d never really experienced true freedom until two months ago, when I was thousands of miles away from home. I’m not talking about freedom to do whatever I want whenever I want. I’ve grown up enough to know that’s something I can live without.

The kind of freedom I lived with in the two months I was away is something else entirely. It’s freedom from fear – fear of disappointing watchful eyes, freedom from approval I don’t even think I want sometimes.

It’s also the kind of freedom that just can’t be found here at home. And if I’m being honest, I still don’t know how to feel about that. I love home. I love that I get to be with family. And, to me, home and family are the two things that are worth letting go of freedom for… It’s just that there are things about home and family that make me long for the two months I spent away from them.

There isn’t any bitterness. There’s just moments of loneliness – I feel lonely because I miss being alone. I’m not sure if that makes any sense to you, but it does to me.

On the edge of the Pacific Ocean, breathing and loving life – Oregon, July 2015

Hello again

It’s been almost two months since my last post, and 15 days since I got home from my two-month vacation. I actually feel weird typing this now, kind of like riding a bike again after ten years (which is what happened in Cartagena).

A lot of things happened. I don’t know where to begin… which is perfectly fine because, to be honest, I don’t feel like writing about any of them now. I’m not sure how I’ll feel when I do.

All I can say for now is that as much as I tried to keep it from happening, I came back a different person than I was when I left.

And I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing. And I’m not sure what I’m feeling.

But if my feelings were a photo, this is probably what it would be:

Oregon road, July 2015

My twin sister is in love

She doesn’t know it yet. But I do.

Three days after I arrived here in California, Kat, my twin sister, brought me to her Bible study and introduced me to her group of friends. I went not knowing anything about any of them, and I left feeling something was brewing between Kat and one of the guys there named Adam.

It was the way their gaze always fell to the other when they talked. There was something in the way they looked at one another, like with a smile in their eyes.

Since then, I’ve seen Adam three more times and in those three times, I was left feeling more and more confident that these two not only like each other but also would be so insanely and unbelievably great for each other.

Initially, I resolved to keep my thoughts and observations to myself for a number of reasons. One, I didn’t want her to start feeling self-conscious whenever I’m with them. Two, Kat is the type of person who doesn’t talk about feelings and wouldn’t appreciate it if you force her to. And three, I wasn’t even sure if she herself knows she likes him.

Until five days ago.

She went go-karting with her Bible study group while I was at our cousins’ place. When we all met up for lunch the next day, we found out that she and Adam spent hours just talking at the parking lot of K1…until two in the freaking morning! According to her, they genuinely lost track of time. And we believe her, which is why the floodgates of unrelenting teasing and persistent questioning have been thrown wide open.

Yesterday, she finally admitted to liking him. “But just like,” she said. That I don’t believe.

She’s in love. I see it in the way she tries desperately to not talk about him, in the way she just lights up whenever she ends up talking about him anyway. I see it when they talk and she discovers they have another bizarre thing in common. I see it in the things that might be too little to be noticed by anyone else.

I can also see that she’s a bit terrified. I’m not sure what she’s more scared of – that he might not like her back or that he might actually do. And from what I’ve seen so far, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter. And not to brag or anything but I have correctly predicted my ex-boyfriend’s present girlfriend so I’ve proven that my gut feeling can be right.

I’m just genuinely excited for her. After years of focusing completely on her studies and career, she so deserves the butterflies in her stomach, the late night parking lot conversations and a chance at having a guy who is really good for her heart.

My aunt, uncle and I interrogating her. Seriously.

Cartagena, Colombia in photos

It’s been a week since my 7-day trip to Cartagena, but I can still vividly remember the sheer happiness I felt every single day I was there.

I loved the culture, so similar to my own but at the same time so different as well. I loved the food! Oh my goodness, the food! My cousins and I couldn’t get enough of the fish dishes, the arepas, the empanadas, the plantains and the limonadas. I loved the people – always smiling even though my Spanish was terrible.

But most of all, I was just totally captivated by its beauty. We spent most of our days walking around and beyond the Walled City, and even under the intense heat and humidity, it was impossible to ignore the charm of the city – from the colorful, colonial houses and the cobblestone streets to the old churches and historical plazas. Everything about the city transported us to a completely different world. It was, to put it simply, amazing.

For those who need to see to believe, here’s proof:

Cartagena street 1

I want to move in!

Cartagena street 2

Cartagena street 3 and me

Con mis chicas en una puerta en Cartagena

Cartagena street 4

Cartagena street 5

A local artist, so unbelievably talented

Cartagena street 6

A beautiful cafe and bookstore

A very charming local who serenaded us during dinner

Plaza Santo Domingo at one in the morning

Dolphins at Isla Del Rosario

Playa Blanca

Special note A: We enjoyed our stay at the Calamari Hostal Boutique. The staff was very hospitable and friendly. They knew little English which was fine with me since I got to actually use my Spanish. Their rooms are nicely decorated and spacious. And compared to the other places inside the Walled City, their prices are more affordable.

My cousins and I in front of Calamari Boutique

Special note B: My cousin and I paid a visit to Fundacion La Vecina, a non-profit that provides education to the kids of Cartagena who can’t afford to go to good schools. During our visit, we met some of the happiest and most polite kids we’ve ever met. To learn more about them, visit their website: http://www.fundacionlavecina.com/.

With the adorable and delightful kids of Fundacion La Vecina

Muchas gracias, Colombia. I love you immensely. I cannot wait to come back and explore the rest of your beautiful country. I have my sights set on Bogota and Medellin.

 

 

There’s nothing more complicated than family

For a number of reasons:

First, we don’t get to choose our family so the chances of us ending up with people we won’t get along with are high.

Second, we can meet literally hundreds and thousands of people throughout our life but it will never change the fact that we will never meet anyone more different from us than family members, whether it be a crazy uncle, a weird cousin or an annoying sibling.

Third, no matter how many reunions we skip, we can never truly escape from said crazy uncle, weird cousin and annoying sibling.

Fourth, we know blood is thicker than water but no one ever tells us what the guidelines are when it’s blood against blood.

Fifth, we love them while we hate them, and we don’t know which one to base our actions on first.

Sixth, no matter how much we hate them, at the end of the day we love them so much that we don’t want them to hate us, so we end up doing something we hate to keep them happy.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is this supposedly wonderful and exciting vacation of mine is turning out to be extremely complicated. And I just want to rent a car, drive to the Grand Canyon, take a breath and scream out all the frustrations I have with this family I love so damn much.

Thinking in the dark

When I was a kid I always left a light on at night. I saw an episode of Ripley’s Believe It or Not where they showed what was left of a woman who was buried alive, and after that I couldn’t sleep in the dark anymore. I was afraid that I’d wake up locked inside a coffin.

I find it funny how I went from that to this, to feeling at peace in moments like this where all I’m left with are the darkness and my thoughts. I feel safe, protected from people’s judgment and sometimes my own.

I think of all the wonderful memories I had been blessed with, and I smile because it always feels nice to know that regardless of present circumstances there has been goodness in my life. It gives me hope that goodness will still come.

I think of the things I never should have done and I cringe because no amount of thinking could ever undo them. But I always make sure not to entertain those thoughts too long so I push them away in a corner.

And I think about the people I love and what I love or hate about them. Either way, I always think of how crazy amazing it is that I have them in my life. Sometimes, I find it unbelievable that I’m loved by the people I love and that I love the people who love me.

I think about my fears but instead of the darkness fueling them, it swallows them up one by one until the only thing left is my confidence to overcome them.

And then I think of my future and the things I hope it brings with it – fulfilled dreams, accomplished goals, exciting adventures, a really good job and, on sentimental nights like this, a genuinely good guy. On nights like this, the endless possibilities of the unknown excite me more than they terrify me. So I keep myself consumed with these thoughts until my thoughts turn into dreams. I love that. I love falling asleep to the images of the future I want for myself.

And I love thinking in the dark. It’s when my thoughts are the loudest.

Am I about to go on an adventure?

Flying away from the familiar and into a world of possibilities ✈

Lost: dog. Found: jerks.

We found a dog yesterday outside the school premises. He was obviously loved by its owners because it looked well-groomed and healthy. But after asking the people nearby if the dog was theirs and everyone answered in the negative, we took him in. We named him Mocha because of the color of its fur and because we like mocha.

After talking about it among ourselves, we decided not to put posters of Mocha in the streets. He didn’t have a collar, name tag or anything so it was very possible for anyone to claim ownership and we’d be left with the choice of either believing them or not.

And today I had to make that choice.

Earlier this morning, two men came to the school saying they heard a dog barking. One of the men said he just lost his dog and thought that maybe it was his. I like to think I’m not the type of person who would judge people on their looks, but for some reason these two men seemed very sketchy to me.

And they proved me right when they said they lost the dog late last night. We found Mocha at eight in the morning. When the man claiming to be Mocha’s owner got the sense that they answered wrong, he immediately changed his answer to noon. I asked him what time exactly and, after some hesitation, he said 12.

They didn’t get the dog.

But now I am so pissed off. One of my co-teachers told me she talked about the situation to someone yesterday so I figured either of these men overheard it. And I just can’t believe how a human being could hear something like that and say, “Looks like I’m stealing a dog today. Lucky me!”

If those two men show their faces again, they won’t be seeing Mocha that’s for sure. They’ll come face to face with Thor, my family’s German Shepherd.