I Didn't Wanna Have To

With a slue of worldly experiences, it’s quite peculiar that I still haven’t mastered the art of moving beyond my physical attachments.

I’ve been sitting here for minutes mentally debating on whether or not I was going to write about London ~ and how it’s been one year. Even now, as I start to write about my thoughts on the experience, I feel a bit guilty that I’m making you read about it all over again.

In typical Rowena fashion, I’d make a top 10 list of my favorite Euro-memories, accompanied by my top 10 favorite Euro-photos. But since my experience there was frickin lovely without say, I’m going to write about Will instead.

London was straddling a cold October night, and the three of us piled on layers of clothing and winter accessories to make the five minute walk to the children’s hospital behind our flat. We washed our hands, took a deep breath, and there he was ~ Will Shin ~ so tiny and half asleep. As small as he was, he intimidated me ~ so fragile, so untouchable. So I lightly brushed his face and arm, and even sang to him a bit. Yeah, I cried. How could I not? He was premature and fighting for his life. It was then I realized the strong soul in Will, because even though all he did was lie there in his bed, he had the power to make me forget that my heart had been shamed just days before.

The story has a happy ending. Will and company are moving to America on Wednesday. I owe this post to him because I just finished reading Phil’s (Sandy’s brother and Will’s dad) post about saying goodbye to London ~ and well, what can I say, it struck a cord.

The #1 thing I learned was… to take way too many pictures.


Photo: Norma, Helen, and I leaving Cambridge.

Coldplay Owns Me

Photo: If you squint one eye and widen the other...

As expected, Chris Martin was bloody genius. Being in the same venue with the bloke was surreal! Irvine Meadows isn’t a big venue to begin with, so regardless of our boondawg lawn seats, I could still make out the cute, adorable, want-to-put-him-in-my-pocket lead singer.

They were unbelievable live! And when the first several notes of 'In My Place' (my favorite Coldplay song) projected through those loud speakers, a slue of unforgettable memories came bellowing back.

Twas great to hear a British accent again! Best birthday present. Thanks Darryl.

Intercultural Programming

Not to delve into my personal life (again), but recent events forced the wheels in my head to burn rubber all day. I met someone last night. No one special, just someone who’s eyes caught mine across the room. Although we hit it off right away, a more sober version of myself had different thoughts on the entire night come this morning. Overhearing him chatting with my girlfriend about their cultural commonalities (they are both the same ethnicity) made me wonder ~ can two people who are mildly attracted to one another really look past the ethnic differences that are a common encouragement for other people to date within their own race (when both individuals are extremely passionate about their own cultures)?

The idea of interracial coupling is becoming extremely paradoxical. Granted, the idea of one person who is willing to look past everything he doesn’t understand about you is quite enchanting. On the other hand, it would be so much easier to date someone who doesn't think eating rice for breakfast is weird.

I’ve never dated a Filipino before. I’m naturally accepting of the hybrid of two cultures (I love me them white boys). Isn’t it beautiful? In fact, interracial relationships are not at all the issue here. A more appropriate term to label this quandary would be intercultural relationships. It’s hard to compromise with someone who is super-dooper pro “his culture”. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this. But it gets to the point where you cross your heart and hope to bjeezus that his pride doesn’t make you cringe. Pride is good, but too much is just that ~ too much.

It’s a really scary thought isn’t it? All our lives we are taught to be proud of who we are, and accepting of others at the same time. Sounds easy, right? I used to talk to someone who is the same race as this guy and it was so much easier because he didn’t always talk about “his culture”. It's an unfair comparison (I know) because one night with this bloke really didn't give me a chance to learn a lot about him. But still...

For egotistical purposes (and peace of mind), I’m really glad I’m the one whose number he wanted. My decision on whether or not I want this great looking guy to actually call me is still pending. The whole ‘cultural’ mumbo-jumbo was a bit of a turn-off. (UPDATE* he ended up being totally lame.) Anyway, here’s to hoping that the next few years go by relatively slowly. I’m going to soak in every last drop of my fertile youth before it is stolen by a future relationship.

UPDATE* I'm reminded of my Korean guy friend in Riverside who, while madly head over heals for his Filipino girlfriend, says that at the end of the day, he'll end up with a Korean girl. I guess I understand, but am very perplexed... what happened to love conquers all?

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Photo: My dad and I, this time last year.

Mom, Paul, and I drove out to Glendale to surprise dad at his office. The look on his face was priceless! He was so proud to have the entire family unit present, and he made this evident by walking us past each office/cubicle in the building, & introducing/re-introducing us to his coworkers. I haven't been back to Glendale in nearly 16 years (and I'm amazed that dad makes that journey to and fro each day), so you can only imagine how elated and nostalgic the experience must have been for me. We drove past our old elementary school and condo. I started to tear at the thought of micro Ro running up and down that long hall and penetrating that grass! Micro Paul got his used-to-be-fatass stuck between the concrete floor and metal gate that led into the parking structure whilst in an 'all fours' position. Oh my brother. It was an amazing trip down memory lane.

I love you dad.

DHT – Listen to Your Heart

I am embarrassed that I allowed my high expectations to lead to such a high degree of widespread confusion and disappointment, turning an otherwise cool and collected young woman into an insecure and unsure little girl. How can one who seemed so perfect to me not so long ago, quickly transform into a coward seeking refuge in the miles that separate us? While I hate to admit it, I’ve been warily negotiating my feelings within the recent weeks, and have tried hard to look at this situation with understanding and acceptance. At the end of the day, I long for something to be angry at ~ to make this already prolonged process pass by a bit more smoothly. I can’t find a reason to be angry, for with the exception of this one thing, I have a harmonious and satisfying blend of family, social life, and the excitement of starting a career.

It takes more than playful messages that become widespread in timing with each passing month. Inconsistent intervals of thoughtful e-mails that feed a dying a hope for a hopeful woman aren’t cutting it anymore. Making plans and bailing out are cowardly. It’s just so difficult to look back and recall how kind and tender you’ve been ~ even if at times I made horrible decisions that may have knocked things off center. You are so giving, willing, unbelievably smart, and so very kind, so very kind. That’s what kills me.

Napa 29

We b'dazzled ourselves and made reservations at Napa 29 to celebrate Heather and Johnny's hush-hush wedding. Napa 29 is a quaint, posh, and really expensive eatery in the Riverside/Corona area. The $30 meal + wine was well worth it. Check out my egg plant tower! Awwweee yeeeaa!


Photo: Gabi, Ro, and red red wine.


Photo: Amazing eggplant dish.

23 Days Left of Being 21

A book I read last week listed several aphorisms. The one I liked the most was:

‘Don’t let go too soon. Don’t hang on too long.’

I need to part with my thoughts for a while and let the cosmos re-align. Maybe then will my mind be clear of things that I’ve had a hard time phasing out.

In other news. It's August! Not only will I turn 22 this month, and part ways with my job at ISC, but I'm also going to see Coldplay live! Chris Martin, love him. Any man who can play the piano can easily finesse his way into my heart. He wrote "Fix You" (off of the album X&Y) for his wifey Gwyneth Paltrow, and it flat out takes my breath away. Pure genius.

[In terms of leaving the above mentioned job, and finding a new one...] I think that deep down inside, I’m holding my breath for something great to happen to me. Like that great wind to sweep me off into the right direction, wherever that may be. I’m at this stand still where I have to make a decision, and quick. But I have this eerie feeling inside of me that says – I’m not ready.