[3rd time writing this post. AGH to the back button!]
We both missed SoCal. I missed L.A./Redondo Beach, he missed San Diego. We enjoyed the brief time spent with loved ones, morning jams, though not so much the George Michael’s “Careless Whisper,” (yeah), feasting on good food, bathing in 82 degree winter sun.
There’s no place like home.
But SoCal isn’t SoCal until I step across the border of Torrance/Redondo Beach. I missed Pacific Coast Highway, the stores along the streets, my mom’s old photo shop (now a floral shop), the movie theater, The Coffee Bean, the walkway along the beach, the view of the peninsula, Torrance Blvd. Home…
I’m beginning to understand this notion called nostalgia. I don’t want to go back to my past, not quite, but every now and then, I enjoy stepping into the streets of my past, traveling back in time while staying in the present; I think I enjoy remembering.
I know I will enjoy the memories happening now, in the ghetto, and I hope my husband and I can both look back and reminisce when we’re old and wrinkly. But even then, I think a piece of my heart will be in Redondo.
stream of unconsciousness: at 9am, the nursery kids have a dance party with the bass bumping surround-sound. it’s summer, a time to sleep in, but no, my alarm clock is a live band of 3-ft kids. it doesn’t help that they like to scream, and roar, and growl, and cry, and caretakers like to sing and rap. which reveals something about human nature; as kids we were animals. as adults we are merely articulate. on another note, supposedly I have a questionable lifestyle, because my sister keeps on asking, “Does Yohan know about this?” He’ll find out. When we’re married. keke. what? nothing. speaking of marriage, we found a place to live in Oakland. our very own place with french windows, a rooftop BBQ area, and a laundry machine in our kitchen. I can’t wait to decorate it like Pottery Barn. too bad our tastes are on the opposite sides of the decoration spectrum. I am modern-country, he is contemporary-future. But it’s a good thing he’ll let me do whatever I want. Flowery bedding, mercury glass vases, birdcages, flowers flowers flowers. hehe. I love flowers!!! which is why I’m currently constructing a 26′ flower banner. which is turning out to be a catastrophe because I have no space to store this 26′ mass in a roomed filled with wedding chaos. sometimes I wonder, “What was I thinking?” What am I doing? Ahhhhh!!! and my sister (aka my maid-of-honor who’s supposed to be my slave) watches k-dramas ALL day when she’s not engaged in dissension. it’s lunch time, the weather’s nice, and i feel like Mexican food.
The gentle tapping of rain is California winter. Some say it’ll snow on Saturday — the possibility stirs excitement like the double rainbow. But for now, it rains. Why is weather more interesting than anything else I want to share.
Papers on my desk are piled and recycled, piled and recycled; but lately, they’ve been piling into multiple heaps. I’m shackled by RSVPs and unsealed envelops. Who do I need to call? Where does this go? By when? Oh, I don’t want to répondez, s’il vous plaît! Unfortunately, I cannot recycle obligations.
It’s dinner before 2011 and some friends and I shed some tears over kimbap. We laugh because those who observe us think we’re crazy. But that’s okay; we’re crazy.
It’s midnight and there’s fireworks over Queen Mary. He sings “Auld Lang Syne” with a Scottish accent. Did you know, “Auld Lang Sang” means “long long ago”?
It’s daylight and my friend and I hit the road. We talk about past, present, and future ch-ch-ch-changes. It drizzles here and there. And I know I’m going to miss these road trips.
It’s Monday and I’m at work. Some kids have new haircuts, shy and hidden under their hoods. I kinda missed these kids. But I definitely miss winter break.
It’s Tuesday, my birs… day. There’s a video in my email and I can’t believe it’s not butter. It makes me laugh out loud in an empty classroom. A little later, students sing happy birthday for me after morning announcements. And I’m greeted by happy birthdays in every class. In response, I make peace signs with both hands, I don’t know why. In the evening, there’s a celebration with those whom I love. They enjoy interrogation, while I gobble up the chocolate cake. And it’s twilight.
Some time during the latter half of the week, my sister and I eat something poisonous and experience major stomach problems. There is no warning sign, and on Friday night, he witnesses an atomic explosion. I will be mortified forever. And I ruin our Saturday evening plans. Which was supposed to be special. Maybe another day, perhaps? But I’m feeling much better. Thank you.
It’s Sunday evening. January 9th. So far, so good.