Goodbye Hello

Shit happens.  Most of the time when you stumble you just dust yourself off, take a couple deep breaths, and hope no one saw you “pok gai”.  Of course, there are always those times where the fall is prefaced by you screaming like a little girl and afterwards you can only just sit on the ground and laugh along with them.  It just leaves you with a bruised ego and a pair of scraped knees or in my case, a fleur de lys.  (Mardi Gras 2011 see right).  But it's nothing a shot of goose can’t take care of.  Confidence building and sterilization.  But there are those times where you can’t escape with just a surface wound.  Sometimes you fall onto the business end of a meat cleaver, roll down a flight of stairs, crash thru a window, pinball down the side of two adjacent apartment buildings, land in the middle of a Nascar race to find out that Jeff Gordon would rather go thru you than around you. 

About a month and half ago, I made the life altering move back to my childhood home, Arcadia.  I had come full circle, or... fallen so hard I was back to where I started.  Either way you look at it, everything in my life changed.  Leaving SF was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.  I became an adult in SF.  I found my identity in SF.  I discovered my alter ego, Lason Jin, in SF.  I met the people that will be attending my wedding in SF.  The eight years I spent in SF made me who I am today. 

In Arcadia I was faced with my old nemesis.  Ever present, unvanquishable, as consuming as the darkness that it represented.  Loneliness.  I’m a very sociable person.  I’m happiest when I’m surrounded by my friends.  Like at my birthday potluck where everyone was roasting me and telling embarrassing stories about my shenanigans or having a heart to heart with my bestie in the parking lot of Target.  Moving back to slow-paced suburban Arcadia, “Community of Homes”, from the bustling city life in urban SF required a lot of adjustments.  Gone are the catch up lunch dates with girl friends.  No more spontaneously calling out the boys after a crappy work day to happy hour. Sayonara to coming home to Anthony’s “what’s up playa?”, Daniel’s “ballin!”, Steve’s taco bell, and James stretching in the living room.  Au revoir to the weekly email chains of weekend activities.  Good bye SF.  Good bye to all the daily interactions with the people who are irreplaceable in my life.

It’s a lot to deal with.  I’m not gonna lie, I was pretty depressed in the beginning, going as far as becoming a “silly emo little girl”.  It took almost pushing away the few people I had left in my life to make me realize that wallowing in self pity wasn’t the way to go.  Shit happens, don't bitch, be a man.  –Winston Churchill… paraphrased.  I vowed to make the most of my new life here.  If Michael Cera can win the girl, time and time again as a different nerd in each movie, I can live happily in Arcadia. 

All it took was rediscovering the simple joys that I used to love as a child.  I got a library card.  Started writing again.  Hung out at friend’s houses.  Started insanity with Jeff.  Basketball. Spent time with family. Boba.

It’s a work in progress but I can honestly say that in the past month, I’ve settled in and am back to my normal confident, exuberant, obnoxious, perverted, active, caring self.  Although if you ask Sol and Jeff, I still sound like a silly little girl.  But they’ve been saying that my entire life.  I hate my friends... =)

The Chase

Everybody loves surprise presents.  That initial rush you get as it’s unexpectedly first handed to you.  Your pupils dilate, your heart beats faster, you start mouthing unintelligible words, and your mind instantly runs through the millions of possibilities of what it could be.  Then as your trembling fingers rip through the shiny wrapping paper, your curiosity is whipped into a frenzy and you reach an almost zen-like state with only one intelligible thought racing through your mind.  ‘What is it?’ The anticipation of what could possibly be inside is worth almost as much as the gift itself.  Then as quickly as it erupted, the torrent of anxiety quickly subsides and gives way to feelings of tranquil elation as you gaze upon your actual gift.  It doesn’t matter what it is (though if anyone cares I would love a pair of those Bose QC15's), it always makes your day a little brighter and puts a little bounce in your step.  

This rollercoaster ride of emotions isn’t constrained to just one aspect of our lives.  It directly applies to another facet of our existence.  Throughout the last year and a half I’ve grown a little and tasted the many flavors of life’s palette.  And in this theme park we call life, I stood in line time and time again to ride one particular roller coaster ride.  The disclaimer at the start of the line says, ‘Do not ride if pregnant, have a history of heartache, or are younger than the age of 18.’  It's definitely not a ride for the fainthearted because it's an intense experience every time.  Sometimes I come out trembling and choking back tears.  Sometimes I feel like I got thrown into a ring and went 12 rounds with Evander Holyfield.  But nevertheless I keep coming back (slightly masochistic I know). The reason I keep coming back and why the line is so long, the reason why it’s the most talked about thing on the planet, is because of that one in a million chance where after the ride you walk out and feel like the world is beautiful and filled with nothing but rainbows and puppy dogs.  This particular roller coaster ride is called, ‘The Chase.’ 

The chase is the best part of single life.  Dressing up and going out every night with the possibility of meeting someone new.  Looking in the mirror each morning, wondering who might turn the corner and walk into your life today.  And when you finally find a girl you like, the anxiety multiplies tenfold.   Should I call? Should I not? Does she like me? Was I too forward?  Were my jokes funny? What did she say she liked?  And then comes that first date.  You’re always a bundle of nervous energy.  My heart beats so fast it’s like the Energizer bunny shotgunned a can of Redbull then flipped the switch on for NOS.  Then on the way to meet her you run through your mental checklist.  Breath? Clothes? Wallet? Keys? Anything in my teeth? And finally you rehearse that initial compliment, the stories you plan on telling, you’re hobbies and interests, strengths and weaknesses, when you've shown leadership skills in a team setting…  It’s like a job interview… for love.

For some, whether or not it works out is secondary.  They thoroughly enjoy the chase.  I liken them to Sergeant James of the movie, Hurt Locker.  Whether or not they win the war is of no consequence.  He needs the adrenaline rush of living life on the edge to feel alive.  The only difference between Casanovas and adrenaline junkies is the type of pain they flirt with.  Casanovas tango with emotional pain and the junkies two step with physical pain. Personally, I believe that it’s all a means to an end.  So every time I arrive at the restaurant and step up to the (dinner) plate, I'm swinging for the fences.. that white picket fence with a dog and a two car garage.  But sometimes the journey is even more memorable than the destination.  So until I pull into that two car garage, I’m just gonna ride top down with the sun at my back until I meet the Sally to my Harry.  Oh and 'Sally', if you're out there... hurry up and call me.