Pedal Backwards

It's been a whirlwind.
The can't catch my breath type.

I drink probably more coffee than I should.
I sleep less hours than I need.
I sleep at the wrong times for the right amount.

Oh, it's silly. Stumbling back to the US, trying to get it together.
When I'm really not all that put together to begin with.
As in, mind state, heart capacity, and willpower.

Finally starting work, but having so much to still do.
Finally unpacked, but moving to another room.
Finally getting the hang of what love is.

And then realizing there is no God to my days, and that is possibly the best reason for why everything is so hard and I am overwhelmed.

Sometimes I feel as if I am too proud to ask for God's help.
Sometimes it's a feeling of unworthiness to ask God for help in the simplest of things.

Going Home

Earlier this month, I flew to Hong Kong with my family to attend my grandfather's funeral. He was 97 years old, which is pretty amazing if you think about it. Think about all the experiences and things he had seen, the history he witnessed and was possibly a part of. He made a big impact in people's lives. I know because of the guests who came to see him off. The principal of the school he used to teach at, his former students (now 50 and 60), and church members.

I learned a lot about my family when I went back this time. It was the sweet to the bittersweet of the trip. I learned about my parents when they were younger, and about my grandparents. Not all were good things, but I listened and absorbed.

I've always respected my parents for who they are and how far they've come. I enjoyed listening to my parent's siblings talk about my parents when they were younger. Things I didn't know. Things I couldn't help but ask them to tell me more. And after all those childhood stories, and visiting the places where they grew up, the parks they played in, the restaurants and people they remembered on those streets, I had a newfound respect and interest in my parents: as humans, not just as my parents.

Ann

Out of Town, On the Town.

I will be traveling starting tomorrow until Sept 20 in Hong Kong, Macau, and Osaka, Japan! Well first and foremost personal/family business, but I don't want to dwell on that. Focus on the positive and have respect for the situation is what is called for. Can do.

I may or may not be able to write on any of my blogs, but I will try my best. I'm living in a hostel this time instead of a hotel, but I am pretty sure I have wifi. I just don't know if I'll have time to blog before conking out from fatigue!

Dying to Live

You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.
—
Mae West

I think in a sense, we are all dying to live.
This life ain't good enough.

New Projects

I think I am going to start a photography blog sometime in the near future. {Here}
In the meantime, you might enjoy my occasional posted art blog. {There}

Signing out. {Everywhere}
Ann

If your heart was a house, you'd be home.

There is a point in every child's life where the house they grew up in starts to become just a house, not a home. I've realized in the past year, I've started not knowing where things are in my home. I've even said unknowingly, "I don't know.. I don't live here." Which is true in all senses, I don't anymore.. at least not for the past 5 years. My room has become a storage room for old school work and textbooks, and part time workout room for my family, I think.

I wouldn't say I'm fully to the point that my childhood house is becoming just a house with memories, but I feel like I'm getting there. And it makes me sad.. I didn't even see the change. It just happened. I just woke up and felt this sense of "I'm going home to visit my family, but my life is here now."

In college, you find yourself (well, some don't, but I surely did) and you learn your personal habits. No, not the ones where your parents nag at you to do chores. You learn about your habits outside of parental influence, and when you go home, sometimes it's different. You're raised a certain way, but that doesn't mean it sticks. In my apartment, I do things one way. When I'm back home, I know I have to do things another way. That's possibly why it's so difficult for some to move back home and live with their parents.

I know that eventually, we have to move on and grow up.
It's possibly one of the biggest indicators of true independence.
I'm just not sure I'm ready to leave the comfort of the flock.

Despite this, I know I'll keep growing up.
But I take comfort in knowing
that I will always be someone's child.

I hope you...

I don't usually share this stuff, but I had to get it out of my system since I'm not ready to talk about it... and hope that someone reads its... and perhaps decides to send a prayer my way.

I heard my dad cry for the first time in my life on Tuesday night. I couldn't cry the whole day up until that moment. It started with a phone call midday. I should've known for my dad to call me while at work.. followed by my mom calling 1 minute later.

How can someone tell you "it's going to be alright?" when you know its not true at the moment.


I hope he knows he is loved. I hope he wasn't scared or in pain. I hope he know we will not only remember, but never forget. I hope he is living in heaven. I hope he didn't feel alone. I hope he was at peace.

I wish I had sent more letters and spent more time. I wish I had visited one last time.

I got a job the same day I lost someone. And since then, my world has been crashing down. I lost my housing because of this. I am financially pressed. But seeing my family in pain and stress, may possibly be the worst feeling. We all need each other. Where my parents cannot help, my brother has. We're trying to get by.

I try to be tough and not cry.
I try to laugh it off, but at the end of the day, I cry myself to sleep every night.
And maybe sometimes it is okay to NOT be okay.
I hope that's okay.