starting over


Archive for the ‘Thoughts’ Category

What’s going on?

*Blows the dust off* Wow, it’s been a while hasn’t it?

I took a hiatus from blogging as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I felt like I wasn’t really saying anything of importance, so it didn’t really matter if I put things up here. But then I started to miss it, and sometimes I would think back to what I did last month and my brain would be full of tumble weeds. Just tumbling along.

So I’m back. The updates won’t be very frequent, but I’m feeling the need to do some documenting, because even photos aren’t enough sometimes. Like when you look at a picture and you see everyone smiling, you can remember that it was a great day and the dinner was nice, but do you really remember when Steph commented about an old boyfriend writing her poems using the lyrics to backstreet boys until she finally said — and then Chris interrupts with “quit playing games with my heart” and everyone nearly threw up laughing? Those aren’t the memories I want to forget. I know some friends are for life, but for the ones whose paths cross with yours for a brief point in time, what will you remember about them? And what will you remember about yourself when you look back 10 years from now? Will you remember all those promises you made to improve your life, to learn new skills, to do something amazing?

I read somewhere that people who write down their goals and document their thought process are the most likely to succeed at achieving them, simply because they’ve thought it out well enough on paper that it becomes realistic enough. So let’s start there. I’ll post again in a bit with a one year plan and we’ll see how far we get.

CASI 2010

At the Statue of Liberty tour:

Tour Guide: where are you all from?
Min: um… Seattle
Matt: oh, I see how it is.
Min: there was a war?
Tee: the War of 1812?
Min: what?
Tee: 1812? You learned this in highschool!
Min: um, yeah. yeah I know. The War of 1812. We won, didn’t we?
Matt: I don’t know who you mean when you say “we” anymore.

NYC was a fantastic trip – I had the most amazing time! Even though Wayne didn’t bust out any of his old dance moves, we had such a blast gathering together to celebrate the next step in life for our friend Lisa. Her wedding was breath-taking! From the views at Steiner Studio Stage 6 to the food to the decorate your own take-home cupcake to the mustaches, it was all crazy fun. I’m sure by now you’ve seen the gazillion photos of me and friends in our sexiest mustache poses (including unibrows, eyebrows, chest hairs, sideburns, etc.), but in case you haven’t, you can see them in the photos section.

This was my first time flying by myself since I developed my anxiety issues, and strangely I felt extremely confident. It’s extremely stressful as you board and before you take off, because every step is a step in the direction away from what I define to be safe area (in this case, the solid ground). I know statistically speaking planes are more safe than automobiles, and tons of people fly in planes every day and nothing happens to them, but something triggers inside you and you always feel like you’re the sane one, and why don’t people realize how dangerous this is! It’s silly, but it’s how my brain works. :(

But anyways, the NYC trip was great, and I think it’s something that I really needed to do. I got to see some great friends, have some deep conversations over beer, and spend some time figuring things out for myself. I’m so blessed to have people who care about me despite the fact we don’t see each other often. After spending five years together in study madness, you develop a close bond, I think. Matt has told me (and it’s something I’ve used a lot lately) to always think of what I know to be true. He used it in a more spiritual sense, but it seems to work well for more practical things. When I’m out canoeing on the water and it gets a little wavy and I start feel nervous, I always ask myself “what do you know to be true?” and then I’ll answer it: “the boat will float if it tips over. even if you can’t right the canoe straight away, you can hold onto it. there really isn’t anything in the ocean that finds you remotely interesting. there are boats around that can come to you if you start screaming for help.” those sorts of things. I used to be upset that I would have to remind myself about these things, because it basically meant that my mind is being occupied by worries, whereas before I never gave it a second thought. But now it’s just become something I do. I find myself to be more cautious, and I take less risks / chance in anything I do, and that in itself is pretty sad, but one step at a time.

Anyways, this year’s NYC trip holds a special place in my heart. It not only gave me time to bond with some special people (all of whom were at my wedding, but I just didn’t have time to have heart to hearts with them!), but it gave me time to figure myself out, and to push my own comfort zones. I always feel like I can’t do something, until I actually do it and then I realize it’s not so bad. But that first step is always the hardest. I hope that when I hit another one of those hurdles, I will have the willpower to take the next step forward, and then the next.

Look Sideways

I love the Old Spice commercial “The Man Your Man Can Smell Like“. It’s awesome because by the time the commercial ends you think “what on earth just happened?!”. I reference this commercial now because I think this is how my life is. I’m focused on something and even though I’m extremely focused on it, there is something happening in the background that I don’t quite understand or don’t realize or don’t pay attention to, and then suddenly I’m stunned that whatever was happening in the background is now front-and-center and has my undivided attention, but I don’t know how it got there!

When I fly out on Wednesday, I will have spent a total of 2 weeks in Toronto, with almost all of it being vacation. During my time here, I got to not only help Elaine out during her wedding, but I’ve also had the opportunity meet with a few friends who I hardly get to see and spend time talking to my parents. Usually when I book a trip back home, I complain that it’s not really a vacation because I usually work out of Toronto to save my vacation days, and I don’t have a lot of time to see other people, but with two weeks here and me actually making an effort to meet up with people, I feel that this trip has been truly a great experience. Every now and then people need to take that step away from their regular path and look sideways and see what’s passing by.

Today I had the wonderful opportunity to meet one on one with Ken and Derek, both friends whom I’ve known since high school and elementary school respectively. They’ve both moved out of their North York homes and into downtown (and fairly close to each other – I walked from one persons place to the other!) and I both are getting married within the year. These are two people that I grew old and grew up with and having this time to sit and talk with them about what they’re doing and how they’re doing was like opening half-closed doors again.

When I look at both of them as they tell me their new life, I can’t help but remember the fourteen year old boy who I hung out with at the park back in the day, or the boy in grade two I used to be really mean to. Ken has since met this wonderful person while I was in Vancouver, and now he’s going to marry her! And while I live my mundane life on the other side of the country, I feel like so many things are happening everywhere, and I want to be a part of it! But I have blinders on, and I just look forward at this line that’s leading me to some hazy destination I can’t figure out yet, and all these things are passing me by. All these people are growing up, and I’m not around to see it and to be a part of it. I’m not there to celebrate in the joys, and to cry in the disappointments. How lonely a life can be when you live for yourself!

This isn’t to say that my life with lonely with A. I am very much in love and happy with my relationship. But I feel as though I haven’t moved anywhere in my life – Derek says I’ve been driving on a highway without knowing the destination for the last four years. And now that I look back I see all the things I’ve missed and all the relationships I’ve let slide, and the worst part is I don’t know what for because I don’t know what my end goal is. Today I have pulled over to the side of the road and looked back at all the exits I could’ve taken as a detour and asked myself why. What am I moving towards? What am I passionate about so much that I’ve given up all these other opportunities. While this answer hasn’t come to me yet, I’ve become aware of the fact that I truly do need to know this in order to feel okay about moving forward again.

So, how does one find their passion?

I feel small

when I’m riding in the back of my parents car and I look out of the window and I see flat land for miles and miles and big looming fluffy clouds overhead. If you think about it, we’re all so tiny on such a big plot of land. One of my favourite things to do is to stand under a tree on a beautiful sunny blue-skied day and look up at the green leaves to see the sparkles of sun peeking through. I’m constantly mesmorized by the fact that the tree has been around for longer than I’ve been alive and still continues to grow so big and so tall that I can stand under one, reach up, and still not touch it’s lowest branch. I love being under a giant tree because it reminds me of how amazing nature is, and I don’t even have to go far to give myself a reality check – even on the streets downtown I can easily find a tree to look up at on any street there. Sometimes I get carried away with amazement that I end up causing people being me to grumble as they suddenly have to dodge a crazy person staring at a tree during rush hour shuffle.

I think I’ve hit a quarter life crisis. And my anxiety and stress is a giant flashing neon sign that both my brain and my body are signalling. I feel small. I feel tiny. I feel scared. I hear about earthquakes and floods all over the world. I read about bombings and riots and suicides. I’m home and in the comfort of my family, but if I look close enough I can see the wrinkles and the slower walking pace and the greater resting frequency and it makes me so terribly sad inside. My mom came and sat with me two nights ago and we talked about when she first moved to Canada and her stories were amazing, and when I thought about all the time that had passed in her life and how she’s one day not going to be here to tell me these stories, I almost burst into tears.

My brain has been telling me that the world is a scary place. Everywhere I stand, I’m constantly checking my body, assessing the danger factors around me, and worrying. In a world where everything is supposedly easier, I’m bombarded by a sudden urgency to make decisions about the rest of my life – where to have children, when to have children, living arrangements, timelines, caretaking. I moved to Vancouver and lived in a bubble of teenage bliss – the kind where you are young and carefree and don’t need to worry about anything because you just want to experience life and not have to make adult decisions. But the time to be an adult is slowly creeping up on me and I don’t feel ready. I come home hoping for the comforts of being a child and I see my beautiful family aging before me. I come home and I don’t recognize streets anymore, I see massive developments where small houses used to be, I see new restaurants where old ones once stood, and I feel like I’ve been sitting in an anchored boat that’s lost in a sea of change. I have a lot of grown up decisions to make, and I need to start sailing forward. It scares me.

I’m waiting for the terrible weather here to turn into weather that’s suitable for the clothes I brought home. I’m waiting for the sun to start peeking out again and the skies to clear up so I can stand beneath the chestnut tree in my front yard and stare up into the sky and think about how the tree looks just like it did when I first moved into the house twenty years ago. Saying that makes me feel old already…

My world is changing

On New Years Eve in 1996, my brother and I had dinner with our family and then quickly begged to be dropped off at Mel Lastman Square. To help ring in the new year the city was throwing a free concert performed by the Foo Fighters, and I wanted to be there so badly. I remember discussing a designated meeting area, taking off my glasses and putting them in my pocket for safe-keeping, and charging into that mosh pit as a fearless little asian kid. Elaine and I squirmed our way to the front, jumped around a whole lot, and then did some crowd surfing. Somewhere along the way, I lost my glasses and no one showed up to the meeting area, but I was okay because I stumbled my way blindly to a payphone and pumped in a quarter and fumbled with the home phone number to get my daddy to pick me up. And I had a blast. The joy of being in a concert with all that live music, of being with a bunch of people who were there to enjoy it as much as you, it was thrilling!

Two months ago, I took a trip to Mexico with my husband. We travelled around the Mayan Riviera, exploring ruins and snorkeling in caves, and swimming to find turtles in Akumal Bay. And while I was scared, I tried my hand at scuba diving. It required a lot of patience on the first day, but I was able to complete all the tasks in the pool – clearing water from my mask, finding my regulator airsupply mouthpiece if it fell out, lowering and raising myself in the water, how to breath properly. That isn’t to say that this took effort – the lesson was supposed to last 3 hours and I was there for 6 because I just couldn’t make my way to the deep end of the swimming pool. I kept stopping and scrambling back to the surface, fearing my air supply would suddenly fail me and I’d die a death of suffocation if I couldn’t make it back to the top in time. But with a lot of work, I did it. And I was so proud. I went back to the resort feeling like I’d accomplished something amazing and that I’d conquered my fear.

The next day of certification, we got into a little fisherman boat and made our way out over the choppy water to a popular first-time diver site. It was 10m deep, and pretty wavy on the top. The short ride there was enough to get all the butterflies going in my stomach, and the second I put on all the gear and the weight belt, I felt certain I would drown at the bottom of the ocean. With a lot of coaxing, I was little pushed over the side of the boat and flopped down on the water in my inflated vest, clinging wildly to the old Mexican fisherman captain in a speedo named Alberto. No amount of encouragement could make me go any deeper into the water than just the surface. The open ocean frightened me so much – I feared getting swept out into nowhere by a rogue current, I feared getting eaten by some quickmoving fish (or shark!), I feared just taking in a gulp of water and choking and no one could save me fast enough. My head was full of uncertainties and just thinking of all the possible ways I could die made my breathing shallow and nerves frayed. I was having a massive panic attack. I never let go of Alberto my first time down, and begged to be let back on the boat but everyone insisted that I just needed to get used to the idea of breathing through these tubes submerged under water. How does that NOT sound like certain death people?! Eventually I forced my brain to focus, and began to slow my breathing down. The water was clear, the current wasn’t too bad, and before I knew it, Alberto had slowly deflated my vest a little bit so my head was just inches under the water. And I was okay. My head was in a constant battle with some subconcious that I was going to die, but it seemed under control. I was over the moon with joy.

But trying to get down to 10m, that was a huge struggle. The further down I went the more scared I became. Every time I looked up and saw the surface of the water further away, I knew inside that I was moving further away from being able to breath freely and became more dependent on this piece of equipment that was my only air supply. And to make matters worse, I still had to complete all the same drills I had done the day before in the pool – remove my mouthpiece and find it again, fill my goggles with water and clear it out, control my breathing so as not to bob in the water, constantly remember to breath out when the mouthpiece is removed to ensure my lungs won’t collapse, it was all a lot to take in for my poor body that was already having a freakout. In my state, the proudest moment was when I actually touched the floor of the ocean 10m down. I looked up, had a freak out, calmed myself down but I never let go of my instructor’s arm. I clung onto him for dear life. I just couldn’t enjoy scuba diving because I was constantly afraid I would die somehow. It’s truly a horrible feeling, when you’re given this amazing opportunity to experience something new but you’re just too afraid to try. In the end, I couldn’t shake the fear (I couldn’t breath properly, I was queezy the whole time, and I just looked like I was going to cry constantly), so I insisted on being taken back to the surface. Where I proceeded to throw up constantly due to the boat rocking.

Last week, I got the chance to volunteer as an athlete stand-in for the Opening Ceremonies with two friends. It was the last dress rehearsal before the real deal, so they had a ton of lucky people who got tickets to come see the rehearsal as audience members and a bunch of people to pretend to be athletes so that VANOC could do a full run-through end to end without stops. It was very exciting to get to walk in as a member of team Canada, and even more exciting when we saw the Great One himself down in the holding area. What fun! The show was fabulous, we got to see all the performers live and I felt awesome when everyone cheered as we walked into the stadium! At the end of the show, the organizers asked the athlete stand-ins to wait in their seats for a while to let the rest of the crowds clear out. We stayed an extra half an hour until the stadium had cleared before we got the okay to move out, but it turns out the crowds were still outside and the organizers hadn’t directed the leaving audience as to where the possible exit paths were. People were piling out into the open night outside BC Place but immediately became stuck because they didn’t know where the best exit was to get them to the sky train, or to downtown, or to the parking lots. It wasn’t chaos because no one was shouting, but it became crammed really quickly. To the point where we all just started getting more and more squished as more people piled out of the stadium with nowhere to go. I stood there, short and unable to see any exit paths, being shuffled more closely into the people surrounding me, and with no possible moves my brain began to fire warning signs: no one knows where to go! what if a riot ensues due to all these fustrated people? can this platform hold the weight of all these people here? if I lose my friends I’ll just be pushed around forever before finding a way out. I could get crushed if I trip over something and fall. there’s not a lot of fresh air here with all these people surrounding me who are taller than me. The fears and concerns continued to pile up on me and I felt the familiar tensing in my chest. My breathing became shallow as my friends discussed an exit strategy. I grabbed wildly to Heather’s jacket and she immediately sensed my fear: “hey, how are you doing? look at me, it’s okay. stand a little taller, on your tippie-toes. wes is going to find us a way out, we’re starting to move.” I immediately tried to get taller for some fresh air, and once we started moving, I felt better. But it wasn’t until we were not only unstuck, but far from the crowds in Heather’s apartment that my chest stopped squeezing me and my brain had calmed down. I felt embarassed that my friends had to witness this side of me, and fustrated that this fear was slowly taking over me.

On the night of the Opening Ceremonies, I boarded a bus at midnight with A to get ourselves home after the festivities. Two stops from our apartment, the bus suddenly filled up with drunken partiers who were making their way home as well. And when I say filled up, I mean filled. It was rammed. A and I had a seat but it was facing all the standing people and they were loud and rowdy and sometimes unstable and suddenly my head started swimming with fears again. I gripped A’s hand tightly and tried to take deep breathes from the stuffy air until it was our stop. After squirming out of the bus, A looked at me with concern but I couldn’t really explain it. I know it makes no sense logically – I used to be fine with crowds. I used to love rushing into a mosh pit, I’d willingly brave hordes of people for free samples and crammed subways after concerts back home were all part of the norm.

Yesterday I demanded we leave early from the Our Lady Peace concert in Richmond because I was worried the skytrain would be packed if we left at concert end. Who does that! But even though A and I made it onto the subway platform early, it seemed quite a few people had the same thought in mind and were headed downtown to continue the party. Drats! I told A I needed a seat by the window that wouldn’t allow people to be hovering over us, and shoved him forward the second the train opened its doors (before the people even started coming out, I know I’m awful) to secure me said seat. He did a good job though, my husband, and as I sat down and the train filled up with happy concert-goers and Canadian fans (we had won a medal earlier that day), I put on my headphones and began to watch on old episode of Grey’s Anatomy on my video player with my head down to avoid looking at the crowd. The air was warm to begin with because the train was heated but it took a lot of effort to control my panic attack and I constantly felt like I was going to throw up. When the crowd started singing or chanting, I squeezed A’s hand and turned my player louder to drown out the noise. When my brain somehow thought about my fears, I was sent into shivers so badly my whole body shook and I couldn’t see my little video screen because my hand was moving so much.

I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, or why this fear has suddenly taken over my life – right when the city has become the most crowded too, how unfortunate! It makes me fustrated when I think about it and how it’s affecting me; I can’t get onto the skytrain now without my brain having to be actively trying to calm me down. I just want to be the girl who can go into crowds again.

On being prepared.

So funny story. Steph and I decide to go swimming yesterday, and met at the pool around 6 and swim from about 6:30 to 7:30pm. Happy at a successful evening of low-impact workout, we go back to our lockers to get dressed. But I find a note on my locker asking the locker owner to see the lifeguard. And my locker is completely empty, even though I’m still holding the key to it. In one of those dreamy “this can’t really be happening can it?” states, I head over to the lifeguard station only to find that my locker was broken into, and what they could find of my personal belongings was my backpack with clothes, and my shoes. Oh. Em. Gee. I just got robbed.

Thieves took my jacket which had my cell phone, my house keys, my work pass, my bus pass, and my $300 mp3 player. The thing that makes me cry is that they’ll probably play with it until it runs out of batteries, and just dump it and “find” themselves a new one. They also took my wallet and all my gift certificates (to RW&CO, Chapters & Costco, totalling over $250). They were kind enough to leave my glasses (I suppose they had a soft spot for the visually impaired?) and a quarter in my shoe. A and I spent the rest of the evening cancelling credit cards, flagging false purchases (at 7-11, Esso and Sears) and trying to assess how prepared we were in the event that this emergency happened again.

On the plus side, we’ll be moving soon so even if my address was in my bag somehow and they got a hold of it, they wouldn’t be able to rob me (that, and since I have to report stolen/lost keys I’ll now have to pay for new lock installations), and my work pass has been broken for weeks now so they wouldn’t be able to access work property. The bad side is that they have my cell phone with contact information for my home and A’s office, my drivers license (acceptable form of ID) and MSP (sometimes acceptable form of ID).

So my lessons learned is that you should always always always be prepared to lose all your stuff in the blink of an eye. If that happened, would you be able to handle things quickly? In the span of 1 hour from when I found out my stuff was stolen to when I got home and starting cancelling cards the thieves had already made purchases on my behalf. I also spent half an hour trying to remember which card was in which slot in my wallet to ensure I had everything accounted for. I most likely still don’t, I had a separate wallet sleeve for just cards (gift cards, membership cards) and I can’t remember what was in there at all.

I’m so thankful I’m living with A, firstly because if I was living alone and had my keys stolen, I’d be in a wreck, and secondly because a lot of our CCs are joint and so even though my cards are cancelled he can still use his in most cases. He also documents all his personal information, so tracking through him is much easier.

I’m still really upset that I had so much of my personal belongings stolen, but there’s nothing left to do but move on and learn from this experience. Please be careful with what you carry with you. Even when it’s locked up it can still be taken away from you. Make sure you have information about your contents stored in a safe place. Never carry a blank cheque with you (even if they don’t use it it has your address on it and they might have your house keys), or your SIN or proof of citizenship. And if you see someone in a pastel teal down jacket with fur listening to a sony mp3 player, punch them in the face for me.

On Compromising.

A and I spent our Christmas back east to see family, friends, and wedding reception venues. Oh the fun involved in wedding reception venue hunting. We visited a combined total of nine reception venues and two church venues. There was only one place that I really wanted to visit but didn’t get the chance to because they never returned my phone calls (I can only assume they took the Christmas break off). We came home to find that our ideal wedding reception of a modern place with a traditional meal would cost twice as much as a generic reception, that our estimated total guest list grew by 73%, that a few of the reception places we visited actually wouldn’t be able to accommodate our new estimated guest list, and that I’m making this wedding more for old people than for myself and A.

I know it’s our wedding and we should do what we want, but deep down inside, I know my parents want it to be a certain way and I love them and I don’t want them to feel heartbroken by being excluded or (even worse) embarassed by how untraditional it might be to the sea of old people. Such is my delimma. But it won’t be for long, because we need to pick a reception venue by the end of the month (my personal deadline) to ensure we don’t have to worry about it for the next six months. Yes, this is how I function.

Another thing that comes up with the word “compromise” is that A and I will be homeless in two months time. We received our two months notice on Tuesday from our landlord (it was just too good to last forever!) because he plans to move back into the apartment. I spent the entire next day whining and moping about how I don’t want to leave and how I’ll never be able to find another apartment as awesome as the one I’m in right now. I believe it was yesterday where we sat down seriously and listed out the wants and needs for our new rental place. While we try very hard to compromise, it seems like the place we want is still non-existant, and more compromising will have to be done. In the meantime, I received an awesome e-mail reply for a too-good-to-be-true apartment rental downtown for $700 from a woman currently in South Africa with poorly constructed English (strike one) who has no one around who can show me the apartment (strike two) but would like me to pay the first month and deposit up-front before mailing me the keys (can we say shady?). :| I will miss my place, and especially my landlord, who is completely awesome and understanding.

Wish me luck on my hunting!

On Christmas.

Clearly I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

I grew up in a family that constantly strived to be normal, to fit in with the social norm. We wanted what everyone else wanted, we didn’t like what everyone else didn’t like. We were nobodies.

As harsh as I make it sound, I still loved those times I had growing up and following the traditions that everyone else had. I look forward to going home and watching the Christmas lights turn on at 8pm even though it wastes electricity, decorating the Christmas tree even though we don’t look at it and take it down in a weeks time, cooking Western food for a Western style Christmas dinner even though my mouth waters to think about my mom’s home-cooked Chinese food.

Does this sound strange? I think it does.

I was stressing this weekend of what to get for my family. One year my parents and I bought my brother a Sony Clie which he used for all of 6 months and now I never see him use it even though he claims he does. And it cost approximately $250. I debate for a long time what to get my cousins, whether to buy my parents anything, how much I should spend, what would they like, all those random materialistic questions that arise when gift-shopping. While bringing this up with A, he asked me if it was really worth it.

Is it worth it to spend money on these gifts? Do we really need them? Do we benefit from receiving monetary gifts from others? If it was something we wanted, really really wanted, would we not have gone out and bought it ourselves?

I think a new social norm needs to start. I think people need to stop giving gifts and start giving time. I learned this from A. It’s a very hard concept to swallow, because I get giddy when I buy a gift I think someone would love, and I take so much care into wrapping it that he thinks I’m crazy. But when you sit back and really think about it, it’s all so commercialized that it feels very phony. Deep deep deep down inside, that is what I think when I hand people their gifts. It’s very sad, I know.

How does this new trend start, then? I think our generation is too late in the game. I think the free-thinkers like A with this new concept in giving will be socially outcasted because we’re too based on materialism and it’s the dollar amounts that define the people we are. I see this in myself because while I want to embrace A’s new idea on giving, I can’t see it as something I would do for fear of the social norm.

What do you give, if at all, on Christmas to those you love? Is there a general understanding of the idea of gifts and monetary value that you’ve come to understand, and are you okay with it?

For Christmas, I would like to spend more time with friends. To engage in meaningful conversations on top of the daily “this is what I did”, “did you catch the lastest episode of [insert random tv show]“, “have you talked to [insert random name] lately”. Who can gift me this amazing gift for Christmas?

On Engagement.

In my constant trolling for wedding inspirations, I found the most amazing wedding cake.

Super Mario Wedding Cake!

Bow down in it’s glory. It’s so very cool.

One of my loves in being in a relationship with someone is that you teach each other to see from different perspectives. A finds this extremely difficult to do (teach me) because I’m a big stubborn person who loudly exclaims “I don’t like change, I like things to be the way they are because it makes me comfortable.” But, my friends, the world is constantly changing, and if we want to make a difference, we must change as well.

Being with A has taught me that I tend to go with the flow. I do things because everyone else does them, and I don’t want to look stupid by not doing it or by doing something else. I am comfortable being just another face in the crowd, I am comfortable not drawing attention to myself. A on the other hand, is comfortable when he does what he wants and what he deems to be important regardless of what strangers think of him. While I admire him for his way of thinking, I would refuse to be in the same boat. To each their own.

While I love being in a relationship that challenges me to learn new things, I’m always stuck at the point where I’m more comfortable in my own bubble. A always finds this extremely frustrating and constantly re-evaluates whether the want to teach me new ideas is worth the bickering. We tend to look at things very differently, and I wonder if it makes a relationship harder to grow. Not to say I don’t grow at all – I’ve become better (a lot better) at saving money, I re-evaluate the necessity of items when I shop, I’ve tried to read books he recommends in order to learn more of his interests. I wonder if he notices these things. And I wonder if there is ever a point where he stops to think about whether he would really want to be in a relationship with someone who thinks the exact same way he does. I think I’m a little bitter because we constantly get into disappointing conversations where I don’t seem to care about my future, or my goals, or the use of my time, and all these negative statements are making me wonder how far I need to jump before he says he loves me the way I am. It seems strange that someone would say that and then say “I wish you did _______” or “cared about _______”.

I get the feeling he wishes my in life were in line with his. To be honest, I’m not sure what my priorities in life are at the moment. Is that bad?

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