A funny story.

I woke up this morning and found my window open, just beside my bed. I wondered, "why would my mom open that window, why would she lean over my sleeping body to open THIS window, when there are two others?" So I asked her. She told me I woke up and it was raining, I opened the window and stared out at the rain for a long time, looked at her through my open door while she played Brain Age in the living room, then continued to stare out at the pouring rain.

I don't remember it raining today.

I went full circle.

So I was reading Mika's blog and going through some of my own thoughts, also post Terrance talk- and I came to the realization that I now know my dream job. Its not to sit in some boring office, 8-5 or to go tramping out in the forest educating people on the beauty that is Nature. My dream job is to travel for a few months at a time, living in said place and learning its culture. And when not traveling, living at home base doing who knows what. Maybe this isn't a realistic dream if I want to have kids, but for now I'm going to push away the questions and apprehensions and begin to seek out how I can find a job that will require me to travel. I realized this after I posed this thought with Terrance, "Do I want to live in California away from home and my family, because I am not settled with the idea of living at home at the age of twenty-two?" or "Do I want to work at home for however many months it takes me to save, so that I can ditch the job and plant myself on foreign ground for a few months?" Should I start to seek jobs at restaurants and coffee houses so that I can have the skills to find work in any country i find myself?

What I do know I need: money to save, money to pay off student loans, and money to pay for health insurance. This is what I do know and this is what is realistic. So perhaps for now, I 'should' be content on finding a steady, 40-hour week job to start saving up money. And yet, what will forever stop me from ever being content in this life is knowing (as far as my life motto goes), that I am not living in the moment, but working towards that moment. I don't like the idea of working towards the moment, although I suppose thats what school was and what life is about. So maybe this decision, I wouldn't be so happy with. My goodness, I think I've put myself back to square one.

I guess its time for lunch.

humour.

I almost walked into my door last night. It was shut, and it never is. Scared a bit of night lights out of me. The wind whistled last night with a constant thumping noise. Today, short hard bursts of rain, interspersed with cloudy sunshine.

aha.

Maybe it was the smorgasbord of thoughts I had before I went to sleep, but I can vividly remember the dream I had this morning. And I'm sure my subconscious wanted me to remember this dream because I woke up just as it was ending, or at least transitioning into a new dream. The firstish dream was of me pregnant and giving birth at the dining room table, it was quick and almost painless. About five minutes. I kept telling people in the dream that my second birth is probably going to be hell since my first was done with such ease. And to aid to my fear (but one that has kept me abstained) is that this child came from my first. Unfortunately as dreams are, I have no idea who that was. I also had a friend in the dream who was pregnant that was about to give birth the same day as me, but her contractions were just stress markers and she was put unto bed rest. (I wonder if this pregnancy dream came from watching Addison on Private Practice). Anyways, then it went to a dream where my cats were entered in a contest and I was hanging out with my NSLP. I received a book from a pretty stranger, one thats hair oddly resembled the pediatrician from Grey's Anatomy, but wore aviators to disguise her face. OH GOODNESS, perhaps signs that I watch too much television. OR that watching television right before I go to bed ignites too many images in my mind. Either way, wow.

Its another hot day here, I liked yesterday better. But mostly because I want to wash my hair and showering on a hot day with hot water is not so much fun.

repetitive thinking and standing still

I watched Slumdog Millionaire today with the grandparents and accomplished nothing this week. I do remember a time when I moved with time, but lately, I've been letting time float on by. I've always valued time as precious, but lately I've been taking advantage of it. When that stops, you'll be the first to know.

In other news, a couple days ago, I actually had the wits about me in regards to my fathers drunken stupor. Story: as I was leaving the house to go to my aunts house I decided (yes, I contemplated on just leaving) to say "bye." His response, "You need to get a life." My response, "I have one." The end. I felt victorious and the smile lasted an hour. My father doesn't think that going over to my aunts house to play scrabble with my grandma and aunt is 'a life.' I think its a life worth living. Any time to spend with family is time worth spent. Let me enter a burn: I suppose his life motto is, "any time with friends is time worth spent." Truth that is.

Oh, I'v also started to read 'The Fifth Mountain' by Paulo Coelho. I don't believe that I am a prophet or anything, but it does spark some curiosity that I once claimed to have spoken to angels. Note to self: inquiry. The curiosity stems only from the knowledge that I was never brought up with a religion, so why angels?
I am also reading 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy. Very good book so far. Too thick to carry around so its become my nightside reading, trying to kick the habit of internet-before-sleep.

My grandpa loves company and loves family. One day I should go down to the beach with him while he fishes. He always asks, and I always decline. I think it would make his day.

P.S. This might be the root of my inability to concentrate on anything, or to sleep. I have way too many converging thoughts. Maybe I should write them down in here more often.

The weekend.

This weekend I had attended an aunt's funeral in Oahu. Her eulogy was beautifully expressed and it made me think of all of her accomplishments in her lifetime, unexpectedly shortened by an "accidental death." I haven't attended much funerals (in which the person died at a young age), but it always seems that the lives that they have led were full and the people they touched were heart felt. So as morbid as I may sound, the thought of my own death came to mind. In my eulogy, will my life have been so fulfilled. In hers, she was said to have reached Enlightenment. Have I? Or is it true, that my death will come when I have made my foot print in this world? And then I thought, do I want a funeral? Do I believe that we need a service to send our spirits in the right direction? Are funerals just a part of the mourning process? Or do I believe that, in this life, we are- in fact, living in heaven and hell, in any way that we choose to believe. So how much concern do I have for where my spirit goes in the afterlife, if I do in fact believe in an afterlife. So many questions, I know- but the chanting was long, monotonous and beautiful- and her entire congregation came to offer incense (at least 250).

I also decided that when I begin my family I am going to start the tradition of family reunions. As I was sitting there, seeing family members from Maui (who I never see) and family from Oahu (who I never ever see)- and I re-realized that I love family. Seeing them, hearing the chatter and being in their presence gives me a feeling of happiness that only family can bring. After the funeral we all went to my aunts moms house where I talked to cousins that I never actually talked to before. It was nice. Its weird that they are only a few years plus (under 30) older than I, yet are my second cousins. If I lived in Oahu, I think we would get along very well. Or at least that is the conclusion I came to, after hanging out with them for five hours.

Today was a long day. An emotional day. A social one.
In the end, a very fulfilling trip/vacation in which I finally got some Chicken Katsu Curry from Curry House.

a new beginning.

the start of a new month, the first monday. the first week.
its about time i start appreciating the little things again. yes, although my love never faltered, crushed ice and pepsi is heaven in a gulp (or sip in the least, since its frostiness causes brain freeze). my mission this week is to regain some control over my sleeping schedule. three am cannot feel like twelve. twelve cannot feel like nine. and three in the afternoon, cannot feel like ten in the morning. i have also taken out steve, he has been neglected for too long.

and since my dad sucks at following through, i'm painting a wall in my room red. trimming some edges white. and possibly going crazy with chalkboard paint. i also have high hopes for lamp shades.