Life of a Nin(j)a

I don’t want to be where you are

I don’t wish to be near you

Fighting, struggling…

to have my own 

Searching to go back home

back to those who know 

really truly…what love is

but fail to apply it

to our daily lives

take my words as you may

interpret them as you wish

but only i will know what they really mean

that I am such a night owl. I typically start my days around noon, and get real productive around 1AM or so. I know what you’re thinking: just terrible.

But an actual tip of mine was to work during the hours of 1-4AM, which is indeed what I often did when I was in university, since I found that it was A. the most quietest hours and thus B. When I can finally just sit down and concentrate. 

There is something absolutely amazing about working when everyone else is sleeping…it’s almost as if you’re about to come up with something special and everyone has yet to awake to find it. 

<3

jadedmushroom:

Just out of curiosity, how many of you still remember what you got on the SAT?  Cuz i just realized I completely forgot.

LOL. I have a vague ball park of my score…

shows you how little high school mattered! 

My mother would choose to speak to me again…..

It’s become an active thought for the past couple of days as my nights have become less filled with having fun little dessert dates with that special someone..and more about thinking about where my life has been heading (which is still a semi-frequent thought)

For some, this may be extremely personal information to share to others, but since this is really only information that pertains to me (with some obvious exceptions to my family..who don’t really go online much), I feel that it’s not as bad to share with whomever may be reading this.

My family lives in the bay area. And they’re broken.

They broke apart about a year ago..My parents split after having lost our home in beautiful Almaden Valley, in the heart of South San Jose, and my mother left for Korea to get surgery for her severe Rheumatoid Arthritis. She was already at the point of being a legitimate cripple. Watching her get up from sitting down on the ground was perhaps one of the most heart breaking sights I ever had to witness. I remember that entire time vividly. My mother called, with sobbing intertwined with the few words that communicated to me that she had no choice but to leave me and my brother for 6 months since she had no health care resources and even if she had it would take her at least 2 years or so to get it done. 

That winter, there was no christmas, and hardly a thanksgiving….it was the first winter where we were officially no longer a unit. The foundation of our familial unit was already breaking apart years ago, but it was never so obvious as this. 

I didn’t come home for christmas that year either. To me, there was really no point. 

When my mother came back 6 months later, believe it or not, things only became even more tumultuous. My parents finally split. I remember moving whatever that was left of my mother’s things out of my father’s tiny one bedroom apt. I believe that was the last time I ever saw my parents within the same area as each other. Just 30 years ago, I’m sure this was the furthest thing on their minds. But alas, it has now become the very reality that we were all facing.

So how does this have anything to do with my mother not speaking to me?

Well…..

I found someone. a very special someone…someone who has caused me to defy all of my prior beliefs of love and relationships (or lack thereof)…someone who somehow miraculously caused me to fall…fall harder than I’ve ever fallen before. Sure I’ve loved and have been in love before. But of course, it just seems…almost like a miracle when every fiber of your being is suddenly ok, suddenly amazingly happy and willing to do what it once was so utterly scared, so jaded and apathetic to even think about doing.

But wouldn’t that be a good thing? Doesn’t she WANT you to be happy? 

well, of course. In fact, she’s expressed approval of this very person. But what I believe that distinguishes my mother from a lot of other mothers out there is that she’s always been less concerned about that other person, and more about well, my behavior towards them and what this all meant for the grand scheme of things, as in terms of how much less she’ll be seeing me, etc.  

To give some insight I’ll give you a brief background:

My mother married my father at the tender age of 20. She met my father in university when she was only in her second year. My father was her TA, 6 years her senior. (I know, scandalous). She was willing to drop everything and anything after only writing letters/long distance dating my father for one year to marry him.

And she did. Against her parents’ wishes, she left Korea and her family/friends to go to the US with my father. 

Flash forward years later, to when I’m about 4 years old. 

They’re fighting loudly and violently in their bedroom, and after a number of threats to call the police mixed in with other threats to do seriously heinous self-afflicting acts, the truth comes out: My father admits to my 9 year old brother that he had sexual relations with another woman. I am merely a few feet away as I stand there….catatonic. 

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that that one’s a painful one to recall, but it’s no doubt relevant for this topic of conversation, as well as having been permanently seared into the back of my mind

So you see, my mother (and I, for that matter) doesn’t have the greatest view of marriage. It’s a scary place. A place, where if you’re not careful and choose the wrong person, it can take you to such low places that people aren’t normally willing to describe, especially online. 

But what is this? I’ve slowly begun to see that there are amazing benefits to being in love and being committed to a long (hopefully longer the better) relationship with this one person. I admit, it’s hard not to worry when your parents made so many mistakes—and for that matter, when you know (at the time) they did it for reasons you now find yourself using, in order to be with that person. If you understood that, you can see that it’s an incredibly jaded point of view, and of course, I realize that. But the point of this blog for me has always been to be honest. This is my honest space for me. Nowhere else can you get this.

But it’s also a space for you, the reader to know me, intimately—whether you’ve known me for years and this is all old news, or hardly know me at all. 

The grand point I’d like to make is that my mother and I are at odds with one another as love and pain are…not quite on opposite ends and inextricably linked, but still best kept apart. 

I wish, for just one minute, that my mother realizes that I’ve gained such a vastly different perspective about marriage (and mind you, I didn’t say love) than when she was only 20 and when I tell her that I’m willing to put a lot of things along this road towards a particular goal of marriage that she’s accepting and willing to say, “ok nina. I trust you. I can stand by you and your decisions” instead of “No. I don’t agree. I think you’re making a mistake. I can’t talk to you if you continue to think and act in that way.” etc.) Another (and very important) aspect to this whole scenario is the decision on my part to actually move in with this person—which, had you asked me 6 months ago if I would ever do this, I’d laugh and promptly tell you that you, or I (for that matter) was crazy. 

And perhaps I am. But I’m pretty sure that I’m crazy for the right person. And not because he’s right for me. But because I’m pretty sure I’m right for him. Hell, I’ve even toyed with the idea of infidelity—as in, would I stand strong and still love this person if he cheated on me. My answer?

Pain. lots of pain.

But still, love. 

I found love. It is crazy, I know. But I’m pretty sure I found the one for me. This is going to be awesome. 

<3