Smaug
Yesterday, I spent about 4 hours moving my stuff from my rather large room on the North side of campus to a rather puny room on the South side. I underestimated how obnoxiously inconvenient moving is. Not only did I have to pack up my life and put everything into boxes, I had to move the boxes into my room, and THEN at the end of the day, I had to unpack everything because there was literally no walking room. It was like an obstacle course just to take a shower or open the door. Oh. Joy.

But unpacking has come along quite nicely, and I'm starting to get settled in this little room. While unpacking, I found a box with writing on the side, addressed to my parents. The box was an old one, apparently from my former neighbor and according to the note, inside, there was a vase - from my biological mother.

My world s t o p p e d for a few minutes.

It is little reminders like these that make me realize just how much my adoption has affected me. While it is easy to block things out of my mind and look only towards the future, the past is something that refuses to remain silent. I've got a whole lot of learning about and loving myself to do. A whole lot of understanding my past and becoming a better person from it. Maybe it's time to let my biological mother in. Lord knows I've shut her out for long enough.

Today, I realized another thing. While it may very well be time to let my mother, or at least her memories, back into my life, I need to put another set of memories aside to reflect upon on a rainy day, perhaps in a box as pictured above. While I am quite comfortable with the idea of it being him in the end, and while I can say that he to some variance, believes so as well, for right now... We are not together. So, while unpacking and finding all sorts of knick knacks from our 2 year relationship... I started to collect everything to be placed in a box. As tempted as I am to place the tokens of our relationship into a box of other freshman or sophomore memories, I think he deserves a box on his own. Perhaps I'm acting with a little foresight, for I LOVE going through memory boxes. And as wonderful as our relationship was, right now, I think the physical representations of what was and is now no longer, will be just a bit too much for me to handle. I think I'll print out that letter that I wrote to my future self, and place it in the box as well. Just for safety measures in case my hard drive breaks (again >.<) It will be a long hard journey, and I cannot be certain that I will make it to the other side completely intact. Part of me feels like he has a huge chunk of my heart and that I have a similar portion of his. I used to believe that there was no end to the amount of love that I could give and receive. But, now I'm not so sure. How on earth can I possibly enter into another relationship when I am so limited in my resources? It wouldn't be fair to anyone involved if I were in some way still waiting for him and hoping that it's him in the end.
So. I need a change of philosophy. I have said before, I am a great believer in the power of words. Here goes:

Maybe we only get one great love in our lifetime because we only love so greatly, once. Maybe.
But perhaps there is a chance to have other great loves, when and only when we stop planning and stop fretting. While I've always been a fan of that whole Love-with-all-my-heart-thing, I think in the beginning it is okay to be a little cautious. I repeat, cautious not crippled. Let not fear, worries, or feelings of inadequacy hold me down. In the end, I realize I try to be so honest with everyone in my life, that I sometimes forget to be completely honest with myself.

....

Maybe.

I loved him in a type of way that I didn't think existed outside of the world of Disney.
I loved him in that bike to the pharmacy and stare down the pharmacists to get medicine for him kind of way.
I loved him in that pretend I'm sleeping just so he'll snuggle closer type of way.
I loved him in that I could never stop loving him type of way.

There's simply no denying it... I loved him.

But right now? I think it's time that I start loving me. That I stop neglecting me. That I stop going through the motions and truly start living. And on that note, I'm signing off. I attended a wedding tonight and have a shoot early tomorrow morning and a show tomorrow evening. All followed by a short trip home to refresh and refuel and catch up on some quality family and friend bonding time.

My summer is just beginning. :)

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Man, I feel like a Woman! ;)
Smaug
Surprised my mom and came home for a short visit for Mother’s Day weekend. I really needed the break, and after a few short days, I am back with a renewed sense of self. I have a lot of unfinished business at school. From packing up my stuff, to painting my new house, to helping friends out.. So much to do! And I honestly can’t wait. :)

This weekend was a refresher for me. Friday night I spent two hours in hair and makeup getting ready for a fashion show. During my time in the hot seat, I chatted with the MUA about life and love and fashion. CandyBaby listened and shared a couple lessons in love, but that’s a post for another time. While backstage getting ready for the show, I was reminded of something. Models are, often times, not nice people. Oh sure, we’re glamourous and tall with piercing stares and fierce walks. But beneath all of that glitz and glamour, beneath the mask of makeup and the cans of hairspray and fake tanner, we’re just girls who want to be loved. I was talking with a friend today about self-esteem and how it seems to be an ever elusive quest to gain it. And my attention was brought back to models. I repeat, models are not nice people. But perhaps it is because we’re hiding something. Perhaps our insecurity turns into a high level of sass and diva-ness, and perhaps this is why I always thought models, myself included, were total b*tches. I admit, even when I’m in model-mode and getting hair and makeup done, when a man approaches me - I turn ice cold. This actually happened on Friday, but the guy pushed through. Turns out, he’s a top designer and wanted to feature me in his upcoming fashion show. My ice melted away.

But enough with that. On to the weekend! I watched a western with poppy, lunched with mom, gave a quick piano lesson, registered for summer classes, played with my puppies, baked for my neighbor, painted decorations for my new house, and wrote my future self a letter of wisdom.

I realized I need to have a little more self-respect. That even though I’m working on my self-esteem, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m an intelligent, independent, free-thinking woman, who doesn’t need to answer to or please anyone.

And it’s high time that I act like it.
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I can wait
Smaug
When all else fails, when I'm at my wits ends, and when I want answers so badly I go through desperate measures to find out the details... I must remember.

I can wait.
This can wait.
In the end, it will all work out.

I can see it now. Wiener dogs and welsh corgis, a king size certified sleep number bed, and burnt dinners with delicious deserts. A little Asian art, shades of purple and yellow, and a double-headed shower. The latest and greatest gadgets with the most powerful PC on the market, and don't forget two phones that can do absolutely everything. We'll charge them right next to each other! Ebooks, paper books, throw in a little surround sound! Oh and of course that feeling of coming home. He will make me a better doctor, I will make him a better professional. And it will be hard and rough and perfectly imperfect. And it will be worth it.

Oh, believe me I can see it. And I want it. Or for the time being, I do. But here's the kicker.

I can wait.

This is no race nor sprint to the finish line. The victory is not sweetest if gained the most quickly.. Indeed, I think I'd rather work for it a little. Because if there's anything I've realized, it's this - when you want something too badly, chances are it won't turn out how you've planned. And for all of my fellow Type As.. this fact of life sucks. But it somehow works out too. I plan on breaking a couple more hearts, on nursing my own heart from it's shattered wreckage, on helping my friends to see the good that they sometimes cannot see in the themselves. I have a whole life to live, a whole life to love.

And I can wait.

And who knows? Perhaps in the time that I'm waiting and living and learning and loving.. maybe my vision will change. If it does, it does. I've given and received two years of love and life and lessons, and I have experienced the ups and downs, the emotions, the logistics, the butterfly-tummy effects of first love. And it has been more than I could ever ask for.
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