One of the reasons why I moved countries was to escape my family. I don't talk about it much with anyone since it hurts. I chased who I thought was my dream, and he dumped me as soon as he saw me. Well, I was already dumped before coming here. Stupid me for not reading it clearly, for being too in love with the idea of chasing love when it, he, didn't want me anyway. But I'm here now. That happened months ago. I've settled down. And I don't want to go home.

My family hated the idea of Rick. They never met him so they judged him by the way he made me laugh and cry, the latter happening more often. While I'm above 18 (heck, above 21!), my Mom wanted me to stay and not let my broken heart fuel my journey. I knew where she was coming from, but I wanted to do it. It was my money, my life anyway. It started out as a talk over dinner, than a full-blown fight, with me slamming my bedroom door and she praying the rosary. Nobody had dessert.

It's my older brother who's more understanding. He's not that digitally connected so pricey monthly phone calls are all we have when catching up. He says Mom's fine, she just tells other people that I found a better job here. I tell my brother I do have a better job and that I am happy, then tell him about Harry and Ashley and Jason and my home. He tells me Mom misses me even if she doesn't say it. I ask her why she's so spiteful every time I try to call her.



"Why don't you just come home,?" she told me last week, when I called for my older brother's birthday. "Is your job there paying you so highly you don't want to move back home? Or are you parading around Rick again?" The rest of the phone call had her spitting out so much negativity towards me I slammed down the phone. My brother called me back to apologize for her. She just couldn't handle her baby girl all alone in a foreign country, he says. I'M FINE, I stress. How the hell am I ever going to grow up in my Mom's eyes?

Oh mother, I wanted to tell her. I chased love flying here, and now I chase love calling home monthly, hoping we could understand each other a little better. Every time I try, my heart just breaks into more pieces.


What I want is this: To patch things up with my Mom. To tell her, heck, CONVINCE her that I'm doing well here. I've got good friends, a good job, a good guy, and a good home. It's not fantastic, but I'm happy. I could be happier if she understood all that.

Is it difficult for her to accept that I'm happy even if I'm not where she is?

I want to write this down on a piece of cardboard as well and give it to him. We haven't said any I Love You's but you know it's just there. Hanging over you like the Sword of Damascus. Or that piece of loose string on your jeans you've been meaning to give attention to but ignore at the moment.

Maybe in Autumn. Then again it's always autumn in my head.

What is it about bacon that entices even the most hardcore of vegetarians? (I'm talking to you Briony! Harry and I saw you nibble a piece of it)

It's bad for us. Artery-clogging. Fattening. Salty. But oh so damn good.

Great with waffles prepared by your boyfriend. He bakes his bacon, not just fries it. It tastes delicious.

I like it extra crispy, extra crunchy. Those Bacon Bits you get from the store are sooo chemical. Nothing beats freshly cooked bacon, crunch, crunch, chomp, chomp and goodbye, diet!

Jason swears he'll never eat bacon again after every meal he has with bacon. That cycles repeats itself every other day. I fear for his heart. And his slowly growing gut.

Bacon. There's such romance around it. Who doesn't fall in love with it? It's like that bad boy in your life you wish would never make an appearance again because you know he's baaaad but soooo good in other ways. You just can't resist him. Like a prodical lover. Like the one who never really got away.

Like the one you don't really want to go away.

Harry: "You talk a lot." (munching on popcorn)
Me: "Only with friends." (dunking my hand into the popcorn bowl)
Harry: "What does that make me?" (moving the popcorn away from me)
Me: "What?" (reaching for the popcorn)
Harry: "I was under the impression we were more than friends." (moving the popcorn farther away)
Me: "..."
Harry: "..."
Me: "..."
Harry: "And now you're quiet." (setting the popcorn bowl on the coffee table)
Me: "I... I need popcorn?" (reaching for the popcorn bowl)
Harry: "I have a question."(moving the bowl away again)
Me: "If it's are-you-getting-annoyed-with-this-popcorn-tug-of-war, the answer is yes." (folding my arms)
Harry: "Will you be my popcorn mate?"
Me: "You won't even give me pop... wait, what are you talking about?"
Harry: "Will you go out with me?"
Me: "We already are going out."
Harry: "Like officially."
Me: "..."
Harry: "Like exclusively."
Me: "Why? Are you seeing anyone else?"
Harry: "No, are you?"
Me: "No, are you?"
Harry: "I just said I wasn't."
Me: "Oh right."
Harry: "..."
Me: "..."
Harry: "Will you be my girlfriend?"
Me: "..."
Harry: "Unless you don't want to..."
Me: "Popcorn mate?"
Harry: "You know we're both picky about who we sharing our popcorn with."
Me: "I'd love to be your popcorn mate."
Harry: "Thank god, I thought you'd say no."
Me: "I might change my mind if you don't pass me that bowl of popcorn right now."
Harry: "Your wish is my command."

/insert buttery popcorn kisses here

So okay the whole conversation didn't go exactly like that. Some of the dialogue was mostly quiet, unsaid, unwritten.

Eyes and hands say a lot of things, don't they? So do buttery popcorn kisses.

P.S. Popcorn isn't a metaphor for anything. We just really love it more than any other human beings. And oh god, I'm saying "we" now. It feels... nice. A buttery kind of nice.

:)

It was freezing cold this morning, but I went out anyway. When I got to the courtyard, I took my boots off. I wanted to feel the concrete's coldness more. Against my fuzzy gray socks, the ground felt like it was more alive than the trees with leafless branches.

I stood still for a long time. Then I felt the air bite my skin. I love that. Never mind if I'll regret it later when my skin dries up and I'll have to scour my closet for moisturizer. At that moment, the cold nipping at my skin felt so right. And I, like the ground, silently vibrated with life.

One of my neighbors opened his windows and asked if I was nuts. Shoe-less in the cold. I said I was wearing thick socks. He laughed. I laughed. A few minutes later he joined me at the courtyard, but I wasn't in the mood for company. Contentment in the cold is not the same when shared with someone you don't really like. Or used to like but think you don't like anymore.

After awhile, your body gets used to the cold and there's nothing new to feel anymore. I put my boots back on. He asked me if I wanted to get breakfast. It was my turn to ask him if he was nuts. Nobody laughed this time.

I wasn't shoeless anymore, so I walked away.

Harry and I were holding hands at the front steps...

Wait a minute. Typing that was a bit surreal. I'm holding hands. With HARRY. After swearing not to fall in love too fast again, here I am again very much infatuated with this guy named Harry. And on another level of surreal, he has a huge crush on me as well. That's not a guess. He told me himself.

So it's been a bit of a whirlwind, but I thought, what the heck. He's a blast to be with and we just connected. Jason was all "Go for it!," him of the many love connections. Ashley was more cautious, she who has just broken up with her girlfriend. "A whirlwind romance is like a coffee crash. You get that huge high but the crash will hurt your head so bad." Party pooper. Like I don't know that anyway.

It's only been a couple of weeks but things have been promising. Wait, I don't like that word. PROMISING. It's like you're counting too much on the future. That's where the heartbreak comes in. I just want to live in how good our connection is right now, today. Like when we were at the park -- Harry quietly reading through screenplays, me reading a back issue of Psychology Today with my head on his lap. It was quiet and I enjoyed the moment AS IT WAS not because it's like a sign of things to come. A lot of relationships get messed up that way. Been there, done that.

So yeah, Harry and I were holding hands at the front steps this evening when Jason called to say dinner was postponed because his guy date got chicken pox. Who gets chicken pox at twenty-seven? So Jason's gonna go on nurse-mode and I wouldn't be surprised if dons the uniform too. Then Ashley texted saying the ex-girlfriend wanted to meet her for dinner and nothing we could do or say will stop her. That left Harry and myself. Sitting at the front steps.

"What do you want to do?," he asked me.
"We've got reservations for five. What if we just go anyway?," I said. I abhored cancelling reservations. Harry knew that apparently.
"I'll take care of it. What if we just walk around and see what we feel like doing?"

And we walked around, hand in hand, pointing at restaurants, coffee shops... Pizza at my apartment was what we ended up with.

"Maybe I should have taken you to a fancy restaurant. To woo you," Harry said later when we were washing the plates together.
"You can't woo me with champagne and gold napkins," I answered.
"We'll see," he laughed.

He left a couple of hours ago, but "we'll see" lingered in my head. I hate "We'll see." It's like maybe it happen, maybe it won't. Is he surprising me with champagne and gold napkins? Does he want to prove me wrong? And here I am overthinking again. See what I mean about enjoying something in the now? "We'll see" just messes with my head.

Then I go back to the warmth of his hand in mine when we were seated at the steps. When we were walking. When we were eating pizza and watching TV together. It happened hours ago, but the warmth lingers. I enjoyed it while the warmth was there, but the memory of the warmth is still with me. I don't need champagne and gold napkins to be wooed, I should have told him. All I need is your warmth. I should have said that. Cheesy but true.

I can't wait to hold hands again. Yeah, that's like going against what I said about enjoying the now without thinking of what's to come, but that's enough for me. To hold hands again. Champagne and gold napkins are just a bonus.

One of my nieces was named after the city she was born in, and what a beautiful city it is. She's three years old and can't pronounce her name correctly yet. It's more like "Matt-an."

I'm a kid magnet, and it works for or against me sometimes. When I'm in a social event and feeling anti-social, all I have to do is stay near kids and later on I'd be showing them how to make a crane out of paper or debate about who the coolest Transformer is. When I'm at the park and miraculously make eye contact with a guy I could be interested in, into the scene comes a bunch of kids holding up boats and riding bikes in a Ring Around the Posey way -- there's no way out. By the time I get out of the circle, the guy's gone.

Maybe I should've become a Kindergarten teacher. But I don't want to go to school again to get another job. School didn't agree with me very much. I mean, college was cool, but I wouldn't want to waste another night poring over textbooks and wishing I could be hanging out with my friends instead.

Manhattan is a sweet kid. She says she wants to be an ice skater when she grows up. Her favorite holiday is her Mom's birthday. Why? "'Cause she home." There goes my cousin blushing all over, such a workaholic that her toddler already has Mommy issues. "Matt-an" is definitely a Daddy's girl, even if her folks are divorced. She sees more of her Dad even if she lives with her Mom.

You know what, if my cousin would hire me as "Matt-an"'s nanny, I'd go for it. She pays well. Her current nanny dresses really well. And in expensive brands. Not that I'm brand-conscious or anything.

"Favorite Auntie," Manhattan told me recently, extending her arms out for a hug. I gave her a huge hug and gave her a big kiss on the head. Then we made paper cranes (I folded, she played with them) all afternoon.