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The following online journal entries are from February 1999. They are taken from older version of my website. |
Saturday. 7:36 PM. I begin this entry in a completely different vein than my other entries. I'm sitting here alone, in the house in Pacifica, and I'm trying to figure out what to do with my time and energy. It's quiet here. The weather has been blustery and rainy all day. But, the grayness and the sound of rain on the house has been pretty soothing. The day has been low key. A good counterpoint to the melodrama unfolding concerning Sarah, myself, and Laura. I was watching the tail end of MTV's Road Rules in Central America. One of the cast's father is extremely ill; the cast member's name is Abe. I watched as he finally broke down and cried in front of the rest of the trip members. And it really brought up a lot of sympathetic pain. It is a strange series of events. I can't help see the rhyming between Abe's father, Niall's father, and my mother. Part of me really wants to go explore the feelings that are coming up. Part of me is so completely scared that I want to swallow it all and forget about it. The insecurity of moving three thousand miles and new challenges I'm facing and the growing pains I'm experiencing are all taking their toll. I can't help but sit here and tear up, cry a little. It's so very rare that I get a long stretch of time to myself. And I think the consistent company has kept me from letting out, letting go some of the fear and the anxiety and the stress inside of me. I think the emotions of missing people and places and things from back east are being conflated with emotions of missing my mother. I do feel strangely guilty in a way. I left her remains behind -- in all senses of the phrase. I remember getting out here and suddenly realizing that I hadn't visited her grave before I left for SF. I felt awful. I had wanted to very badly. But the last couple of days in Maryland were hectic, disorganized, and full. It would have been nice to drive to the cemetery, to walk up the slight hill, to see her name, and to touch the grass, the spot, and the stone. I know I carry her with me. But I want to settle here and hang her picture back up on the wall in my new home. I had to leave her picture (the big one from the funeral, the one that as the eldest child I must keep with me at all time to honor her life) with Dadi in Maryland. We had to hide it in the garage so Judy wouldn't discover it and do something to it. Isn't that awful? I'm losing the focus of the moment. My defense mechanisms, my coping strategies, are all at work unconsciously sorting and packing neatly away all the things that are giving me pain. I feel almost dissociated. The vulnerability does not suit me. I can't let go enough to just fathom the deepness of things. All I can hear in my thoughts right now is how much I miss her and how much I want her to be only a phone call away. Wouldn't it be great if I could call her and tell her of all the things I'm doing in San Francisco? Wouldn't it be great if she could see the pictures of the city and the sights I've been seeing? Sigh. Ebbs and flows. Tears and deep breaths. I'm not sure where this is going. I'm not sure what started me down this path. But, I'm so careful. I'm so cautious. I'm so precise about how close I get to the hurt. I have come a long way. But the grief is still a reality. It is amazing how the closeness of emotions, like synonyms, can trigger a cascade of thoughts and memories and feelings. Grieving for me will now be inexorably linked to the grieving of my mother. Homesickness or feelings of missing someone can never be separated from my missing her. Silence and death, fear of the unknown, and the insecurity of waiting will always recall the day Mami died. Again, I'm losing focus. The connection is fading. The feelings are blurring. My mind is tiring. I guess I'll find my way back to the tender spots in my life. And eventually they'll heal. |
Sunday. 12:18 PM. It's Valentine's Day. An otherwise typical day except the culture points up its insecurities about love and passion and commitment. I am sounding a bit bitter, aren't I? I guess I am a little. But, that's okay. It'll pass. I'll wake up. I'll wise up. It has been a busy week here on the homeless front. Monday, Sarah had her second interview with the Lighthouse. It lasted a really long time. I hung out at the coffee shop. Tuesday, Sarah and I went to see an apartment at 2448 B Mission Street. It's a great place. The rooms are very spacious. It's above a tax preparation office and a bridal crafts shop. The price is good. The neighborhood is fine. It's a great place. Wednesday, we went to see another place. But when we got there, we bailed. The building was very worn. And the neighborhood was a bit rougher than we liked. Thursday, we didn't do much. Friday, Sarah got the call from the Lighthouse. She got the job! Yes! It was a good morning. So, we got our act together and put together our application for the Mission apartment. We got most of the parts done. I need Dadi to co-sign for me, to be my guarantor. We should get the place. I have good credit. Sarah has good credit. It'll be rough for the first couple of months. We won't know till Tuesday. I got into a funky mood after talking to Dadi. I was trying to get him to get his guarantor application done. But, he couldn't talk because Judy was with him. I hate being all secretive and walking on eggshells around her. Friday night, I decided to meet one of the guys that responded to my personal ad. His name is Michael; he's a biker boy. I really wanted to meet him as a friend. I really didn't want him to think it was a date. I'm not interested in him romantically. He wanted to meet at the SF Eagle Tavern -- yes, a leather biker bar. I have always wanted to go -- especially in DC. So, this was my chance. I've heard that leather places tend to be very friendly. And leather guys are usually not hung up on body image. So, I got Sarah to go. She wore her leather jacket. The SF Eagle is at 12th and Harrison -- right in the SoMa district. It's a pretty neat place. Very biker! Lots of guys -- mostly older -- mostly brawny, burly, bearish types. We got there around 9:30. We went to the back bar where we drank 7-and-7s served by Armand. Then, strangely and shockingly, we saw to guys having oral sex out in the middle of the outdoor patio. Total exhibitionism. Everyone watched or didn't pay any mind at all. I was a bit taken aback. But also mildly pleased to see such carefree abandon. I loosened up. It was a neat place. There were some really hot men there. Again, it's all about hypermaculinity. We met up with Michael. He seemed like a nice guy. I was not attracted to him at all. But, I think he really liked me -- yet another one. We drank. We watched the crowd. They had an International Daddy contest or something. Guys competing for the title walked around selling raffle tickets. For $5 you could get your inseam measured in tickets. Pretty groovy. I had a good time. I really felt of place but I didn't feel uncomfortable. Saturday, Sarah recovered from her drinking and smoking. It was a gray day. We chilled for most of the day. Saturday night, we went to The Cafe to dance. It was pretty cool. I danced a lot. It was good to dance. Of course, the place got really crowded. Then I got annoyed. We left and walked around the Castro. Then we went to Denny's in Pacifica. I want today to go better. But the whole Valentine thing has got me all emotional. Sarah got a package from Tara. She spend part of the morning talking to Tara on the phone. Tara is coming to visit next weekend. Sarah is basking in her relationship. It's cool. I'm really glad she is happy. And I am glad that she has someone. But, there is little room for me right now. That's okay. I guess I'm a bit jealous. I want to have a sweetheart, too. I have been trying to manifest good energy for myself and for Sarah. So far things are coming together. I really hope we get the apartment. I really do. We can be out of Pacifica before next weekend. I am glad to have moved. I am glad to be with Sarah. I am glad to be starting a new life. I am glad to be finding more about myself, my courage, my ideas, my goals, my wishes, and my dreams. This is an opportunity of cosmic proportions. I cannot squander chance and destiny. I have made a great stride in becoming more myself. I have challenged every part of who I am. And I am still growing. I am still learning. That really amazes me. I am glad I amaze myself. This adventure, this journey is about me. About my ultimate freedom and my ultimate becoming. I can't worry about the small things. I can't sweat the little problems and the easy hurdles. I need to be here. I want to be here. I cannot forget I was meant to arrive and to live here. I cannot forget I make home and happiness and miracles wherever I go. I am powerful as I always have been. |
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© 2001 Edmond Y. Chang. All original material. All rights reserved.
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