The Art of War

You call me a modern-day Helen of Troy, dragging men across the continent at her slightest beck and call. The the seige we lay is an uphill battle for you, who are storming my castle to retake the room in my heart once comfortably held. You call me an ice queen, waxing hot and cold, fending off flirtation with teasing, complimenting but never responding in turn- so proper and sterile.

That you have my respect and admiration, is not a question. But love you claim, is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. And what you want from me is to see that spark, that irrepresible longing for you in my eyes.

It’s a mere two days to your coming. Flying in during the middle of the night, you tell me that you want to wake me up so we can both stand in the crossroads of today and tomorrow as we are doing now.

For me, this is a fact-finding mission. This is me taking apraisal of the situation before me. We both know that talk is cheap. But this – this flying in from another country for a mere two days – this is difficult to accept. It seems like the kind of drama that happens to people who actively seek it – not to girls who actually make a resolution to stay single in pursuit of a career.

Or maybe not.

And what are we expecting from each other, from two days from now? Will circumstances really have changed? You say that this is important to you because it’s important to me. And it is. Because as Helen of Troy as this is, I need you to prove to me that this is not all talk before I even begin to consider this at all. Were you not ready to get on that plane in one week’s notice, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this entry. You and I, we are both masters in strategy, game theory and have a penchant for choosing our battles wisely. Except when it comes to us, us “masters” in the art of war.. we forget all weapons, diplomacy and theory – and go charging blindly ahead.

crashentry

You come, all force and charm, barging once again into my life. Dropping the big decisions in my lap and the life-altering choices that need to be made. It’s been – how long? Just as I am laying down the beginnings of a future and direction. Just as I am looking out the window, making big plans and dreaming up places to see. You recognize that this may well be your last chance and mine, and so you come – breaking the rules of decorum, taking me in the upward spiral of your dreams.

The grand gestures, so elaborate. Flying across the continent for two days, just to take this ash-covered princess to her ball. The vacations we used to speak about, now a possibility. There are barely four days until I see you, this you tell me last night. You call me in the middle of the Rolling Stones, yelling above the din so that 4000 miles away, I can share the experience of a live concert.

And from my island metropolis, I eye you with a weary smile. Because I know your tricks, your schemes and your elaborate gestures. I’ve felt the rose petals falling on my face, caressing my skin as I walk into your room for the first time. I’ve held the glass pen, the replica of the one I carried accross five countries only to break as we broke up, the one you replaced dictating a love poem that I wrote in cursive hand. I’ve heard the leaves crinkle under my weight as you lower me in the field for a kiss. And I’ve tasted the salt of your tears, the sweetness of your lips and the ache in your departing. All of these are things that I know.

Four days from now, will you be able to tell me anything that I don’t already know? Or are we just living things again from the moment of your crashentry.

thanksgiving with the family

I have been playing house for the last six days and as of an hour ago, deposited my two charges back to their respective states and schools. My brother is the dearest person in the world to me, and growing up with the constant moving and changing circumstances has made us really close. My cousin on the other hand, is on the other side of a decade long feud between our two parents who are on rival sides of a court battle over my grandmother’s will. We’ve seen each other maybe six times in the last ten years, and two of those times were at funerals. Sometimes I think I’m living out a scripted drama or soap opera.

We are an odd trio, my cousin, brother and I. We’ve always gotten along really well – especially my brother and cousin, who are less than 2 years apart, which makes me just about four years older than my cousin. For the first time the three of us are away from the influences of our parents, and stuck on a continent all by ourselves over the holiday season. And I think this past weekend, I finally began to understand the meaning of “family.”

Both my parents had really complicated relationships – with each other and with their families. As a result, my brother and I barely know our relatives, let alone our cousins. Which means that this past weekend was perhaps the first chance I’ve had to know my extended family – and it was… nice. So nice it makes me ache a little when I realize how much I’ve missed out over the years.

And like I said, we were an odd trio. I didn’t feel so much like the elder cousin, but like a mom. I make breakfast and wake the boys up (oh, say.. maybe 3PM. Heh) we all go shopping, to the movies or just out around New York. We go grocery shopping and I send them running around the store for items, and they carry all the groceries home. I cook, they do the dishes. I clean, they take out the trash. Over the past few days, we’ve developed a system you might say.

I feel as if I’ve just gained an insight into what the rest of my life might possibly look like.  Not the professional side – I have a fair understanding of that. The personal side. The people you call family and come home to every day. The individuals in your life that makes the daily grind all worth it, when you know you are working towards a brighter future – one that is more than just yourself. My whole mentality is that of a workaholic. I work, because I find it fulfilling. Largely because I’ve never thought about finding fulfillment anywhere else.

So Thanksgiving – was a huge eye-opening experience. And dare I say, a success. I actually went and made a turkey. With all the fixings. What’s really surprising is that the turkey – was great. It was a little freaky, sticking my hand into what is essentially a dead, decapitated bird.. but the outcome was so good that I’d gladly do it again I had other friends over, and suffice to say, we were all surprised at the kind of feast that an impoverished college student managed to churn out. There were mashed potatoes, baked mushroom rice, green beans sauteed with mushrooms, sparkling cider (for the kids, naturally) and a rich chianti (for the kids pretending to be adults). Dessert was home made apple crumble, hot out of the oven served with heaps of vanilla ice cream. And last night, just for kicks.. I made us a turkey pot pie that could have easily been passed as the handiwork of someone who actually knew what they were doing.

And the reason I’m writing all of this down, is because I’m simply dumbfounded. Everything went so smoothly this weekend. All the chores, the cooking, the cleaning. I had no idea what I was doing making turkeys, pies and whatnot. I expected a Bridget Jones fiasco, with blue-string soup. But far be it from me to question fate. I’m just simply adding this as another thing to be thankful for.

for better or worse

You’re coming. Flying across the continent just to take me to semi formal, on a cruise ship around Manhattan. You’ve always wanted to kiss me in front of all of New York, you say. All you have to do is get them to look out their window.

great expectations

There are a great many people who expect a great number of things from me. For that matter, I expect a lot from myself. Except I’ve come to realize that I may not necessarily be the best judge of what my limits are.

Last night I went to the opera with Jan. Jan is your paper-perfect, boy-next-door. The kind of guy you would be proud to bring home to your parents. He’s a bio major at a top-tier ivy-league school. He’s exactly my age (a first) and Chinese to boot. He’s hansome, funny, and moderately charming. A real gentlement. Unlike D, not at all forward, but moving at a comfortable pace. Then again, I really wouldn’t know much about pace since I seem to be stuck in middle school and am content to just pine away, not moving at all. The only issue is with Veer now somewhat in the picture, and D somewhat in the background – I’m reluctant to add yet another name to the list. It’s not that I draw any pride in the list of suitors (I doubt D can be actually considered a “suitor”.) On the contrary, my instinct is to wonder what exactly I did to send out the wrong signals. It might just be that I’m clueless/doing my own thing and none of this is inherently my fault. At least that’s what my girlfriends are telling me, and that’s the story I’m sticking with.

But I digress. Jan and I went to the opera. It was lovely. A real “grown up” experience with a gentleman. He asked about the dating history – so I guess that hurdle is passed. And a few hours later, I found myself standing on my stoop fumbling for my keys. The ironic thing is all I could think about was the movie, Hitch where Will Smith starts lecturing on signs of the first kiss and the significance thereof. They say you can tell with one kiss. I don’t know how true that is. With Veer, I waited, and waited and waited until the right moment. With D – I felt pounced on and caught off guard. So maybe it was a good thing that nothing happened – except an awkward one-armed hug. Good Lord, I am so bad at this..

It’s not the dating per se that I’m so anxious about. I’m lively, social, and I’d like to think an interesting conversationalist. I generally really enjoy myself the few times that I’ve “dated” this year – except when it comes to the end. The unspoken expectations that I seem to be unable to distinguish and digest. And so I find myself running away from D (not once, but twice), fumbling for my keys with Max and Veer…. well he wants marraige and the ultra-long term so I’m not even going to try to get into that.

There are all these pressures and expectations. From friends, student organizations, lovers, work, and myself. I am edging towards overwhelmed-ness and exhaustion. It’s getting close to the time to shut down and buckle down to work.

walk on

It’s been a year and a half since I last heard your voice. It’s the third time we’ve spoken -  they say three times the charm – and I am bracing myself for a conversation  that I’ve suspected since September.

There was always the distinct possibility that we would have this talk one day. After all, it’s us. You and me. The modern day impossible fairytale against all odds. It was the story that proved you can still meet a stranger in a train station under the stars (painted constellation), fall in love in three days, go your seperate ways only to find that to stay apart was the hard part. You’ve always said that our story was one that needed to be writen and told. That people needed to know that fairytale romances still happen nowadays. Which is what I’ve done – snippets, moments in time that form a catechism.

The only divide between fairytale and reality is the happily ever after. If it had been about the train stations, the rose petals, the airports and the deep, soul-transforming kisses. If it was about the romance, the passion and the odds that needed over coming, then my prince, we would have ridden off into the sunset long ago, and joined the other creatures of light.

Except we’re  not beautiful, etheral figures but clumsy flesh and bone. We bungle through life, make mistakes and do our best to move on. That one of us wouldn’t move on.. had occured to me. After all, it’s us. You and me. I just never expected it to be you.

It’s been a year and a half, and your voice across 3,000 miles. The signals faithfully transmit your message: you’re in love. You’ve never moved on.  You’re not searching for someone “like” me, you’re searching for me. You’re as in love since the first day at the clock tower by Grand Central, since the rose petals that you rained on me when I walked into the room, since that breath I held for an eternity before I tasted your lips. A year ago, your words would have brought me trembling to my knees, and I would have flown across the country to your arms.

Except all of this was a year ago. A year and a half ago. You walked out of my life, and into my past and in those eighteen months, I’ve learned to breathe without you, live without you, and grow without you. We’ve both grown, and apart. I wonder if the girl you are so in love with even exists today. Being in love with you, was one of the biggest milestones that I’ve passed in life. It forever changed me, and shaped who I am today. But loving you, was exhausting. Life and love – are not fundamentally supposed to be this difficult. We are not supposed to alter who we are fundamentally, or the course of the universe in order to attain the happily ever after that we both deserve.

Eighteen months ago, you made a decision. Now I suppose, it’s time for me to make mine.

dawn of a new morning

It’s hard for me to accept that not everyone I meet or encounter will necessarily care about me or want to be a part of my life. Not every person is meant to be a friend, mentor or lover. And not everyone cares to be. That’s a fact of life we all need to come to terms with.

Whether the reason I feel this way is because of my parents, or the dichotomy of trying to be good without understanding any of the bad (or for that matter, why it’s bad) is unclear. The truth is, it doesn’t really matter. Everyone’s always told me that my innocence was a good thing, but what they didn’t told me is that innocence without cunning is a deadly combination. It’s asking to be exploited.

When I was a child, my mother always accused me of being cunning. I felt so.. guilty and ashamed for the instincts and thoughts that were sometimes less-than-innocent, and even strategic or machiavellian. Is it any way to go through life, completely pure as snow? Is it wise, or make use of the faculties that otherise exist in your repertoire of talents and abilities?

There are numerous areas in my life that would have benefitted from not listening to my mother as much as I did. Maybe I would be a little wiser, a little more thick-skinned, and a little more aware. There are some things you shouldn’t give benefit of doubt to. Some people you shouldn’t open your heart to, and some situations you should stay out of.

There are many things that I learned tonight. That one step forward and two steps back, doesn’t only get you nowhere, it sets you further back than you ever intended to be. Three-date rules and generalizations have their place. Whether you decide to follow them or not, at least be wise enough to concede that you don’t know everything and probably ought to listen. If no one around you is talking about those subjects, it’s probably a good idea to go find people that do. Women need to move in packs because there’s safety in numbers. Fundamentally, we need to understand and respect that guys are not necessarily looking for the same things. Respect doesn’t mean you honor their wishes, but the kind of respect you have for fire. Knowing wise enough when to draw the line, and not test it.

I really learned something tonight about respect. I need to respect myself enough to value my integrity above what anyone else wants, and what the small physical side of me wants. Beccause it’s not about today. It’s about tomorrow, and being able to look yourself in the eye when you wake up.  I need to respect men’s limitations and desires – enough to not to tempt fate, even for my own vanity and fool’s hope.

Remember this well, Eva. That you drew the line in the sand, and he stepped back. That is his right to do so. Don’t go crossing the DMZ because that just confuses you and him. The long wait can be tiring and frustrating, and you wonder whether it will even be worth it.. this illusive “someday.” Remember that it stung, like a slap in the face and the moment of doubt and regret you felt for being so bold. But here is also the truth: you don’t have the kind of support network to afford you many failures. With you, it’s always been one-shot. It’s a pressure, but there’s no reason that now should be the time to change a course of history.