I am on a sort of crossroads in my life and I can do without that. I can feel the attraction but I can also keep myself apart. I admire beauty more than anything else but now I don’t feel I must possess it. The ideal man or woman doesn’t exist. When you look for something you are not really looking for a man or a woman. You are looking for someone who awakes something which is buried inside you and once that person does it you become familiar and you always want that and then you stay with that person. But two people who are in love are not in love just with each other. There is a third element intermingled and that third element is an ideal. Both must love the same ideal and that is what they have to share. If that doesn’t exist, then it’s not love, it’s necessity.
On Easter Day, my mom walked up to me as I sat on the couch and asked if she could pray for me. She sat down and took both my hands in hers, holding as tightly as possible. As soon as she started praying, I burst into tears, sobbing violently through the entire prayer. My dog, Sadie, who had been wandering and playing on her own, suddenly stopped what she was doing and jumped right into my lap. She sat still in my lap and patiently listened to us—my mom’s prayer and my sobbing—as if she knew how important that moment was for me. She lowered her head as if to tell me, “I’m here too, Sharon. We love you.”
i’m a prophet.
I wrote this in 2011, right before I got my heart blindsided and broken. I was fearless then.
That which does not kill you, will only make you stronger. Life is about taking risks. We risk our lives every day, getting into a car, getting on a plane, crossing the street. But why are matters of the heart that much more terrifying? Fear is there because there is an unknown variable that you can’t see or control. Let go of what you cannot control. That’s the only way to enjoy all that life gives to us. Why does the world end when someone leaves you? In reality, it doesn’t end. Life goes on. Lessons continue to be learned. That is, if we choose to let it.
Fearless and writing notes to my 2013 self, apparently.
When my last boyfriend and I broke up, I asked my cousin to tell me “Love is…” stories about her and her husband that would keep me hopeful. It’s been nearly two years and she still does this for me out of the blue. This morning I woke up to another one. Reading it and re-reading makes me laugh and cry every time:
Random true love thought: At the end of a long day, when we’re finally at home together, we get derpy with each other (to borrow the internet term for mentally handicapped behavior). We talk in baby speak and climb all over each other like we’re blind puppies.
And before I met him, I knew with utmost certainty in my heart that deep, life-long love happened to other people and only rarely and that it would never ever happen to me.
So yaknow. Don’t lose hope. Also, can you make our party? I sent you a facebook invite thing.
Even though this is supposed to make me hopeful (which it does) for the love I will have and give to the future lucky man, I can’t help but be overwhelmed with the love I already have in my life from my family and friends.
I can be a hard-ass, cold-hearted and even cutthroat at times, but on the inside I am truly, madly, and deeply a sucker for love. Even in my darkest days, knowing this exists can get me through the day. It’s even better when at least one of them happens to be one of my favorite people in the world.
I’m glad Obama realized the same thing I’ve witnessed from some of my best friends: that love knows no discrimination.
Dying of cuteness overload thanks to an e-mail from my mom:
Hi Sharon,
Me and saddi just got home from pet grooming shop. I took her to there this morning. Now just pick her up from there. I just send her picture to you, can you see, she is clean and beauty and smell so good.
Love,
Keli and sddi
Sent from my iPad
My dog’s name is spelled “Sadie.” Asian mom spelling errors = swoon.
Another version of a similar shot from the same roll, but I like that I can look at this version when I’m missing my mom and feel like she’s talking to me. (I also like that my dog looks like she’s entranced in some Chinese TV show my parents probably had on at the time. Makes me giggle every time.) I love my mom so much, sometimes if I think about it too hard, I’ll start to tear up. Like right now.
This little boy was so cute and endearing—the way he’d constantly turn around to face his mom to smile and gaze lovingly into her eyes. Then as he turned back around to lay against her chest, she’d wrap her arms around tightly him, and rest her chin lightly on top of his head. I couldn’t help but sneak in a shot.
My mom says my hormones are telling me something.
