Today I had a breakthrough.

I’m going to write a love story.

* * *


I am sitting on my favorite chair at my favorite coffee place near my office, waiting for my favorite drink to be served. Well, actually, I’m waiting for my name to get called so I could pick up my drink from the counter.

Today, I am “Stella”. I smile. I always use a different name when the baristas ask for it. I’m not comfortable in telling strangers what my real name is; I don’t know them and they don’t know me. That’s what it should be when our only interaction revolves around what drink I want or whether it should be with whipped cream or not.

“One green tea ice blended for Stella!”

That’s me. I’m up.

Well, sort of. Just as I’m getting up from my chair, someone comes crashing into my direction. I hit my head on his chin; his arms behind my back.

“Owwww!” That’s what I say. I could have said much, much more (read: worse), believe me. But this is a public place and eyes are on me and on this strange guy. I want to push him away. Thankfully, he disengages himself from me.

> I wish I had a Chinese female friend whom I could set up with this kind, child-like boy who bought me lunch today. The boy is not Chinese, but likes Chinese women. I told him the huge possibility that whatever relationship he may have with a full-blooded Chinese might not lead to something more permanent, but then again, the same possibility applies to any relationship.

> 'Tis the season to party. Today I got 2 e-mails announcing the date and venue for Christmas parties. One is on November 30... it will be my earliest Christmas party ever and by this sheer fact, I'm certain that it would be memorable. The following day is my mom's 60th birthday and I'm just thankful that it's going to be a long weekend that weekend. Happy birthday, Ma!

My dad is 60

My dad turned 60 last November 11th. I couldn't let the occasion pass without writing about it or posting at least a photo, to remember it by.

Everyone, meet my dad.

(photo intentionally deleted)

I look at the photo and wonder, doesn't he look older than 60? Do his eyes look tired? Does his smile seem strained?

Is he happy?

I wish that my dad will be happy for the rest of his life, which I pray will be long. A morbid thought flashes in and out of my head, and I am scared.