When I... am loving you, loving you, loving.... why would you wanna break up?

By 2:55 PM , , ,

(Originally supposed to be posted 10/21/09)

And so it came to me like an epiphany...


So my days have been filled with lots of question marks, raised eyebrows and sarcastic remarks when I choose not to make the effort to hide it behind a smile and "... oh really?"

Reason being? Cuz, it seems apparently I'm back in that questioning stage in the cycle that is Shelli's existence. The consolation is, that right after the questioning comes about some grand epiphany which brings about even grander results. I've found myself doing what my bf seems to insist on calling "over thinking" and not relaxing enough... but I can't help but feel as if I should be questioning stuff in my life right now; as if the reason why I can't supposedly relax is because I'm not getting the answers that I'm looking for - and by answers I mean not what I want to hear, but the reality of what it is. I can handle it. Hit me with some reality here God.

Every morning, I go through a "snooze" button phase for about half hour before reluctantly acknowledging that departure from my bed is necessary when the sun starts to creep across my sheets to my legs. Then I proceed into the shower, where I gaze out the window looking at the landscape and begin my pensive morning musings... But this morning I had a distraction - I noticed a familiar green bar of soap on the left corner of the window sill. My mum must've stumbled upon it and decided to use it. This bar of soap came from NY in my barrel. It's a bar of Ponds moisturizing soap bar that I purchased during my "skin obsession phase" when I convinced myself that these things work since it says "softer skin in X number of days" on the packaging.

As I lifted it to my face, I got the scent of it that despite using it for months, I never really liked nor got accustomed to... It smells like cucumber melon soaked in baby oil. However, this scent was the scent of 4 months in my own flat in NY. It symbolized the privilege of doing my own groceries, being able to walk the aisles of the store and stand before shelves of varying items screaming "pick me, pick me!" and practice a lil product discrimination... and the weight of the bags in my hands from buying a little too much and still having to walk from 23rd & 2nd Ave. to 23rd & 7th ave to catch my train home. It symbolized the ability to travel that hour plus journey to a destination where I know that when I reach, whenever I reach, regardless of the train breaking down or bus delays, it's my place to do what I want, how I want. It symbolized sleeping in on weekends and cooking breakfast at lunchtime. It was reminiscent of ordering Dominoes pizza at nights with my flat mate because "...according to this here email there's a special on tonight..." and still debating about who should go answer the delivery man at the door when he arrives with our meal. It was waking up at 4 in the morning to get to school on time and still reaching to class late, or convincing myself that gyming at 6 am was the way to start the day... And even running through the snow as the bus rounds the corner so as to not miss it to rationalize walking up late and not going to gym that day because "...I've already done my morning cardio..." It was reaching home tired as a mofo, looking at the bar of soap on top my dresser by my tv, from my bed and wondering if a shower was really necessary for that night. It was convincing my flat mate to go jogging at midnight on the school track in front of the house, and getting burnt after the first lap. It was ordering Chinese from that Chinese restaurant I could never remember the name of, and have one too many take out menus of in my room. It was walking with Enda from 23rd & Lex. to Wild Berries on 5th ave, convincing ourselves that we needed a break from our intense (15 minutes of) studying and that 3-6$ per cup of frozen yogurt was a healthy and wise investment because you could put real fruits as toppings and the yogurt itself is supposedly less fatty than ice cream. *sigh*

The smell of that bar of soap, was New York in seconds like flip book memory pages. I put it back down and swore not to use it again....for a while. I miss New York.

The irony is that prior to this encounter with the soap, I started finding myself with a list of "what ifs" regarding going to NY in the first place... but the reality I guess is, everything plays out the way it should whether you choose to accept it initially or not.

Transferring to SGU after being in NY, to some, could be perceived as a waste of a whole year. Had I stayed, I could've probably gotten my permanency as a teacher. I could've finished more of my portfolio or been involved in more exhibitions. I could've finished my book. I could've been an active member of WAG. I could've...I could've... I could've...

Then again, realistically, NY was what I needed no matter how I flipped it. By that point in my life, I was incredibly frustrated. I was repeating mistakes to the point of them becoming practically habitual. Relationship-wise I was doomed for one way or another, whichever way I went.

The story had to play out the way it did. While it's not all fields of daisies right now. I'm happier in different ways. Had I not left, I would never have gotten the chance to meet my bf in a way which we could have a relationship... nor would I have been able to meet Enda, one of my closest friends that helped me get a different perspective on things whilst seeing exactly where I was coming from - in many ways, we were walking the same path but didn't recognize each other... nor would I have been able to see who my true friends are or perhaps, more appropriately, who genuinely is seeking my interests with their advice. Also... I would never have gotten the chance to live on my own - which is what I wanted, dreamed of, begged for years prior.

Also... even if I'm stubborn to admit it. I was extremely frustrated with life then. I might've quit my job, or continued complaining about it (even though I loved it too... yea... I know... strange... love/hate relationship). I would not have finished my portfolio nor been any closer to having my exhibition nor finished my book nor been active in WAG. Now that's keeping it real.

But whatever... what if's are always easier in retrospect - you already know how one story ended. But I guess, that's the beauty of life. And perhaps he's right... I should learn to relax.

Shelli out.

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