boys will be boys June 1, 2008
Posted by iwriteat in on life, on me.Tags: culture, engagement, love, maturity, relationship
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The last time I went to visit my boyfriend, somehow I managed to get engaged.
I said “I managed” (instead of “we managed”) because of a theory I recently thought out. I hypothesized that:
- The culture we belong to influences our dating style (for the sake of simplicity, I made a Great Cultural Divide between West and East)
- Western guys (the bules) tend to resist falling in love; Eastern guys tend to find ‘the one’ fairly easily
- Eastern guys, however, after being in a relationship, tend to shy away from lifelong commitment; Western guys fall into that status fairly easily (provided they already found their lifemate)
I know a bule who dated an endless line of girls during high school and college, and resisted staying in a relationship for longer than 6 months. Then suddenly he met a wonderful girl, decided she’s his love of a lifetime, fought for her, overcame differences (and his allergy for ‘exclusive’ relationship), and off he married her. The chain of events seemed to go in an uninterrupted flow.
I also know a Chinese guy who dated his high-school sweetheart for 11 years, never experiencing on-and-off periods (like other puppy love couples), but still felt he’s not ready to commit himself to marriage. In the end the girl got tired of waiting for him and married another guy.
So, the next stage of my hypothesis goes as follows:
- Western guys stay in their boyish mindset UNTIL they meet their lifemate; only then would they start maturing up
- Eastern guys stay in their boyish mindset UNTIL they decide to get married; only then would they start maturing up
- (Although, to be honest, I never believe that boys can be anything other than boys
Going back to my opening statement: because I haven’t figured out the real reason both categories of guys decide to ‘take the next step’, I concluded that it must be due to some external force. In my case, the ‘external force’ would probably be me. Although what exactly did I do, I don’t know…
Ah… but all is well.
fool’s love June 1, 2008
Posted by iwriteat in on me.Tags: foolish, literature, love, orhan pamuk, quote
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Tell me then, does love make one a fool or do only fools fall in love?
Love is the ability to make the invisible visible and the desire always to fell the invisible in one’s midst.
From “My Name Is Red”, Orhan Pamuk
butterflies June 21, 2007
Posted by iwriteat in on life, on me, on poetry.2 comments
I saw a school of butterflies, flitting up and down around a tree crowded by red blossoms. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, blinding me sometimes, shielding the delicate yellow wings from my sight. They flipped, flirted, three-some-ing and enjoying the gentle breeze that almost seemed to blow them away from their flight.
I don’t know what they meant. More than anything, they’re a good omen for me. It’s not weather change. It’s not good weather. It’s not pretty blossoms. It’s not fragrant flowers. Maybe it’s a foresight of a good day ahead that attracted them.
Their wings sprayed pollens of tenderness, every flap a tranquil whisper of peace. They know only to fly and feed on sweet nectar. They know not despair, or sadness, or envy. And at least at that instant, they know not pain. If only we could live like the flight of the butterflies. Weightless, carefree, a mirror of happiness, total surrender to God, at peace with everything.
Recently I’ve been thinking about all vanities in this world. Fashion, status, knowledge, even health. Accumulation of which doesn’t mean a thing. At the end it will be a straight line, a nothing. Zip. And what matters is not who we are for others, not who we are for ourselves, but who we are in front of Him who judges everything with justice.
You gotta know / this much is true / I love you / to my best knowledge / of what love means
And I’m learning / to love you more / but this love of mine / is for who you are at heart / not outwardly / not emotionally
I love you
be careful what you wish for June 4, 2007
Posted by iwriteat in on me.1 comment so far
Yesterday I prayed the Jabez prayer:
Oh that You would bless me indeed
and enlarge my territory
and that Your hand would be with me
and that You would keep me away from evil
that I may not cause pain!
And then it came about in the most unexpected way.
Today I learned the second part of the sentence “be careful what you wish for” in the most profound way possible. “It may just come true.”
rainy day November 27, 2006
Posted by iwriteat in on me, on poetry.add a comment
It’s been raining since daybreak.Three times it started drizzling, and then stopped, only to start again one or two hours later. I’m in the meeting room right now.
It’s raining outside. A soft drizzle falling softly, not unlike the weaving of the earth with invisible threads. The sound of raindrops is a cool blanket wrapping me in a gentle peaceful mood. Some fat drops dripping from the rooftop gives an accent of movement. There is hardly any pattering sound to be heard. A couple of white birds flew hurriedly across, eager to escape the rain, back to the comfort of their nest. The babbling din of discussion around me is thinned out, and I feel the rain inside me.
I feel the rain, and the vanity of life. I think about the sea, the stars, and the boy I love. I think about chasing dreams and adventures. I think about myself. About how I live for the depth of the unknown, and the uselessness of it all.
The rain is heavier now, coarser, giving mankind a preview of its power to destroy. The palm trees outside bows their wet leaves, swaying in rhythm. I feel drenched. It’s not a bad feeling. Like doing yoga minus the mat and the sweat. There’s no sign of life outside, except for the occasional sound of motorcycles passing through. Even the houses look uninhabited, with their doors closed and curtains pulled down. It’s almost surreal.
I look around, and see a surprising contrast between what’s out there and what’s confined in the room. Between nature and people. One a unified symphony; the other, utter chaos. The unpredictability of nature can’t beat the unpredictability AND the scheming mind of people.
The rain has stopped. I’m thrown back into reality. I think again about the boy I love. About my love for him. And I wonder, would it be as the rain—a peaceful haven that someday may stop being there?
