notes from being at home

isn't it pretty to think . . that we could pretend like we all lived at home again as if were 10 years ago?

my grandfather passed away last monday so we're all at home. and when i say we're all . . i don't just mean all the thammarath's in one home. but all my cousins, aunts, and uncles that i grew up in san diego but have since moved to denver, phoenix, etc. with are all here too . . which is great. i feel like we should pretend like it's thanksgiving or super bowl just so we can reenact those times we all spent with one another growing up.

1. i can't wait to be an aunt. my brother is getting married next year (yes, apparently, one thammarath will embark on the whole life time partnership thing) and he'll probably be the first to have a child (malisa is no where close to getting married and she wouldn't have to give my dad a heart attack . . and well, i'm still a child and i don't plan on having a child while i am still one myself). earlier today, kim, my brother's fiance randomly wondered out loud how their kids would look like. would they be spot on like james the way my brother is spot on like my dad? will they have a smash up between the two of them? how will that look? will they be like me and have fine strands of hair like my mom but the thickness and amount of hair like my dad?

2. while driving up to temecula, my sister randomly said, "i think i should just move back to san diego and open up a restaurant." i told her if she did that, i would wait tables for her. she asked, "you're gonna quit ur job in dc and move back to san diego to wait tables at my restaurant?" i told her, no. but it would be perfect if i was in grad school in san diego and i waited tables on the side. PhD student by day and server by night. i like the sound of that.

3. i love that my grandma doesn't get embarrassed when i act like a 5 year old and hug and shake her in front of all my relatives.

4. i love that i could spend hours downloading music and reorganizing my itunes. i don't love that i'm running out of space on my phone and i can't just sync all my music on it.

immobile

isn't it pretty to think . . that i could just do what i used to do and pick up and move across the country or move across the world?

why does it get so much harder to do things like that when you get older?

thank goodness for . . taking things back?

isn't it pretty to think . . that when someone appears to have made up their mind . . they wouldn't change it again?

Just when you thought the next few months were going to be amazing . . here's to getting a huge fucking slap-in-the-face-reality-check and having the rug pulled out from underneath you.

WOO HOO.

thank goodness for some clarity

isn't it pretty to think that all the world's vague, uncertain, complicated situations could be clarified, reaffirmed, and resolved in one simple conversation?

yeah, well, thank goodness some situations can!

Home: West to East

Isn't it pretty to think that transitioning from one home to the other and then back could be an easy process?

I just remembered why I avoid going home often: withdraws for weeks when I get back to DC.

After being in San Diego or the Bay Area . . it usually takes me a few weeks to get used to (and be happy) in DC.

While this is a feeling that I've generally come to expect, I feel like it's never been this bad before.

things to love about the spring

isn't it pretty to think that life can automatically start looking up with the changing of the seasons?

I think it's officially springtime in the district. here's a short list of things i love during the spring (aka: not the winter):

warm mornings so waking up early for the gym is easier.

not having to carry and wear 3+ layers.

eating lunch outside in the sunshine.

warm nights.

gardening.

the revival of my houseplants.

being able to wear all sorts of shoes.

more space in my closet because the coats are put away.

sleeping naked.

signals for transitions

isn't it pretty to think . . all transitions could have clear cut signals for the end of something old . . or at least the beginning of something new.

. . kind of like daffodils.



i've always loved daffodils, ever since watching the old version of charlie and the the chocolate factory. the scene where they're in the garden and willy sits down on some mushroom or something, picks a daffodil, drinks from it like a tea cup, and then bites off a piece of it.

ever since then, i was in love with those gorgeous yellow flowers.

however, my appreciation of them has deepened even more since moving to the east coast. not only have i discovered that they come in multiple shades of whites, yellows, and oranges . . but they also come in all sorts of sizes.

while the various types of daffodils has definitely been a plus, there's a far greater reason why i've gotten even more fond of them. a few days ago, the daffodils in the district bloomed . . signaling the end of winter and the beginning of spring. this means, i could put some of my coats away, i could start bringing out my skirts and tank tops, and soon i will be able to run outside, sit out at the mall, read on my porch . . and all the wonderful things i haven't been able to do since the fall.

i wish every end and beginning could have a signal so simple and so sweet.

like relationships. i wish relationships could have a signal for an end or at least as signal for a beginning like the blooming of a daffodil.

a few months ago, i was talking to a friend about vagueness when it comes to relationships. she couldn't stand them. she said that she needed to immediately DTR -- determine the relationship. she needed to sit down and talk to the person. ask them if this was casual. ask them if there was a future. ask them if they liked her. ask them if they were sleeping with other people. ask them this and ask them that.

i told her i was the complete opposite. i enjoyed vagueness . . it let me enjoy things as they went without all the complications of over thinking and over analyzing. it let me dream up the best case scenarios. it let me imagine that this wasn't casual. that there might be a future. that they did like me. that we were being monogamous . . all the great things that could come from new and exciting relationships.

she mentioned that she wasn't surprised. she thought i was a relatively optimistic person . . i always carried myself in a way where i COULD make things the best case scenario . . and even in the worst case scenarios, i got myself to find something good about it. then i would go and focus just on that one piece of "good" and ignore all the other not so good parts.

of course thats what i did; it's my defense mechanism.

of course i would dream up the best case scenarios; it's what keeps me going.

unlike me, my friend wasn't like that. instead, she would conjure up the worst case scenario. in her mind, she would think . . this was just casual. there was no future. he didn't like her. he was sleeping with other people . . and the list would go on.

maybe she's right. maybe DTR is the way to go. maybe worst case scenarios are the way to go.

but then again, even the most simple and sweet signals could be wrong. even clear communication, even DTR, even good life choices . . could be wrong.

a few days ago the daffodils bloomed to signal the end of winter and beginning of spring.

today, i woke up to some hard rain outside my window, cold, alone, and wondering if i really even fell asleep. the low was 30 degrees and i wished i didn't start putting my coats away. in fact, i wished i wore one when i finally stepped outside of my house.