Laying Awake at 3 am

When I'm laying awake in our big comfy bed in my nice clean neighbourhood in my nice multicultural city...

I never think about Korea.

I never think about the monsoon rains that pounded on our double front door, soiling my favorite high heels that I never wore.

I never think about the tacky 70's furniture that we rearranged in the tiny dusty livingroom, so that we could eat potato and corn-covered pizza, with pickles, on the green triangular coffee table.

I don't remember the fake wood linoleum kitchen floor or the maggots that infested our garbage one hot summer day, or the tiny fridge or the medicine care package on top of it that my mom sent.

And it definitely never crosses my mind what happened to the food I left in the cupboards.. what was it again? Hmm some Aloe Vera drinks, noodles, condiments and oatmeal?

Far away are the odd cockroach or two, the painted green rooftop where I had a picnic with some wine, pasta and a few friends as the sun set and the neon advertising lights for my school glowed a few blocks away.

I'd have to be really bored for my mind to wander to the freezing cold bathroom that always smelled like mildew and clogged drain. That drain was disgusting. Oh, and how the washing machine would empty its watery guts onto the bathroom floor and the garbage can would float circles around the drain (sometimes clockwise, sometimes counterclockwise; it doesn't matter what side of the equator you're on!)

And in the unused TV room, where we'd hang our laundry on a large rack because they don't use dryers in Korea.. I'd poke my head out the window at night and watch the endless stream of navy-uniformed schoolboys walk home, in clusters of two or three, cellphone lights glinting like the odd angler fish caught amongst carp.

Coming home at 6 am on a Sunday morning when the birds chirped and a layer of haze hugged the city; it was the only time of the week I ever heard peace and quiet.

Otherwise, the loud speakers blaring from merchant trucks echoed in the narrow sidestreets from sunrise to well after dusk.

I don't think I'd wonder about the dirty white Coach wallet I left in the drawer by my bed, because I have another, nicer one now.

That lady that barged into the house trying to sell me milk on a pre-ordered monthly schedule may be worth a laugh or two..

I hardly think of these things when I'm laying in bed at 3 am and my mind is preoccupied with final assignments, work and skiing.

Skiing

When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I feel like I'm flying down fresh powder, barely touching the snow. I think I finally hit that point today between skiing and REALLY skiing. Cautious wide turns give way to aggressive carving; skiing offensively is actually more safe than skiing defensively. It is a technique that can be applied to life itself.

Aging

My optometrist is cute. And amusing and nice. I've had a mini crush on him since I started going there 15 years ago. Each time I go back he looks a lot older, same personality, and a little grumpier, but in a cute way. The kid photos on the walls have been replaced with grandkid pics. It's funny how old people don't suddenly decide to turn grumpy one day because it's in vogue for their age.. it's just that after living so long you start to get impatient with all the routine inconveniences in life. I sure would be if I had worked in the same office doing the same job for 20 years! Tuck Everlasting = right. Everlasting life would not necessarily be a blessing.

My Optometrist (or how he looked about a decade ago):

< pic removed so i don't get any weird looks next time i go to get my eyes checked ;) >

On Turning 26

Seeing as this blog is named 'There's life after 25,' it would seem fitting to report that yesterday I turned 26, so yes life does continue after a quarter century! And while last year I moped when the clock hit 12:00, this year, I pranced around. Perhaps it's because 26 is not some big milestone like 25, perhaps it was because I am in a better place this year, doing something I love. I was painting my final concept plan when the clock struck 12:00.

For his bday gift to me, bf created this awesome steak dinner that was meant to replicate one of the best dinners I ever ate, at a restaurant that now doesn't exist. He went so far as to track down the chef and get him to recreate this special tar tar sauce, free of charge. The steaks were so big they completely covered our large dinner plates. I look forward to gnawing away at the rest of em for lunch in a sec.

Two other promises of homemade dinner will be fulfilled in the next few weeks, and most excitingly I planned a ski trip to Whistler. This is significant because I haven't really officially celebrated my birthday since highschool. I just don't enjoy the attention all that much; in fact, I felt a tinge of selfishness as I made the Facebook event, and couldn't bear to put my name in the title (but it's in the subtitle! haha). After a few days though, birthday advertising has become fun and dare I even say addictive.

Furthermore, I am coming to see that birthdays aren't really meant to celebrate the day you were born. They are just another occasion meant to enforce the bonds between people whom you think are kickass. So instead of choosing a restaurant or club celebration like most people do, and which I sorta hate, I decided I should do what I REALLY want to do, and what people around me really want to do, and I should invite all the people who make me feel happy, regardless of how long I've known them.

And so, I'm really looking forward to this Sunday, when 4-5 carloads of favorite people and I head to the ski resort that is rated #1 in the world.