that feeling of having to retrieve yourself in the middle of a conversation

Dear me.

I caught myself walking under the orange sunset, again. Humming the same song, "koi no yokan", again.

Then I went to a birthday dinner.

I thought about rubber bands. I thought about how I need to be stretched, and when I'm stretched enough, things pass through me more easily.

Or I can let things pass through me more easily.

There were friends, friends I grew up with. We talked. We took pictures. We talked about cake baking.

I thought about my cousins in California. I thought about Jenny and Jean and Bill and Sharon. I thought about the times before I came to Canada, the many afternoons I went out to dimsum with my cousins.

I thought of my aunts and uncles. Real aunts and uncles. Not the aunties and uncles you call 'auntie' or 'uncle' because they are friends of your parents. I mean real aunts and uncles. And I have lots of them. Though this point has often been forgotten.

Because when I came here (Canada), they (my cousins) were still there (Hongkong).

I thought about Jean. I thought about the time she came to visit me in the summer of '97 when she was eight years old. We sat at the kitchen table, chatting about stuff. I showed her a box of old photographs and letters she wrote to me in her kiddy writing.

"Let's walk down memory lane," she said.

Back to this dinner tonight. Yes, I was at a dinner. Or part of me was there. Or part of the time I caught all of me there. Part of the time, only some of me.

I had wanted all of me to be there but it's difficult. Part of me always ends up elsewhere. Then in the midst of a conversation, I catch this part of me gone, and I go chasing after it. Then I look as though I'm not listening. Disengaged. But even that is only what I think others think of me.

The intense self-consciousness. Overwhelming. Heavy.

"You expect too much of yourself," a voice said to me, "You expect too much of others."

But it would be wrong to say I didn't enjoy myself when in fact I felt this out-of-this-world kind of happiness that has brought here tonight, typing here.

Have I ever been this honest in this blog? Who's reading? Yes, it's all about me. At least tonight, it's all about me. It's me here with myself trying to figure out how I can spilt myself up, served up on a plate in tiny pieces so each can taste a little bit. I am a mango cake.

Now the thoughts have... settled. The waves settle. I am okay now. Breathe easy. Again.

But dear God I am so incredibly happy I cannot control myself.

Now I think about rubber band. Pyon--

Then I think about Vancouver. I think about moving to Vancouver, finding a job there, teaching high school English, finding an apartment with a view.

I think about my book-signing event.

"I notice that all of your stories have this sad undertone."

Don't say that. Please please don't say that.

Before I went to dinner tonight, I sat in the coffee shop trying to polish up a poem. Two men behind me talked in Cantonese. They talked about the people they knew when they were in school. They mentioned names of people they went to school with. Both of these men look to be in their thirties.

It's almost midnight. I have work tomorrow morning.

Sometimes I wonder just what am I going to do with all these pebbles that whirl inside of me.

Last night on the GO bus ride home I thought about Yukie. I thought about the times we used to be so tired after a day of exploring the city. We rode the express train from Fukuoka back to Kurume. Her head on my shoulder. My head on her head.

We were on top of the world.

So there I was, last night, in the bus, alone, I closed my eyes and thought deeply of Yukie. I said to myself, "I know that by the way I'm thinking about her deeply that there must be a reaction or response of some sort that is transmitted to her so that at this very moment she might have her eyes closed and feels something tapping gently inside her chest."

Then I thought about volleyball. Then I thought about Yukie some more.

Then I can't help but to think that all my problems will be solved if only...

Well. Tomorrow I'm going for a haircut. On Tuesday classes begin. I will buy me a new jacket.

Now I'm standing very far from where I started.

I click "Publish Post". Then I shall see this mess I've made.

What's with this voice, you... this voice, sounds so sad, so sad.

But I'm learning. One of these days my arms and legs will move freely.

At that time, wherever I am, I will be there. All of me.