those days and these days are really all the same

How can I pass up on these summer nights? And what to make of these sentiments about where I stand in the world and what they think of me? I have lived so long with my imperfections, and what makes me think I can't continue to live this way? Such are my imperfections and they are perfect beyond this world.

This weekend I browsed the entire biography section of the bookstore. Had fried noodles at a cozy Chinese food court with TV sets. Discovered a new Starbucks. Attended Karen's wedding. Reunited with a long lost friend at the wedding. Interviewed a radio DJ. Shared my favourite books with Vivian. Revisited a run-down shopping arcade where I bought my first radio in Canada some eighteen years ago. Walked around Woodie Woodchucks. Had a mint green bubble tea while sitting on the bench outside T&T Supermarket on a late Sunday evening watching people trying to make it from the parking lot to the shop entrance without getting hit by cars. Their shiny clothes glittered with the night lights. I saw some very attractive girls. I saw some very handsome couples too. And I felt so part of it. Yes, there were moments in which I thought I had forgotten myself. And I was just there. Totally there.

Even now, as I'm sitting here trying to string together some coherent sentences, I feel very much at myself. I want to thank so many people, and most of all, I ought to thank myself for treating myself so gently through these recent hard times.

I pray for Karen and her husband Peter. Marriage is a wonderful thing even though I don't want it for myself.

I pray for Vivian and I hope the books will help her like they've helped me.

I pray for Irene because she deserves good fortune.

I pray for my dad who called me earlier today, but I didn't have time to talk with him longer. I'll call him back tomorrow.

I need to sleep.