experience counts

Late twenties was scary to me. All these huge life-changing things were supposed to happen. I told myself I had to be married at 27, because that was the age my mom was married. I'm getting closer to 27, and this arbitrary deadline had slipped away.

I hear no ticking of my biological clock. My own mother had me at 41, in Vietnam no less, and everything thus far has gone swimmingly. (Close friends may disagree, but to most people, I am mentally and physically healthy.)  I've seen too many women give birth past their mid-thirties to beautiful babies to be truly worried about possible health risks of delaying childbearing. 

I worry less about "the one," marriage, or babies. With that freedom, I am not so worried about protecting my heart. I never wanted to fall for anyone in the past. I was always worried that if a relationship didn't work out, then I would have wasted my time. The years spent in the relationship could have been years looking for "the one." I spent roughly 7 years of my teenage/adult life in relationships (7 years in the aggregate). There were times when I kind of knew things were not going to work out, but the moment of truth hadn't actually happened. I agonized over ending it as soon as I knew or using the old wait-and-see method. Many men preferred the second way. I was all about efficiency and time.

Experience is worth more than time. I don't mean "experience" in the hackneyed way of learning through living, or taking something away from the relationship. I mean experience in the actual day-to-day life of being in love and feeling intimacy with another person. Before I learned how to enjoy the day-to-day experience, I treated dating and relationships as screening mechanisms. I wanted to "know" as soon as possible, so I can rule out one more person and move on. In a way, I was shielding my heart. I didn't want be disappointed. I didn't want to get my hopes up. I didn't want to feel too deeply for anyone. .

I still am that way (sort of, kind of) but giving up on time, efficiency, and deadlines allows me to enjoy the process. I think to myself, "Okay, so maybe so-and-so isn't 'the one' (or the one I end up with), but for years, he made me so happy." That time wasn't wasted. That time was spent cuddling, laughing, and being so close that it was inconceivable we would ever drift apart. It doesn't matter if I have dozen of these "failed" relationships, because I would have spent all those years in love. 

"A story can end sadly in that the storyteller doesn't get what he or she wants, but those aren't "depressing" endings to me as long as the person learns and can express that beautifully. Sometimes it's harder to learn and accept a hard truth than it is to find new love. Sometimes it's more valuable too."- Modern Love page

Invisalign, Tray 7

Almost at the half-way point!
Tray 7:

Bottom teeth don't overlap as much, you can really tell on the right side of this pic. Top teeth don't turn toward each other like a book anymore. My filling on the front tooth is still chipped, but we can't fix it until everything is done. At my last appointment, we did another interproximal reduction aka trimmed my teeth a little on the bottom row. Didn't hurt. I hate the feeling of permanence, like if someone trims my teeth, that bit of tooth is going to be gone forever. Then again, I want a straight smile forever, so it doesn't really matter that my teeth are being trimmed. I'm getting a little lazy and keeping my trays out for more than 3 hours a day on some days. I have to stay more disciplined.
Tray 1:

Foie gras ban

I've never thought much about foie gras. I've had pate. I think I get the gist of foie gras. Then came the ban. Once a temporal limit was imposed, I became a foie gras fiend.

First stop, foie gras and jelly donut at Umamicatessen.

This was my first exposure to foie gras, and it was lovely. Creamy mousse in the middle of a toasty donut. The jelly didn't add or detract for the donut. I would have been okay with it.

Tonight, I had foie gras as an appetizer at The Little Next Door. My friends and I were disappointed as we expected a chunk of the organ. We got a chunk of what looked like pate. It was much more buttery than pate and not bad, but I still long for a slice of the actual seared organ.

Tomorrow, I have reservations at Animal for their Loco Moco. This is the most foie gras I've ever had in my life. Going out with a bang. 

Cousin's wedding.

So romantic

Wish tree

Little Tokyo. Love downtown.

Fringe

Almost wore this out but I chickened out.  It looked like I was wearing a skirt of shredded paper.