What does it mean to love?

I had a late night conversation about the "act of love".
Ok. ok - not THE act of love. (I would have simply titled my entry as “phone sex” in that case)

What does it mean to love someone? And how do you love someone in the right way? Everyone speaks/acts out love differently – there are too many self-help books out there to ignore this theory.
The theory holds strong validity in all kinds of love. It applies to lovers, family members, friends and anyone to whom you say, "I love you".
Even my mother and I have had a long time (about thirty some years) struggle about loving each other properly and expressing it in a right way where we don’t offend each other.

The late night conversation included a story - about a young boy who watered his tired horse too much and ended up killing the horse. Before I write about this, I had to google it and gather some info. (I’d hate to let a false information hang loosely on my blog) Apparently, horses are sensitive to how much water they drink. Usually, they need plenty of water as more than 50% of their large bodies are of water. However, when a horse’s body is “hot”, meaning - immediately after a hard work for the horse, excessive water can be lethal. One needs to wait until the horse’s breathing is back to normal and it’s body temperature drops back before letting it drink water to its content.

The young boy’s action of letting the horse drink too much water is an act of love. It was done out of concern and care for the horse. It was an act of love with great consequences, due to a lack of knowledge and communication about the horse’s needs.

Have I ever over-watered my horse before? Of course – in hindsight, I’m sure I’ve over*done a lot of things.
I’ve certainly been the boy, and the horse, in a relationship.
As I was listening to the story, I began to think….GOSH…is he telling me I’m the boy? Am I feeding him too much water? I started to panic and get defensive. I’m the horse here! May be you are over feeding ME!!!

If my intent of love is genuine, but the result is chaotic, is it not love?
This thought began to bother me a lot.
In philosophical questions, a premise and conclusion cannot include any undefined maxim. Assuming that defining love, and the act of love, is a philosophical question; is such a definition even possible to draw, and with what kind of pre-condition and pre-assumptions?

Should each relationship, then, be defined by its owners? If so, when? When is it EVER a good time? If it’s love for REAL, do we need to define it? Shouldn’t it just *FEEL right?

I'm confused.
Big time.

Lady Gray

Gray: –adjective (British spelling Grey)
1. of a color between white and black; having a neutral hue.

Well, I never understood why people say one has a gray hair. It's not gray - it's closer to silver or white. Koreans say white hair...anyways.
I got one. I'm sure it's not THE first one ever, but I officially have one now. I mean - that I am aware of the presence of a particular grey hair. I know its location, length and shape.

I was walking around the steamy "fellowship room" at my church on Sunday. (They sold those awesome ice bars to raise money for the short mission trips. They were selling like hot (?) cakes because it was such a hot day...very well thought out strategy) I was somewhat hazy - combination of the heat and the Benedryl I took for my foot (my hiking plan for the weekend changed to visiting a beach - and I got stung by something on my foot - and it had been slowly swelling and achy all morning)
One of the girl who is only few months younger than I - who insists on calling me UNNI and talks to me formally - came up to me and started a small talk. Her gaze kept on going up to my head. She was staring at my hair. So I say - "hey, what's wrong? Something in my hair?" She got very sheepish and said it in a whisper - "UNNI, you have a WHITE hair.... would you like me to take you somewhere discreet and pull it out for you?"
WHAAAATTTTTT?!?!?!?!?

Somewhere discreet?
What, it's a sin to have grey hair in a church now?
The girl mentioned that it would make me look "older". She said the word "older" like it was something to be ashamed of, and that I should do my best to keep people from being offended by my age. I'm not old by any means. For Christ's sakes! She’s practically same age as me like... We are only 10 months apart! (Koreans have a different age system so birth year automatically give you a 1 yr old status. Since I was born a year ahead of her, in her mind, I'm a year older than her. whatever~)
Apparently Being thirty and unmarried is pretty bad, but being thirty, unmarried WITH grey hair is offensive. (!?!?@@#@$%#!?!?)


I told her that I will wear my grey hair with pride - and will not pull it out.

on NOT doing fine....

Click to view it larger in a new window

Ode to the Crazy Land Lady

I have a land lady.
who seems to have NOT gotten laid lately.
She marches in my brand new apartment.
And demands to sign yet another agreement.

She shows up unannounced.
And moves my furniture around.
If she asks me to be careful with her brand new floor once more.
I may have to slam her head on my kitchen cabinet door.

I called her to say that the dishwasher ain't drainin'
Her hubby told me he'd get it fixed the next mornin'
Last night she called half past the witching hour.
Said she was afraid I'd wash dishes at this hour (and break her brand new dishwasher)!

I said - GET OFF THE PHONE YOU CRAZY WOMAN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS?
She said - but, but, but...
I said - IF YOU DON'T HANG UP THE PHONE, I'LL GO RUN AROUND THE APARTMENT WITH F**KING BRILLO PADS ON MY FEET AND SCRATCH THE HELL OUT OF YOUR BRAND NEW FLOOR.


Never - ever - mess up a sleeping cycle of a workingwoman. I have enough sleeping problems already!

This is just WRONG!

This photo was taken on New Years eve of 2007.
I don't know what made me pose for a picture wearing a pair of red rubber gloves, bright yellow apron - holding a glass of champagne in a big ass wine glass.
BUT - it looks like I'm having a great time. Right?

Happy 4th

Entertaining 6 plus guests at my new place for the big Fourth...was great~

The picture above is, well, not what you think. I was just trying to offer a refuge from the drizzly rain under the blanket I had over my shoulder. I think it's kinda cute that he kept running away from me. hahahahahahaha Come hither!!!!

The weather turned out to be rainy and we had to go to the plan B of the original fireworks gathering. Boston Fireworks for the 4th of July is nothing short of "spectacular" - it really is something to watch.

We were planning on heading out to Memorial Drive and set up a picnic to wait and watch the fireworks, but because of the weather, I invited them to my new place (still crowded with boxes to be put away). It turned out to be great though. Fireworks were awesome to watch from my little, but cute, roof deck. We also managed to stay dry, with constant access to a bathroom, which would have been hard to avoid had we camped out by the river.

Some over zealous drunks were setting off small firecrackers well past midnight - that got on my nervous, and I was THIS close to calling the cops, but decided to keep with the spirit of the night. I reached for my earplugs (something I've purchased for sleeping next my mother once in a while because the woman snores like a mountain troll), and went off to a sound sleep.

MOVING - 1

Haya~

Well, I did it.
I moved out of my crappy 3rd floor apartment (it was good for a time being, but the landlords began to SUCK as soon as they notified me with their condo conversion letter. I hope the renovation is a long and painful process for them!) - to a brand new beautiful 3rd floor apartment.

As my mom mentioned:
I don't know how a place like this fell on my hand. It truly was the grace of God. Honestly. I was about to be conned for $1200.00 - but I was dramatically saved from such event and got to sign a lease for the fantastic apartment. The work, however, was not fun AT ALL~~

My poor mother, who labored hard for me during the 3 days she was with me, was cleaning and ironing the WHOLE time she was there. I feel terribly guilty about it. We were both over worked and exhausted by the end of Sunday night when the movers dropped off the last box on to my brand new finished floor at my new place. Talk about PAIN.

For the first time in my life - the word 'painkiller" sounded like love songs. Thanks to my mom - I was introduced to Vykadine. She’s always well stocked with the prescription painkillers that Paris Hilton would heel over (she doesn't like to take them a lot, so whenever she gets them for surgeries or whatever...she keeps them "just in case"). What a heavenly things they are...
Although I was really uncomfortable - I don't do well with heavy drugs - it was one of the best things I've ever taken for pain.

My pain and agony was gone the minute I felt the medicine in my system. I slept like a baby. I haven't slept like that...well, since I was a baby I think.