I am the problem
I know I should not have done that, but I did it anyways. I yelled at my parents on the phone for some mistakes I made. I hate chore, paper work and anything involved with it. The problem is that my parents need me to send them the "power of attorney" so they can sell their house, which they put under my name. In order to get this power of attorney, I need to go to the Chinese consulate to fill up the paperwork, get it notarized (by a Chinese notary agency), send to state of secretary in Sacramento, and wait to get the state seal, which is usually a 4 weeks wait. After that, I need to bring the paperwork back back to Chinese consulate to get their seal. The whole process takes $100 (about) and painful back-and-forth wait, leg work, paperwork that I absolutely hate. But I finally got it done, sent it all they way to China on global express, only to know that I did not fill the form correctly. Now I have to redo the whole process. And because of this, I got so frustrated with my parents, yelled at them for, one, putting the house under my name at the first place; two, did not figure out exactly what I needed before asking me to enter this lengthy, tiring process.
But they are old, I am the only son. And the process is not really that difficult should I do it right at the first place. Am I complaining too much? Should I complain at all?
I knew exactly how I should react when they told me the paper work is not right. I knew I should just be a good drifting son, telling them it's ok, I will just go redo the process, instead of having them worry, and feel sorry.
It reminded me the cases when I yelled at my ex(wife), I knew I should not sweat the small things, but I could not control, I let it out, the result? She felt mistreated, and we drifted apart.
Maybe I am the problem?
10 years a decade, a paper dream that may come true someday
Today is the commencement day at Stanford university. Today of 10 years ago, months before 911, I walked the commencement and graduated in the stanford gown covering my wacky shorts and beads, wearing color-framed sunglasses indoors at Soho. These 10 years are compact, don't feel like a decade, the way people look, the way Stanford look, the way things are, have probably changed much less than any other decade before.
The night before today, I went out to DNA lounge, it was probably the first time I came back to it at a Saturday night in 5 years. I met a girl, Erica G. For all the nights I was out and about and all the girls I met at a dark noisy club, Erica is the prettiest one, she has dark brown hair, cute freckles on her nose, big sweet looking eyes, petite body, nice little black dress and beads around her neck. What did Kooks sing? The paper dream! If there is a such thing! She came to my side, tapped on my shoulder ("I am glad I did, she later told me, referring to approaching me), asked if I could dance with her best friend on her bachelorette outing party. I turned around appearing embarrassed, "but I am not a good dancer", I said to her. "Come, come dance with us, come dance with her, it's her bachelorette party". I thought she was drunk. It happened to me before at elbo, when a perfect 10 offered to buy me a drink, the perfect 10 was a little drunk. I turned her down. But Erica was not drunk at all. I didn't know what the deal is, I went up to her bachelorette, who I thought talked in a funny accent only turning out to be the result of small town californian plus a few drinks at a noisy bar, she asked me to stick my leg to her crouch, yes she did...I didn't know when, but when Erica's hands are in mine, everything changed. We were swirling. She kept asking questions to me, only then I knew we both went to Stanford almost at the same period only that she was there for undergraduate, we talked and laughed about the social dance club, and modern dance class at Roble gym and my refusal to take any social dance lesson since I believe my natural rhythm is more than enough to "make the move". She started to take my hands, take the lead, show me the moves, "she was moving in her way".
What did they sing again? The paper dream? The paper dream, honey
Erica would be my paper dream. She showed up from nowhere, she would be the one for a better man version of me moving onto better thing.
I asked her number, she gave it to me. Standing next to her, I gently kissed her neck, her freckled forehead, I put my fingers on her slightly sweaty back, we moved with the beats, sometime fast, sometime slow, yes we moved, sometime sillily, sometime a little dirty, I walked my finger tips on hers, looked a bit into her eyes, smiled. Standing next to her I texted her: "this is the best dancer guy u ever danced with:...". She smiled. then I left her to "let you get back to your friends". On my way home driving, my hands smelled like hers, it puts smile on my face, 3 hours ago, I was a bit sleepy before going out, I was ready to tuck in and sleep soundly, but instead I went, maybe I was sleepwalking? Maybe it's just a paper dream?.
"I had fun dancing with you" she texted me back at 3am.
Paper dream, honey.
Saturday's soul
I had doubts about getting older and not being able to have fun on a Saturday night like I used to. My doubts vaporized like water drops falling on a sizzling pan when I threw myself into the melting pot of saturday night soul dance party at Elbo.
I am writing this blog post with smiles on my face. I don't remember anything happy lately that could put a sincere smile on my face. I have not been truly happy for a long time.
When the beats hit, lights became dim, floor began to shake, with beautiful eyes sparkling, colorful hair flying: this was my element! I had $3 tacate on my hand, I danced in my vneck tshirt that so white its glowing. I knew I was happy, I knew the true smile and happiness are shown. And girls can smell it. Before I knew, a beautiful blonde girl turned to face me and started dancing with me, I touched her fingers, raised her hand, and embrace her hip, and before I knew, we were moving in a wave as if we were all lost in the ocean with no name. She was moving as I was, she was turning as I was, round and round. Her sparkling eyes, her blond hair, her beautiful curvy body leaning closely against mine, we did not speak, no need. We simply glanced at each others, we simply turned as one turned.
"Thank you for dancing with me" I smiled at her in the midst of 60s soul. She smiled with no words.
This is the happiness I loved but have missed for a long time. I saw a beautiful American girl dressed in 60s or maybe even 40s attire, danced away with another much more handsome (than me) Asian boy. I could not hide my smile. The world is perfect. Just perfect.
