HI FRIENDS. I'M GOING TO BE AN AUNT. SAME WITH JEN AND APRIL. AND JOHNJOHN WILL BE AN UNCLE. WOOOHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

You tore the veil
You made the way
When you said that it is done

So goes the climactic bridge of one of hillsong's older masterpieces, "At the Cross." Ever since I graduated from songs like Father Abraham and began listening to music that could/would be playing in a carseat-less vehicle, I've always had a song of the moment sort of thing. It's nice, and to be honest it's been missing from my life since I came to New York.

Having that song of the moment has always given me a kind of comfort that not even Victor can give me (no offense). Friends, family, and fiance could at any moment be grouchy, unreasonable, and irritable to me. But the song will always be there just the same as it was the very first time that I heard it. It's a kind of security blanket that I can hold on to no matter where I am. If my speakers and ipod are not within easy reach or out of listening capability, I can always play it over and over in my head or sing it myself. Even reading and writing has limitations that music can surpass, which I think may be a reason why I might still be fascinated with it though its active presence has long been out of my life.

When I came to the city and found the chemistry with a song lacking and, more often than not forced, I suddenly lost that security blanket, feeling more like driftwood in the middle of the ocean than the securely anchored boat I had previously believed myself to be. For the most part I ignored it and, as I always do, just moved on with life. I didn't have time to ponder about this in the midst of moving, readjusting, and making a host of new friends and acquaintances. Once in awhile when the feeling of being lost would resurface, I would turn on the playlist of my collection of other "songs of the moment," despite my always acknowledging that it never carries the same magic a song of this moment can bring for me.

Now that I've dug up this song and felt the tingling that came when I first heard my other "it" songs, I feel safe again. It's something weird that I don't know if you, dear reader, can exactly understand, and I have never found a way to completely explain it to anybody, no matter how well they knew me. I don't know if you can understand the magic that happens when I listen to the song on repeat 100 times a day, or the tears of joy that seem to spring to my eyes when I begin to hum it to myself.

But just know this: sometimes the most subtle and everyday things may be the anchor that holds your life together, and only when it reenters your life do you realize that it has gone missing.

I don't think I have ever felt so strongly about something that is not mine. The feeling that I have inside of me right now is one that reminds me of when I was heartbroken, when I was suffering, and when I cried myself to sleep. But nothing's happened to me. It's all happening to someone else.

What is this? Schindler's List didn't do it, my scratched up elbows and knees didn't do it, not even those human trafficking videos and articles have ever so successfully done this. This is a friend, this is someone I know. But we don't even talk consistently, and we almost never see each other. We've had but a few long chats, and we don't go to each other immediately when something fantastic or when something horrifying has happened. And, let's face it, we are nowhere near being best friends. But there is this thing that has never happened to me before. This overwhelming need to say something, do something, anything to make it better. And yet there is also this peace in acknowledging that there is nothing and will never be nothing that I can do about it other than to pray vigorously. What is this?

I believe part of this comes from who the person is. Not who the person is to ME. Not how well we know each other, how close we are, how long we've been friends. It is about who this person, as an individual is, standing naked and vulnerable before the Lord of lords. It is about the Holy Spirit that has risen up within this person and how it's spread to anyone who's ever met, touched, and spoken to this person. It is about her gift of the Holy Spirit that is staying within me.

I believe that as she has imparted a bit of God to every person ever encountered, she has also left a little bit of her own heart. Not in a way where her own heart shrinks, but in a way where everyone else's heart grows. But what happens is that as the home front begins to suffer, so do all the other little pieces that are scattered amongst everyone else. The more your heart has grown from your experiences with her, the harder it beats in tune with hers. And believe me, she's unknowingly offered me a huge chunk.

So at this moment, though we haven't spoken a single word about it, I'm hurting, and I'm hurting deeply. There is something inside me that is hurting though nothing in my life is in pain. And it's hurting because the parts of my heart that has been augmented by her offerings are all throbbing in sync with the pain that her heart must be so weary of. So I believe that this thing that I'm feeling is not something that is from myself. It doesn't come from the kind of person that I am and it doesn't come from the things that I have to offer. No, it is definitely rooted in who SHE is and what SHE has so graciously bestowed upon me in my life. This thing is what's been passed from her to me, and even she most likely does not generate it herself. But, oh, what a responsible and generous delivery it has been.

So what is this?

Compassion.

So rumor has it that God created the world with a few breaths and a couple of words.

How wonderful would it be if, with every breath I took and every word I expelled, I created?

I just flipped through and gently placed on my desk "the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane" by Kate DiCamillo. Man, can that woman write. Every time I see her name on a cover while browsing the children's section of the library, I can't help but snatch it before some other 8-year-old decides she wants some warm and fuzzies for dinner. And boy, does this book serve warm and fuzzy on a silver platter. For those of you who haven't heard of it, Amazon/Wikipedia it. If you've heard of it and haven't read it, then shame on you, and go grab it the first chance you get.

As a 21-year-old I still find myself captivated by stories detailing the lives and emotions (or, lack thereof) of animals and creatures deemed inanimate - in this case, a china rabbit doll. Sorry, Edward, a china rabbit. (Nixed the doll, since he hates that phrase... not to mention them.) It's hard for me to let go of the magic that turns what we believe have no feelings into someONE with human-like qualities. Heck, I still apologize to my door every time I let it slam a bit too hard.

Sometimes, I wonder how different the world would be if we somehow retained a little bit of that magic as adults. If we can attribute emotions and thoughts that we personally feel and think for dolls, stuffed animals and puppets, wouldn't it be so much easier to be able to do that for, well... each other? While children are definitely some of the meanest little beasts ever to haunt the earth, they are sometimes the kindest of critters. There's a simplicity to their black-and-white thinking that we attribute to naivete, but might it be reaching a higher intelligence? One that most of us shed as life beats us over the head and dirties us? Sometimes I debate between whether a child just has a keener perception of what truly IS real - the feelings and emotions that seem ever present in everything - or if he or she simply adds a little bit of magic to the world when interacting kindly with those we assume have no souls. After some back and forth though, I've come to the conclusion that either option makes for a more beautiful world, so I like to leave it at that.

Despite it being obvious that I've already lost a little bit of that magic-inducing power, I still find it a goal to not lose sight of it. In my process of trying to sell my soul to the legal world, though, I'm finding it harder and harder. Nowadays, I make sure my door is closed before I let my disney playlist go, and I only sing when I don't see anybody around (though sometimes I'm wrong anyway). I suppose I shall simply have to keep in mind what Kate said: "But tell me this: How can a story end happily if there is no love?" After all, as in both stories, isn't love the thing that makes us all real?

www.maureenandvictor.blogspot.com

As of now, Victor and I have yet to create a wedding website, and with it a wedding blog. For awhile I was thinking of having the blog just ON the wedding website, but now i'm leaning more towards having them be separate. The blog will be more about planning and such, whereas the website itself will probably be for the actual wedding. SO, Victor and I will probably just have a wordpress or something else already half-formed for the blog, so it's coming JenChiu :)

BUT, until then, I suppose I will just be using this for now. Hopefully it will only be just a few more updates until we finish doing that, considering the fact that he's in the city for the next week and a little bit on spring break! Hooray!

So the only real news as far as the event itself, is that Victor and I have bagged a free engagement photographer! They're trying to expand their portfolio because they don't have any engagement photos yet, but everything is good if it's free. Today Victor and I went shopping for outfit "enhancements," but there is still one piece of clothing that I am on the hunt for. I hope 5th Ave. and the giant Macy's will not disappoint tomorrow.

I have also "narrowed" down the reception site potentials to uh... eighteen. and it IS narrowing because the list used to be EVERYTHING on herecomestheguide.com. At least within the bay area. But I've eliminated a good number based on the number of guests we're thinking of having, and of course general prices. I'm still having a tough time eliminating the ones that are on the more moderately expensive side, just because the photos make the places look so beautiful, and I'm desperately hoping catering prices can be negotiated on the basis of "ethnic preferences." Haha. I will probably have a post all about what I would like to have for food at some later date, but today is not the day.

Also, I've been working with the wonderful Leslie Wang on stationary designs, and hopefully that will begin to come to concrete fruition by the time I go home in May or in August, and will be printed and sent by the time we need the send the dates! Probably not for a good half a year or so, but STILL. I am so excited. Somebody stop me from going crazy. Or give me another wedding to help out with. Except now I'm sort of hogging my ideas because I want to use things for my own and I find myself hesitant to give my full imagination for other people. I am so selfish. Eh.

Okay, that's all the updates for today, and I'm thinking they'll be few and far between until things start rolling more come this summer. Be excited people! (read: Jen, Leslie, and Roger... and any of the other people who are tempted to discuss this event as "our wedding" instead of "your wedding" when corresponding with me)

So on a beautiful, sunny Saturday, Victor packed my newly purchased DSLR camera, his gift of a tripod and myself into his car and we took a drive towards the beach in an effort to get some nice shots with my new toy. We arrived at the beach, which had an empty parking lot, some gray-ish colored water and a lot of seagulls. Needless to say, it was not the most attractive spot for a photoshoot of any type. So we repack ourselves and head off towards a gem of a place that Victor stumbled across about a week ago. It was this cute little docked area with some trees and grass, a couple benches, and a view of the open sea as well as some beautiful houses across the water.

I play with my camera, take a couple shots, and then take out the tripod and play with the camera’s timer. After me capturing a few photos of us, Victor meekly asks if he could have the honor of touching my new camera. I, of course, say yes and set myself on the bench and wait for his signal to pose. After he frames the photo and clicks the shutter button, he walks over and, instead of nestling into the seat next to me, he bends down on one knee, pulls out a ring box and utters the sacred words “Will you marry me?” as the camera takes a photograph of my gleeful expression (see below).



I must say that I am thoroughly impressed by the perfect mix of planned incidents and spontaneous casualness, and it was definitely a surprise despite my expecting it to be happening at some point between spring break and the end of the school year. AND I am more than pleased with the ring, being not as serious and boring and more fun and playful (see below). The ring is a pink sapphire with small diamond insets on the side in the shape of two delicate butterflies. We had discussed having a sapphire because of the conflict diamonds as well as because sapphire used to be the traditional gem of proposal (Princess Diana had one!), being a symbol of fidelity and commitment. It was also an added plus that both of us are September babies, and the sapphire is the designated birthstone for that month.

Hello everyone, I have just recently arrived back in New York. And for the first time outside of my thoughts, I am going to express something that's really been haunting me: I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. People ask me if I like New York, and yes, the city itself is amazing with so many things that is unique to the Big Apple. However, there are a good number of things that I miss immensely about home and the people that I feel like I've left behind there. Add to this the fact that I'm not sure when I'll be able to go back, and the sum is a feeling reminiscent of the ugly duckling. I can't really tell where I belong.

So many questions swirl around in a tornado messing up the orderliness of my thoughts, upsetting everything that I had organized and mapped out, with the end result of me going from day to day, not sure what will be happening in the next few years. Wasn't this all supposed to end at my graduation ceremony? Did I just make a horrible impulsive mistake and drag my boyfriend into it with me? What if, in a desperate act to escape loneliness and regret I've only jumped into another situation that will render the same emotions?

It's hard for me to struggle with not having the answers. I want something at the end of the road that I can look to, something to continually beckon me to move on and continue the hard steps along the way because what I am striving for is greater and better than the muck I'm trekking through. I'm too short-sighted to see the ultimate end and to reach for that, so I try to post up some signs along the way and dot the desert with a few oasis mirages. And more often than not, the oasis that I've set up for myself has been a kind of escape.

In high school, all I wanted to do was get out of town, to escape the leash I felt my parents always attached to me whenever I took a step out the door. My last year of undergrad, I had no greater desire than to get out of southern california with its too lazy days and too calm disposition. Now it kind of feels like I'm waiting to get out of Teachers College on to greater things for myself. AKA law school. But what will happen when there is no escape for me? What if law school is a drag and the end work is too emotionally draining me, burning me out every single day? What, then? Even worse, what if God calls me to something that's excruciatingly painful, boring, or endless? Will I respond to him with a disposition of escape?

It's odd though, the more that I come to terms that I am NOT actually happy here in New York, the more content I am with the experience I am currently having. Maybe it's not having to deal with the daily disappointment that accompanies the equally boring days, the not-so-pretty snowfall-turned-into-slush-in-an-hour weather, the discombobulating class requirements and the frustrating inefficiency of the greatest city on the planet. But maybe it's just that in being honest with myself, I've quieted my two arguing sides enough to let the position of my conversational counterpart open up enough for God to finally occupy it.

I've just recently begun to notice just how narrow of a perspective my writing, particularly in this livejournal, is. Very rarely do I dare venture into things such as social ills and injustices, politics, things in life that make me furious and things in life that make me giddy. It's not much of a place where I internally argue or complain about something. Instead, the livejournal has been filled with my learning and enlightening moments, the times when I feel like God has really tried to say something specific to me and the manner in which I learned it.

Though I think what HAS been written in this journal is definitely something I can be confident in and proud of, it has not been something that has indicated growth. The perspective of the entries may have changed, from that of a teenager in the midst of puberty to that of a young graduate student, but the nature of them have not. In a sense, it's like I haven't really grown that much. The breadth of the topics that I've ventured forth has been surprisingly shallow; it's mostly been things that I have personally experienced myself, things in which I am confident enough so as to write a long entry about. I've already rifled through my thoughts, sorted them out, and organized them so that it becomes a more complete and coherent lesson. In a sense, I suppose it's been more a place of reporting, rather than exploring, and I'm not quite sure I want it to stay that way.

Because at the same time, I've been wanting to use this as a way to explore some of my thoughts, the place I turn to when I'm wondering about something, perplexed by something. I suppose I hold back from doing that because I don't like to publish (however unofficially) a piece that seems incomplete or unbaked. But how much better would it be if this could be a way for me to ask questions that seem to overwhelming to ask someone face to face? Maybe look into and dissect a matter that doesn't make any sense to me.

I don't know, I guess overall, I just feel like I have personally grown and moved out of the emphasis that this livejournal has been, but the nature of this blog hasn't really changed much. But now that I feel like my writing isn't moving along at the same pace that the rest of my life is going, it really seems like a part of me is being left behind. This probably means I need to learn how to translate the rest of my life into a way that I can write about it again, but hopefully you'll be seeing more of me in the blog in a more frequent manner.