This morning, I realized that making my perfect coffee is a bit like tuning my cello. Even a horribly out of tune instrument can be changed into something pleasant and just right through the process of adjustments. It's about taking something at the outskirts of that just-right feeling and then pulling it towards what you know is the perfect intonation.

After putting in 3 packets of sugar, my coffee was still just that little bit too bitter, but after my fourth packet, a test sip instantly brought a smile to my lips. I know that I like sweet things, but when I tasted that coffee, I didn't think it was sweet. Instead, I thought it was "just right." You know, as it should be and all those happy idioms.

Right now as I'm getting used to my new schedule and certain changes in my life with the start of my second year in grad school, I can't help but think of the adjustments I'd like to make if life were as easy to tune as a stringed instrument. A tweak here and there, some test plucks and you're good to go. Unfortunately, that's mostly not the case. Pretty much everything on my heavily loaded back is a requirement as of now, and there's not much I can do task-wise to adjust it.

HOWEVER, there are other things i can do. When the little pegs on my cello doesn't work, I sometimes have to resort to the big pegs, however brusque and imprecise they tend to be. It takes a little more work, a much more precise ear and some veering from one end to the other, but eventually I can get it in tune. So with life, I'm trying out some of my own big adjustments. Maybe I'll let you know how I'm doing after I take a gander at it.

Sometimes, when I survive for so long without hanging out with people... I mean REALLY hanging out with a group of people, I begin to wonder if maybe I'm really an introvert, and that I simply am denying my identity as such. But mostly, I wonder this type of thing because I'm not dying and withering from the lifestyle of a private introvert.

But then, when I finally find myself going out and having fun with even just a few other people and discover the joys of laughing out loud amidst other people's unhindered outbursts, there's this huge sensation that wells up inside of me, of being full and energized. Suddenly I feel like I have the capability of doing everything in the world and staying awake and alive forever. After those experiences, it's as if I've received a confirmation of my identity as an extrovert. I then proceed to wonder how I could have doubted such a fact about myself, and the thought is followed by the conviction to never wonder such things ever again.

From this simple experience I easily take away two things: 1) It's amazing how subtly easy the present makes me forget all feelings of confidence in who I know myself to be, and 2) I should never believe that a lack of death signifies a breath of life.

For He has come that we may have life, and have it abundantly, he chides. Sometimes in my complacency and desperateness to be satisfied and content with my life, I cease to pay attention to how miserable I actually am. There's something funny about the word miserable. Pitiable, it used to mean in the Latin. Frequently I associate the word miserable with a sense of inadequacy and dissatisfaction. But lately, I've been learning how I really have been miserable, and it isn't because I haven't been content. On the contrary, it seems to be that I've been TOO content.

I've been content with a dense schedule full of school, internship, work, and travel to and from Victor's place. I've been content sticking with safe activities with safe Victor. I've been content keeping the door to my dorm room closed, save for when the hot, sticky days of New York city pry them open. I've been content speeding by people and ignoring others who might try to make friendly eye contact with me on the subway and on the street. I've been content staying in my room almost 70% of my free, waking hours.

But to pull myself out of this miserable-ness, I think I need to crave and want. I need to crave attention and people. I need to want community and lasting friendships. I need to crave simple afternoon plans with lots of complicated individuals. I need to want to go out and explore and see what's out there in this big city.

Now, I'll be honest. I haven't found a church in New York after all this time despite my original efforts, I have very little community, and there's really not too many people I could go to aside from Victor should something dramatic or dreadful happen to me. I've frequently used schoolwork as an excuse, but I rarely put in more than a couple of hours a week to my studies. Other times I'll talk about the difficulties of making friends when I'm commuting to Long Island to see Victor every other weekend, but young adults don't forget people's names nearly as easily as 3-year-olds.

I've somehow convinced myself that I'm happy with this and that "It's fine." Though I acknowledge that there are things I could do about it, I can never seem to find the strength or willpower to actually go and carry out the necessary actions.

Because I have been so weary. It's not a physical tiredness, though there are days when I become so lethargic I'm too lazy to remove myself from my chair and drag all eighty-five pounds of myself onto the bed. It's this mental, emotional, spiritual weariness that results from being hungry for too long. No, not a hunger, because that implies a seeking and grasping of sorts. It's the feeling I get when I look into the sleepy eyes of malnourished children in photographs from communities that have barely enough to go around such that hunger has become the status quo.

But today, after a semi-productive study group, lots of sharing, and enough laughs to go around, I came back into my room feeling full. There was an exuberance in my face and a tiny lilt to the way I greeted the security guards that I oh-so-rarely find in myself now. I need people. I don't deny how tiring running from place to place can sometimes be, and it's impossible to pretend that I don't get annoyed and frustrated from time to time, but there's this excitement that comes with even the aggravations of people. It's life.

To me, it's a part of being. There are times when I want to retreat from people, but I absolutely, positively need the people to be there so I have something from which to retreat. But I love people. I love the drama, the anxiety, the frustration, the inside jokes, the memories that come with everyone. I love to tell Victor complicated how-was-your-day stories that involve a twisted plot and a plethora of characters. And I like meeting people and making new friends. I like to see the number on my Facebook account tick up no matter how often I talk about the ridiculousness of such high numbers. I like using wall-to-wall conversations about silly things as a mask for the excitement I feel about having the chance to open the pages of someone else's story. Text messages make me silently giggle. I'm constantly on the lookout for bumping into somebody that I know on the street.

My weakness, in so many ways, is people.

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.