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You ask me what my favorite memory is.

And I laugh and say that there aren’t many to choose from. It was meant to be a light joke, but I’m somber all of a sudden at the truth of the statement. There aren’t many and I doubt there will be many more.

It’s doubt that’s the enemy, isn’t it?

I tell myself to have faith. To believe. To hope.

But no, Buddha was right when he said:

There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills.

But I do. I doubt. And it kills me.

You hear it in my voice and soon I hear it in yours. If I can’t have faith, how do I expect you to believe in me? If I refuse to believe in you, how can I expect you to stay?

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Is that your way of acknowledging that I’m pulling away? Is that you saying goodbye?

I close my eyes and sigh.

It’s the way you always curve your arm around my waist every time you walk by me. Whether I’m brushing my teeth or getting a glass of water, you pass by and your arm snakes around my waist slightly, then your hand runs across the small of my back before you continue on with wherever you’re going. It’s the way you give me that teasing look on your face when I get scared. You laugh and whisper encouragement but you always say, “Don’t look at me with those scared eyes.” You somehow know just how to bring the fearless out of me.

It’s the way you make me feel flawless.

It’s the way you lace your fingers with mine as we sit and talk with your friends, or when we’re sitting at the dinner table drinking our wine; it’s the way you squeeze my hand so hard I can feel your bones fuse with mine just before I say goodbye.

You ask me what my favorite memory is, and I want to say, “You are.”

But I can’t.

And so, someday, I know I’ll sit in front of the sunset feeling the sand slip right through my fingers and I’ll miss you, too.

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First of all: Love Kid Cudi. Love David Guetta. Love this song.

That song would probably be what best describes my weekend. I definitely did make all the crazy/beautiful decisions this weekend and I know that they will be tucked away under the file of “Best Memories.”

The best of the best part of the weekend? It dawned on me sometime after midnight on Friday night that I was happy. I was really, really happy. My life is awesome.

I can’t put my finger on it.

Maybe it’s because San Francisco just makes me feel amazing. I love this city, the nooks and crannies, the hopping on the train to bar hop, the art galleries/bars, the after-parties, the being able to walk through the streets and breathe real air, the people I know in this place, the people I meet at every turn…I’m just absolutely loving it.

Maybe it’s because I feel like the old me again. I don’t know if LA changed me or if my experiences in LA changed me that much. But I can go dancing at a club here just for the sake of dancing. In my jeans, sweater and boots, my hair in a ponytail, a Blue Moon in my hand…I feel like me in my own skin.

Maybe it’s the friends and loves who visit me. Maybe it’s the old-school hip-hop pounding out of the speakers. Maybe it’s walking through the city streets holding hands. Maybe it’s take-my-breath-away kisses and throw-my-head-back laughter on a bench at the Metreon. Maybe it’s frozen yogurt and Halloween stories. Maybe it’s old friends who still call me by my old name. Maybe it’s being around people who knew and remember my father that remind me of who I was meant to be. Maybe it’s whispers and lame jokes at night. Maybe it’s everything about everything right now.

I’m just happy. Let me be.

*For those who have the Password…Read on in Memories Part Deux*

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My friend Jamie (M) Y. married her best friend last year.

She was talking about cutting her hair, which led me to go through her old pictures so as to compare and give the best advice on length. I stumbled back into her wedding and engagement pictures. I remember when she and Hansen had both told me about this guy last year. He’s a good friend of Hansen’s and has done engagement pictures of some of our common friends.

So I start clicking through Jamie’s pictures.

Man, are they beautiful. Well, Jamie is beautiful and with Jared, they make a beautiful couple.  And their photographer just had a knack for the lighting, the mood, and just everything that makes engagement pictures make you want to believe in fairy tales.

Stephen Anthony Ng — Make me Believe.


Stephen’s Website and Portfolio can be found HERE. He does portraits and weddings, too.

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She reminds me that I can be better than what I’ve become or what I’m falling into. If she sees me this way, I can be who she believes in. Trust me, in my darkest moments, I have come back to this little memo and found a piece of me that I could make better.

Thanks, hun.

I owe you bazillions.

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When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible.
-Jonathan Safran Foer

I wonder if there really are people out there that come into your life and throw everything into complete disarray…and yet you accept the disarray because, well…because it made sense.  Maybe part of it is because you allowed everything to happen the way it did. You turned a blind eye, told yourself you’d deal with the consequences later on, or worse–you believed that it was okay that things were bad because it was just how they were. It was the only way to make that person a possibility in your life.

How does someone like that make sense?

Maybe if only to show us that it doesn’t.

A person’s life can’t all be made up of good things. It’s part of the theory of relativity. Each person is tested by their own fire. Each person has their own demons. Each one has that one person that only exists to remind them of how things can be so good…and how things can be so bad. Each one has their polarizing person. Or two. Or three. Who knows? Maybe as many as it takes to learn your lesson.

Maybe it stays painful for as long as it takes to learn what’s good for you.

You’ll keep seeing this person, keep feeling this person because…well, it just makes sense and still does.

I don’t get it, and I can’t possibly explain how I feel. Except that…the quote above reminded me of you. And maybe who you’re supposed to be in my life.

It makes sense, doesn’t it?

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Sadly, another one of my father’s brothers has been diagnosed with cancer.

It’s happening again.

Sigh.

He was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal carcinoma. It is the same one my father was diagnosed with more than sixteen years ago.  But there is hope for my uncle. His was diagnosed at Stage 1 and the technology has vastly improved in the last 16 years.  My father, being the stubborn butt that he was, ignored all the pain, the headaches, the frequent nosebleeds.  His cancer was not diagnosed until Stage 4. At that point, he was given a year to live.

My father fought his cancer for six years. We traveled all over the world searching for technology, science, medicines, religion, and any semblance of hope. The cancer took its toll on my father. The chemotherapy weakened him such that he weighed little more than 98 pounds at some points, the radiation burned through his vocal chords that for years he could not speak, he was unable to eat solid foods, and he was constantly in pain.

It’s really hard watching someone you love go through something like that.

I wish my uncle the best. I wish his family strength and hope. I also wish the rest of our family the same. Our family has lost so much in such a few years.

Here’s to hoping.

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I adore this song.

I adore the animation.

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