How odd Time is.

Time tends to be odd when you’re sleeping.

As you lay in your bed, in that one sanctuary you call home, you dream.

You dream of all the things that could happen. Might happen. And most likely, the things that you want

Right now, you are unaware of the time. Of how many hours, minutes, seconds have passed since you lay down on that mattress, worn out from the day’s work or the head-splitting argument you had gotten into with your girlfriend or boyfriend.

Sometimes the night flies by. Maybe you dream wonderful dreams. Dreams that make you smile, laugh, blush, cry. Dreams that seem to make the ever gloomy night go faster, that make the unusually long hours of the night end earlier. Even though sometimes in the middle of that dream your subconscious realizes that the dream isn’t real.

But it feels real.

You wake up in the morning, not remembering a single thing from your sleep, but somehow you feel revitalized enough to immerse yourself in today’s work and maybe, just maybe, resolve that conflict with your partner.

Other times, you lie on your bed and stare at that one little crack on the face of the ceiling that you can never seem to find again in the morning, no matter how hard you try. These are the times that you lie wide awake, every so often checking the digital clock at your bedside, the large numbers steadily blinking back at you, only to find that maybe a minute has passed. Or maybe a few minutes, if you found yourself occupied with a loose thread you had found when your hand was roaming the disheveled surface of your comforter. These are the nights that you loathe, these are the nights that everything slows down, that always make the dreaded darkness linger even more so.

But maybe you’d prefer that the night stay young. You’d rather have more time to relish what you’ve done during that specific day. Maybe it was a special day, the day you accomplished that amazing backhand, the day you scored a perfect score on the test of your worst subject, the day you realized this

Perhaps you want to cherish this particular day.

Or possibly, you want to forget it all happened.

Here’s a question:

Would you rather “sleep” through life and get everything over with just to get to the best parts, passing over what might go wrong, or just ignoring those wrongs, but in the end you would end up forgetting those perfect days?

Or would you rather “stay awake” through all the good and bad obstacles your whole life, and each night lie awake and reflect on the bad days but never forgetting the good ones? to happen. is the place you belong.

Yearly Barbeques

Asian parties.

Ahhhh, the sound of tiny innocent asian kids "quietly" teetering through the large house, flinging ice at everyone and anyone. Though, of course, kids these days just find plenty of things to keep themselves occupied.

I would know. ;]

Whilst the kids amuse themselves with Silly String and a huge mudbath in the back, our lovely parents are socializing either in the house or in the garage.

The ones inside however, are the "macho" men. They sit in there, chuggin' "macho" Heinekens, talkin' bout their "macho" golf clubs. Then again, they always end up stumbling outside with their faces as red as I would possibly look like if I had tried tanning in the sun, only to wind up with an excellent sunburn. I suppose their machoness may return to them once they have those faces under control.

The ones outside are the wonderful ladies. The dear ladies who happen to make the food, which we so dearly love at a barbeque. No matter how generic those hot dogs are, or how extremely self-conscious-like those aluminum-wrapped asparagus are!

But of course, considering all the asians, and a few white neighbors (Mind you, we like our diversity.), who can but expect the asian-ness of the spread lay out on the plastic tables?

Sushi!

I suppose it's not as chinese as we'd like, but it's sushi nonetheless and it's free! My aunt happens to own a restaurant named Aodake in Darien and another in Romeoville. (That so happens to make excellent sushi, not that I'm advertising. :])

Sushi is the key to life. I swear.

Endless food (maybe not that endless, people do clean us out), countless relatives (And I absolutely mean countless, most of them, I don't even know if I'm related) , and multiple ways to keep ourselves entertained, whether it be listening to conversations regarding how fat so-and-so has gotten (usually me) and how fast a specific relative's child has grown, surrounds me and all I can think about is:

Why do I even come to these barbeques?

Then I look around at the people around me, at their expressions, and the carefree demeanors they carry themselves around on and I remember.

This is why I come.