Destruction leads to a very rough road,
but it also breeds creation.

- Red Hot Chili Peppers, Californication

-+-

As the music plays, he pulls me in, leading me to wrap my arms around the nape of his neck. We don't know the name of the bar we're in - we just know that it's the only bar within walking distance that's open and has dancing on a Sunday night. The crowd is sparse; while people come and go, we become a staple of the dance floor, staying there the majority of the evening.

At this moment in particular, only the two of us are illuminated by the neon strobe lights, completely engulfed by the DJ's odd choices in clubbing music. It's an awkward playlist, combining songs with strange beats and unnatural drops in rhythm, mixed in with old pop songs and only a few handfuls of tunes we've ever heard of, let alone know the lyrics to. As Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers starts playing, he and I exchange a look of confusion. We're obviously familiar with the song, but we're unsure of how we should dance to this. Meanwhile, we're slowly swaying, just for the sake of maintaining momentum, when he decides to run with it. He wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me closer, pressing his cheek against mine. I hesitate before surrendering myself to how pleasant this is, and I reciprocate, shifting my arms into a fuller embrace and resting my head on his shoulder.

The floor completely belongs to us as I bring my lips close to his ear to overcome the volume of the music, "You know, we're slow-dancing to The Red Hot Chili Peppers, of all things."

He brings his mouth close to my ear to reply, "I don't care. Do you?"

I think about this for a few seconds, and realize that I don't. Not at all. I shake my head.

We keep dancing, and I take in the moment. It's one thing to dance with someone and feel like we're the only two people on the dance floor. It's another experience entirely to literally be the only two people on the dance floor, knowing that everyone is watching us as they drink and chat, with us simply not caring. While the current atmosphere is of course far cruder, I can't help but wonder if this is similar to how the bride and groom feel at weddings. Even though we're in a nameless bar with Californication humming over us, with colored lights and smoke machines saturating the air, and with drunk people laughing all around us, there's still something exquisitely romantic about this moment.

I see the DJ looking up from his laptop and taking notice to us, and he changes the music to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman. Now, the tempo of the music matches our swaying perfectly, although it's clear in our body language that we don't mind either way.

Regardless, I'm admittedly delighted by the special treatment from the DJ. I pull myself away, with the intent to just briefly tell my dance partner, "I think he changed the music because of us!"

He looks at me and nods quietly, then slowly runs his fingers along the length of my cheek. To my shock, I see that his eyes are welling over with tears.

He must have read my expression -- I didn't put much thought towards hiding it -- because he fondly explains, "I've liked you for a really long time, Christa. I've always wanted to be with you."

My mind races a mile a minute. A few seconds ago, I felt like I was on a very nice date. Simple as that. Now, I am standing face-to-face with a man that not only admires this romance as I do, but has been moved to the very core by it. It suddenly dawned on me that all of this -- dancing with me, holding me, pressing his cheek against mine, even running his fingers along my cheek -- these are all things he's been dreaming of for a long time. For longer than I know.

What do I say?

It's been three weeks to the day since I left Atlanta, GA, and I flew away from Jacob. After the roller coaster of emotions that I went through as I was in Georgia and immediately after I left, things fell back to normal surprisingly quickly.

Even before Jacob left San Diego two months ago, it took a while to swallow the deal we made about our future together. Care about each other, but don't be tied down to each other. Christa, I care about you a lot, but I want you to be happy. Do what's best for you. If someone else piques your interest, don't wait for me.  Don't deny that we have romantic feelings towards each other, but also have the freedom to move on. When I was in Georgia, we talked about this more through a very sobering and disillusioning conversation.

It was difficult to cope with while I was there, crying in his arms, but it really shouldn't be a surprise that ultimately, Jacob's sincere advice rang true.  Once you move into your new house and start your new job, you'll be too busy to miss me.  It's equally undeniable that our conversation was vitally important for me to have -- not only did my mind become completely involved in work, but it helped a great deal to no longer see the world in pink. More self-discipline whenever I wanted to text him about all the random things. No more crying over missing him. Also, as it turned out, he didn't have that conversation with me because he had already gotten over me -- which I had well perceived. He just remembered our deal. We've liked each other, and while perhaps we're not destined to get married, we eventually want to stay good friends. I was just getting in too deep when we made plans to taper off.

I realized that it wasn't necessary to quit Jacob cold turkey, to throw my love off a cliff. Life happens as it should when my emotions and thoughts are not so clouded by lonesomeness, longing, love, and dreams of the future. We still text, call, and we chat over webcam, but steadily less and less frequently. What was once a text every few hours is now every few days. As we are not committed, not pressured to maintain our affections in the face of extreme distance, the taper does, in fact, occur naturally.  C'est la vie.

Suffice it to say that, even though my feelings for Jacob were far from an all-time high, I had mixed feelings when I got a message from David.  He was going to be in the San Diego area on family business, and wanted to see me while he was in town.  David was the technician that worked in the lab next to mine when I was still in undergrad. For the better part of a year, we exchanged small talk and had friendly conversations in the hallways between protocols.

One day, my lab manager and I were grabbing coffee, and he shared his opinion on my interactions with The Boy Next Door.  He coughed, "So, Christa... I think David likes you."  Indeed, soon afterwards, during the first month of my senior year of college, David started asking me out a few times to lunch and dinner.  However, aside from several meals and the occasional movie together, it didn't go anywhere.

The abrupt end to our brief history of dates was admittedly by my hand. In college, David was at the center of attention of a number of girls. One girl in particular, who worked in his lab, was especially affectionate towards him. She would hold his hand, rest her head on his shoulder, and tickle him at lab dinners -- lab dinners that he invited me to.  "Oh, Christa! Tee-hee, help me tickle him!"

...uh... no thx

Although he sometimes made concerned eye contact with me as she constantly found herself near him, his lack of refusing her advances -- especially right in front of me -- incredibly deterred me.  Before one of our lab dinners, the three of us were carpooling together when she cooed, "Oh, wow!  I just realized, I'm in a car with the two cutest people I know!"  In reply, he smiled, "That's funny, because I think that you and Christa are the two cutest people I know!"  I, however, was absolutely silent in the shotgun seat of David's car, 'wtf is this bullsh--'

I didn't want to play these games, especially not with someone who, at the time, only seemed to be courting me. I couldn't tell if David was just too kind to hurt her feelings, or if this really was how he always acted with her and he was just playing me. That was a gamble that I refused to make; as I described to my housemate, "I thought I was special, but I don't want to be with someone that's treating other girls the same way he's treating me."

I immediately lost interest, and I moved on. I stopped being enthusiastic when David asked me out on dates, and I let school, lab, and friendships take priority over him. We still sometimes ran into each other at lab, but in the end, I graduated and left Merced without even telling him goodbye.

(Answer that I received just this weekend: "Ugh, I didn't know how to make her go away!  She always wanted to be near me, and all I wanted to do was be near you.")

So after all of that, when David told me that he wanted to see me in San Diego, I wasn't sure how to react.  By this point, it had been forever since I held an extended conversation with him.  Even as the days counted down, I was still not sure how to feel about seeing him in San Diego.  A year ago, we went out a bit, I liked him for the length of a month, I shunned him, and then I moved away.  That was essentially our story, and I thought that's where we'd always leave it.  What was I supposed to make of this odd, unexpected sequel?

Think about how confused that made me, and hold that thought.  Now, imagine now how I must have felt when David was sitting next to me on the fold-out chair in my room -- several hours before our dance at the nameless bar -- and he told me, "I propose... that we make today a date."

Although my thought processing started working in overdrive, I held firm eye contact, my expression steady.  As I looked straight into his eyes, he seemed like he was holding his breath, waiting a lifetime for my answer.  I didn't manage to get far in my pro's and con's list -- Jacob and I aren't a committed relationship. I used to have a crush on David and this is my chance to see it through.  Either way, he's only here for two days before he goes back to Merced. -- before I realized, 'Oh god, he looks so nervous for my answer! oh god i don't have time to think of cons OH GOD I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING'

I quickly replied, "I'm not ready to commit to anything.  I don't want to start anything serious, especially since we're so far away from each other."  He reacted to my answer well -- maybe in total agreement, or maybe just happy that I didn't say no outright.  We agreed that this date would have a terminal ending.  I quietly breathed a sigh of relief.  If nothing else, I sure knew that I wasn't ready to jump into a relationship.

I effectively bought myself a few more seconds of thinking, but I instead spent this time staring into his eyes, trying to figure out what color they are.  They're a dark shade, and I had trouble seeing them clearly in this light.  I still don't know what color they are.

The word slipped past my tongue.  "Yes," I blurted.

After all, this date seemed almost sensible.  Practical, even.  Maybe it's, in fact, healthy for me to start testing other waters.  This also gave us opportunities for closure, as I closed the door so suddenly, and I never even said goodbye.  We seemed to wholeheartedly agree that this wasn't a commitment.  After all, he's only here for two days, then he's flying back across the state.  Right?

I suppose... there's no harm in it.

...

What do I say?

My mind reorients itself back to the dance floor.  Unlike the silence of my room when he asked for this date, the lights and sounds thankfully distract from my speechlessness.  I've always wanted to be with you.

Instead of waiting for my reply, David gently presses his forehead against mine, and we keep swaying to the music.  You got a fast car; is it fast enough so we can fly away?  He's clearly satisfied with the music, without further conversation, but I still keep thinking about what I should say.  How I should react.

It wasn't until a day later that I finally responded.

Throughout my workday, my distracted mind found a lot of time to ponder it over.  I knew that I enjoyed these past two days with David, but as much as I tried to conjure the mental picture, the past two days also let me know that I couldn't imagine myself being with him.  I couldn't see a future with him.  I can't see him as the "one."

When his visit was coming to an end, I have to admit, I was a bit relieved.  As I drove him to the airport, I gently touched his forearm with my fingertips, reminding him, "I can't start something right now, especially not something based in distance.  I do like having you in my life.  If nothing else, we'll stay friends."

His reaction was not as enthusiastic as last time.  He implied that something could still begin anew between us, but I was firm and echoed my own words.  Even then, it was still an explanation shrouded in euphemism, and I knew that it wouldn't be enough right now.  Not for closure.  Not for someone moved nearly to tears by one slow-dance. I delicately planted the seeds, but I know that's a door I'll likely need to close myself in the future.  Part of me has to wonder if it's because my heart still clings elsewhere.  Another part of me actually rationalizes that there are enormous pieces of us that are hugely incompatible -- critically so.

Yet even then, there was a small piece of me that was genuinely hesitant, just not quite ready to reseal that door just yet -- the part of me that's still lost in that dance.  The shard of me that's still stuck in that nameless bar.

Luckily, at least for me, I know that these things will taper off.  As far as I'm concerned, this was my closure.  I may be hesitant to close that door for now, but I know that in the end, I want it shut.  However, as I remember all the gratitude and joy that glowed on his face as his fingertips touched my cheek -- even though it had been ages since we last held a conversation, since we had last seen each other, since our last date nearly a year ago -- I'm not entirely sure I can say the same for David.

When the time comes, I may need to be ready to help this die.

C'est la vie.

-+-

Buy me a star on the boulevard,
it's Californication...

You knew that I adored ya',
but you left me in Georgia.

- MIKA, Toy Boy

-+-

In the early morning, my alarm begins to blare with 80's music until I slam my palm on the snooze button, temporarily silencing The Bangles until I force myself out of bed at 6:30 in the morning. I sleepily open the blinds, hoping to bring in light, but the gloom and darkness outside lends little to help my sleepy daze, to assuage my tumultuous battle with wakefulness. I groan with irritation, my eyelids heavy and my body limp.

I am not a morning person, and my body constantly reminds me of this with constant cravings for naps and caffeine. I haven't dealt with this sort of sleep schedule since high school, but even then I currently wonder how I ever managed to stay up until the small hours of the night, just to consistently awaken by the early morning in time to do my hair before getting breakfast with my then-boyfriend. Surely, Past Christa was either incredibly full of energy or immensely masochistic, because these days, I am thoroughly exhausted by the end of my workday (but then again, Past Christa did also get ulcers in her senior year of college). When early evening hits, the prospect of sleep becomes angelic, and I lose motivation to achieve much else besides submitting to the sweet temptations of bedtime. (In fact, this blog post alone is taking several days to write, simply because I fall asleep before I can finish it in one sitting!)

These days, I could only hope to want for so little. I would be thankful if an early start to my day was my only complaint.

I feel that at the core of my petty hardships, it's my own heart that's the problem. As written by Mary Schmich, though I first heard it in "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" by Baz Luhrmann - Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.  When I first heard that track, I was still growing up in San Jose, and my older sister and I would listen to it together. I would follow along with the words, with that line always inspiring my curiosity. Throughout my life, I've resided throughout Northern California -- San Jose, Sacramento, Merced -- never quite understanding what that line meant, never really getting it, even finding it humorous and silly, despite myself being quite the gentle creature. ("I'm a delicate flower," I would always playfully insist.)

Now, I live in San Diego. However, the strange universe of Southern California (despite admittedly feeling very different than my life above the 37th latitude) never got under my skin during my two internships at Scripps; I was always holding the mindset of a visitor, of a tourist, a nomad. I was constantly moving between apartments and houses, and my groups of friends and co-workers were persistently shifting, as I never really had a place in San Diego to call "home." Although I was effectively living in Southern California, it never quite felt like it. While I have been working at UCSD for only two weeks, by the end of October I will have been here for five continuous months -- including last summer, nearly eight months of my recent life have been spent in Southern California. Yet, it was only until now, when I am finally motivated to accept my new identity as a San Diego resident, because I'm living in a house with my own room and my own furniture (although I'm still not quite ready to call it "home"), and I have a desk at work that I can decorate with whatever I want because that'll be "My Desk" until God-knows-when, that Southern California is finally getting under my skin. And I am finally realizing what everyone meant when they call Northern Californians -- or at least, people like me, "soft."

I am a doe-eyed fledgling that only really knows to be hardworking and to smile a lot. Overall, my values are linear. Learn to love, and try to be kind. Replace ignorance with lessons, and keep them to heart. Laugh nervously at awkward situations (in fact, I laugh nervously about most things, if not everything), and try to overcome the bad habit of taking harsh criticism personally. Though I very well could never be described as "spunky," these qualities still got me far in Merced -- I shone in my experience at the Manilay Lab. Even though I was teased often in the Baldwin Lab, it was enough that I had a great rapport with my mentoring graduate student. Maybe it's specific to my life in my new lab at UCSD, but these days, people feel rougher around the edges. In only two short weeks, I've experienced extraordinary waves of tough love and impatience. It becomes a safe bet to gamble that everyone is being sarcastic about everything. Just smile and nod, Christa. Try not to laugh too nervously.

As my boss yells at me to yell that I need to yell at the people I supervise, I can't help but wonder if in the long run, will living in San Diego begin harden Soft Northern Californian Me?  In the first two weeks of my job, it has already proven necessary to toughen up in order to withstand my demanding new boss on top of my own personal challenges.  To undertake the triple task of lab manager, and lab technician to two labs.

I wonder how, in these next few months -- years -- my edges will begin to roughen.

-+-

When getting trained in retro-orbital bleeding of mice:
-- "Ahh, sorry!  I'll get it soon with some more practice."
"Sink or swim, Christa."

Then my eyes open wide, with an expression that I'm sure is exclaiming, Jesus Christ!

b/c so help me i promised an atlanta photoblog

It don't run in our blood.
That kind of lux just ain't for us;
we crave a different kind of buzz.

- Lorde, Royals

-+-

I wiggle away from his playful assault.  He had just finished tormenting me by putting feathers up my nose, making me sneeze uncontrollably.

I pout, “I hate you!”

He grins, rolling away from me, “You love me.”

I can’t decide whether he’s fishing for the depth of my feelings, or if he had a slip of the tongue and is hoping that I don’t notice.  After some hesitation, I decide that if I pursue the latter, there’s less damage to be done if I’m wrong.  If I choose the first in error, it could easily turn this romantic vacation into a very long week.

“I do like you very much,” I mumble as I nuzzle into the familiar nook of his arm.

I realize then that if he did intend the first, I may have let an opportunity slip from my hands.  I force myself to take that loss in stride.  Truth and circumstance are two entirely different beasts.  I have to focus on taming one at a time, lest I recklessly let both roam free.

If the theory of alternate universes is true, where two worlds diverge each time we make a decision, I realize that just then, a new universe just budded off, growing into a blossom that I’ll never know.

…

Later, lying in his arms and blinking away tears, I would find myself thinking, ‘…Okay. I made the right call.’

As far as universes go, it was clear that I chose the lesser of two evils.

I can only imagine what hell Alternate Christa must be going through.

-+-

I am writing this from Atlanta, Georgia.

The state is beautiful so far, and the people have been incredible examples of Southern Hospitality.  The moment after touching down at the Atlanta International Airport, people left and right started asking me where I’m from, asking me if I needed help finding where I was going.

Of course, it was all quickly overshadowed by seeing his handsome mug in the flesh, as he laughed, “Hey, dumbass.”

I immediately hit his arm, my voice shrill and flustered, “WHAT? THAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU SAY TO ME?”

Then he smiles and gives me that look.   I giggle, my knees weak.  As my emotions are quickly displaced by gratitude and excitement, I wrap my arms around him, lost in laughter.  It was so surreal.  I absorb the sensations of his fuzzy beard against my cheek, his arms around my waist, his scent of fresh laundry and Old Spice – things that I’ve missed ever since he left San Diego over a month ago.

-+-

Over the course of the week, we would have our ups and downs – admittedly, most of this rollercoaster was on my side, on a personal and internal level.

Our summer infatuation became as summer infatuations do.  After the seasons begin to shift, we became forced to sober ourselves with distance, with the realization that at some point, we need to let ourselves become bound to move on.  Initially, we spent the summer with the plans to become friends after summer – that’s that.  It was supposed to die the day he flew away.  We’re two rational people that fully know that summer relationships tend to not yield much, especially when it’s between two people that are fated to be across the nation from each other.  But as the summer came to a close and we grew so sentimental and attached to each other, we decided that we couldn’t just instantly become “just friends.”  Instead, we decided that despite the distance, we wouldn’t deny ourselves a romantic connection with each other.  However, we would draw the line at where the distance caused our chemistry to grow forced and artificial.  We would give ourselves space to care for each other, but to also have the freedom to move on with our lives.  At the end of the line, we would become close friends.  This way, that transition would feel more natural and organic. At face value, this seemed like an excellent, well-thought plan.

So I knew this arrangement and this end goal, but I ruined it when I still put myself in a position to become overly vulnerable.  After emotionally guarding myself for a few weeks after we met, I realized that this, what we had… this was worth going all-in for, no matter how or when it’ll end.  This has truly been the best thing I’ve had since my time with Phuc two years ago; he had similar sentiments, telling me, “This has been the best relationship I’ve ever had. How are we so compatible?”  While it was incredible, it was also a terrible note to end the summer on -- instead of preparing me to let go, it primed me to hold on even tighter. Because as much as I agreed to becoming just friends, it was so heartbreakingly obvious that we both wanted more.  I started looking up jobs in Atlanta, and when none of them went through in time for my job acceptance deadline in San Diego, I cried for hours on end, realizing that I wouldn’t end up near him.

So I don’t know why I was shocked that the conversation hurt.  That it hurt to receive the talk where he reassures me, “When you start your new job, you’ll be too busy to miss me,” and, “Don’t worry, we’ll always be close friends.”

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hands, and rested my palms against my forehead.  I tried to regain my composure, and told him, “I can’t believe that you’re giving me advice on getting over you.”

He looked on, apologetically.

Getting the words out of my mouth took more struggle than I would like.  I’m a big girl.  I can do this.  “I know we said we’re going to just let our spark run out naturally, but I’m realizing now it might not happen that smoothly.  There’s a lot of potential for one of us to get hurt.”

He nodded, not making eye contact with me.  He didn’t need a call from Captain Obvious to know that I meant myself.

I continued, “At the rate this is going, I just don’t think the spark is going to just run out for me.”

He explained, with bittersweet optimism, that this would get a lot easier when I’m at my new job and I’m at my new house.  That I’ll forget about him once I stop going through the same motions alone that we used to do together.

This reminded me of my ex-boyfriend breaking up with me just a few days before my first research internship, how I was always bitter at him for his choice timing.  Is that the logic that ran through Phuc’s head when he decided on his timing to break up with me?  But more importantly, these fresh ideas reminded me of days even further in the past – unrequited crushes that each easily lasted for at least two years.  It reminded me of my unwavering affection for Phuc despite the distance, clinging to our relationship despite knowing for years that we were falling apart.  Looking at my history, it was clear that my truest affections tend to grow resilient, with incredible stamina.

Despite his sincere hopefulness that it would be easy for me to move on, it was clear to me that if this was going to die, it’s not a flame that would just run out of fuel on its own.  At least not for me.  I would have to snuff it out myself.  If I were to wait for this to end by natural causes, surely I'm bound to let history repeat itself. After all, just a day before this conversation, I had to work so hard to deny myself from saying, “I love you.”  A concept I have never even began to touch with anyone since two years ago.  I was going to move to Atlanta with no hesitation.  I flew two thousand miles with a weeks’ notice to see him.  I spent months, years, recognizing foolishness in young romance, and here I was, completely head-over-heels -- I became Juliet chasing after Romeo.

However, my muted proclamation of adoration was meant for the version of that boy that I knew during summer.  The one that was even crazier about me than I was about him.  The one that couldn’t take his eyes off me as I fell asleep, amazed by how beautiful he found me.  The one that couldn’t keep his hands off of me, whose arm always found itself wrapped around my waist.  The one that would embrace me with so much warmth and sincerity, constantly elated that he was mine, and that I was his.

The boy that I visited in Georgia is still an incredible person, and always will be.  But as the week went on, it was clear that he’s not that same boy anymore.  Now he’s someone that insists that I’ll find someone else, who politely requests that my feelings don’t grow any deeper, that it’d be foolish, reckless, naïve.  He’s the boy that lets go of my hand as we walk around his college campus, breaking my heart a little every single time I felt his fingers break away.

It wasn’t long before I realized that my love was no longer for him, but for the idea of him.  For the memory of lying next to him and hearing his heartbeat, slow and steady against my ear, as I was overcome with awe and gratitude that this heart – it belonged to me.

My heart still longs for him, and it pangs with pain as I increasingly realize that the boy I love doesn’t exist anymore.  At least, if I'm going to let go, I can't let him exist anymore. I need him to become a myth and a memory.  Because by the end of my week in Georgia, when I rested my head against his chest and listened, I heard the familiar ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.  Yet it was nothing more than a simple heartbeat, nothing more than the sound of blood flowing through his chest.  I don’t know who or what I am to him anymore.  If I were the girl I was a few years ago, maybe even a few months ago, maybe I wouldn’t have cared and would have unapologetically let myself stay attached, no matter the consequence.  Yet, he was the very person that truly taught me to recognize whenever I’m receiving less than what I deserve, who taught me to find strength when it’s necessary to walk away.  I realized that, in some sort of cruel irony, he was now the very person that he himself warned me against.

So I prepared to leave this behind, in that little dorm room in Georgia.  I prepared to start letting these emotions and attachments go.

Of course, if only things were so easy.

I have a long journey ahead of me.