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When I'm not here, you may find me wandering the pages below. (If I'm a regular visitor to your site and I've left your link off or mislinked to you, please let me know! And likewise, if you've blogrolled me, please check that my link is updated: thisroamanticlife.blogspot.com. The extra (a) makes all the difference!)

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Body: in sickness and in health

I won't lie; this body and I have had our issues with each other for many years. Body image -- sure. Physical and mental overextension -- comes with being a Type A kind of girl. I still struggle with these things, so they show up from time to time in my writing.

More recently, illness, pure but not simple, has added itself to the mix in a multi-system sort of way. And the challenges in figuring out exactly what's gone wrong are many. As problems have revealed themselves in the last few years, beginning with reactive hypoglycemia in late 2008, I've documented them here, partly to gain a little clarity on managing complex conditions but mostly to give voice to vulnerabilities I feel but don't normally share with anyone face to face. Better out than in, they say, right? (Oh yes, humor is one way I deal.)

The links below cover the different angles I've examined (and from which I've been examined) within that experience.

Travel: neither here nor there

When the person you're married to lives two time zones away, you log a fair number of frequent flier miles. And if you blog about commuter relationships, you log quite a few posts en route too.

Since we're no longer in separate places, I blog less often from airports. But we do travel -- together now! -- which is much more fun to write about. So in addition to thoughts on our years of commuting, the links below cover the places we've been as a pair and, in some cases, the adventures that have happened on the way.

Writing: the long and short of it

Why do I do it? Good question. Maybe it's not so much that I like to write but that I have to write, even when the words refuse to stick to the page. Believe me, I've tried doing other things like majoring in biochemistry (freshman fall, many semesters ago). Within a year, I'd switched to English with a concentration in creative writing and wasn't looking back.

After graduating, I taught English for a few years and then worked as an editor, which I still do freelance. In 2007, I applied and got into an MFA program at a place I like to call Little U. on the Prairie. I finished my degree in 2011 and have been balancing tutoring and writing on my own ever since.

The following links cover the writing I've done about writing: process, content, obstacles, you name it. It's not always pretty. But some part of me loves it, even when it's hard. And this is the result.

Heart: family and friends

I'd have a hard time explaining who I am without being able to talk about the family I grew up in as well as the people I've met beyond its bounds. But even with such context, it's not easy! In the simplest terms, I'm a first-generation Asian-American who has spent most of this life caught between cultures. That, of course, doesn't even begin to describe what I mean to, but there's my first stab at the heart of it all.

That's what this group of posts is reserved for -- heart. The essential parts of my life whose influences I carry with me, for better or worse. The links below cover what I've written as I've learned how these forces work within me, for me, against me, in spite of me. They anchor me even as they change me, and they keep life interesting.

Recommended reading

What do I do when there's too much on my mind and my words won't stick to the page? I escape into someone else's thoughts. Below is a collection of books and articles that have been sources of information, inspiration, and occasional insight for my own work.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Ups and downs

Today has been a simultaneously amusing and annoying day.

Of late, I've been having weird dreams, some of them bordering on nightmares, but not the kind where you wake up screaming in terror. Just disturbing, angsty ones that involve interpersonal conflicts. Apparently, I've been talking in my sleep too, which has been kind of entertaining for D. Until I slugged him this morning while in the throes of one of those dreams, that is.

I didn't hit him extraordinarily hard, he says, but I was mumbling in a half-whisper and then suddenly nailed him in the kidney with my fist. At which point he woke me up immediately (I was still snoozing along in complete oblivion) and asked me what the heck I was dreaming about. Normally, I don't remember my dreams very clearly, but this one was as vivid as a movie trailer. "I hit ______," I said (just in case that person should ever read this, I'll keep the name to myself -- no need to stir up any animosity based on the bizarre subliminal workings of my brain!).

"Oh, well that makes sense," D said, laughing. "You just punched me."

It is funny. But it made me wonder what kind of aggression I've been suppressing and what to do about it so poor D doesn't end up taking more beatings in the wee hours of the morning ...

After we got up, we readied the futon for its new owner. Only she never appeared. No e-mail either to say her plans had changed, no apologies for getting lost. It seems she's just no longer interested. Oh well, on to Prospective Buyers No. 2 and No. 3. Yes, there's a third person who contacted us late last night. Hopefully one of these will work out. But how annoying to be stood up! I suppose I jinxed the sale by blogging about it yesterday. Grumble grumble grumble ... hmm, D had better sleep with body armor under his pajamas tonight. My subconscious really may try to take out its indignation on him again!

Actually, there's one other reason he should beware: we had a heated game of tennis this afternoon in which he beat me, 6-4,
6-4. It was lots of fun, the weather was perfect, the points were (mostly) well-played, and I was way less rusty than I thought I would be (I haven't played competitively for a decade). But to come so close -- and get my rear handed to me in the end by someone who's never played except for the summer when he was 13! Clearly, seven years of serious practice doesn't add up to much against real talent.

I am pleased that my serve is still decent and very dependable. But if we're going to have a rematch, I want a new grip for my racquet. It's actually peeling away in threads after ten years of sitting in a closet. Oh, the blisters ...
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Sunday, June 22, 2008

Ups and downs

Today has been a simultaneously amusing and annoying day.

Of late, I've been having weird dreams, some of them bordering on nightmares, but not the kind where you wake up screaming in terror. Just disturbing, angsty ones that involve interpersonal conflicts. Apparently, I've been talking in my sleep too, which has been kind of entertaining for D. Until I slugged him this morning while in the throes of one of those dreams, that is.

I didn't hit him extraordinarily hard, he says, but I was mumbling in a half-whisper and then suddenly nailed him in the kidney with my fist. At which point he woke me up immediately (I was still snoozing along in complete oblivion) and asked me what the heck I was dreaming about. Normally, I don't remember my dreams very clearly, but this one was as vivid as a movie trailer. "I hit ______," I said (just in case that person should ever read this, I'll keep the name to myself -- no need to stir up any animosity based on the bizarre subliminal workings of my brain!).

"Oh, well that makes sense," D said, laughing. "You just punched me."

It is funny. But it made me wonder what kind of aggression I've been suppressing and what to do about it so poor D doesn't end up taking more beatings in the wee hours of the morning ...

After we got up, we readied the futon for its new owner. Only she never appeared. No e-mail either to say her plans had changed, no apologies for getting lost. It seems she's just no longer interested. Oh well, on to Prospective Buyers No. 2 and No. 3. Yes, there's a third person who contacted us late last night. Hopefully one of these will work out. But how annoying to be stood up! I suppose I jinxed the sale by blogging about it yesterday. Grumble grumble grumble ... hmm, D had better sleep with body armor under his pajamas tonight. My subconscious really may try to take out its indignation on him again!

Actually, there's one other reason he should beware: we had a heated game of tennis this afternoon in which he beat me, 6-4,
6-4. It was lots of fun, the weather was perfect, the points were (mostly) well-played, and I was way less rusty than I thought I would be (I haven't played competitively for a decade). But to come so close -- and get my rear handed to me in the end by someone who's never played except for the summer when he was 13! Clearly, seven years of serious practice doesn't add up to much against real talent.

I am pleased that my serve is still decent and very dependable. But if we're going to have a rematch, I want a new grip for my racquet. It's actually peeling away in threads after ten years of sitting in a closet. Oh, the blisters ...
Posted by This Ro(a)mantic Life at 8:12 PM

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