“Mo”

I do hope to ortganize both this page and the part of my life it reflects, but for now I will have to settle for at least writing it down for partial reflection now and sorting later.

Jet lag has proven to be a boon for reflection (if not for work). As I lay awake in the predawn blue this morning, I had two groups of thoughts. One set I’ll write under work-related thoguhts. The other certainly belongs here. Life with Rica would certainly not have been easy. I would have had to be very forgiving and patient—as I should have been. But, I would have had love, a strong and passionate love I would pour into her until I ached and ached to pour into her more.Yes, my love towards her was indeed mostly towards her, not so much shared with her. It’s how our love was. It was not unhealthy even though it sounds a bit odd. But remember, too, that most of our relationship was lived apart. And so, my relationship with Rica (as perhaps the long-distance one I had with Birgit was, too) represents for me a sort of asymoptote: that was the strongest, most treasured love I have ever felt.

And I fucked it up. I did leave her right before it was to be solidified. I didn’t stick that extra bit into it, forgive her that little bit more. And now it is gone. I have aged, my options have withered. I simply cannot expect to find—to ever have—love like that again.

And so, at the same time I am fully realizing that it is indeed love and sharing of myself that I need most in a relationship, I must also keep in my heart and mind that I will never have it as much as I could have—probably never have it as much as I want.

Rica contacing me while I was in Japan—oh! what a trip!—convulsed me. Any feature that loomed that large in my heart’s domain couldn’t make any movements without sending tremmors throughout my heart.

Years and years ago, Rica went to Brazil (a trip that she said on the phone in Japan was a very unpleasant one). Before she left, we were soaking in the bathtub together and I suggested we make a promise: that no matter what would happen, we would get together when she came back. While she was there—not surprsingly—I got lonely adn tempted. I wrote to her asking her to write to me, just to comfort me. I had gone to a strip club with Tommy Davis To have models to draw figures. Honest! His suggestion when I lamented I had trouble drawing bodies from lack of examples., and was sorely tempted. I’d even taken one (well, two: they only come in pairs) home—and did nothign with her.That was Laura Ramirez. A gorgeous woman with a bob haircut and laughing eyes. Yeah, and a beautiful face and perfect body. Danced to Tori Amos until they complained it was hard to dance to (I thought it funny to dance with strippers to such a feminist’s beat), so I put in Bjork. Had to pay them with a check, since I didn’t realize they were stil onthe clock. I honestly thought we could jsut hang out a little bit together. When I told them I was a student, Xiao Ye, Laura whooped, &ldqwuo;Me too!”; she went to a beauty school. Rica didn’t

No, I can’t say that Rica was the last person I have loved so far. I did love Min. But I no longer can say I really do. Not true “love.” Not really. I told her (nearly) as much, when I told her I love her now more like a sister.To which her mom said, “Good!” when Min told her.

I remember the moment I truly no longer wanted to be with Min clearly, even if I (foolishly) didn’t fully realize what it was at the time. In Texas, Min and I had broken up (I had broken up with Min), and I was avoiding her phone calls and seeing her, letting the event sink inHaving broken up wioth her once before, I had tried this avoidance tactic once before as well, but hadn’t let it run long enough before I became soft and relented.