To: My Pilates Trainer

"Keep going, going on ... I can't go on. I will go on."

- Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable

Lisa,

You would be so glad to know that I have been practicing Pilates on my own almost every day of this week. The motto posted on the wall at BE center (which I starred at to focus during our sessions) kept me going:

"Within 10 sessions, you'll feel the difference;
another 10 sessions, you will see the difference;
10 sessions more, you'll have a new body."

Now that I've completed about 10 sessions, my changes are apparent to others but unfortunately, imperceptible to me.

Perhaps I have become numb over the years. "What makes me happy" and "what is happiness" are questions that constantly looping in my head. I desperately searched for this so-called happiness so I made myself a list:

Things that Make Me Happy

• morning coffee, fixed in the way I like.
• purchase something pink.
• soft things. towels, blanket, pillows, etc.
• reading a great book while sun-bathing.
• the smell of grass.
• the smell after rain.
• make a good, hearty meal for myself.
• a walk in the park.
• buy a coffee mug.

... ...

See, it takes so little for me to be quite satisfied, and I do enjoy life as I live it. A few years back, I came to realize that it was necessary for me to be alone for a while in search of a kind of self-identity. Independence, you may call it. So that I could determine my happiness without letting those who orbited around me do. Oh but they had done so, in such brutal ways. They had my happiness at their fingertips, lifted and dropped as they wished. It was my own fault, really. I let them. I allowed them. No more of that. My life is in my own hands now and I'm motivated to make it worthwhile. Things have finally come around and I can actually see a future. A future that is colorful and stable, like a beautifully arched rainbow sitting in a distance which I believe I can reach.

But all these happened before my ten sessions of Pilates. I have not changed since then. I learned how to make myself happy and perhaps I was and am happy. Though, there is still this one missing piece in me. Its absence pronounces its presence like a black hole. Slowly, it eats bits of me alive: my patience, my confidence, my optimistic and idealistic believes. Every now and then, I would forget its hidden presence. But when it wants to remind me that it is still there, within my body and my mind, it shatters all the shields I have built for myself.

Life is not about living for one self. At least not to me. I admire those who are satisfied to be alone. As a blind believer of many things, I will go on believing that one day in the near future, I would find that happiness which I seek. And I would be so satisfied that I could even die smiling. Meanwhile, there is always Pilates and our weekly session that keep me going, even though these might not be able to make me anew as promised on that wall, and as I have secretly hoped for.

Dream Sequence 4

"We had a good time together, didn't we?"

"Yah. We were happy. You needed my emotional support as much as I needed yours at the time, so it worked. It worked real well for what it was. Although I have to admit that I idealized you. No. We idealized each other. You really didn't know me. And I can't say that I knew you well enough either."

"I KNEW YOU! Of course I did!"

"I was young. I didn't even know myself."

"You remember us, don't you? You will never forget! I know it. I know that you still keep my letters."

"They are gone, Sam. I threw them out. Letters, E-mails, pictures, promises, dreams."

"I know you kept them..."

"I had to move on. You moved on, why shouldn't I?"

"... but you would always remember us..."

"Yes I would. But I'm not tormented anymore. We broke up both in reality and in my dreams. It took me a long time but I finally got it and I am okay."

"No regrets?"

"I wish I had gone to see you as I promised. I'm sorry that I couldn't. Things might have turned out differently for us."

"You are still the same... didn't change a bit. Are you... happy?"

"I am."

"So this is good-bye...?"

"I guess so. We'll meet again. In another life, perhaps."

"..."

"Take care, Sam."

"... You know I cared for you. I still do and will always do. Remember we said these things at the end? Do you remember? Do you remember?? I never stopped caring for you. Okay FINE. Loving you I meant! Do you hear me? Do you hear what I said?"

"Sam, don't come to my dreams anymore."

"I bet you still love me! Don't you? Don't you?!"

To: E.Y.

You are a mother to be!

I am invaded by so much joy that I simply can not restrain myself. Congratulations, my dearest friend! From this moment on, you are not just a woman and a wife, but a sacred, blessed mortal who is destined to bring a new life into the world.

You are a mother to be!

What an honorable thing! A baby. Not a plant and not a pet, but a tiny little human being with its own potential and life and future and more and more. I cannot yet grasp this concept fully, but I glorify it like those faithful Christians do or at least should do.

You are a mother to be!

I imagine holding your new born with the utmost care - such a precious and delicate little body in my arms, crying and kicking, breathing and living. The thought of this makes me wanting to cry. So I weep, shamelessly, out of true happiness for you and the little seed in your belly.

You are a mother to be!!!

High and Above

Location: Gallery
Floor/Aisle: 6/3
Section: Center Left
Row: J Seat: 119


"Last row here! Yuuup, right there. Noooo need to go any further!"

The usher spoke in a rather sarcastic tone and handed me a program booklet: "Enjoy the concert!"

Gallery in Chicago's Symphony Center, a.k.a the "nose-bleeding" section, exists six flights off from the Main Floor. My luck that day mercilessly destined my seat to be located in the very last row of the Gallery. I was quite aware of the randomness of the seat assignments from last-minute rush tickets. But, Com'ooon... SIX flights up, And the last row? How could it be This bad!

It was a CSO concert that I had looked forward to: Charles Dutoit was to conduct the "Pathetique" Symphony - one of my favorite symphonies by Tchaikovsky.

The air up there was thin and suffocating. Smells of human odors seemed to be fanning at me from different directions like waves. Instantly I felt nauseous.

The seat, let's just say there wasn't much of a view of the stage to be polite, but in fact there was no view at all. Sitting comfortably in a normal human being and chair interaction, I could only see the heads of the percussionists and the empty area behind them, and of course rows and rows of Gallery-mates. I tried to lean forward, but became uneasy to be extremely close with the man sitting in front of me. A sweaty man, I may add, who began to fan himself with the program in hand.

Lights dimmed. An immediate silence took place, so forceful it muted all sounds and movements.

All I could see was darkness.

Quietly, I folded up my seat, and leaned carefully on the edge.

The lit-up stage appeared far below, glowing like a gold mine.

Everything seemed surreal. Those small black dots on stage were constantly moving, but I could hardly associate their movements with the music I was hearing. It was a TV screen. It was the end of a black tunnel. It was the fantasy world through the key hole of Alice in Wonderland.

My legs were getting sore from half-standing. Lisa's voice whispered in my head: "Hug the mid-line..." I pressed them together.

By the end of the first movement, the lower half of my body had already gone sleep. I gave up, I gave up. Sitting down, I closed my eyes and fell back into darkness. But the music, oh the beloved music of Tchaikovsky, lifted me up higher and even higher.

Dream Sequence 3

Says who that men are from Mars and women are from Venus? You and I are not only from the same planet, but are also the same specie.

Yes, you and me. Just us. No one else. Despite the fact that we have not met. Despite that you know neither my name, nor my mere existence.

"We are the same specie!" I said to you when you came into my dream last night, and soon studied your baffled reaction. Your face, resembled that of your picture precisely: fair, kind and somewhat melancholy. And your eyes that conveyed so much emotion silenced me instantly.

We Are the same specie. Please take my words for it. I have fallen in love with your writings. Your thoughts are what I accumulate in my head, and your words reverberate in me, pounding in my heart and throbbing in my vein.

At least we met. Even though it was only a dream. I have said what I needed to say, and that is more than enough.