On the rocks by the water

It was already dark, but the light of the squid boats illuminated the horizon.

She sat beside me as I gazed at the shadows of the forested hills across the gulf.

CQ, why do you love so fiercely?

     I do, don't I? 

I looked up at the sky. The moon and the squid boats lit the clouds from behind and scatter light all across the sky.

     It must be very stupid for me to love so fiercely.

No, it's not. I think it's great, but not everyone can do that. I mean, don't you get tired?

That's true. If nobody went around loving fully, then we would not have the great love stories that sing about our heartaches.

     It gets exhausting at times. I guess that's to be expected when you give so much of yourself. Also makes it much easier for me to get hurt.

I find that most people are afraid to get hurt.

I had to chew on that for a little longer. It's not that I'm a masochist or anything, although some might disagree with that assessment.

     It's not that I'm not afraid of getting hurt. Of course, I am. 

Why don't you do it then? 

    It's living I life I regret that I fear the most.

I see.

    Experience does not dull the pain. But if we lived a life based on avoiding getting hurt, then what would we have lived for? A life worth living that is full of joy does not come without sorrow. And nothing worth having ever comes easily. 







A drop.



     The easiest way not get hurt is to not live at all. 






Another drop.


     It's starting to rain. Let's head back.


You go on ahead.



I looked up again at the clouds. For what it's worth, it feels good to be alive.

You.

I am afraid of you.

Of all the things that I've done, I hadn't counted on you disarming me so easily. Almost so completely. Quite thoroughly so.

Like Mitsuha and Taki, we were on a time slip. Separated by distance and time. Never meeting properly. Reaching out to each other, across a few hundred kilometers and years, through that magical plot device that is the mobile phone. Always at its mercy, fighting against dead batteries or broken screens. I was fearful of losing contact information because it was literally the only way I could find you again.

The years have aged me considerably, although thankfully many have said I don't look it, but they certainly have taken their toll on me. I am afraid of getting hurt, so I put up walls to protect me. To prevent the same mistakes or similar errors.

I was afraid that I had met you at the wrong time.

We may not be separated by a rift in time, but I can't deny the aptness of the analogy. I became extra cautious.  It goes without saying that you have so much of your life ahead of you. I don't want to get in the way of that. I wanted someone to be my equal. So I said, maybe in 50 years or so.

"I'm afraid I won't have time for you in fifty years. I'm a busy guy."

However, I hadn't counted on you to be so witty. You caught me off-guard with your candor. And your own way with words, that you so often say you're not good at.  You fought back when you disagreed with me. Put in my place.

You became someone that I respected. Someone who could keep up with my way with words. I know me. That's not easy.

It was your general honesty and insights that kept me taking stolen glances at my phone at odd hours of the night. While I cannot claim to know or understand wholly who you are as a person, I wanted to know more. Somewhere between fictional crushes and the silence of mountains at night and other fragments of your mind, I caught a glimpse of the flame that is your soul.

Sometimes that flame would almost seem extinguished. Perhaps due to the hours you put into your work. Or some other problem you might have. I wanted to fan the embers back to life and protect that flame that danced within when you were happy. I felt the need to guard it from all the scoundrels of the world that could potentially snuff it out. Men with nice words, who know how the world works and will use it to get to you. Yes, I wanted to protect you from them, and perhaps even from me.

I had to look deep into my own soul and ask myself "Why?" Being raised Catholic, it is in my nature to examine my own conscience and question my own motivations. What would that mean for me, and more importantly, what would that mean for you. Was I just using you because I was, or am, feeling lonely? What could I possibly offer you that would benefit you? Eventually, I settled on this. That if I could give you something that would make you a better man, then I could open myself up to this possibility.

I decided I would ask you out on a date.

And then I saw you. Rather the photos you shared of yourself. Irrationally, we hadn't gone through those usual rituals of these dating apps. Perhaps it was for the best. I wouldn't have dared reached out to you had I known.

I hadn't counted on you being indescribably handsome? Gorgeous? I don't know. If I could write poetry, I would. But I can't. That's not part of my bag of tricks.

I blush at even the thought of allowing myself to like someone like you. It just isn't done. Not everyone should ever be so lucky to even attempt to aspire such a thing. Drawing up words from my mental thesaurus yields "not in your league" and "not even in your wildest dreams." Sad cliches that ring even more sadly because they feel so true.

And as I am wont to do, I let my imagination run wild. That even if in the off-chance that something so wonderful should happen, you would always have men and women admiring you that I might be forever cursed to feel so diminished.

Yet I continue to be foolish. And I asked you if I could meet you.

I never told you how many times I typed that out in the days prior, deleting it as I chastised myself. And for some reason, you said yes.

To cheaply borrow another cliche, because sometimes that's the best one can come up with, I took that leap of faith on that train ride that day, hopeful that the stars would align and let us meet. It was as if I were Mitsuha on a mission to find Taki in Tokyo.  As I walked the streets alone, sat in that subway, and rolled around in that strange hotel bed, I remained hopeful as I looked at the phone, waiting for Taki who couldn't possibly know Mitsuha yet. Too soon perhaps. Possibly foolish as well.

As soon as I plopped into my seat, you finally text. You sounded like you had the life snuffed out of you. To be fair, you also took a risk. I had secretly hoped it was for my sake as well. You went out on a limb and got hurt by someone whom you treasured.

I understood completely why, but I couldn't stop my soul from escaping from me as I let out a sigh as the train pulled away from the station. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but despite having the spirit knocked out of me, once I regained my strength and senses, I find myself still resolute.

After all, you had said you wanted to take things slow. You said you weren't even sure if you'd ever want a boyfriend. That was more than fair. I told myself that patience was a good test of the integrity my own intentions.

We both know what followed was not the story I would have liked to have written. One particularly frustrating night, I had intended to be more forthcoming with you. Instead you pushed me away. Towards other men, no less. It felt like someone had rung the gong on me in a game show. I had given the wrong answer. I felt that by being more forthcoming I had suffocated you, needing room to breathe, space to spread your wings.

And there I was, similarly trapped, having painted myself into a corner.

"Well, why would you be responsible? I'm asking you for a date. Not to be my boyfriend."

This was me hurt, trying to dial it down, hoping to give you what you wanted. Instead you said I had ever so slightly annoyed you, and you didn't want to talk about it. I obliged.

You seemed happier that weekend, and didn't seem to want me around. It ended with you begging off, saying you won't be able to text me for a couple of days. That magical plot device, your phone, had given up.

A couple of days went by, and I waited. I couldn't help myself and fired out a message. I knew it was as useless as shouting to the wind, but I missed you.

It did not end up just two days. For all intents and purposes, it felt like you had disappeared on me. I would wake up in the middle of night and mindlessly hoping you had risen back from the dead. By the time the next weekend had passed, I was ready to give up.

Then you came back. With what seemed like some sense of urgency. You had news for me. My heart stopped. No news that is delayed is ever good news. You reassured me it was nothing. A silly little thing that was nothing for me to worry about.

In my head, different scenarios played out. Maybe it was really nothing. But why then would he not tell me? It had to be something that he was afraid that I'd judge him for. Perhaps, no, it couldn't be. He seemed quite happy to be talking to me again. He seemed to have that spark back in him. Whatever it was, it seemed to make him happy.

And you did sound happy. You chided me for not seeing "Kimi no Na wa" and so I did. I even went a step further and brought back this blog to life. It was almost quite frightening to realize how much you have influenced me. But I was only too happy to do so.

As the days went on, your story would change. At the back of my mind, I had already put the pieces together, but I pushed those thoughts aside. But the more you switched gears, I could no longer ignore the signs. How I wish I didn't look so foolish, but that's who I am.

When I asked you for the truth. Your silence rang throughout the night. And all that ran through my mind was that how right I was right to have been afraid of you. It only confirmed how foolish it was for me to even consider myself being even remotely...no, it wasn't entirely foolish. This is who I am.

I'm a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy and that gets me into trouble. Not great. Not bad, but okay.

I take risks for things worth fighting for.

I just hadn't counted on you not giving me a fair chance.

-------------

This is not where I wanted the story to end. In my mind, I had hoped that this isn't the end. Just some second act complication of cosmic proportions to overcome before we reach the finale. But this is as far as my writing goes.

This seems to be a sensible place to stop. I had intended this to end a couple of paragraphs ago, but somehow I can't stop writing. I suppose what else do I have to lose? I've already lost. And nothing emboldens are person quite so.

I've read, written and been written in my fair share of love stories in my life. Have loved. Been loved. Have been hurt. Have hurt.  

I mean really, why should this be any different?

Because you're you.

Excuses and Care-less-ness.

Not great, but good. 

Not bad, but okay.

Someone remarked to me recently, "CQ, you haven't changed one bit!" (in a negative sense)

"You keep putting yourself out there, but you're still saying the same things over and over again."

And she's right. I do put myself out there. I proudly declare I'm a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy and that gets me into trouble. Or heartbreak. More trouble for me.

In fact, I'm starting to worry for my friends and that my exploits are taking their toll on them too. It's only so many times that a boy can cry wolf.

So what's my excuse?  (Note to self: try to avoid using so as a transitional device, it's so lazy.)

It's just me, I guess?

Time Skip

After nearly a decade, I've returned to blogging to nothing and to nobody. Perhaps for myself, but also for others who may stumble upon this relic of the mid-aughties.

However, if you're reading this then you're probably one of those to whom I've entrusted this journal of mine to. 

A lot has happened since 2007. In the 9 years, I have loved. Been loved. Have been hurt. Have hurt. All par for the course I suppose, so I wonder what is in store for me this time around.

I have uprooted and transplanted myself a year ago, and think I may have taken root here in my new home. Far more than I probably should have, but have nonetheless.

The past few months have been a tumult of some magnitude. Some might say I might have lost my way or others could say I have found myself again. As always, I'm inclined to say that I'm somewhere in between. Firmly undecided, yet resolute in my conviction. 

It is with this in mind, that I feel that I should begin this reset with a film that has shook me awake.

君の名は (Kimi no Na wa) Your Name

Kimi no Na wa is a 2016 animated film from Makoto Shinkai, who previously directed 5 Centimeters Per Second, a similar film released in 2007 about young love separated by distance. 

As with most of Makoto Shinkai's works, I was immediately enamored by the background art which straddles between the realistic and the ethereal (another director whose vision rivals this is Satoshi Kon, albeit his films have a definite grit to them). 

Kimi no Na wa is no different, not only visually, but also thematically. This too examines the theme of love separated by distance, in this case both physical and temporal. 

This time the two protagonists are Misuha, a girl from the small, fictional, rural town of Itomori and Taki, a boy from the very real, urban sprawl that is Tokyo. They find themselves inexplicably switching bodies at random times, interfering with each other's lives. Misuha, in Taki's body, is horrified to discover she has a "thing" down there, whereas Taki was more enthused to discover that he was, well, breasts. There is a light touch to the tone in the first act as they realize that their body switching is was very real and the film cleverly grounds it by referring to real-world objects and locations whenever possible. One such example is the two protagonists reliance on their cellphones to figure out whose lives they suddenly inhabited and the cleverness of their scheme to communicate with each other through apps like LINE and their phone's calendar and diary functions. It's the little details like these that make the film's magical premise almost feel real. 

The second act lulls a bit when the action slows down and the audience is left unsure as to where the film is headed. It was as if the premise had almost worn out its welcome, until the third act pulls back the curtain on their situation. 

If you haven't seen the movie, it's perhaps best to stop reading at this point as the it is inevitable for spoilers to be divulged. 

Central to the film is the motif of the red string of fate, a belief shared by Chinese and Japanese cultures that a red string ties two people together across space and time. Taki and Misuha are presented with an impossible situation that is tied together by this tenuous thread. And audience members would either buy into this completely or reject this outright.

As a romantic at heart, I was hopeless drawn into the narrative. I could not help but fall in love with both Taki and Misuha, even if I do not necessarily believe in finding the one. I have often asserted my belief that there is no one perfect person, but there is a person who could be perfect for you. I've revised this in the past few years that perhaps there is no person that is perfect for you, but rather you can work hard to make the relationship work, and this be that "perfect" match. 

Yet this is not the conceit of the movie. Taki and Misuha are almost quite literally tied to each other. And this is a notion that I suppose resonates with a lot of people. Particularly in this often isolating existence we find ourselves in. Misuha, as is in my current situation, is stuck in the middle of nowhere, a quaint rural town with nothing to do. Taki, without him realizing it, is never alone in the packed metropolis of Tokyo, yet is lonely. It is when they find each other in the most unlikely of circumstances that they find/lose what it is that their heart is searching for.

This is simultaneously exhilarating and distressing. To find someone and yet have that someone be out of one's reach. Does one pursue that? At what cost? In our lives, there are many people that we meet that almost seem like they could be the one. Yet most likely they're not. 

So how does one know? One can't really tell. We don't have magical realism-type plot devices to push our lives forward, but I find that Kimi no Na wa posits one potentially reliable measure. 

Near the end of the second act, after Taki goes on a date with his crush, he takes a leap of faith and seeks out Misuha. However his search is in vain as each possibility leads him to a dead end. Unbeknownst to him, Misuha went on a similar rash journey to Tokyo to find him. She too only met profound disappointment.

This grand gesture, this leap into the unknown is probably familiar to many of us. I know that it is to me. I've taken too many trains and buses, and have driven countless kilometers to nowhere. The two parallel scenes of them waiting for a phone call or a text from the other echoes an all-too-familiar sense of defeat for me. This can be enough suck out all the optimism from the most hopeful person and the sensible would know when to cut his losses and pack up to live another day.

And yet, I believe that the person worth your while would not come easy. Nothing in life worth having is ever that easy anyway. I waited for ten years for my dream to come true. Many of those years were spent having conceded to the reality that dreams do come true. However, the past two years have taught me that dreams are worth having, and they are worth working hard to reach them. Sometimes you just have to be patient.

In the case of Misuha and Taki, the effort they exerted to reach out to one another was mutual. In the mundane, to them at least but certainly not to the audience, day-to-day concessions they made to accommodate each other's wishes to the distance they traveled to find the other person to the incredible leap of faith that they took in the climax, and finally back to the everyday chance they took at the end, therein lay the foundation that earned them their relationship.  

Yes, in many ways, Kimi no Na wa is more fantastical than 5 Centimeters Per Second, but it is no less real. It has broken box office records in Japan, but hopefully people don't just enjoy it, wish it were real and call it a day. The real connection we made with it was not with its body switching plot device, but with the very real characters whose hopes and dreams reflected our own. Like Taki and Misuha, I hope find someone out there that we can feel tied to, even if not by fate, but by our own choosing.