Bhuja or “mixture”

I’ve decided that coming to Australia in the winter months is probably not the healthiest thing for me when it comes to snacking. Pre-Chris, I was never much of a snacker, as when I did have food between meals, it was always fruit. Post-Chris, I have been exposed to lots of delicious but dangerous snacks, like Arnott’s Tim Tams, chocolate-dipped Scotch Fingers, and Barbeque Shapes, as well as the spicy and addictive bhuja or “mixture” that is ubiquitous in Indian families’ homes. These are chickpea and bean-flour-based snacks that are deep fried and seasoned with spice. It’s as normal as a place setting at the table. Nibble while you chatter away, and chatter and nibble away, we do.

The mixture we recently picked up for his mum in Dandenong was bought in varying degrees of spiciness. I’m sure if Ed were here, he’d probably eat an entire pack of this himself in a sitting and not even realize it. That’s the way Ed was – when you presented him with something tasty, he had little self control and would just keep eating and eating. I’m not quite sure if it was because the snack itself was so good, or if it was just because he loved the act of eating itself.

Functional

It was our second day back in Melbourne today, and it is Chris’s tradition to have his second night’s dinner at his dad’s sister’s and husband’s house. Several of his cousins also came, and we sat around their dining table for most of the evening, bantering (and yelling) away over Australian pizza (tandoori chicken on pizza!), mango apple juice, and Jacob’s Creek red wine.

As I get older, I am starting to realize more of my own inner dysfunctional side, like the fact that when I am around families that seem very put together, functional, and happy, I’m not completely sure I belong in that moment, or even in that picture, at all. Sometimes, as everyone is raising their voice over each other to be heard and laughing hysterically, I find myself sitting there, thinking, is this actually real, and what place does someone like me really have at this table? Am I not fully enjoying this because I really cannot fathom what a happy family is? Maybe I secretly want no part in it because I am somewhat of a masochist and I have conditioned myself to almost enjoy the constant battles and hostility of my own family and expect some elements of it to exist in other families with whom I meet and interact.

If Ed were at that table, he probably would have drifted off into oblivion. And mentally, I may have joined him.

First day back in Melbourne

I saw Ed today. I’m not really kidding. I was in the bedroom here right after dinner at home with Chris’s parents, and when I came up to get dressed for our after dinner walk along the beach, I saw him from the corner of my eye staring at me from the next door neighbor’s front yard. I looked right at him and he saw me, and then when I looked again, he was gone.

Even though he’s no longer in the same form, I know my Ed is there watching over me. I don’t get to see him or talk to him the way I used to, but I can always feels him around, even all the way across the world and in the Southern Hemisphere. I miss him.

Long plane ride

Chris and I are in the air somewhere above the Pacific Ocean, and I realized that we are actually losing Sunday in flight. We left New York on a Saturday evening and will arrive in Sydney and then Melbourne on Monday morning/afternoon. It’s always a bit funny to think about losing days, but gaining days when we come back to New York is always a really good feeling.

Bart has been sitting with us the entire flight. He’s been enjoying pretty decent meals, night-time snack bags with honeycomb chocolate, and delicious red wine made in Australia. Ed never had the chance to fly on a really good airline because the three times he flew were just domestic flights in the U.S., but now, he has to get used to all the traveling that Chris and I are doing since he’ll be joining us. These are the luxuries that he never got a chance to have in his human life that he gets now.

Southern hemisphere Christmas

I’m currently sitting at the British Airways lounge at JFK airport, waiting for our flight to LA en route to Sydney and then Melbourne. I am surrounded by gold and red Christmas decorations (maybe the people who did the decorating were Chinese?), Christmas trees, and a calming fountain, not to mention trays and trays of gourmet finger sandwiches – this is like tea party heaven. United has a lot to learn about how to design and set up an airport lounge that is actually worth paying money for.

We’re going to spend Christmas with Chris’s family again. I guess this is what we will be doing every year for the foreseeable future. His family is like the family you always hear about but aren’t actually a part of – everyone genuinely gets along and looks forward to seeing each other for Christmas and Boxing Day – no drama, no gossip, no back stabbing, no holding onto stupid memories from the past. That feeling is very foreign to me because I cannot relate to it at all. The anticipation of seeing all your family in one place about it and being excited about it – it’s a total enigma. And then in some very odd way, sometimes when I think about it, I am a bit nauseated. Maybe that’s because I am envious that I can never have that feeling with my own family, even though his family is technically supposed to be my family now. But we all know it’s never really the same.

I remember telling Ed how functional Chris’s family and greater family was around Christmas, and he kind of chuckled last year because he responded, “well, that’s not anything like our family!” Ed via Bart will spend Christmas in Melbourne this year. He won’t be alone again. And he’ll be in a functional house.

Life, take two

Last night, I had multiple dreams that seem to have blurred into one big one. In one dream, Ed is sitting with me, but I know he’s not really his human form; he is visiting me in spirit form from heaven, but wants to fool me because he looks exactly like himself. Even after death, he still wants to play games with me. He tells me about what life would be like if he could do things all over again. He’d try to focus more, be a little more confident, take more chances. There goes Ed blaming himself. He spent the last few months of his life blaming himself for all of his life’s “failures” and why he was who he was until the end. I tell him it’s not all his fault, and that there were things out of his control that he could not have prevented. Ed internalized all the criticisms of his life and ended up believing all of them, even when they were far from the truth.

For a while, I was in denial that he could really contemplate suicide again. I remembered that time back in 2000 when he got into some trouble and got worried, so he went to see a psychic, who told him that the trouble would soon end, and he’d live a very long life. He was so sweet – even in his darkest moments, he still thought about me and asked her what my future would be like. Her vague answer was, “She will be just fine.” Stupidly, I had faith that there was some grain of truth to what the psychic said, so Ed would never try to do anything to end his life voluntarily ever again. I’m never trusting any psychic ever again.

It was a sad meeting with my dead brother because it made me wish yet again that I could go visit him from time to time; no one else would have to know. It would just be him and I, together alone as brother and sister, and no one could be there to harm him or criticize him or do anything that could have negative implications on him. I’d accept that I could only see him at certain times in certain places, and it would be our secret. I guess Chris and Crista could know. I don’t think Ed would mind that.

2013

Chris has been indulging me this entire year with visits to some of the best restaurants in New York. Tonight was our last tasting menu of the year in our beloved city at the very classic French Bouley. Stepping into it was immediately redolent of apples, which lined the walls in neat rows in the entrance room. And once in the dining room, it was as though we were invited into a French friend’s old, sumptuous home with many rustic touches, massive French countryside paintings, gorgeous vintage-style, gold-rimmed plates, and freshly lit tall candles and bright purple orchids. What a way to end the year we have lived here in what I now call my second home.

It’s weird to look back on this year and see how much has happened. Chris and I have gone through a lot of things – ups and downs and departures from our companies, my entering a new company and slightly different marketing area, city and state-hopping to multiple U.S. cities, a couple of international stops, and of course, my own pains with my family and Ed and dealing with his death. 2013 was a very surreal year and will probably remain surreal every time I look back on it in the future. I’ll never fully grasp everything that happened or understand; even some of our travels seem like a blur to me, and when I go through our photos, I am reminded that yes, we actually did do x/y/z activity!

Ed lived a really short life, and I’ll never stop believing how unfair it was. I might get repetitive when I say this, but the only way I will preserve my brother’s life is if I ensure that I’m surrounded only by positive energy and people who can help make me better (as opposed to worse and stagnant). Next year, I have some things I want to do for him that I just didn’t have the emotional ability to do this year. I hope he will be happy with the choices I will make on his behalf.

Privileges and ponderings

I went to Astor Place Hair tonight after work to get my haircut by my Sicilian hair stylist whose crazy facial expressions could rival my own, just with a cute Italian touch. She was asking me how my Thanksgiving was and marveled at the fact that I just came back from Germany and its intense Christmas markets. She insisted that I should have come in for my cut before the Germany trip so that I could show all the German men there how hot I was with the new light and bouncy look that she gave me. I was about to tell her that I actually came in tonight to get my hair cut before my next trip to Australia/New Zealand for this Saturday, but I caught myself because I felt guilty. She had just shared with me that she could only afford to go back to Italy every two years to visit her and her husband’s families, and they were getting priced out of their Astoria apartment. And here I was, taking three international trips in the span of one month.

I came from a childhood where I was taught that if you travel at all, you must be extremely wealthy. Once in college and in the working world, I realized that all that teaching was wrong, and as long as you have some money (hence broke college students backpacking through Europe or Asia), you can travel the world one bit at a time and not run into massive debts if you didn’t have deep pockets. But I do acknowledge that I’m extremely privileged to be in a position to do the travel that Chris and I have done together; I never take that thought for granted because I know there are people around me who need to save just to go on a trip to the state next door.

The part that makes me the most sad, and will continue to make me sad, is that my brother will never have the chance to do any of this travel. I don’t think I will ever get over the fact that he never had the chance to leave this country (well, he did in 2008 when my parents and I went to Vietnam, but he refused to go) and see the world outside of the U.S. My sweet, naive brother’s view of the world was so limited because he thought that was what life was supposed to be based on our upbringing, and he wasn’t able to push outside of that narrow view to think about the “what ifs” outside of even the city limits of San Francisco.

Wherever I go now, though, I will think of him lovingly and always ponder what his facial expressions and words might have been if he were traveling by my side. I really miss him.

Gym trial

I started a free trial at Equinox this morning as the first day of my three-day pass. As someone who works out in the morning and is used to the locker rooms and general facilities being much calmer in the mornings at Crunch, I was surprised at how crowded the Equinox at Park Avenue was. I actually had to spend some time to find a free locker, the majority of the treadmills and elliptical machines were occupied when I was in that area, and when it was almost time for me to shower, there was a tiny line forming for the showers!

With my corporate discount if I joined, it would cost $132/month to join this gym, but after just the first day, it seems pretty ridiculous to switch over even when you don’t factor in the costs. Why would I wait for a shower in the morning, and why is the gym so crowded at a time that should not be “peak”? The great water pressure and privacy of the showers and the Kiehl’s products are great, but that’s hardly enough reason to switch gyms.

Ed always wanted me to indulge more and spend money on things I really liked, but I’d say that he would definitely side with Crunch on this. After all, he’s Asian, and if overall Crunch is better with the above noted problems, it would seem that the only reason to switch to Equinox would be superficial. He always was rational, my Ed… well, except when he wasn’t.

Future

I can’t believe it’s already December. Most of this year feels as though it just went by so quickly that when I look back on it, it’s one big blur. Maybe that’s a sign that I did too much this year, or maybe it’s just a sign that I am exhausted by the many events that happened, particularly the more painful ones.

Looking forward has been hard in a lot of ways because I think of what the future will be like without Ed. I’ve thought a lot about potential future events, such as moving to another city, getting another job, getting engaged, married, pregnant, and giving birth, and it feels empty whenever I think of him not being there. He’s been an integral part of my life forever, and now it’s like that “forever” has been taken away from me. The truth is that I know that no one else in this world will ever be happy or proud of me the way he was. But I hope he is still proud… somewhere up there.