A Reflection

It's almost been one year since I've returned to Peoria. Not only to Peoria, but to the U.S.

I lived in Seoul for 2 years of my life.

I consider myself pretty lucky. I moved back, underweight and unemployed, but just barely squeaked by in getting a pretty nice job right before my 29th birthday.

What have I learned in this nearly one year of being back in Peoria?

Patience. (Cue the G 'n R)

I've learned that I can get what I want (sometimes), but sometimes I just have to wait for it.

I have a deep love/hate relationship with Peoria and as much as I detested the idea of living here any longer than 6 months, I have made some refreshing lemonade.

I love the people I know here. I love having my family close (it's a blessing and a curse, but I'm going for the positive right now) as well as the strong, loving Indian community of Peoria everywhere I go. It's SO nice and cozy after a somewhat desolate and isolated feeling I got towards the end of my Korea tour.

I did love living there. It was a great experience. Glad I did it.

But I am so glad to be back home.

I'm excited for my next adventure (Chicago! with any luck), but who knows what will happen? I might decide that becoming a trapeze artist in the circus is my next calling in life. I always did like sequins.

So, stay tuned...

Life and Love

I once had a crush on a guy until he told me his favorite bands were Nickleback, Creed and Coldplay.

Am I a snob?

But no, I can't take someone seriously that seriously listens to these bands. I would just keep rolling my eyes until they got stuck in the back of my skull.

So there's that.

A Sober Observation

Last weekend I was out with two dear friends. One is an old friend from high school who now has a child. Between his work schedule and child, I never see him.

He had a rare night off work early and sans child, so we hung out.

I had two drinks initially, but stopped after that, as I had things to do the next day. With my irritable gut and all that, I didn't want to tempt fate.

I ended up hanging out with these dears until 4:30 in the morning. I watched their descent into shitty drunkdom all the whilst, remaining stone cold sober.

I sat in Ulrich's until after last call and listened to my friends profess their love for each other (both straight men) and talk very intensely about everything.

If I was drunk with them, I might feel just as intensely about their conversation and time would be irrelevant. I wouldn't be sitting there feeling every minute pass by and waiting for them to get to some kind of point or have an epiphany.

If I didn't love this dear old friend of mine so much, I would have gone home much earlier.

But it was an interesting change of perspective.