Homeland-bound

We are getting on a plane tomorrow, bound for Budapest. The last time I was there was for my grandma’s funeral lat winter and in a weird way that felt more like a family reunion. My brother was there from Singapore, my parents came, we saw lots of family and friends. This trip will be different — no funeral, thankfully, but also this will be the first time that I will be there as an adult, without my parents presence. I feel weirdly nervous about it, like I am traveling to some strange, exotic land, when I know that’s not true. I know the city, I know the language. But I still felt compelled to buy a map, just in case.

It is also my 20th high school reunion next Saturday. I sort of surprised myself by how much I want to go. I might regret it, but I think maybe it will be OK. I sort of assume that the people I liked back then will still be nice and that the people I didn’t like will remain the same. But who knows? Also, my big high-school crush will be there. Let’s hope that he is less snooty and I am less awkward. Will report back.

In other news:

1. Twitter, you are on crack:

Screen Shot 2014-05-10 at 8.11.17 PM

That happened in about two hours after this piece went live on The Huffington Post. It was pretty awesome, even if it did come with some unwelcome comments. But also some lovely, lovely ones from amazing, kind women. The good definitely outweighed the bad.

2. Writing and getting published is like… OK, I have to use the same word as in #1. Writing and getting published is like crack. The more you do it, the more you want to do it. The bad part? The waiting. Life wanted to teach me about patience a couple of times before and this is probably just another lesson. I am learning… slowly but surely.

3. Sam gave me the best mother’s day card ever. Writing is so hard for him, so I know how much he must have struggled with this.

card1

card2

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2 thoughts on “Homeland-bound

  1. Nina Badzin says:

    #2 is so so so true. The waiting gets a little better after a while. But it’s the worst part. In fact, I find it worse than the rejection. I don’t mind an answer. I mind the not knowing.

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