the most awkward dance i ever had to endure was with a guy that was shorter than me. he was one of my best friends, and my date for the night, but it felt very weird. it sounds silly, but it really does feel awkward for a tall chinese girl. then right after i got to dance with the guy i'd been waiting to dance with the whole night, my childhood best friend. he was much taller and the guy i always thought would be my perfect date.

I await to dance with my father on my wedding day. That dance will be saved for him.

In my first year of junior high, we had a high school dance. There was this girl that I had a huge crush on. She was there. A couple slow songs came on and finally I had the balls to go up and ask her to dance. I got denied. Still not feeling totally shot down, I asked her again for the shortest and probably lamest song in the world, the 'I love you song' from Barney the purple dinosaur. Again, turned away.... sigh. Oh well. I never asked her again to dance at any other dances after that.

i lived on many streets, because i moved quite a lot, especially when i was younger.

there was one particular street i lived on for five years. it was before the days my parents got a divorce and it was before i was 10. that street was filled with huge houses with baseketball nets, nice cars and mowed lawns.

although i never had a basketball net, my next-door neighbour did. i remember days where i would come out with my sister and shoot endless hours of basketball. i'll help her practice as i got all of her rebounds and she'll shoot until she got every shot in. sometimes, my neighbour will come out and my sister would play basketball against each other, or with other boys around that neighbourhood. i would sit there and watch them compete in game after game until the moon comes out.

there were other days where my sister dragged us out to play baseball. we would pitch to her and she would swing it nice and far into our other neighbour's backyard.

but there will be other times i will take my bike that i've self-taught myself to ride on (by using my neighbour's driveway) and i'll ride it up and down the street with my own friends. we'll bike to the parks, to other people's houses, and to the plaza that's right beside us.

those times on that particular street is still my favourite street i've ever lived on until this day.

My grandfather didn't do much. He'd stay at home most of the time. My mother says he would get lost had he gone to the mall by himself, which was only a block away. Most of the time I'd wonder if he would like to go out and play. Several years later my grandfather moved back to his country to live with my aunt. Whenever we talked on the phone, he would always remind me about the day he walked me to my kindergarden class. He always said, "did you let anyone bud you in line in class today?" That was our little inside joke. Although he's no longer here, I will always remember the day he walked me to my kindergarden class.

My jersey number was in memory of him.

She rested against me.

I had my arms around her, embracing her.

She closed her eyes.

I kissed them.

She smiled.

I held her tighter.

She exhaled, softly.

I kissed her cheeks.

Her lips pursed gently.

With every kiss I moved closer towards her lips.

She dreamed.

"What would you do if I stopped now?"

No response.

Our first kiss.

At about 1 AM we rolled into Reno, the "biggest little city in the world". We had just driven from Bishop, California, taking the long way through the crazy windy mountain roads of the Nevada Sierra instead of the easy way through Cali. We were warned that our car needed chains if we were to take the easy way. I saw more stars at the top of the mountains than I never knew existed.

In Reno, we sat in a lit multi-story parking lot of one of the bigger little casinos calling hotels to look for a place to stay. Everything was out of our cheap road trip price range, so we decided to do some touring of the local casino scene.

At around 3:30 AM we decided to crash, sleep that is, in the car. Having come from Las Vegas earlier in the day, criss crossing across the state borders multiple times, and visiting attractions here and there, we were exhausted. I was about to collapse since I was the one who drove.

We pulled through a neighbourhood and my co-traveller decided we should bunk down there. Outside was a different scene. Run down houses, cars with seniority over my age, neighbours up in the middle of the night heading out to god-knows-where.

She thought I was paranoid and I thought she was naïve. although we didn't get into an argument, it got pretty close. So I conceded and we reclined our seats all the way back and set up camp.

After a miserable duration of time in the chilly 10c (50F) cold, she decided to crawl into the back seat, not before knocking my glasses off the middle console and then stepping on them. They were bent, but salvageable.

She tossed and turned. I tossed and turned. After some time of listening to cars backfire and cruising through the neighbourhood. I spoke up, "forget it, I'm just going to keep driving to Tahoe." It was probably 5AM then. Did I actually fall asleep?

The mood was sombre, we weren't talking to each other, although in retrospect, she may have been sleeping and I was trying not to.

By the time we arrived in Tahoe, (going through Carson City first -- hey, the road trip must continue) dawn was breaking. There was snow all around us. Somehow though, it was warmer. We found another covered casino parking lot, and slept. Things became better after that.

All everyone really needs is a good night's rest.

the munchies. joy rides. staring up at the stars. downing the drink from last call. intimate conversations. watching a fire dance. sleepovers. the crunch before a due date. infomercials. hijinks with friends. a late night dip in the pool. double feature at the drive-in. the search for places still open. writing this entry.

As Martha Stewart would say: "It's a good thing."

It was perfect. We were sitting by the campfire as he played his guitar, the sweetest sadness in his eyes. That's when I knew I loved him. I couldn't hold the tears from flowing down my face. It was the first time I had ever felt a love so strong. He asked me why I was crying... not knowing how I felt about him. And I leaned over and at that most perfect moment was when we shared to our first kiss.

We spend the night in each others arms but he knew he had to leave. He held me until I fell asleep. I can still feel the warmth of his lips, his arms as he held me tight. I never wanted him to let me go. He made me feel so peaceful. That if I died at that moment I knew I had lived, that I had loved.

He made me feel so weak the way he looked at me through those eyes... through the way his hands felt on my skin. I still do. I always will.

I love you.

Actually, everything good happens after 2 am... people's most intimate secrets and deepest desires are revealed after 2. At sleepovers there's dinner, baking, movies, and chit-chat before that time, but it's after that the good stuff comes out. I love staying up real late during sleepovers to wait for people to get groggy and disoriented so I can ask them about their secrets - secrets they would never reveal in normal circumstances. But when it's late, and dark, and few people are still in their right minds, secrets are whispered and new things are learned. I've learned the most about my friends after 2 am when they share their stories with me... this is my favorite part of every sleepover.

But with one friend, 2 am is like 2 pm. We start talking and sharing secrets way before 2 am and finish talking much later. We can talk for hours and hours on end, and the time never seems to affect us... with this person I don't have to wait until 2 am.