Silence

When I sit down every morning to reacquaint myself with the click-klack of the worn Go stones, I could sometimes feel you tapping your heels together as we chatted about everything that came to mind as you skimmed the monthly Shonen Jump. Sometimes, you came over with a wooden fan and some tea, laughing that I was an old man and needed the props to play the part. As a gift for our one-year anniversary, you handed me my Go board you carved yourself, equipped with a fan holder and place to put my tea. I laughed and gave you a red scarf, red mittens, and a record. That night, we slept together under our little tree, warmed by tea and lulled to sleep by the pleasant tune of Norwegian Wood. You came over only wearing bright red, telling me that it clashed well with the black and white that dotted my room. The white sheets, the white walls, the white, tiled floor. The black furniture. You told me when you first walked in that life can’t only ever be about two things and that you would be the difference in my life. I told you that was deep and you grinned. You always grinned. It was in May, right after your last exam, that I woke up to a packed board and to you frantically piling my things into a small suitcase. We were going on a trip, you said. Home. Your family in HongKong, so loud and vivid and bold, cut me from my slow days. When I woke up every morning to trudge through the streets of Mong Kok, deafened by the roar of the crowd, I could only feel your small hand clench mine as we walked in silence. Sometimes, we would go to a small noodle shop and it would be only louder as we ate our breakfast, holding each other's hand while we fumbled with chopsticks. As another year passed, we left home, weary but hopeful. You gave me a pair of gloves, so that my hands wouldn't be cold when holding yours. I smiled and gave you a single tea cup, so your hands could always be warmed. That night, we slept together under our tree, warmed by tea and tired from a year of work.

This really helped me a lot today. Thanks to Jeremy Lai. http://rachelheldevans.com/win-culture-war-lose-generation-amendment-one-north-carolina It's interesting seeing the evolution of religion. Especially while reading "The Reason for God," my view on Christianity has developed this past year. Mostly thanks to Cerina

John Doerr on Interviews

For example, I'll ask them to sell me their product. I'll ask them to recruit me to join your team. I'll ask practical questions about how they'll live and breathe the business: "If I were on your team, I might qualify to be your vice president of business development, or sales. How will you manage me and the other team members? How will we agree on priorities? How will we measure whether or not we're getting the right job done? What's your instinct about process versus results? How will you stay ahead of competition? What will you do when someone isn't working out?"
I'm checking your instincts, your navigation system, your values -- the hygiene that's vital to healthy, growing, winning teams.

Take Action

http://www.pickthebrain.com/blog/grow-the-action-habit/

http://www.dangeroustactics.com/taking-action-or-just-talking-about-taking-action/

A moment and What's important

That moment when you find something so amazing.

It's a moment that will fade with time. You might not be able to recall it even a day later. Even 10 minutes later, the vivid emotions you felt will never be reobtained. But that's why it is that moment. Because you will always have the memory of the moment.

http://nolafoodporn.tumblr.com


...

You can't break down your ranking of most important things, but at this moment...

God.
Family.
Drive.

Almost everything important to me is part of family and/or drive...

a lot has changed in half a year.

Frailty

Nothing could have prevented what happened next. She extended her hand, her breath slight, but visible in the dim flickering light overhead. Her lips caught the light as they quivered, the only sign of movement as she reached forward. Her legs trembling as she took a step forward, only to pause in hesitation. I paused in motion, only thinking of her trembling lips as the light flickered. There were a number of men more handsome, but she had chosen. She gave off some hint of frailty, desperately calling, but I gave it no thought. I watched her all the way until her hand held mine, and then we continued walking, an uninterrupted walk home, silent but loving.

It came to me some years later, long after she had left me. I had just arrived at the Pensacola Beach, intent on a solitary vacation absent of the world. I was sitting on the beach, staring at the edge of the ocean while I sipped Starbucks. I sat there for the day, absorbed on the edge, the unknown edge that has caused generations of people to wonder if we were the only thing between the earth and heaven. As the sun set, a bold defying glow against the blue expanse, her frailty suddenly emerged, calling to me. In that moment, I glimpsed deeper into her frailty, and saw truthfully what it was for. Her frailty was a cage for what had connected us, the moments of frailty that emerged she had absorbed into this cage, trapped until I was gone. And when this knowledge struck me, I was filled with sorrow, bitter sorrow. She had been absolutely the one for me, but my ignorance had killed her.

But neither she nor me could have saved her. The cage she built around herself, she had lost the key. And as many of those I have known, she locked herself away from me. Having reached a conclusion, she up and left without a word.

Airplane Friends

The plane took off six minutes after the listed time. I looked around, taking in my companions for this 4hr 32min journey. It was a small aircraft, with only 4 seats per row, a single A and then BCD squished together. I was in 32A, so I did not bother turning his head, but gazed at the back of everyone's head in front me. Would landing six minutes late affect anyone here? Would six minutes make the difference between meeting someone that would change their world? my world?

Doubtful. But there was no harm in considering it. Take for instance the family in row 25. Two kids ran up and down the aisle, tripping over people's feet, hiding in the bathroom. Their dad slowly dozed off to sleep, letting his imagination run as he rocked back and forth to the tune of the plane, leaving their mom to care for their children. This family was coming back from a vacation, slightly tanned features spotted their skin and they all exuded a sunny warmth. They would not care if the plane arrived in Boston an hour late, they were absorbed in their own world, glowing.

I glanced across from me, staring at the man and woman sitting in 32B and 32C. They obviously had no relation. They were both absorbed in their own world, the man in 32B furiously writing as he checked his watch while the woman in 32C was caught in her own world, slowly tapping the Kindle as she flipped from page to page. Arriving late would do them both no good, giving both of them extra time in their own fantasy, unaware of anything around them.

What if they started talking? Like strangers sometimes do. Assume that the man is writing a report. And imagine that he had finished it early. Would the six minutes matter?