Notes of a Desolate Libra

Los Angeles was my first stop for the trip South, which was to visit my friends in SoCal. Of course, my goal here was to see Marri and also Justin, who officially moved here just a week earlier. On my way here, I realized that the notorious smog over LA actually gives it a pretty decent sunset...

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="320" caption="Through the smog, over the power lines."]

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Some of you may remember that I moved to LA a few years back. I hated it and therefore any thought of going back really made me rather sick to the stomach. However, this time Marri lived in a different area (before it was downtown Hollywood... yea), Venice Beach, and I really must say Venice beach area is quite nice, with its boardwalk and shops. I also went to tea house and wine bars around the area and felt right at home. A place in LA I don't hate! Go figure...

We went to yoga (!?) and had some tea, played guitar hero and spent a nice day on the beach. I was very happy to spend some quiet time with one of my favorite gals. A lot of things may be different, but at least we are still good friends and getting through them...

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="400" caption="Feeding the bunnies Strawbaby ice bar."]

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The sad part was that Little Bunny wasn't as active as before. She used to be quite the energetic one, but now she was just plain grumpy and guarded. I think back to the days when she would run around the room (chased by me) and grunt her displeasure at me. Now she would barely leave her cage.

The one thing that Marri and I tried not to mention was Bubbles. Neither of us have really let go of him and it was difficult just being there and not being able to see him. I would linger in front of his pictures and think about the sweet little one.

Dear Bubbles: You're always in our thoughts. We will always love you.

I've always had the travel bug in me. I loved going away and seeing other cultures. But it wasn't until 2008 that I actually learned what "running around" meant. Two of my good friends came down with marriage issues. My job was to run to stay over with them whenever they needed. I had a packed bag of clothes that I run around with and some clothes, towel, toothbrush at their respective residences. Sometimes I was out of my own home for 3-4 nights a week. It was a hectic year... but it was... good training. In 2008 I also went to CA, TW, JP, and PR at different times of the year... so people often didn't know exactly where I was at a particular time (even if I were in NYC they are confused as to which household I am staying at for the night).

But the big change is now. When I've finally packed a suitcase and moved to San Francisco.

To be able to pick up and leave at any moment is a luxury. I've always known that. It's not a given right, to be taken for granted. Right now I am staying with an uncle (no blood relation, mom's good friend of many many years) in his daughter's room. I am typing this (and doing my freelances) with my suitcase as a table and I am sitting on the floor (all the desks are occupied with the daughter's clothes or stuffed animals).

I am surprised myself. I used to think I would not be able to live with any other person in close proximity. Living with Marri during college changed that. And living with Marri again when I was in LA completely eliminated that little bit of single child spoiled-ness. I am forever grateful to the people who are willing to put up with me... and I by no means want to stay at this place for more than 2 months (minus the traveling). There's no way I would feel comfortable with taking over part of my host's room and having her sleep on the couch when she returns home on the weekends.

And so, I am planning to run again. Where to and when, I don't know. I hope I find out soon. I am not sure what all of this is leading to... but somehow, in some way, I will find out.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="400" caption="It's actually 3 bags... you just can't see the one on my back"]

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Anyone who knows me well knows that there's a very special little guy in my life. He might not have been strong or powerful, but he's the sweetest, cutest and most wonderful being in the world. And he was the love of my life. His name was Bubbles (Marri calls him Mr. B), but I liked to call him Bubby.

On the night of 4/9/09, this most amazing being left us.

It's not quite possible for me to describe how I feel, or how Marri feels right now. We spent who knows how long crying on the phone together. Because we knew it's not possible to convey how we feel, but we just knew. He touched so many lives, softened so many hearts, and made so many mentally and physically draining days bearable… just because he was there.

I was there when Marri took first him home that crisp September evening - to her dorm room (illegally) - during our Senior year, right after he was born. He was but a white little fur ball (with only a few specks of black), tender to the touch and rather timid. Holding him was rather like holding a new born. We were so careful not to hurt him, but it was so difficult to resist the urge to poke him and tease him. He was our little baby, our common (open) secret. From then on, we all became just that much more bunny-obsessed.

The first time I spent quality time with him alone was when Marri had to leave him in my care when she went home for TG. The little one was still being moved around in his cage. I cleaned his cage, fed him, gave him his medicine (poor baby was often sick), took him out for exercises and often walked around with him curled up on my chest. The little guy licked my chest occasionally. That's when Alicia started the whole joke about the "perverted little bunny." I also used him as my animal model for my acting class project, since that was due right after TG. I still remember that I was the quietly intelligent, reserved and sophisticated mini-bunny who stayed very still, while another classmate, who was apparently acting an ADHD bunny, was told to hop and hobble all around me. I gave him casual cool glances, kicked a little when he annoyed me too much, and generally ignored him. I got an A for that assignment. The bond went so far that I actually started having dreams of bunnies infiltrating my dorm room and hopping every which way. I couldn’t even say if that was a dream or a nightmare.

When I spent my two months in LA, on my media-high, getting increasingly grossed out by the rotten spirit-less fruit that is LA... he (and the 2 other bunnies) kept me company and that's really when I fell in love with the little guy. I loved the way he would lick my hand with his little pink tongue when he wanted more cilantro in his veggie plate; the way he flicked his foot (the middle finger in bunny tongue) at me when I grabbed him and cuddled him against his wishes; the way he settled into my lap, the way he just… existed… and somehow managed to seep his way into to my soul.

I don't think there's anyone who is capable of spending time with Bubby and not fall in love with him. But I know for those of us who were lucky enough to spend a substantial amount of time with him, to truly see his kind nature (and yes, those little naughty moments), and to hold him gently in our arms and find comfort in his warmth… for those of us who were blessed with him in our lives, for however short or long a time, he will always be there in our hearts, until we all become very very old bunny lovers.

I love you, Bubby.