I had a different entry planned out, but I have to write this instead. To get this feeling down before I lose it.

It’s hard to tell what the feeling is exactly. Happiness? Worry? Maybe a mix of both. I only know that I’m nervous, like I’m out on a limb, waiting for it to snap. Things have never gone this well for long.

Life has finally settled. I have the house to myself. I’m single. I don’t have to worry about what my parents do or think. I’m on a regular schedule, with only Tai Chi lessons on Saturday mornings. Other than that, I fill my time how I please, which currently involves a lot of Pikmin 2 and phone-calls with John or Bronwen.

With this new-found stability, I venture into the outside world to socialize. A while ago I watched Fearless with Aaron. Pat and Jen treated me to dinner and Borat last week. Sunday, I cooked Bronwen and her parents a Chinese lunch. Next Tuesday I’m going to the 2006 Legends Classic tour to catch up with Jeff, my old floormate from first year. Soon it’ll be Trolley’s housewarming party, along with all the other holiday events.

I’m initiating everything. In the past, I would never be the one making plans.

Four years ago I wrote that guilty pleasures aren’t so guilty anymore. I’m back to this feeling again. What a strange cycle. I’m starting to feel like I deserve to be happy.

I can feel myself getting giddy again, but I have to question if it’s all a little fake. If it’s a mask for my nervousness. I probably won’t be able to tell for a while, so I’m just trying to enjoy it.

Another transitionary phase.

Rana pulled me aside the other day and told me, I understand your culture now. I understand your decision.

She elaborated on a woman at work who had sent her daughter to live in China. It was soon after the baby was born, and the grandmother assumed responsibility of parent. The mother never went to visit, only sending money for her upbringing.

That day, the grandmother and granddaughter came to work, having flown into Canada to visit. No one at work had seen the child, two years old now. The whole time, she was nevous and shy, clutching the leg of her grandmother. When the mother tried to hold her, she wouldn’t budge, only crying the raucous, uncontrolled, uninhibited tears of a child.

Rana told me this with surprise and confusion in her face. It was hard for her to believe that anyone could do this to their baby. I wish I could say that I was suprised.

I’ve always confided in Rana about my own relationship with my parents. She’s one of the few who really care, asking me if there’s been any news on a regular basis, especially since I cut all ties. We never argue, but she’s never fully agreed with me. She always tried to give me a maternal perspective, being a mother of three herself. I’ve admitted that I don’t understand what it means to be a parent, but that day, she realized that she never understood what it means to be a child of the Chinese culture.

It’s cold. It’s material. Most Chinese parents can only express their love with money.

In this way, my parents showed me that they loved me. They probably think they did the best they could, but as a child of the North American culture, I felt nothing. I never knew what it was to be loved.

And Rana said, You were the one who rebelled against this.

They call it the battle for Ontario. The Ottawa Senators against the Toronto Maple Leafs.

One of the publishers I deal with at work schmoozed me, along with Joel and Louise. We’ve given them a fair amount of business over the last little while, each of us involved in a different part of the process, so he treated us to a Sens game. Even though my team (the Leafs) got pounced 7–2, it was still an exciting game; lots of end-to-end action, close penalty kills, and Heatly scored a hat-trick. The Leafs were simply out-finessed. Great seats too. Coincidentally, we ran into Rockstar Jeff at the game.

Eva Avila, this year’s winner of Canadian Idol, lead the national anthem. To my surprise, I was able to follow with the French, but it was all phonetic. Something I learned in grade school, but never actually understood.

It was a little disheartening to see how everything is so commercialized. Scotiabank place, VIA Rail goals (complete with train horn when someone scores), Jubilee Timex time. Even Pizza Pizza sponsors a free slice if the Sens win and score six goals or more.

There were probably an even number of Sens fans and than Leafs fans, but the latter were definitely more vocal. Any Sens chants were drowned out. It’s easy to tell how galvanized fans get in such a rivalry from comments I received on a previous post.

The best part was before the game even started. Master Corporal Paul Franklin from Edmonton, who lost both his legs in a suicide attack in Afghanistan, came to drop the ceremonial first puck. They rolled out the red carpet to centre ice, and he hobbled along with metal legs. Both sides of the rivalry cheered and clapped as one, louder than any other point in the night, proud of their surviving soldier.

It was quite a poignant, misty-eyed moment.