I woke up at 3:33 ante meridian and, unable to sleep, decided to write.

I’ve been busy. I spent the last three days at Trolley’s, sleeping on his couch, and generally staying up late playing Wind Waker. It’s been an amazing game so far, and even though it seems to be too short, it’s been an unparalleled experience. I met Adam and Matt on Friday, so we went out to Minglewoods and sat out on the patio, even though it wasn’t quite patio weather yet.

Dolly and Nala didn’t get along together well. When they saw each other, they tried to stare each other down. Nala’s tail doubled in size as she made a low growl. Dolly just hissed back. Apparently, cats introduced to the same living environment are supposed to spend around the first two weeks without face-to-face contact. Dolly stayed for a few hours at Trolley’s anyway.

My trip to Hong Kong has been canceled, due to the lung virus that’s been going around. Yet another time that my trip has been canceled. Visiting Hong Kong at least once more has become one of my goals in life now, something I feel the need to do before I die.

I am now official in one of my typical “Jeff” phases, where I start to freak out near the end of the term. Progress on my final project has been difficult, not something which is not completely (or at all) my fault. I found out that I was too late in requesting a marks shift in my graphics course, so my 35% midterm now counts. This means that I will need roughly an 80% to pass the course. Since this is my final term, I may not be graduating until I can make up the three credits. I believe I have a back-up plan, which involves taking a softwarre engineering course during the summer that I can use towards my total credits. I think that means that I won’t be attending the graduation in July. Things seem very fucked up for me academically right now, and I’m worried, one of the many reasons I can’t sleep.

I tried rock climbing on Tuesday, and even though my left forearm was dead from hitting the L trigger too much, I was still able to scale a few walls. It was a great time, something that I could definitely see myself getting into. Even the act of belaying is fun, in the sense of a trust exercise. It’s just not something that I can get into right now without a job, or any convenient way of getting to the rock climbing studio.

I’ve been watching a lot of Chinese movies lately. I always find the scenery to be subtly poignant, from the density of the houses, to the confinement of the living arrangements, to the homliness of the shops. It makes me miss Hong Kong. It makes me miss seeing my grandparents. It makes me miss the quaint lifestyle, the diversity of food, the entire culture.

If I end up going to Hong Kong this year, I hope to be able to tell my grandmother how strong a person I see her to be, but I detest my limited knowledge of the Chinese language. I wish that I could express to her in English how much I look up to her. If I had a chance with English, I would feel like I could do the feeling justice. I hope she doesn’t hurt my feelings. I hope she doesn’t die before I see her next. I wonder who would cry.

I still remember living with Kenny, having a great time at his place, playing with all sorts of interesting gadgets. His parents were always good people, one of the few sets of relatives I care about.

The feeling is almost tangeable. I can close my eyes, and see myself there again, a lost, emotionless, ignorant boy. I miss the street vendors. I miss the smell of my grandmothers house. I miss the bliss.

I realize that my feelings are probably a result of my absolute contentment whenever I was in Hong Kong. I’ve had some of the best times of my life there, and I remember nothing but happiness. It seems like I’ve been tainted with maturity, and I’m trying to regain a lost part of my childhood, the carefree being that is so characteristic of young people.

Tainted.

I like that.

For some reason, talking with John with always makes me feel better. It’s uncanny. It’s good to be able to just cut loose and talk, not worrying about what I’m saying. It’s good to be able to relate to someone, to be at the same level of insight. For the last few years, I never feel good after talking with anyone but John.

I actually have three assignments, a test, and two projects left now, within the next two weeks. Hopefully, I’ll be able to finish them.

I was considering going to Hong Kong by myself at the end of the term, and not seeing relatives there. I just don’t want to miss the Christmas season. It’s just not worth it to go without my parents though, and to not be able to see my grandmother. I’d be able to appreciate my time there a lot more with them. It’s a pretty scary idea too; I hate going places I’ve never been to before, cause I’m always scared of getting lost, especially in a place where the language spoken is one which I’m not confident in.

I believe my grandmother is dying. I don’t have many details, as I haven’t been well informed (though I’m not sure that I want to be). I tried to visit about three months ago, but my work and circumstances prevented me from going. I’m going to Hong Kong this Christmas, which should be amazing, and hopefully I’ll be able to see my grandmother one last time. When I spoke to her on the phone, which is always as awkward as ever, she sounded very light-headed. My mother told me that she sounded more healthy than before.

I once talked to Ms. Patricia ______ (I can’t believe I forget her last name) about my grandparents. I told her that I always felt like I loved my grandparents, and that I was always worried about their well-being, even though I never really had a life with them. They briefly raised me when I was too young to remember much. I have always wondered whether I would cry if they should die. One can always say that one won’t cry, but when the situation arises, things can be quite different.

I also told her that I hoped that they would die at a time that was convenient for me. This worried her. I asked myself, “Is this really what I wish? Will I feel differently when the time comes? Have I truly become so cerebral, so engulfed in a Lermontovian nihilism, that I can say such a thing?”. I’m not even sure if this is something I should be ashamed of. I mean, these are people that I’m not close to. Is it possible to love someone simply by blood? I believe it is; I know people who only know how to love by blood. However, it is not possible for me. In fact, blood has no bearing on what I feel for a person. I wish I could even begin to understand this. I believe that my grandparents love me. I feel it in the way that they look at me, the way they treat me. I always wonder if anyone else has the same confusion. Do I love them as they love me?

I can’t tell.