Random Channel Surfing

There's too much I don't understand about my heritage; too much I want to understand about my heritage. And this seed has been germinating since my entire family (sisters, brother-in-law, parents, and niblings) went to Guatemala in December 2009, where Cristiane's best friend Ceci and her husband explained to me how you can rent bungalows in Flores, near the Mayan pyramids, for a pretty fair price; has been germinating since I realized that so much about the way I behave -- polite to the extreme -- is a mix of my two cultural identities. Canadians are known for their polite, over-apologetic nature, but Guatemalans are the same way. So when you think about it, my behaviour is an effect of those  two cultures. I am  two times more likely to go out of my way to help a stranger; two times more likely to over-thank someone for a favour. And it's not that I don't want to be in Edmonton. It's not that I've given up on my idea of moving to Montreal. It's not

There's a look you get and it makes me fall in love with you. Sometimes, it's the face you make when you're embarrassed. When the rosy hue in your cheeks darkens and your eyes adopt a vulnerable quality that betrays the tender soul you have. When it's clear you feel naked and exposed; when I can see who you really are before you hide behind your sarcasm or wit, your charm or your grace. That's the face I see before I fall asleep and dream of you. Other times, it's the face you make before you say whatever it is you want to say. When you motion with your hands; clawing, grasping, trying to pull the elusive words from thin air, your speech stuttering because the thought you want to express fills you with so much passion, you don't know how to vocalize it. When you gently bite your lip, your eyes to the sky as you try to articulate the point as best you can. When your inability to make yourself understood helps me read you better than I ever have before.

I've been toying with the idea of loneliness these last few months. How people can be fulfilled in almost every aspect of their lives, but still yearn and pine after an experience they've lost or someone they've never had. How people can obsess and pore over the potential they never saw through to the end or the memories they turn to every night before they fall asleep. It's part of the human experience, this loneliness. We are social creatures; we rely on other people; we are none of us an island. We feel loneliness so that we are pushed to connect with others around us. We feel loneliness so we can survive and to survive, we need other people. Every disaster movie has one common element: no one survives on their own. In every one of those movies, there's a channel of people who work together to kill the zombies, destroy the aliens, survive against the elements, make it out alive. We need to believe that we are never alone; that someone is always with us. We ar