Clean canvas

Life before Blake was black and white and all shades of gray.

I listened to music on youtube. I patronized a movie theater once per year and fell asleep to the sound of car chasing and sky falling. I could not handle any electronics. Ever. I barely cooked and triggered a massive fire alarm in my one and only domestic goddess attempt. Driving schools refused to take me back after I hit the road and weaved in and out of traffic like a maniac. I went swimming by myself and was shoveled around in a freezing and clearly family-friendly indoor pool.

Then this boy blasted his way into my mundane existence. Also entered into the picture his up-to-no-good gadgets, ginormous movie/indi-rock/friend collections, ridiculous editing and design talents, sick passion for despicably aloof cats, and deep resentment for Papyrus, the font.

He couldn't have been happier. I was a perfectly clean canvas for him to start something grand, something unknown. His engineer instinct told him that I need work, upgrading, overhaul-lots of them. I was a crude prototype capable of all possibilities, even though many cannot be realized.

He has achieved modest success over years, although probably not as much as he hoped to transform me. I know deep down, he wished his dream wife could at least accomplish one push-up without bending all the joints in the body, and invest in one pair of good hiking shoes instead of all the mysterious high-heels that just keep winding up at the doorstep.

After a while, I had to admit that I had no real hobbies that I can connect to anyone. I play the violin for a sense of distinctiveness. I swim for body image. I read for class. Driven by inertia, I join clubs and apply for scholarships like a headless chicken. I watch TV to escape the gaping black hole of boredom. I overspend on clothes and underbudget for everything else.

My last year in college, I constantly questioned myself: What if I didn't leave my comfort zone in Shanghai and come to the wild wild west? What if I didn't rush to enroll in this savagely famous school without knowing who I am first? What if I cared less about grades and derived a sense of purpose from something other than academic success? Would I have been happier in this alternative life that I never even dared to try?

When I first met Blake, a suspiciously ADD cutie who was juggling a dazzling array of skills, interests, and viewpoints, I thought to myself: I could use a little help to start a real life of my own.

During college years, I had been somewhat traumatized by the overachievers around me: hardcore partying, relentless networking, and scandalous encounters. I retreated to my shell where I felt safe and comfortable.

Then, this smitten kitten-lover showed me the many options of low-stress past-time. He himself embodies the wholesomely wild and secretly fun side of the nerd community.

Settlers for double/triple date? Check.

Spontaneous movie night? Check.

Glorious RA-resident bonding time? Check.

Once-Apple-No-Back for life? Check.

Colbert Report spree? Check.

Arrested Development marathon? Check check. BUSTER!!!

The happiest time of my life.

I have never seen someone so comfortable, confident, and adoringly unapologetic in his own skin. One of the many great things Blake has taught me is to leave some time for me myself, and us, no matter how difficult it is.

But I think I will still resist being assimilated into his world totally and completely. Just because it is funner this way.

Also because we are technically not married yet.

Shijie writing this post - Blake