Something intimate

I had a rough week finishing up a paper that I had been working on for over a year. I was emotional, bitter, and sleep-deprived.

I spent every waking minute hunching over the laptop and felt like merging into the lifeless black letters on the screen.

I was overwhelmed by the piling dishes in the sink and the overflowing laundry basket. I microwaved bland frozen dinner and lived on midnight sugar highs.

My unceasing love-hate relationship with work: I resisted, but I couldn't take my eyes off it.

I loathed myself for being a mess, but I couldn't help it.

To curb my inner workaholics, I signed up for couple activities with Blake on the weekend. I wanted Blake in his shining armor to sweep me off my feet, from my unchanged, sedentary, and lifespan-decreasing position that has left a permanent me-shaped dent on the couch.

That is how I left an unremarkable mark in the world.

That is why I lived and breathed misery in the past.

The impulsively prudent side of me demanded: work through the weekend.

The sensibly daredevil side of me whispered: work, not on the weekend.

I departed from what seemed to me like an obvious and rational choice, although not without fear of consequences.

But I trust Blake would bring me sanity. Being with him is a much healthier lifestyle than being consumed by work on my own.

On Friday, we stood in line outside the Verizon store to get the new Iphone.

For hours. Like forever.

If you know me, you would know that patience is not one of my best qualities.

Unsurprisingly, I lost my temper. I pouted and fulminated and protested by sitting on the ground.

Nonetheless, I retired the phone I owned for 6 years. I wouldn't have accomplished more if I were just staring an empty stare into a paper that did not write itself.

On Saturday, we went camping on Mt. Graham.

Of course, I brought along the paper just for the peace of mind. I even romanticized the idea of me editting a morbid paper on a tree stump in natural light.

But I was wrong. There were too many things to lay eyes upon in the embrace of the wonderful nature: trees bursting with golden leaves, shadows dancing on the brink of the dark and the bright, and solitary stretches of land unfolding in front of my eyes.


The amazing little wonders I saw reminded me of what I live for.

Beauty. Honor. Love.

And the man who gently did it all--packing the essential camping gears, preparing the critical food supplies, and unwrapping my very first camping boots--when I was allegedly too busy to take care of myself.

I even thought about making use of the dim flashlight to read at night, just like in the old days.

Thank God that I changed my mind.

I came here to be with the people I adore and learn to appreciate. I stopped crying over the hours lost that could have been devoted to my paper. I promised Blake that I would behave myself from then on and try my hardest to enjoy and relax.


I attempted to set up the tent. After I uneventfully fumbled with the parts for a good ten minutes, Blake came to my rescue. Then we had a cozy little home standing on the soft moist ground.


I stooped over the grill, flipping meat and vegetables. Smoke and embers kissed my cheeks. We went around the camp site, serving people the food we prepared. Blake definitely thrived on the compliments praising how mind-blowing his marinade was.

Photo Credit: Michael Gordon

I looked through a telescope, gazing into the world that has inspired the boldest imagination and the exactest science. I saw beautiful binary stars with different colors and a nebulous cloud of a faraway galaxy.

Again, Blake's star tracker did not work. It never did, and I suspected it never would.

But he was relieved and satisfied, as he should be. He had done everything to make me happy, including being yelled at. And I finally came to my senses.

What a life-saver.

Edward Abbey said: What draws us to the desert is the search of something intimate in the remote.

That's certainly true with me.