House of Love

Jan 31, 2005

He grabbed my phone and entered the number with the name "House of Love". He thought it was a sexy joke. However, I did not know the band. I did not know it was a joke.

I did not know many things apparently.

The number has been canceled two months before we are leaving the house, leaving State College. But the number is still in my phone with the name "House of Love". It is still in the memory.


Tears have started coming into my small eyes since a day ago. I wish they were the outcome of my newly developed allergy.
Obviously they are not. They are out of control and flowing down my face in many unpredictable moments.
This actually happened once. It was five years ago when I was leaving Taipei to State College.

In the first year, like every international student I know, I disliked State College as a place to have a life.
Gradually, I actually have built a nice life here. In particular, friendships. And of course, a relationship.
All become evidence that, in a foreign country with a foreign language, I did not lose my ability to love and to be loved.

Keys were returned. Data in computers were deleted. Accounts were canceled. Addresses were changed.
Directions to food and ID offices were printed out. Things were moved to my new destination.
I am almost ready to go.
But I have to wait for the day that I actually leave. I am waiting, waiting to say goodbye.

Some unknown mechanism in my body decides to put me into sleep in random hours for random periods. These days I could sleep 10 hours at night, 1 to 3 hours in the afternoon, and some short naps in the morning. Coffee and dark chocolate show no effect to keep me awake. It really is an efficient way to kill time while waiting.

"I cannot see anyone now." I told Zabeth, and tears were running down again.
"Oh, don't be sad."
"No, I am not. I am excited." My face got totally wet.
So another mechanism decides to make me embarrassed. All I could do is cry, and hunger stops existing.
(Well... the fact that I stop eating may be a good preparation for me to go home for the summer.)


I can never finish packing the last box in the house of love. But I have to.