I was hoping to find a salvation.

I have a slight hole in my heart today. I had the greatest day today. I went to SF and met up with my friend Matt. What a delight, this Matt is. We went to In N Out Burger. We went to the Sutro Bath ruins, my favorite spot in the entire city. We went to Ocean Beach. Then he drove me home. It was a delightful day, the best I can remember in ages. There hasn't been a single day, perhaps not even a single moment in New York that topped my day.

But then I came home. My mom wondered why I couldn't date someone like Matt because he is handsome and with it and has never veered too far from his beliefs. We went to my grandma's house which my aunt and uncle are currently preparing to sell. We laughed at a pair of shoes Papa altered: he must've needed to be three inches taller for a project, so he took a pair of Reeboks and nailed the soles to three-inch tall blocks of wood.

Then I got online and remembered someone who's supposed to miss me and who I'm supposed to miss. Sometimes I just don't know. I think, "You should just move on. Things would never really work out. It would be a potentially tumultuous life." Friends tell me, "You are too good for that. Don't sell yourself short." I'm blinded by potential. The highs are so high and the lows are so low. When really, the highs are not that high and the lows are too low. Maybe it's the distance. Maybe it's the fact I feign satisfaction in the present while hoping for future satisfaction that only taunts my heart and skews my logic and confuses my prayers, because really things would be so great if only. Maybe it's that a person cannot possibly love another when they hate themself. Maybe it's the fact we haven't heard the other's voice in a week.

I will always be second rate compared to her.

I'm going to chalk it up to fatigue. I'm jetlagged, my dogs wake me up at 7 am with their slobbers and affections, and my parents' blind racism and ignorant political statements strain me emotionally.

I have this fear that grows more intense each time I visit my parents. I'm fairly sure they won't like who I marry. At least, they won't have much in common with him. But I'm so afraid he and I will become ostracized from my family. That our opinions, which surely will conflict with theirs, will cause polarization between us. Last night we were at Emil's, our family restaurant for four generations. It was 10 pm, nearing closing time, and the service was understandably slow despite the clientele lag in the eatery. My uncle made a crack, "I'll bet the immigration officer came and cleared out the kitchen." "Haha," my other uncle chimed in. "Vamanos, muchachos!" My parents laughed heartily. Behind them was a Hispanic man, no doubt from Mexico, probably on his third job of the day, bussing a recently vacated table. He looked up when he heard this comment, watching them cackle in ignorance. I turned to my brother Michael, my one comisserator, and told him the sequence of events. He bowed his head in residual embarrassment.

Yesterday at Costco, my mom told me she didn't think my dad would like me getting the Planet Earth series on DVD for my birthday. I described the series to her, and she said, "I don't know. It sounds too Al Gore-ish."

"Tell her God's creation is not Al Gore-ish." That's what he said. How can I move on from someone who can whip that out?

I am so confused these days, but I've asked for too much help from the place I receive the most of it, without listening to His advice. My prayers are nullified by my stubborness.

Being in San Francisco today, at my favorite spot in the whole world, taught me something. New York and I speak the same language, but we speak two different dialects. I grew up speaking Bay Arean. San Franciscan and Berkeleyan. I can learn New York's language, but I'll never be a native speaker.

I have nine weeks left.