LA

I'm laying in a bed in LA, and I don't want to get up.

Getting up means going home; this is our last day here. It means the end of my extended family's weekend of revelry; we were here for my cousin's wedding. And finally, it means a return to my life. I have work tomorrow morning, then work the next day, then on and on until summer is over and the sun leaves me behind in that dry misery of a perpetually-overcast autumn and early winter. This is how dread works for me. A simple action, that of getting out of bed, becomes the entire effort of the day, which then becomes the fear of returning home, and even further into my neurosis about the entire year.

I guess it's normal to not want a vacation to end, but this feeling is particularly intense. It's a sink-into-my-bed-and-never-get-up feeling, one that has extended into a disturbed pit in my stomach–I can't eat, and I can always eat. Above all, I imagine it comes from the still-unresolved feelings of uncertainty about my future and the sense that I really am not thrilled about the looming, though distant, threat of college. Going home reminds me that time is still flowing, not around me, but with me, pushing me into uncharted depths. I felt this feeling once before back in March, on a weekend trip to Seattle with friends. This it's a little worse, perhaps because I've had such a good reunion with my family, or because the future is a little closer.

Anyways, that's the dour stuff I can't imagine anyone enjoys reading. I did eventually get out of bed, and now I'm sitting in the airport waiting to go home. My stomach is still restless, but I suppose everyone has these days sometimes. It'll be okay, if only because it can't be anything else.

But other than all this, my past few days have been really great. I went into this trip with high hopes, but I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. By the time we arrived, the rest of the family was already there, at a shared AirBnB filled with 15 people, including my completely adorable baby cousin (well, my cousin's baby, so first cousin once removed) whom my grandmother and I were meeting for the first time. We all caught up with each other over Indonesian food, then lounged around the house as the weariness of traveling set in. Of course, I also spent some time playing Mortal Kombat with my uncle on a faux arcade machine.

That night, my dad and I had the brilliant plan to get early morning dim sum–something I have been craving for the past few weeks–in Chinatown. My sister tagged along on the excursion, and even though it wasn't the best dim sum in the world, it hit the spot for me, and I enjoyed the company of the old Chinese people in the restaurant–the only other type of person who craves dim sum in the morning. After a quick wedding rehearsal later that morning (featuring my brother and I playing the cello and violin, respectively), we were treated to a mostly-seafood Chinese buffet, which failed to whet my appetite, as I dont think seafood and buffet are words should never be in close proximity. We proceeded to yet another meal at a Taiwanese restaurant, where we met up with some even more extended family members who generously treated us to Taiwanese dessert and street fare. If it wasn't clear, food was the thing I was most excited about for this trip. For my fourth (four!) meal of the day, we had more Taiwanese food at home with everyone, followed by Mamma Mia with my cousins, the perfect end to a busy day and probably the best wedding movie anyone could ask for.

The day of the wedding itself was surprisingly relaxed. The family helped with wedding favors, but other than that, didn't have much to worry about–a surprise to me, since this was a big wedding with 200 people, planned in only 6 weeks. I did, unfortunately, have a wardrobe malfunction that ended in me panicking and calling my sister to buy me a belt an hour before the wedding, but it turned out fine. Anyways, I imagine the ceremony was nice, but my brother and I couldn't really hear it from our little musicians’ alcove. But I still had fun playing, since it was my first time playing at a proper wedding. And of course, my favorite part was the toasts (it probably would've been the food, but I couldn't eat anything except for fruit), which made me want to cry. We ended the night with a combo Korean and Mexican feast without the wedding couple, who had gone off to the beach for a mini-honeymoon before their actual one, during which I took the opportunity to make my own little toast to the happy couple and my family. It was a nice night, and I got to spend even more time with my baby cousin, who I think is the cutest thing in the world, although that might be recency bias. He's so cute, in fact, that when I saw him smiling (a rare occurrence for him) and playing with his father, I wanted to cry over the fact that he'll one day grow up and be exposed to the pains of the world. But for now he's just that adorable, innocent bundle of joy that we all were, once.

I am happy, I really am. I’m happy my cousin is happy and married to an incredible guy, I’m happy I got to see my family and spend time with them, and I’m happy I got to eat so much great food. And yeah, it helps that I’m privileged enough that I didn’t have to pay for any of it. I just don’t know what happens next, and I guess I’m really dramatic about it.

Oh, sidenote, Griffith Observatory, the most achievable thing on my bucket list, was CLOSED the day we were going to go there! It was so unlucky, but maybe next time.