A few things.

One. China Post is very different from United State Post Office. I need to learn to speak Chinese.

Two. I've been collecting post cards, so if you are still waiting for yours, well you may or may not get one soon because I don't want to send all the cards from China. So you'll just have to be patient. It is only good when it is a surprise.

Three. My grandfather. He's in my thoughts again and this morning I woke up in the most anguished spell, the feeling of him being ripped away from me so fresh that I was on the verge of tears and madness. Thus the rest of the day was spent in a silent state, trying to calm my heart. I don't think I will ever get over his passing and these little attacks will be frequent. I don't mind them really. It's part of dealing I guess. Not healing. I don't think you heal from loss because it's not like it was a wound or something. You just have to deal because its part of life.

Four. I have about as much tolerance of others as much as a tiger has tolerance for an empty stomach. But if you speak my language and expect nothing of me, of how I present myself and hold me to no standards, and let me be myself, we could be very good friends. I won't expound on this. But right now I'm in an anti-social sort of mood.

Five. I write to relate. I write to seep out all that boiling pent up blood. And to maybe let you know that you're not alone in your brooding, in your hope, love, wandering, or loss. I don't like those who write to show off, flex big words for the sake of using big words, and push empty feelings and thoughts on to a page merely to brag. Why for then? When all your entries blur together as one endless bland stream of nothingness and fakingness. Vanity for vanity's sake is so transparent.