if poetry could describe the way you made me feel...

A Softer World straddles "pretentious" and "unsettlingly incisive" for me. There are strips less wistful and more sardonic that also apply, but I try to not dwell on my cynicism; the world provides me enough of that on a daily basis.

Sometimes I reread old entries and wonder if I've grown at all, when all my issues - my fears and worries - are still the same. Other times I reread those entries and am profoundly thankful for where I am today and the people who got me here.

Friendship is a funny thing. Every friendship is shaped a little differently, even if echoes of similarity ring through them; every interpersonal relationship is different, after all, rooted at the bottom from two separate people. Some friendships require constant care, though not always the most tender consideration each and every time. Other friendships can pass quietly in the background, faded from immediate occupation of your consciousness, but reemerge as strong as ever when you reach for it.

Some friendships die without the proper care or attention, if you haven't figured them out what they require and how - if - you can give it.

Friendships change, too. New ones and old ones. I don't know how to tell which ones fall naturally into the kind where you talk frequently and share everything and which ones are the kind where you talk infrequently but always with feeling. Always with feeling. Everything with feeling. That's how we do things 'round here. I got a whole bunch of feelings, y'all.

Hope is the worst thing, that treacherous feeling left in Pandora's box, and yet where would we be without it? Grimly stoic, perhaps. Resigned to our fates, for better or for worse.

Hope is a flower I don't know whether I should guard and water and raise, or one I should secret away where no one can see it wither, should I be disappointed.

I'm not a risk-taker but sometimes I want to take risks. I don't know what I'm doing and it's going against every comfortable, familiar instinct I have. My radars are broken and I have no guide.

What do I have but hope? It's too late. I've already planted that seed, built that tree house in the sky. Let's reach for the clouds.

Also: happy fourth of July.

I hate my hair, and other metaphors

"I hate my hair!" I told M.

"...why?"

"It's a metaphor for my life," I said, tongue-in-cheek. "And, well, also I have split ends and need a trim."

The thing is: my hair totally is a metaphor for my life. Let me explain.

It's getting long and straggly; I am getting old and fraying at the edges. Whatever style it used to have, it has grown out of and I have no idea what the hell it's doing now except growing longer; I have no idea what I'm doing with my life but am stumbling forward without a plan all the same because, well, objects in motions tend to stay in motion. My hair is like an object in motion. Metaphorically!

The red from the dye has long faded and is now a dirty, diseased brown color with roots growing out on top. There are three options: 1) let it grow out bi-colored; 2) re-dye the entire thing a color that doesn't make my skin look ridiculously sallow; or 3) re-dye the entire thing black so the roots can grow out in peace and secret.

The issues with options 2 and 3, however, mostly revolve around cost. Dyeing is not generally a cheap venture; even with Asian stylists who don't charge an arm and leg like salons do, it's upward of $60+. (And that was my great St. Louis deal! I miss you, David from Hong Kong. He gave me custom color jobs.)

The metaphor here: the little luxuries in life have to be put on the back-burner when one is jobless and only dreaming of a steady income. Don't spend what you don't have; hell, don't spend what you have, at least not on things you can afford to live without. It's practical, logical, reasonable - and it's depressing, isn't it?

I don't love a lot about my body but my hair came closest to being my vanity. I joked around in high school of doing shampoo commercials when I grew up. I had strong, healthy, shiny, soft hair. I could scrub shampoo through it and make orgasmic noises with the best of them! My future back-up plan was set.

It's superficial (so superficial, I know) but I look at my hair these days and say, only half-joking, "I hate my hair." I wouldn't go so far to say it's painful, but it's certainly disappointing.

I suppose I really mean, I am dissatisfied with something I used to take vain pride in and am frustrated that it was pointless and that there doesn't seem to be any way for me to fix that at the moment.

Like I said: I have split ends and I need a trim.

PSA: this is a self-involved post

Sometimes I wonder why people are in need of constant validation when we've been told clearly and plainly in the past that we are loved, appreciated, valued, by the same people we are seeking validation from now. It will always be the same words of Why You Matter and Things We Like About You, so why the need for new reassurances?

I realize it's because people are constantly changing, in a state of flux - I look at the past and think, I was a better person then, maybe, so those words of validation then mean nothing now (or not nothing, but feel less applicable) because I'm afraid I am no longer worthy of them. People are always changing - growing, hopefully, and learning - but it's funny to think that, in the end, our fears stay the same. In the end, the core beliefs and acts and personalities that make us fundamentally ourselves also stay the same, which is why the validations remain the same: you're loved, appreciated, valued for who you are.

I will never tire of telling my friends that, though I often end up afraid they are sick of telling me the same. The difference, perhaps, between being needed and being needy: I'd like to be the former but not the latter.

It's always surprising, too, though pleasantly so, to realize you've made an imprint on more people than you knew or expected. I say I try, mostly, just to be friendly, but it's different to realize that that's had a concrete impact.

I feel pretentious and narcissistic now: good note to end on, yes?

後悔しない人生

I can't seem to find an exclamation of surprise that doesn't involve curse words or what comes off as insincere triteness - oh dear, heavens, my word, it seems as though I have been playing deftly into the role of self-victimizing Eeyore of late. If "of late" translates into the last twenty years of my life or so.

It doesn't matter if I feel resentful at times, of friends not living up to my (high, oft-silent) expectations; it doesn't matter if I feel like I am no one's best friend, closest confidante. What matters is that I do love the friends I have and I want them in my life and that not being someone's "best friend" doesn't mean they don't want me in their life.

There are many kinds of maturity. I should start subscribing to the kind that demands manifestation through action.

I don't subscribe to tenets of Taoism - it's too anti-intellectualism, for one - but it lays some good foundations. I should stop fighting the flow of the world. I should stop tearing myself up over it. I should stop acting like I'm owed anything beyond what comes to me. If I can't be optimistic, I should at least cease being so willfully pessimistic, and try for peace. Yes, zen is a concept associated more with Buddhism, but I'm not seeking anything beyond what this life offers.

I told my mom once, "生命只有这一个". We only have this one life. She corrected it to "生命只有这一次". We only live this one time. The distinction is, perhaps, subtle. My view saw life as a whole entity, a gift, to be used and not be wasted. Her view saw it was a journey and an experience not to be wasted. To squander it would be a tragedy to yourself in either case, but maybe the question is whether you are living the way you do because you feel obliged (not to waste your life) or because you find it freeing (to live and to learn).

人生无悔。Life without regret. Maybe it doesn't mean you need to do more (spontaneous road trips, dinner parties, love recklessly) or do less (stupid things, drama, having feelings). Maybe it means you just need to stop regretting the things that happen in your life, both good and bad. Maybe, and yes it's trite, they all do happen for a reason - that is, as the composition of what makes your life yours, and unique, and an experience.

生命只有这一次。

Hm. I feel like there's a bit of a disconnect from the beginning of the post to the end. I think I talked myself around from "be less stupid" to "hey, stupidity happens in life, it's okay". There's no harm in trying for both, right?

on getting older but not old enough

Nothing particularly significant today, but my mood is really terrible regardless. I am feeling particularly surly and uncharitable with nothing specific to pin it on - perhaps it's the cumulation of small things.

I think I'm old at times. Especially lately, with people graduating undergrad and making all these posts about how it's the end of an era, how they'll never again have these easy times with friends, drunken jokes, late nights, a certain kind of freedom from any real-world responsibilities, and so on. It's familiar, the kind of thing college graduates have been saying for probably centuries (or at least decades, if we're allowing for the evolution of popular undergrad experiences to what it is today). Yet these posts make me feel my age, because these are people I consider my equals, close to me in age, but I forget that they are younger. Most of the time it doesn't matter, until posts like these make me realize I left undergrad three years ago. Not this year or last year, but three years ago. It's not such a huge amount of time but it drives home, nonetheless, that a certain sect of my friends are all younger than me - some of them significantly younger than me. Why am I not as close with the friends who are older? It's probably because I'm still incredibly immature inside. Not to say that anyone younger in years is automatically more immature, but that I still feel incredibly young, inexperienced, irresponsible, and immature remains true.

My parents are getting old. Not just older, but old. The meds they have to take, their health worries... The way they are surprised by their own ages each year, the way they are tired, the way my mom hates it a little bit - all of it makes me ashamed that I can't be more grown-up, more adult, more capable of taking care of myself and taking care of them.

People both older and younger tell me I'm still young. What am I supposed to say? In some ways, it's not true. Twenty-four this year is not that young. In some ways, it is. There's still a lot of my life left (presumably). I still have so far to go.

*

I just got back from a walk with my mom; we had a good discussion (read: heated argument that resolved into a good discussion) about Asians in America, first generation of immigrants versus their Westernized (but still Asian-influenced) children, political representation, minority status, speaking out, working hard, changing the world... I used to be afraid I would be like my parents when I grew up. Then I was afraid I wouldn't be, that I wouldn't be Asian enough. Now, I think I am more at peace with the fact that I will be different in some ways (ways that I am grateful for), many ways, perhaps - but that doesn't mean I will ever forget where my roots are.

My Asian-American identity is one I am wrestling with better than my age. We fight a lot of battles with ourselves, don't we?

these days of our past

Out of Vietnam and into Cambodia today! Vietnam was relaxing and fun, with a touch of sobering on the last day, when we visited the War Remnants Museum. It was also incredibly thought-provoking, though, to see such a blatant propaganda slant on the presentation of a part of a country's history. It impressed upon me more than ever, as did today's journey through Cambodia's Killing Fields and Toul Sleng Genocide Museum (dealing with the horrors of the Khmer Rouge regime), that history is written by the victors.

I have many thoughts, really I do, but they need to be sorted out a bit first. Ruminated upon and such.

For now, a few comments on the days in Vietnam:

Nha Trang, Vietnam was beachy and gorgeous and so relaxing. With some snorkeling and a party boat with a floating bar too - that was fun. It was quintessential relaxing spring break, which was a nice way to segue into the break, since after that we hit the more sobering parts of the trip.

We returned to Saigon on an overnight sleeper bus (12 hours) and we had adventures in food - not great adventures, sadly. Nha Trang was much better to us in terms of food and drink. I did have delicious fish & pineapple after waiting way too long, bad coffee, and amazing soondubu jjigae (don't judge) that was not authentic but still good after a horrible first-order experience. Whatever. I survived though!

We went to the War Remnants Museum, which was an intellectually surreal experience, because while sobering and tragic (with pictures that made me choke up), the emotional human response is weighed from the other side by how blatant the propaganda political spin on the war is. History is written by the victors and all that. Thought-provoking at the least. Though I think we can all agree, politics aside, that Agent Orange and its effects were truly horrific.

On the bright side, our hostel has been extremely nice and clean and friendly, with lovely free steady wi-fi. Small perks.

We left this morning for a six-hour ride to Phnom Penh, whereupon we embarked on depressing tours, which I mentioned above. And here we are now, with plans to leave early tomorrow morning for Siem Reap. Be in touch.

everything is more than it seems

I've had a busy, busy weekend, thus my lack of updating! I have been out and about most of the days away from my computer and the internet until late at night, when I am too busy to update anyway. C is here visiting, so we've been having a lot of fun together. I took her out and around for food and shopping, we met up with B on Friday night to explore Chinatown, and then we did concerts Saturday and Sunday nights, where we met up with all sorts of people, from S to A to G and their assorted friends. Good times were had, and that's a phenomenal understatement. Some things can't quite be put into words.

It was hard to get back into the swing of school today, but I had my 9am class and then met with my professor afterwards for coffee so I could pick his brain or something. He's a really interesting guy. Extremely intelligent and proud of his accomplishments - he's good and he knows it and he knows you know it too, so he sort of expects acknowledgment. It's not as matter-of-fact, the way he talks about it, but it's not aggravating either. I'm not sure how he pulls it off.

In any case, while we were chatting, the topic turned to being Asian in the U.S. and being Asian in Singapore and, inevitably, racism. Then he comes out with this, dry:

"I was in New York last month, and I was at Saks Fifth Avenue shopping. The sales clerk - I couldn't tell if it was racism or just plain rudeness. (It's hard to tell in New York.)"

I snickered because, okay, fair enough. We had a really interesting conversation about free speech, though, and when it gets out of hand, and all sorts of other interesting things. Maybe I will go into academia. Researching and writing about these things seems much more interesting than practicing law itself because, well, you know me: I am the type to over-think and over-analyze, but am less active on the "doing" things side. I could push myself to change that, but academia also seems like a comfortable niche to cultivate that preexisting compunction. We'll see.

point and counterpoint in the people and places you know

We intended to go on the night safari last night but, alas, weather intervened in the form of a lengthy bout of rain. So instead the crowd (F, A, B, R, R, and I - hey we make a band name! FABRRi, the next biggest pop act) grabbed some dinner and decided to go to Blu Jazz Café to meet up with some of R's friends. But of course there was going to be pre-gaming, so to A's tiny single room we went, collecting along with us E and N. N is a girl. The rest are all boys. Did I mention recently that I seem to have some trouble reaching out and getting to know the exchange girls here? N and I bonded over that a bit! Strange how boys are easier to hang out with, really. But to balance out all this testosterone and crudeness, all the people I already know in Singapore are girls (S, F, G, P) and I spend time with them solo, apart from exchange activities. So it works out well for me, I think.

A put on his laptop speakers and cranked up the music, we broke out the rum and coke, the vodka and tonic, and I got comfortably tipsy. I did keep in mind D's advice from ages ago to never be drunk surrounded only by guys, even if they are supposed to be guy friends, or decent guys, or people you should be able to trust not to take advantage of you. "Should" is such a...loaded word, really. Many people are nothing they "should" be.

We cabbed over to Blu Jazz Café later and had met up with more people, had some more beer, chatted, etc. It was a really nice mild night, breezy and not as humid as usual. The live band was pretty good, the singer was fun, and R and B and I danced a bit inside while the rest hung about our table outside and commenced social interaction. Other R and N had quite a bit of flirtation going on, even though apparently N already has a boyfriend? (And is probably at least three years older than R, but that stops no one these days, am I right?)

I had a good time but we got back late, and I spent some time thinking people were trying to set me up with F, which - vehemently - no thank you. No more Asian boys with misogynistic attitudes, not even ones with a good job at a good NY law firm lined up after graduation. Apparently I am not all that shallow. (Or perhaps I am. He is also not nearly tall enough for my tastes.)

God, other D explained to me that the main reasons guys go on study abroad programs is to 1) drink and 2) hook up. So far, most of these guys have proved him right. A and B being the lovely exceptions. A gets along with everyone, is very laid-back and friendly, and can get rowdy in his own way, but underneath it all he's a really good guy: respectful of women too. He apologized a few times throughout the night that the guys were making hooker jokes, were being crude about wanting to hook up, etc. He can still join in occasionally, but he at least recognizes that such jokes can be and are legitimately offensive. It means a lot. B, also, is a really good guy. Quieter, younger than A, but very interested and willing to try new foods and see new places and not at all here just to drink, party, club, and hook-up. If he wants to meet people, it's to get to know them, not to just get wasted with them, and it's refreshing.

(This is a tough blogpost to write without mentioning names. But I maintain I will keep it this way for now. Pictures on Facebook and, well, you may be able to figure out enough based on the tags.)

So that happened last night. Today, I met up with F for lunch at ION (Singapore's largest mall) and had amazing char siew wonton noodles for lunch (and for only 3.50, which is a positive steal in this Orchard Road pure-touristy-prices mall). We then made our way to Singapore's Botanic Gardens, which were leafy and rich and so, so green. Beautiful, peaceful, and really lovely. A spot of rain almost soaked us but - being prepared - we had our umbrellas. I felt terrible for the people who had spread out under the sun for picnics, only to get drenched with little warning.

The weather cleared up fairly quickly though, and we explored the entire gardens, essentially. It was a really nice break from the Singapore and counterpoint to the more social/people/drinking scene from last night.

Making plans for travel now, contemplating dinner, and weighing how much I want to do class readings versus manga readings. I suspect I know which will win out. I suspect I still need to make that post about my classes and professors. I have not forgotten!

我的真情不再随便给

What does it mean to know someone? What does it mean to love someone?

They say you can never really know someone without personal interaction, the brutal honesty of eye contact and shared space. They say you cannot know someone without seeing them at their worst, at their lowest, in desperate situations or in unexpected ones. They say you cannot love them if you do not know them.

Why is this so?

What does it mean to know someone? It's nothing more than how much trust you extend to them, how much honesty you receive in return. How do you draw the contours of knowledge and the boundaries of truth? What is knowledge but the dissemination of truth? And what is truth if not the honesty in someone's eyes or in their smile, honesty in words and in laughter and in tears and in gratitude. There is truth in the way they live every day, in the thoughts they think and the words they speak; there is truth in how someone chooses to live their life.

We rarely get the whole picture or the full story, light illuminating every mysterious and unknown corner of a person. Everyone hides in different ways, from different people, carefully selective in who we allow to "know" us. We don masks in our daily lives, switching from one to another in consideration of our audience. No one knows the whole world; we only accept what we see or what we hear or what we experience with a kernel of faith.

Is it fair to ask for someone to be laid bare before us, stripped to the bones of their essence? In life we take what people are willing to give, the light that they choose to shine, and accept with faith their honest choices. This is what is given to us.

What does it mean to love someone if not to trust them?

The concepts of knowledge and truth and love are ill-defined, because words fall short in describing the feeling that suffuses us. No one knows us better than we know ourselves: we know what we feel. We know what it feels like to love.




And if you are in love with a lie - at least you are in love.

(It's never the love you regret, but the lie.)

我在你心中只是 just a friend

There's nothing like a weekend with people you chose to love to remind you that the people around you are not the ones you chose...

They (whoever they might be) say: "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with."

How true is this, though? It sounds like good advice, but is it as easy or as plausible as it seems?

Sometimes circumstances force proximity and proximity for an extended period of time creates a false impression of emotional closeness. This is not always true. But it's the way we cope, because when it's make nice with those around you or spend an eon caught in perpetual awkwardnes...the choice isn't really a difficult one. Still, within that group of friends-through-circumstance, there will be some with whom you are closer, some who are probably people you would have chosen to love even without the external factors of environment.

But, one might argue, every situation in life provides external circumstances that force proximity: school, of course, and then work. You don't get to choose where you grow up because that's in your parents' hands; you don't get to choose the kind of people in your class or in your school. In the same way, you don't get to choose your co-workers or your supervisors, which is why people always tell horror stories from work. This is all true. But there are still levels of forced proximity: law school or the workplace, for instance, provide much smaller groups of people you see every day. College, on the other hand, especially state universities like the one I went to, provide such a vast sea of people from which you can pick your friends. This is why people say you make your lifelong friends in college - because they are people you choose to love and that kind of relationship lasts longer. Similarly, the internet provides that kind of wide selection pool where you can pick and choose your friends on whatever criteria you choose: similar interests in books, similar viewpoints on politics, similar worldviews about religion or what-have-you.

When you choose to connect to people on a personal level, the relationship tends to last because you've committed past certain levels of trust. You've opened yourself up to being vulnerable on things that really matter to you, unlike when you connect only on superficial interests such as, oh, basketball or reading or (for instance) kpop. Of course, you can make the argument that certain shared interests can reflect connections on a personal level (e.g., the type of material someone enjoys reading may say something about the kind of person they are and the way they think and approach the world). Still, on the whole, I'm wary of making friendships rooted solely in superficial interests.

No, that is phrased badly. Those friends are good ones to have, because it is always fun to have people you can talk to about those shared interests, with whom you can be enthusiastic without having to explain or justify yourself. I would just recommend (for myself, primarily) in keeping cautious about depending on them for more personal matters; go instead to the people you trust, the people who really know you. They might not be the ones who will shout at or flail at the TV with you, but they are the ones who will love you and support you and advise you in your best interests.

The weekend in NYC made me realize that L&L are people I trust and love; they are trusted, truest friends. I have things in common with them that go beyond liking kpop or liking aquariums or liking delicious Asian food - and that means I don't feel like I have to feel uncomfortable around them. I don't feel like I have to hide so much from them.

Really, the point of this post is just to say that I am grateful for all of my friends, but in particular those I feel most myself around. And that those friends are not necessarily the ones I see every day or that I talk to the most often. They might be; but they don't have to be. I chose to love you and I am thankful for you. :)

what do you know of your past?

I would have an intellectual discussion on Mao but I never feel like I am informed enough; I'd prefer that other educated and informed individuals hold a conversation or discussion and let me listen in and learn. The most I can contribute, I feel, is personal experience and feelings: how I feel regarding certain issues, how people I know or have observed have felt regarding certain issues, and so on.

This pondering stemmed from an article on an artist's controversial dressing of her baby daughter in outfits depicting, and I quote, "the most evil historical figures of the 20th century". The figures included: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Ayatollah Khomeini, Chairman Mao Zedong, Idi Amin, Augusto Pinochet, and Slobodan Milosevic. (Mind, this is for art, which in my mind allows it some leeway. Also, the shallow side of me finds the baby-in-the-Mao-outfit pretty adorable, but that may be the maternal instinct and the Asian bias.)

So my question is: Is Mao considered one of the "most evil historical figures of the 20th century" to a level that makes him comparable to Hitler and Stalin?

I will be the first to admit that he was an idealist and made a lot of misguided attempts at governing that ended in dismal, nigh catastrophic, failure. Many, many millions of people suffered the consequences of his actions.

But I cannot seem to reconcile what I know of him - what I know of Chinese people and their opinions on him - with the Clearly Evil label that the West seems too happy to slap on him. Was he a dictator? Did he commit mass genocide? Did he start or perpetuate a world war? Oppress and starve his people? Not to my knowledge (and my disclaimer is, I humbly recognize, that my knowledge is incomplete and limited).

The majority of the negative opinions directed at him from the West is, as far as I can tell, based almost solely on the fact that he is seen as a figurehead closely tied to Communism. And Communism is Evil. Therefore, Mao is Evil.

One friend, Chinese*, answered my query: "To me, he is. He might have started out with good intentions but he went totally insane."

Another friend, also Chinese**, replied: "No." She qualified it by adding, paraphrased, that although the West seems quick to brand him evil, so much of China seems to like, respect, or otherwise admire him - as if he's done something good. And that, to her, matters. The opinions of the people he was ruling, who would be the ones to most directly suffer the consequences of his actions, matters. And I think it should. To quote her again: "There's only so much ~brainwashing~ can do."

These are things I wonder.

Related to this, but tangentially, the article I linked has a poll. The optional answers to the question "Do you find Baby Hitler offensive?" are: (1) Yes. It's a horrible thing to do to a baby.; (2) No. It's a harmless expression of art.; and (3) Not sure.

Dear New York Daily News:

Yes, I find the outfit on the baby offensive - not the baby herself - because of the ugliness of Hitler's actions and on behalf of all the people who suffered his actions. Not because it's a horrible thing to do to a baby. Why on earth would you think that the baby is the victim here?

Though I can't say I'm terribly supportive of you calling her "Baby Hitler".

Bemused by the misplacing of your priorities when questioning things that are PC,

Mei

So this is food for thought for the moment, while I study for my Korean midterm tomorrow and discuss with various people (again) the utter mediocrity of Burton's Alice in Wonderland. I feel like he's overrated as a director, which is sad, because the visuals are amazing and most of the key actors (save Alice) put in great performances - but that all falls well short of producing a great movie when the story and directing seem so lacking. I'm sad. It had so much potential to be great.


*In the interest of full disclosure, she's Singaporean.
**Canadian.

시간이 흘렀어도 나이가 들어도

Assorted and unrelated thoughts, collected:

I do like textbooks with a sense of humor. Also awesome are judges who have a sense of humor and write hilarious court opinions.

I will write you 3 million footnotes in the final draft, I promise. Have no fear at my ability to BS in abundance, at great length, with citations.

It is such a literary turn on when authors really know their stuff and convey it through their storytelling, without infodumping. So much "do want".

I joke about the world ending in 2012 but there's a part of me wishing fervently for it because I don't know what I'll do with my life, what I'll be left with, if it doesn't.

(So Mei totally cries at commercials: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NQaWk_GTNc)

I build my fences high to protect myself, but I've built them so high that you can't see me behind them.

I've never known what it means to "drink someone in with your eyes" until you.



And, to end, a little bit of prose poetry:

This was once a love poem, before its haunches thickened, its breath grew short, before it found itself sitting, perplexed and a little embarrassed, on the fender of a parked car, while many people passed by without turning their heads. It remembers itself dressing as if for a great engagement. It remembers choosing these shoes, this scarf or tie. Once, it drank beer for breakfast, drifted its feet in a river side by side with the feet of another. Once it pretended shyness, then grew truly shy, dropping its head so the hair would fall forward, so the eyes would not be seen. It spoke with passion of history, of art. It was lovely then, this poem. Under its chin, no fold of skin softened. Behind the knees, no pad of yellow fat. What it knew in the morning it still believed at nightfall. An unconjured confidence lifted its eyebrows, its cheeks. The longing has not diminished. Still it understands. It is time to consider a cat, the cultivation of African violets or flowering cactus. Yes, it decides: Many miniature cacti, in blue and red painted pots. When it finds itself disquieted by the pure and unfamiliar silence of its new life, it will touch them—one, then another— with a single finger outstretched like a tiny flame.

—Jane Hirschfield

this nebulous in-between place

• How Men Change


• One exam left to go! If only I were motivated to study...


• so terrified i could cry, and so pointlessly scared

is it fear that drives us?

I could take this time to complain about law school again, and how I feel completely unprepared for my exams, but why reiterate the same old same old? I should take on a more positive, proactive attitude. I can handle this. I will take my exams and do well on them.

Or just, you know, get the median. Whatever. At this point, it's hard to keep upbeat and hopeful about the entire ordeal. At this point, I just want a job.

The hardest thing is that my parents will only ever see and care about the grades. It will always be about rank.

I'm trying to do Christmas cards to cheerful (sometimes Christmas) music in an effort to keep my spirits up, but I'm not entirely sure it's working. I'm not sure when the holidays have lost their spark for me this year. I blame law school, honestly; it's sapped me of joy, creativity, energy, etc.

It would have been better to have been a science major coming into law school. They're better at step-by-step logical analysis and have the advantage in the IP field. Sometimes I feel like everything I've done in my life is pretty much worthless.

Oh wait, there I go, being negative and pessimistic again...

I have to keep fighting. Keep trying. A part of me knows I can do this. I can take my exams and pass them, get a job for the summer, come back for another 2.5 semesters, get a secure job. I know I can. I will have a future.

But it wars with the other part of me that says not good enough and points out how much easier it would be to just give up.

I won't give in though. It has less to do with my strength or my courage or my determination, perseverance, or ability to overcome obstacles.

When it comes down to it, I keep going because I'm too afraid to stop and to fail. To have nothing and be nothing.

So let's keep fighting.



Didn't I used to have more cheerful entries? It's hard to tell at this point.

tired of this, this is me

There is so much that needs work. Not just in academics, but in who I am as a person.

I know I need to be more confident. I just didn't realize that I was also more closed off than I realized. I'm not as stressed as maybe I should be. I'm not as invested as maybe I should be. I want to know, in the end, where I stand.

There is this distance and I don't know if I will broach it. Where do I stand?

You know. I hate this thing girls do.

When it comes down to it, I don't know that I could pick V or C's side.

When it comes down to it, I'd still want you to pick my side.

When it comes down to it, I'm tired. Of this. Of that. Of feeling like it's (I'm) not good enough.

("You're not.")

some people fall to lose it all

I'm confused and conflicted and possibly other words that start with "con". I think that prefix is indicative of the entire process. It's not so great.

The problem with getting upset about one thing is that it manages to make me think about all the other things I could be getting upset about, and then I end up stupid and emo. Look, I'd choose not to be this way if I had a choice. I don't like having my emotions so easily manipulated.

But as of right now, they kind of are. I feel stupid. I feel like my emotions are on a roller coaster I don't get to control. I feel like I have no idea what to do, or what I want.

This is so stupid. At least I provide entertainment for those around me. They're too good to me, really.

I wish I knew what I wanted. Or how to get it. Or had the courage to carry through. Any or all of that would be nice.

I think, in lieu of any answers or solutions, I'm just going to get bubble tea. Hot. And then read Property until my brain is numb; thinking is clearly a bad idea. As is feeling.

are these just words or numbers

People say "age is just a number" and I agree to an extent, that it doesn't draw a clear line between sudden wisdom and inexeperienced stupidity, and it doesn't mean some people are better than others at certain things just because of age. I've always believed, though, that age isn't just a number, because age represents a wealth of experiences that are, sadly, only gained with more years. This is not a hard and fast rule, of course, because there are people who are young who've lived through much more than someone who may be 40, for example, but generally speaking, those who are older have had more life experiences than those who are younger.

This is why the senpai/kouhai, sunbae/hoobae relationship works. This is why in pretty much every culture there's a form of the sentiment "respecting your elders". I realize I'm not really anybody's elder by much. A few years don't give me a wealth of wisdom with which to enlighten the masses. But those few years, especially between in the high school-university age period, is actually a pretty significant amount of time for people who are growing up and figuring out their lives. I can't say i've figured it all out (god, I wish), but I know that I look back on the person I was at 16 and am really, really glad I'm not there anymore. I'm glad I've grown and changed.

Obviously, the person I was at 16 is different from other people at 16, but I do think that in 4 or so years people will look back on who they were then and go "hmm. Oh, the things I thought I knew then." Hindsight is built on experience, and that experience, I think, deserves some sort of recognition. It doesn't mean what people think at 16 are wrong, only that years will give people a differnet perspective.

But these are just words and thoughts.

reflecting yourself in the world around you

It's true that you choose your friends and that they reflect the kind of person you are. Many of my friends are Asian and many of those who aren't are at least interested in Asian culture--I never realized how true this was, how much I took it for granted, until I came into work last night with some bubble tea and was asked by at least three different people (co-worker, customer, and manager) what it was.

Not only had they never had it, they'd never even heard of it.

With globalization so prevalent in the U.S. (the "melting pot" of cultures) and especially while attending such a liberal, diverse university, I'd made the mistake of thinking that everyone had equal exposure to cultures that I had. It's not true. They don't know all that I know, that I take for granted--and the same is true in reverse. What do I really know about French or Norwegian culture, for example? I have no French or Norwegian friends. I have no friends who are so immersed in those cultures that they would teach me by virtue of acquaintance.

Sometimes it's startling to realize how different my frame of reference regarding the world is compared to other people's. It's difficult to take a step outside of the box and trying to see yourself from the outside looking in, rather than from the inside looking out. The viewpoints are startlingly different. (It's like finding out you're in a clique. What, really? When did this happen?)

This was a reminder to me to pay attention to the world outside of my ostensibly open-minded and broad perspective of Western vs. non-Western cultures. There is more to the West than just U.S., and there is more to non-Western culture than just Asia. While I may have an advantage over others in my knowledge and familiarity with aspects of Asian culture, there is still a whole wide world out there of knowledge I don't have, and could learn.

Reach out. Teach what you know and be receptive to everything you don't.

it's not easy being a girl

I wonder if I don't sometimes make feminists cry. Why? Well, I wouldn't mind growing up and being someone's housewife, for one. My mom tells me I'd regret it, but I don't think I would. I like being domestic, as strange as it may sound: I like cooking and cleaning and caring for children. Well, to an extent, but to an extent where I'd be willing to stay at home if my husband was okay with it and if he made good money.

I like chivalry too. I think "ladies first" is a wonderful tradition, and I think guys should hold doors open for girls and pay for dates. In return, girls should look pretty and flatter the guy and generally be pleasant company (your sex is a weapon if you know how to use it right). I don't think guys are superior to girls, no, but I think that we're different, and thus we can't be equal in all respects.

Guys have superior physical strength, fact of life. I'm okay with that. I'd like to know how to defend myself and how to change my own tire (though everyone I've told that to has only laughed at me and told me to call AAA instead), but I'm okay with relying on a guy for that too. I can be independent without turning down offers of help, can't I?

I wouldn't mind being rich and powerful by my own right. I wouldn't mind being the adored eye-candy hanging off some hot guy's arm either, really. As long as I was adored, you know. Love puts a different spin on things.

I wonder if this is making some people reconsider what they know of me. I'm not misogynist, I promise, though sometimes I think I'd rather have been a guy. One particular instance of this is: can girls even pop and lock? Am I wasting my time tryiing to master this? Man.

building a social hierarchy

I was studying for my Geography midterm tomorrow today. In the East Asia chapter of my book, I read about China, Japan, and Korea and their various economic, cultural, and social constructs. As I was reading, I thought about Japan's senpai-kouhai system, Korea's sunbae-dongsaeng system, and then wondered why China didn't have something like that.

This whole idea--it's probably a cultural thing, structured by an Asian society and way of thinking, and I understand that. What makes me marvel is how I've been influenced by this culture even an entire ocean and continent away, because I want that kind of social hierarchy structure. I want to be someone's 姐姐, someone's お姉さん, someone's 언니 or 누나. I want to be someone's 先輩 or 선배. Furthermore, I also want to be someone's 妹妹 or 後輩, 동생.

Is it unnatural? Shouldn't we stress equality for all? It certainly seems to be the Western viewpoint, especially in the United States, but I don't see how supporting a lowerclassman-upperclassman, junior-senior hierarchical system contradicts the belief of equality. Truth be told, people are not equal: we are too different, and our age and experiences and personalities set us apart from each other. We may be equal in that no one of us is worth more or less than any other of us, but we are not equal in regards to experience. That is why we do accord respect to "those who came before", to our seniors. That is why I think this social construct is not necessarily a bad thing--not scandalous or outrageous or oppressive or demeaning. It might even be beneficial.

And I want it. I want that kind of system of support and encouragement, of mentoring and advice, of respect and submission. I want this kind of structure in my life, where I know exactly where I fit in, exactly where I stand in my relationships with other people, especially those I don't know well (since, obviously, family and friendship transcend this basic hierarchy).

I wonder what someone thoroughly Western would think of this opinion. I've shared these thoughts with people before (V and A, off the top of my head, but I'm sure there are others), but they were all Asian. They were both familiar with the type of relationship structure I was talking about and in general agreement with my opinion. I really do think it's an Asian mindset, the result of cultural influence. Am I wrong? Am I strange for wanting this?