Thoughts

1. He braces my body.
2. Part of being poor is hunger.
3. Sex should not be the only exercise I get.
4. I am attracted to relationships that are mean to reflect my mean.
5. So badly, I miss Paris and travel.
6. I am terribly afraid of love. No, of commitment.
7. I am more afraid of not making anything of my self.
8. My favorite part of his body is his eyelashes when wet.
9. Gramma thinks the next time I go home is when she is dead. This may be true.
10. He challenges my idealism.
11. Children own me. Even my invisible children.
12. Music=movement. Words=Color. Life=Love. Creation=Art

Creation Myth

"How many creation myths do you know?"
We count on our fingers, silently.
I know 8. He knows 8 too.

I name them off first:
Chinese, Navajo, Australian,
Egyptian, Christian,
Atlantian, Human Race,
And Darwinian.

He intellectualizes,

"It is interesting
How there are many creation myths within
One culture."

I tell him that my myth is the same
And spans across cultures.

Mine goes like this:
There were 8 aliens
Who wanted to make slaves.
They mixed their blood
With that of an ape,
And out came the human slave.

In Egypt, in Atlantis, in Australia....
We were transported and placed.

He can't seem to remember
The last of his myths,
His pinky pointing up and out
From the rest of his curled fist.

I put his finger down, and affirm,
"WE are a creation myth."

Hangfire

Hangfire definitition: To suspend or fasten so as to allow free movement at or about the point of suspension

I felt inspired to write after sdvfire posted her recent entry. First, let me describe this setting I am sitting in: Keane-she has no time playing, in Nirali boutique in Fashion Island, Teach For America articles on the desk to my right, and no one around to interrupt my blogging.

Everything feels suspended in time. I feel both full of time, and yet, there seems to be no time at all. How can forever feel like a blink and a blink feel like forever? Like sdv, I don't feel like I am accomplishing what I want, nor do I know what I want at this point in my life.

At first, when I got out of August and into September, I was scrambling to make ends meet. Somewhere, internally, subconsciously, I had known about this drop. Drop? What drop? Hope, I guess. I feel like I had lost hope. This is easy in a family that reinforces your unworthiness with negativity and when there is no support network to build you back up. It is easy to falter from the dreamer's path when your peers from high school seem settled with children, with long-term career plans, and complacent about doing the same ol' same ol'.

This month of feeling nothing and everything made me go insane. So I escaped. To save my self. This little dreamer. Reality is not fun already. Why spend my time thinking about reality? AH! But I can't help but think about the state of my life: MONEY. Money, sadly, owns my dreams. I need money to travel. I need money to be independent. I need money to go to pursue higher education.

Today, I was driving on the 5 and in the distance, grey smoke poured into the sky, helicopters surrounding it. I caught myself, thinking, "Oh, gosh! This traffic needs to hurry up because I need to get to so-and-so." Time is money. That is my mindset. Money has polluted my thoughts. How could I forget my compassion? How could I forget my own humanity? How could I forget empathy? So I prayed...I prayed for the people who were caught or around would be safe and out of harm's way.

And in that moment, I understood....how possible it is for money to corrupt and how money has power. No, I never wanted money to own me. No, I never wanted money to have power over me. After having been home for the month, I realized the fate of my folks: they work day and day out, 7 days a week, bustling in a restaurant that doesn't make enough money to make them feel at ease, and money has taken over their lives.....and now mine. This is not what I want.

Money buys time. Money allows one to go forward and backward in time, to move freely in it. Money allows flexibility. Money allows comfort. I have grown up simply: don't buy new clothes, don't eat out, don't spend money on snacks or drinks that i don't need, don't buy books, don't buy anything unnecessary. But I am so angry! I am so angry! How can corporations, CEOs, SEOs, and whoever not share the wealth? I feel castrated, in a sense, of my humanhood to provide for my family. And this makes me extremely angry.

Reality tells each one of us that we are not good enough to make "it." "It" being big time, big leagues, playing with the big boys. I think if I give up and say, "Okay, I'll just accept and ordinary, average life, and fall into the fabric of working-class America" then I will be lost forever! (Not that it is bad, or good)

I just think, this is not ME! Nt right now, at least. Yet here I am, suspending in time....maybe I am just building....building my armor until I am ready for the war. Fuck. I should just leave already. With no sight of where I'm going.

At what point did I gain this mentality where I have to know where I am going to finally start an adventure? When did making mistakes terrify me more than taking the first step? Maybe I am already lost.....

Heavy and Light Minded

It all started with my eyebrows! Whenever I have a bad day, there is nothing better than getting pampered. I decide to thread my eyebrows. That is enough to make me feel like a million bucks!

The great things about being home:

There are three trash cans. 1 for compost, another for non-recyclables, and the last for bottles and cans! YAY! We are saving the Earth!

I finally feel like I am contributing to the family. I realize that the family, as a unit, has an Acts of Service love language. This is how I am helping: Licensing Lava, getting Mia and Nemo their shots, going grocery shopping with Gramma and keeping her company throughout the day, hanging out with my sisters, even little things like make a diet plan for my dad, and help my mom get some comfortable shoes she can stand in for 12 hours. Acts of service isn't my main love language but it's okay. It really makes me happy to see my family's lives a little bit easier.

I am deciding on my future. Everyone is very helpful. My family tells me not to rush and I am taking it to heart, kinda. I have realized that time moves slowly for everyone else. I work in milliseconds. One day=two days for Diana. Please remember this, friends. Oh, and thank you to those who have been keeping up with my fleeting thoughts.

So this is the first time where I don't feel like my decisions are pulled by some stupid relationship, except for the one I have with myself. I am alone. This is one of my biggest fears. However, I have built my home, body, temple up before post-Calvin. I can do this again.

Pros and cons about certain career paths:

Massage therapist: Great environments. It is one that I create for my self. It is a 10-month program. I would love to get certified and be able to work as a part-time masseuse while I am applying for grad schools or when I am not dong anything. In the end, I would love to create an in-home massage business, or work in a nice hotel, or in a chiropractor's office. Why? In-home so that I can cater to people who are not mobile such as old-folk or rich-folk, or people who just feel more comfortable being in their space. A nice hotel because people spend a lot of money on massages at hotels. People pay 90$ for an hour Swedish massage. And Swedish is the most minimal amount of work, I think. Chiropractor's office seems like a consistent place to be. Especially if clients who come in seeking for the help. Most people don't go to a chiropractor's office for nothing.

Social Worker/Counselor: (Warning-This may reveal a lot about me)I want to help people, especially those in need. However, I realized that I am the second-eldest and I need to make money to support my family. As much as I would not want to sell myself out by focusing on money, it is very important to me to help my family with their bills. Also, the annual income to the amount of stress and work you put in is not what I want. I believe I have adequate skill and talent that should be sufficiently compensated.

Pre-school/Elementary school teacher: I keep facing roadblocks to this one. I have been trying to get my substitute teaching stuff squared away, but I don't know which district, I don't know where to get Early Childhood Education Units, nor do I have a school that is willing to hire me right now. To get credentialed in this, I thought about about getting into a Master's program. Even if I applied, it would be difficult for me to know if I am secured into a place in school. Grad school is scary. I never felt prepared. I feel like my education is geared for Higher Education/Education Leadership and policy. Ah!

Am I only good for Student Affairs?

Advice: Being a student is amazing. Undergrad is fun and maybe careful consideration for where you want to go post-college is important. I really wish I had an internship that allowed me to get a hand's on experience in a area that I, now, feel like entering. So really think about where you want to go and start working towards that.

Untitled

My gramma sings around the house
The songs of her youth.

She sits me down at the kitchen table,
The place where all chatter comes out.

We share a bowl of eggplant curry
My mother made the night before.

She says,"Y'know? I don't feel old, right?"
Tears well up in her purple-grey eyes.

"At your sister's graduation, they told me
To get into the picture."

It wasn't until she saw them developed
That she realized how old she was.

After this guy

We lie in mid-coitus.
I am crying because my insecurities
Come flooding out as we both did
A moment before.

There were 25 men before this one.
All of them were infatuated ideas of love.
All of them got a perfect show--
All smiles; No tears.

But this guy, the one whom
I loved in soul, daggered it
The moment she flew out from
Phantastical orgasm.

"You are a great faker," he exclaimed.
That hurt more than a fist to my face.

I thought this guy
Was different.
No, he is just as afraid
As the others,
Just as small as I am.

I suffocate in his apologies.
My pride swells up over my head and
Crashes my entire body.
I drown in it.

This is where I hide when I want
To get some air, where it is quiet,
Where I am invisible, where I know
Too well, where I never thought

I'd have to come back to....

After this guy.

Love, or Survival

We are broke.
In the dead of Winter,
We eat canned sardines
And Baguettes from the
Dollar Store. It is next to
The donut shop my uncle
Used to work at last year;

We go there for dessert.
We split a maple bar, and
Tomorrow a classic glazed.
This is equity.

After dinner,
I lie belly down on the bed
In only my underwear. He decides
The outfit he will wear to school
Tomorrow. I ask him for a show.

He tries on everything he owns,
Mix matches dress pants and t-shirts,
Jeans with a raincoat. He tosses a scarf
Made of cashmere around his neck.

Finally, we settle on something.
All I know are his eyes.
I watch him

With nothing to offer but a smile.
I'm not sure if this is love, or survival

in love as i know it now

i have been trying to write a poem that could capture the type of in love i feel.

instead i can only think of words:

home: you make me feel like i have someone to come home to, whose face in the evening makes all the day work just a dream. i just have to go through the motions of doing things just so time will pass. because nothing matters once i am with you. i am safe. i am warm. i belong with you. it is only when i am with you that everything in the world is rightfully in its place.

chamomile tea: you heal me. (and without all the addictive caffeine properties.) you are quiet, you are still, you are easy to take in....smooth.

high: imagine/think skydiving.....together. yes!

friend: you are my friend. you are someone who will call out my bullshit when i get too bullshitty and reel me back from floating when i dream for too long. it is good to know that someone genuinely cares for me as a friend and hopes good things for me.

belief: you made me believe in myself more than anyone else in the world. i don't know how. i don't know why. maybe because you said it directly to me, eyes-to-eyes. no head turns. no nervous laugh or smile. just a sincere "i believe in you."

poetry: you fill me so much that i need not write sad poetry. the tone my poems only know are longing. i am trying not to write sappy love poems, but i know you'll accept them. and heck, who doesn't love a good romance now and again?

tears: it hurts to love you. the kind of hurt you feel when you laugh so hard that tears come out. you make me laugh so hard that it hurts....my heart is laughing so much it hurts. it's funny how even something once broken can still be functional in the end.

laughter: and so we laugh and laugh and laugh because the inside jokes get funnier, the references from earlier in the day to later jokes are just as funny, and we know how to poke fun without hurting each other. ever since i was a little girl, i've always wanted someone who could make me laugh. i liked jim carey and tim allen because they were funny guys. you are a funny person (minus the scripted jokes. haha j/k). laughter reminds me that we have voices.

scoop: whether it is an ice cream scoop or the way you spoon, something about your body and my body coming together is delicious! i mean you are what you eat and i want to eat you up! it must be the way we share yogurtland, or the way we share a bed, or the way we share our meals. i have someone to share my life with and i am so very thankful that we are two ice cream scoops.

pedagogy: sometimes you teach me sometimes i teach you. sometimes i learn you. and sometime you learn me. and it never stops i feel. i am happy that you believe i am smart and allow me to be. i am happy you are smart and can keep me intrigued by all your knowings and not-knowings.

moon: y'know when you look at the moon and it is so immensely big and breathtaking that you are in utter awe? when i think about the idea of you, i sometimes feel we are so different and that statisticians or sociologists would never in a million years conceive of our togetherness. however, it is when i see your face or am with you that i know there is a pull i can't ignore....you are the moon and i am the sea.....

sleep: let's lie in the sand together. let's lie in the grass. let's lie in warm laundry. let's lie in the clouds. let's lie poolside. let's lie in the desert. let's lie in a hammock. let's lie in the car under galaxies. let's lie in each other's arms and sleep.

fishing: patience brings the fish. my mother used to tell me that i was a fisherman who was never settled with what fish i caught because i knew that there was an ocean full of fish. you remind me that fishing isn't about how many fish you catch or caught, but the fact that i just like to spend all day, patiently, waiting.

gravity: sometimes your mass reminds me that you exist. that is enough. your existence.

lightness: sometimes your mass reminds me that i exist. that is enough. my lifted spirit.

serendipity: it scares me how coincidental our thoughts/ actions have been. we both wanted quadratic equation tattoos on our left forearm. we both wanted to play mah jong. we both ate cookies at the same time! we both fell in love this weekend! i mean....is the universe tugging our tails?

food: i would marry the cook.

committed: i've never been so committed to aligning my life-times with someone else's life-time. it is hard for me to let go of my pride because i have a hard time trusting. but our not-a-couple-togetherness thing, otherwise known as "dating," makes me want to date you forever! and i mean....forever!

here: you make me feel 3-dimensional.

love: i love you.

transitional tears

even though it is most difficult to bring change within your family, some pivotal moments happened this week that I feel changed things for the better.

first some realizations: my family is extremely negative toward each other. i mean my brother would end every one of his statements with "stupid" or "dumbass." the way my mother jokes aroud is pretty negative too. actually....most of everyone's jokes here are sarcastic because they just can't seem to say it straight to my face what my flaws are. and this is where i stand in the eyes of the family. i have flawed. all they know of me is not my redemption but my past. let me explain further: in high school i raised hell. i stayed out late at night. i brought boys over and they slept over, in the same room, in the same bed. i snuck out. i didn't pick up my mother's phone calls until the 21st one. i knew better but didn't act on it. i tore down these walls as if i owned the place. in reality, i didn't pay for my car. i didn't pay for my health insurance. i didn't pay for this house. in reality, i was living under my parents' roof and my gramma's traditions. in their eyes, presentation, respect, and dignity were important.

so here i am....feeling as if i've changed for the better. positive thinker, able to help out the house, feeling like there is a celebration waiting at the door when i arrive. at first, it seemed so. every one was so nice. my mother cut me fruit. my gramma made me food....a lot of it. no one seemed to comment on my weight. people asked me questions as though they were generally interested in my life. as the phonograph stopped spinning and the party balloons deflated, the critiques came flying through the window.

so the drama comes filtering in. aunts and cousins tell my gramma that i am unhappy here at home. that i turned down jobs because i was told to come home. i really was told to come home, but of course, people forget the things they tell a person. plus, it's easier to save your own ass and make the other person look like the ass. so i look like the ass for calling out my immediate family and for hurting them. to deal with my immediate family is to also deal with my 6 sets of aunts and uncles, and my 27 other cousins. everyone's got their ears on the door waiting to hear about my next disappointing act. the next thing i do to burden my immediate family. i'm second in line and of course i should be more responsible. but everyone knows that even when i was a baby, i cried every time i woke up, and i wanted to run away to new york in the second grade. i would take my clothes off just to prove that i only needed my self to go. lesson learned: keep my mouth shut. third-accounts are usually not accurate and people surely get what i said twisted...a lot of the times.

christopher came up here on saturday and stayed a good 5 days. the first night we slept in the same bed together. the next morning i get a call from my mother yelling at me that he has to sleep outside in the living room. i get a call from my brother yelling at me because my aunt has just yelled at gramma for telling me to come home. the weather is gloomy this day. i don't feel like eating the food my gramma made, which is a sign of rejection. these acts of service aren't my primary love language. i'm a words-of-affirmation-type. sometimes people aren't aware of their tones when they yell. i am sensitive to tones, especially if they reach an outdoors-voice decibel in my ear at 10 am. of course, christopher and i sleep in the living room. i stay on the floor and he sleeps on an airbed. we dare to reside in the microscopic eyes of the entire immediate family. "see? we aren't doing anything? we just want to sleep!" so we do for the following four nights. lesson learned: if you do what they want, they can't say anything to you.

an extremely large argument broke out between my brother and my sister. it's really difficult to stay out of an argument when there are no walls in the house. i tried to hide my room. christopher was on the bed quietly listening too. this seems to always happen when i am home. instead of jumping right in and yelling, i try to mediate. so does judy, my older sister. she and i are the mediators. there were definitely times when we both got a little heated and wanted to jump in but it was good we kept each other in check. i see my brother's anger parallel my father's. i think i have that same anger. but i try really hard to control it. we are all crying: my brother, my sister, christopher in the room, my gramma, and me. i bring my gramma into her room because 1) she is too old to be hearing this, 2) she is too old to understand that this argument is necessary for us siblings, 3) she kept cutting people off when it was their turn to talk. so e take turns, saying what we needed to say, decoding it for each other. and calling out each other's flaws. it wasn't easy. this took 3 hours. it is when i see my sister rage with anger and frustration that i understand what i must have looked like when i was younger. so i finally see my role: to tell my younger sister that she shouldn't grow up to try to be me. my brother and my sister are trying to save her from walking my path. christopher even came out into the living room after his shower and helped mediate. lessons learned: people want someone to listen to them; others want to get credit for their efforts; and others need to initiate service to help lessen the burdens of life.

i also fell in love with christopher. there was no more hiding my past. yes, i am the way i am for a reason. you can trace it back. i rebelled against my family so everything they wanted i did the opposite. tons of back story to share. he held me when i broke down. he sat and listened when my siblings were transformed into monsters. he ate my gramma's food even though his gut was going to explode. (he gained 4 pounds.) he made my family laugh. he reminded me that this dimension may not be the best but we were together and that's enough. he makes me want to slow down and cry happier tears. he inspires me to be better, more family-focused and family-oriented. he never left me and that's more commitment than i could ever ask for.

the days after that seemed a lot easier and better. i know i have the time and pleasure to listen to other people. not only within my immediate family, but the extended too want some love too. it is harder to filter this love out to them though. there is a meditation method called tonglin. you inhale the negative air and exhale a positive thought, love, or emotion. i learned that the power of empathy is that i can take so much of this family's negativity and still love them. unconditionally for all that they do and don't provide me. i know that these traditional social rules aren't how i want to live and it motivates me to get out. there is no rush. time moves slowly here. i am learning that being with family isn't just a two-second wave on ring road. to be with family is usually a five hour thing. and i've got time. i feel like i'm making time to help. i feel like i'm taking initiative. i feel like i'm giving back.....or kissing ass, for now.

and even though i'm not contacting everyone who has helped me. their voices, their stories, and their wisdoms flash through me, are lived through me in real life! big ups to sherweezy, mike knox, kevin, flai, spop staff, jhust, suj, ray ray, edi dai, DTR, susan diep, all of DOS, and the students. i really do miss uci and the good people there.

SPOP in 3 stages

I

First, imagine crowd surfing: hands awkwardly placed under your should blades, ankles, calves, head, upper back, lower back, and accidentally your butt. You are floating in the air, eyes closed and being pushed side to side scared you will fall but trusting that people won't drop you. SPOP is like crowd surfing, people awkwardly touching parts of you that you might not have been so ready to be touched. Coming toes to toes to share secrets, touching your ears with voices ricocheting off all these other voices, your shoulders to cry on, your arm's embrace, your minds' open doors, your hearts' worries. We didn't know someone could lift us up in such intimate places, yet we trusted the hands reaching out to us, the strangers who became close. We are close because we share a common love for the same music, the beta waves that help us meditate on our purpose. SPOP is like crowd surfing.

II

Now imagine that there are no more hands holding you up. No, you don't fall. You levitate on the sweaty air of summer's passings. You levitate on the feel-good moments of highs. And you bob like a buoy in water. Imagine buoyancy. It is not empty space, not less density. In fact, it is the lightness of our being that keeps us up. The surrounding air is filled with light. I believe I am light. I believe you are light. So post-SPOP it may seem like there are no hands around to carry you, but hopefully you believe in the lightness within yourself to carry you.

III

Lastly, imagine you are invisible. You are still floating and can see everything. Sheer will keeps you afloat, and suddenly there is a breeze. You are as light as a breeze. This breeze will move you beyond UCI, circulate around the globe, catch you in the sails of exploration, and ask you to lift others when they are feeling heavy. Remember that the world is heavy and the incoming freshmen want to fly, so be the wind that guides them in their exploration.

drafting spop

there's are so much so i'm just going to start typing.

people i remember: niko is from a military base in italy. he was surprised to see how friendly people where in california. we talked about fusion, technology in the US out pacing other countries.

spop 8 boyband singing "end of the road" and ralph starts balling saying thank you. i didn't know how to respond but cry too. happy tears....sad tears...the emotions waved while the tears flowed. watching spop modern right after that feeling, seeing edge, alex, alek, tom, thy, kristine....seriously my babies!!! ah!

eric who graduated in a class of 7, he came from a school of 23. he told me about his attention disorder. kids in his public school get put into this one for more one on one attention. because of that, he got into UCI. i was so proud of him. His sister got into santa barbara too. their parents must be so proud.

spop 7 crying in the parking lot in the coney because i did not want to face thinking about the transition between spop and home.

coord adventure to the arts building rooftop, having our dandelion ceremony.

driving fabrizio to the train station right after spop 8 so he can make it home. made it there with ten minutes to spare.

discovering after a day with mel how positivity is literally a change in thought and attitude. this affects how you live.

bat watching with mel.

photoshoot. weho. screaming. buck nasty. best friends.

mai-chi cha who has 10 brothers and sisters. she is hmong and an ics major. she wanted to leave as soon as possible because she was from norcal. her dad was coming to get her. at the end of that spop i was walking and saw her. full circle. she smiled.

stephanie tran....she told me about how she didn't want to be at uci. how her parents are forcing her to commute and take the bus. how they will call the cops on her.....again....if ever she stood up for herself.

evgene: he cam up to me and asked about my vegetarianism. he knew about factory farming. pesticides. about organic free-range meat. we talked for 15 minutes about the pharmaceutical industry. he is a bme major looking to cure cancer. he asked me how i knew certain things. he asked me if i was a freshman. i told him i graduated. he asked if i had a job. i said this is my job. one that pays he quips. i do get paid i exclaimed because i'm one of the coordinators...and he walks away from me....and never looks back.

i remember doing adam's family with jansen and with jenny and with patrick and....psychiatrist with jansen, with megan and joey, and with jase and alyssa.

i remember feeling filled by all the light :]

parents who cried. yolanda from tuczan, arizona, suze the helicopter mom, the courageous man who admitted he had difficulty verbalizing/showing love to his child, to mike knox, and to nam, and to all the staffers who share home with me.

realizing the difference between a great staffer and a good staffer. remembering what it felt like to sacrifice a meal to make someone's day.

drunk girl songs

I'm addicted to drunk girls
who throw up on their 21st birthdays.
The way they hover over toilets,
snotty, projectile vomit forcing through
the basins on her small stomach. She purges
all the painful layers of adolescence
to leave her butterfly body.

She is broken. Her hands are on the ground,
holding up the weight oh her mother's voice,
"A cold washcloth and an aspirin. That'll do
The trick." Her shoulder blades rounded up
like mountains afraid of the sky. These
are her growing wings.

Her forehead is on the backs on her hands.
With the pounding of her father's voice,
"This is what you wanted. Suck it up!"
Her spine is a raised railroad track that
gets lost in the tunnel of her spaghetti strap.
Here lies her courage.

Yet she cries like smallness in a big world.
She apologizes for being weak, not ready
for performance in the world stage.
She cries and apologizes in
the embrace of an echoey bathroom

And to my listening ears. I stroke her back
and hand her tissue until the box runs out.
I am beside her, her sob songs in my ear:

Songs of girls who grow into women too soon,
These songs of battered women,
songs of her period, songs of leaving
her family for her husband's home,
songs of shame, songs of feeling ugly
and not enough, the song of her first daughter,
songs of her dead mother, songs so deep
they fill the hallows of honeycombs.

These 21 year old drunk girls hold
the music collection of our women's souls.
They hold it in the deepest pit, reverberating
in the toilet bowl. Alcohol happens to be the key
that unlock these songs of being a girl.

boo

i was feeling so good talking to akshay about levitating people and the power of belief.

i was having a good time trying to connect to people

and y'know what happens?

i get pulled over....by the same cop who gave me my first ticket.....

full circle.

thanks city of irvine

thoughts of lucy

Seeing myself in the mirror made my eyes water. Wanted to share the sob stories of my diaries with my sister. The way she is like me, and how much I take from her. I can't hide it. I've made a mess and it's time to clean up. This is probably the first thing to teach a child--to clean up after herself.

Why am I competing with my sisters? When really the power is in our hands and we can rule the world together. But why don't we do this? Why do we keep our diaries from each other? The closer I got to things the more I got consumed. Sister, help me see the colours that surround me. Sometimes I feel like the escape is to sleep. Eternal sleep.

Our electricity will fuel the current of the next generation though. Maybe the pulse and pull is getting too heavy. I can't keep my mind in one place....maybe that's why my mother wants me home. To keep her mind in one place. And the closer we get to the core of it, you want to escape, to runaway, runaway....

The words are throbbing and seems to only make sense in my mind. I can always make things better. That my place is at home. Whoa. Mazed ourselves back behind our masks. Or maybe home is no longer a space that can contain me. That's why the universe exploded into itself.

The place in our society where women are still cordial with each other is a beauty salon. To trust another person with your hair or appearance is a sacred code. Sounds like this is all bull.

notes to self:

diana

don't stir the miso soup....be still and you will find clarity

the grass is always greener where you water...be here and invest your time in the now so it can thrive.

life is just a reflection of our dreams...

Everything inside and around us wans to reflect itself in us. We don't have to go anywhere to obtain truth. We only need to be still and things will reveal themselves in the still water of our heart.

All the wonderful things that you are looking for--happiness, peace, and joy--can be found inside of you. You do not need to look anywhere else.

Thoughts and dreams reign supreme when questions have no ontological answer. Human is being able to reflect on the limitations of his existence.

remembering is painful.

today i went to the getty villa with my partner's family to see the aztec pantheon. it was awesome seeing these ancient artifacts in front of me. I even touched one on accident. i couldn't believe it was real! i needed to touch it, to experience it. my senses often get confused with what's truth. on a screen was a painted scene of murder, conquest, rape, fire, technology wars (guns vs spears), etc....i was channeling the sensations, sound, screams, sense sense sense

it doesn't make sense....how people can hurt...slavery....mental slavery...void....no ability to think...no choice...no love. yet, i could not help think about the people who are privileged, the slave masters, the owners, the imperialists....how can we teach them how to love? to love nothingness? to love their fears? to love and to share....to share power? to share the world?

it doesn't make sense how a human can become so corrupt, so illusioned by abstract ideas of gold or money or wealth that they must kill their fellow man, must rape their fellow sister, must take their brethren's lands? it doesn't make sense how people can be so blinded by all of that that they cannot see love, be love.

here, i feel trapped. i am a paradox. i have choice, yet i feel burden to help both...bridge for my children to walk on.....i choose not and i choose too....not slave enough not free enough....not enough...

in my despair i felt not enough to the point that he would abandon me....leave me....but i could not leave my cause...

i realize that it hurts to love, admit love, to feel love, because love may be lost...loss...a breakup...a broken promise...a death....

and because it is so scary to feel loss, it is much easier to not love at all, to be ignorant, easier to forget history...because remembering love is painful...because remembering death is painful...because buying a convenient cup of coffee is easier than remembering the child who could not eat, the child who could not walk, the child who cried....

it is not that i live day by day forgetting....it is that i live day by day remembering everything...

everything....i do is based on the fact that i remember i can share my power to give others choice, to give access, to love.

i am calling others to action: love.

Chapter 1: SPOP thoughts so far

I just got off gmail video chat with jhust. he re-opened my heart, reminded me of how i got here, why I am here.

so let me just say that it's been extremely difficult for me to blog about SPOP. Maybe it was a pride thing, maybe I thought I was done with it and just couldn't get myself to open up, get excited, get hyped about what is right in front of me. Now, I see just how blessed I am to watch growth of the staff.

first off, let me say that it was hard for me to feel the splove. despite being a coord, i'm still a peer trying to learn names, and learn people's experiences. It's really overwhelming for me and I do a lot better one-on-one. when i am at training though, i'm definitely present, definitely in the here and the now, but like someone said at our first training, know that there is a support network of spop staffers who will be down to hang out and kick it and support. admittedly, i haven't sought that out but i'm happy to know that i could if ever i am down from that SPOP training high. Do you know what i mean? I mean...SPOP has always been a trigger for my bipolar. It is extremely high energy during trainings and during the time we spend with each other, maximum adrenaline rushes. Yet, once I leave training and I go to certain low-key spoptics, or just come straight home, it's like i am drenched in loneliness. and we have spop contact cards for a reason, and spopbook, and spoproulette, and spoptics....so we can bond and make friends and meet new people, and be together because we all get lonely sometimes. it helps to know that i'm not alone, but i've definitely got to put out the effort to meet new and more people, and REALLY engage because every person I meet has the potential to be my friend. i am going to try to break out of my comfort zone.

I remember being a first-year spop staffer and remembering everyone's names (facebook stalker status) because i really believed that we could all be friends. it was a hard lesson to learn knowing that i couldn't be friends with everyone, but a really valuable lesson in quality over quantity. tim pannara brought this up in training already and it hits right at home because i truly love the close friends i've made here at uci, and some of these close friends I would not have met had it not been for spop. it has been one of the most influential programs that shaped who i am today. and all the lessons that we are learning--positivity, maximizing, pay it forward--needs to be integrated into my being and put into action because at one point in my life, i believed these mantras. now, i will live these mantras.

it wasn't until i had a conversation with jhust that i realized where i am in relation to everyone else. i am right here where i started. because at the core of who i am, my heart can only grow bigger. love expands and i feel immense joy seeing staff. i must admit that i love this program because it has the potential for process. no, the program is not perfect, and that's what makes it perfect every year. because the potential for it to be challenged, changed, shaped to the needs of the staff for that year. and this year, given the context of the program ucsd, the state of education, and our nation, training needed to be rehashed because we needed this holistic healing. one of the challenges of being coord is feeling removed from staff. i don't think any of my relationships are as strong as they could be and i would like to know how people are doing. i would like to see them more than once a week. i would really like to know what it is that the staffers need in order to make sure they are fully maximizing their time and we are maximizing our time too.

seriously, people have asked me, "How's SPOP going?" I've always replied, "It's actually a lot easier than I thought it would be."

Part of that easy is because i have some bomb ass co-coords who have been pretty much on the same wave-length most of the process through. choosing a color and a quote is simple. talking about how we felt about certain issues has been simple. and i think that because we have immersed ourselves in the complexities of social issues that we can really appreciate and understand simplicity. for a long time, i questioned why i even was a coord because i don't do shit! i can't even send out an email without having to resend all the correct info three times over. i am honored to work with some of UCI's finest. big big big things and it's only just begun! thank you all!

our returners are wow! so glad that they were revealed early because they are showing their potential every day with their families and make everything super easy for the coords. gah! the returners ARE the magic! every time the returners are present they remind how much TRUST I have for them. I would trust these people with the entire program actually because they've got it down. no doubt about it. i just hope they are coming in surprised and learning just as much about themselves as they did as a first-year. their video is soooo hilarious!!! ramon did such a great job editing and all the skits were original! and from a returner to a returner, i have so much respect for their abilities to really bring the energy, the noise, the friendliness, their laughter, their hearts, and their love to this program again. wow wow wow wow wow i bow down to their power! no lie, i'm pretty intimidated too but i'll try to get over my insecurities because the returners are human too!

and the first-year staffers....wow...people have asked what i was looking for in the staffers I chose. this is what did it for me: 1) my gut--the coords, mike, and jill always said that you just know and i really trusted my gut instinct and there were some people who just spoke to you. your body calls to them and you go with that calling. 2) my personal reasons for choosing the staff was that most of these people on staff now have been broken, hurt, rejected,dented...because those bruises make us real, make us human, make us survivors, make us reach deeper and beyond our selves. for the first time, i saw this. during cross the line training, one of the statements was "cross the line if you didn't feel like you belonged on staff." a majority of our staffers crossed. mel brought up in debrief that that meant we were doubting our selves; it is about self-love. and this is exactly part of the healing process i hoped we would go through as a staff. we are all healing...whether it be each other and/or with ourselves, we are healing from those broken hearts, those losses, and those bruises. by the end of the program, i hope people (myself included), we realize how much potential we do have, how much fun we can have while still being critical, how much we are enough for our selves and in the eyes of our spoppers, and how we are the way we are because we went through all the hardships. we are beautiful.

the first-year staffers blow my miiind! every time we do a debrief, the things people say exceed anything i could ever imagine. they are wise beyond their years and i forget that most are second and third years. i just think everyone is a fourth year because they are right their in that developmental stage. they are dropping knowledge everywhere! i mean returners are holding it down, no doubt, but first-years are HOOOOT! and i know that we are all developing. i am still insecure and still very shy and still not as loud as i can be but maaan i remember how much of a rush it was to just trust the returners and go with the flow and feel the energy of the surprises and feel the energy of the new friends around you. this is only a sliver. there are still many voices who haven't been heard. In the two trainings left, I look forward to listening to the staff, my peers, my friends share more of their thoughts and experiences. The best part is that there is so much more--two trainings, SPOP house, 8 SPOPs and 2 tranfer successes, and SUMMER!!! (oh and my fixed gear so I can be sexy AND save the planet! Yes!)...

and it's hard for me to tell you who i am because most of the people who know me, see me as super involved and blah blah blah...but jhust reminded me who I am under all those layers of labels. I've always been diana, dphuong, who cries for hours and hours and hours because she is so filled with emotion, who will tell you to follow your heart no matter how scary, to immerse yourself in experience (then embrace and critique it to make that experience better for the next generation), who is not afraid to make a new friend, who is scared, loud, excited, crazy, etc. i am my heart and i hope to share my love with everyone. i hope i am doing enough justice by paying it forward.

all of this came after having a spop 3 soultero reunion that thy put together! as a cp, i totally failed at putting these events but i'm extremely blessed to have people who can take that initiative in my failings. the fact that someone was tearing up after our goodbyes in our short little hang out reminded me how much one person can influence each other in such a short amount of time. this is the power of spop. my spoppers have always been the source of my inspiration. they ARE the purpose. I volunteered and felt the SPLOVE the moment I laid eyes on them. They push me to do better because i am pushing them to take full advantage of their college experience too. we are all pushing each other forward toward our potentials.

and to the people who have graduated and whom i continually admire from teal and gold, i am so proud of you all living your values. thank you for seeing me as that freshperson teal year and loving me, accepting my crazy nonsenseness...thank you for being my mentors and imparting your wisdoms onto me. and to the people who have many roads ahead, thank you for allowing me to be a part of your journey, thank you for inspiring me to do my work the best i can do, thank you for reminding me that we are all in the same boat. i'm scared. i'm overwhelmed. i'm excited. i'm proud. and i am a part of the Student Parent Orientation Program at UCI.

Thanksgiving

The cops left to file their reports.
We cleaned up what the burglars left.
It was Thanksgiving:

The air was bitter,
There was turkey on the table,
And our family was together.

Normally, comfort was confined
Within white walls, prosperity banners,
Silence, and Clorox.

The computer, video games,
And Chinese dramas
Were our escapes from ourselves. But Mom

Made us fold laundry in the living room
While she mopped the floors.
Even after the wash, her apron smelled
Of soybean oil from the restaurant.

This year it felt enough for us—
Mom’s only day off—
And yet, in the dark of my parents' room,

I witnessed Mom crying into her hands—
The same hands that worked
For twenty-years-worth of savings

And placed them confidently in
Her closet-safe. I
Walked backwards, toward the kitchen into

The hallway, held my breath, so she couldn't
Hear me. And I kept my mouth shut,
So no one heard her.

thoughts on the global banana

it all started from a banana. imported from chile that i bought at trader joe's. i've been thinking about globalization a lot and about transnational/global spaces. I've never been to chile. I don't know what the people look like, i don't know what the language is, or who picked my banana. my ideas of chile are constructed by this banana. my inadequacy stems from in(ter)dependency. i cannot be fully independent from this globalized system, nor can i be fully dependent on the system. so do i fall in the parenthesis? damned yearn for a sense of belonging.

from that thought, i ran into my girlfriend, km, who talked about her trip to vegas. Las Vegas is constructed too. She was talking about the people on the side of the streets flapping their cards and whistling at you to go to their titty bar. This is how they make a living and she felt bad. It made me ambivalent. Although the system isn't changing at all to give them real work, at least they are working. Some people aren't working at all. Yet what does it matter if you have work if it's degrading to your values? And what does it matter if it's degrading if you have mouths to feed, your own, or your children's mouths? There is a lot of band and forth going on in my mind since I'm not quite sure what I believe.

People go there to spend money, gamble, drink, sex, marriage, get out of the norm, and etc even though this place isn't real. Out of the norm. The people who work the casinos, who clean Las Vegas, who work in the hotels actually live in the outskirts of the city. In different cities in Nevada, but we don't see that, don't visit those places because we are drawn to the glamour and make-believe. Why? What is this draw? Another sense of belonging? Belonging to a leisure class? a Classy class? To escape our own struggle? And to escape our own, to indulge, must it be at the expense of someone else's struggle?

Then I thought about Disneyland. No lie, it's is also a construction and has told us lies since our childhood, yet we still buy into it. I still buy into it. Because it seems fantastical, magical, etc. We walk into theme parks to experience a simulation of a make-believe place. Why aren't we experiencing what is real? Is there even reality anymore? I mean in these cities and computer screens we can get cross-cultural, cross-global communications without having to move a foot. All I need is my mouse and my keyboard. Actually some people only need their phones now. Technology astounds me. We can literally connect with billions of people. Why is it that people would much rather socialize in World of Warcraft than in face-to-face interactions? Of course, why is it that I feel I must blog about this rather than talk to people about this? I've also internalized and practice forms of "print capitalism" in which I feel like it is more important for me to blog than to speak. And it is only when I speak through blog do I feel a part of a community in which I can be honest. There is probably someone watching me too....

Then to add on to this feeling of the panopticon, KM and I moved to the park. We talked about the univerCITY as a construct. The city of Irvine police pick up homeless people and drop them off in Santa Ana. Are the students here more disadvantaged if they do not know how to interact with a homeless person? Are we being taught networking skills to climb corporate ladders rather than skills of compassion, care, and humanity? And what is this fear that keeps us from acting against our conditioning? How can someone be aware of what needs to happen yet still hold on to their fears? Again, i only question because I am calling my self out. Challenging my self to break from my own fears and break my own habits, consumptions, etc.

Looking around the bench we were sitting on, I pondered, "Is nature even real?" Is there even a space on this earth that is natural? That hasn't been tainted? What is it about the natural world that we are afraid of? There are urban planners who try to make cities more "natural" but parks don't count as real nature. Yes, there is a tree, and grass and flowers in Aldrich Park but it was made by man, cut, cleaned, strategically placed, engineered. At the same time, the birds, bees, ants, and squirrels don't give a damn whether it's real or not. Or are they conditioned as well? Or have they adapted to surviving in urban life? The urban squirrel versus the squirrel in the woods. Which is more authentic? Which is more primordial? Of course, there is space for these different types of squirrels on this earth and still live harmoniously. Can there be enough space for us humans to live harmoniously?

Dualities of the human: genocide and altruism? yin and yang? just animals like the rest? imagine that when we listen to dogs speaking to each other how we cannot understand what they are saying or the depth of their language. but what if we are just animals talking and talking and there is some other animal looking at us, not understanding us, just studying our species. we would look like any other animal...our species is so insignificant on the time line of the universe. what must we be so egocentric?

then i thought about the city of irvine in relation to the university. the city of irvine is mostly conservative whites. the uc does not reflect the demographics of the city. how can i demand to change policies within the city of irvine if i don't intend of settling there? the university if a place of globalization/exchange/transnationalism, and though i critique the city that surrounds us, how much should i really take part if my time here is temporary? how much care should i put into it if irvine isn't my home? This ideas of the local community (the neighborhood) and the global community. As I work closely with my kid, I realize how much I want her to play without being afraid of a drive-by. How every child should have the opportunity and ability to play without being afraid, to learn without shame or inaccessibility, to explore and wonder and imagine.

If this world in our idealist minds are all imaginary and we accept the fact that it doesn't connect with reality in the now, then i hope we keep fighting for the potential of those ideals to come into full fruition. We as humans are the action. Our imaginations are the potential. Action-potential in a neuron is created by making the -70 resting potential change, or become more positive in charge. Once it is changed then the neuron can reach it's purpose which is to send out a neurotransmitter. If a neuron in our body reaches it's full potential by becoming positive, maybe that's why SPOP is so attractive? It is very positive and drawing, and disneyland is positive, and las vegas is fun, and maybe that's our attraction to that keeps us in our perpetual enslavement?

bungee jumping

Scared to let go of the ground,
the familiar faces, forms,
and structures that make the insane
sane and the insane insane.
it is probably more insane for me to stay here,
wait for something better to come along.
Get comfortable. This seems to be all
That I know, so where do I go from here?

But what is better than letting go?
Am I scared of seeing my reflection
in transition, a new face,
my face?

love, patriarchy, and functionality

i'm going to stream:

so i've been watching porn for the past two hours. not because i am consciously watching it, but like a background noise. i'm desensitized to the fake moans and the rough slaps on her ass. i don't like that he chokes her. my friend is chatting with me and actually likes choking a girl while he's fucking her. he says it's a power thing...or for balance. it's painful watching this sexual violence that is lodged into my subconscious...i just watch it..numbing...familiar with the way these women feel. imagining the men who have done these positions. men who believe this is the way to intimacy. that's what i thought at least. i thought that sex would get me to a better place. a deep place. i mean after you cum, all the walls are shed and you become vulnerable....i become needy. needy because i've shared such a deeper part of who i am and want to share more with this one person. granted, sometimes...it's JUST sex. other times, it's a yearn for an insatiable satisfaction. something very impossible to share between a couple in my opinion...unconditional love. i want to give my soul to someone...not just anyone but the one who will understand me. i don't know what it is. this love ideal. see me at my worst and best...be my best friend...see the details of my being and love me for it...yeah love the details of my being

and again, i will say that i do believe people have more than one soul mate, but it's not the same. romantic companionship is very different from other forms of friendships

definitely i have trust issues. it's hard for me to say this. from my past actions it may not seem true, but i feel i can be very loyal to a person. when i want someone or something then i really want something or someone...and the moment a person does me wrong or hurts me in any way then i will run to save my life...and maybe that's MY problem...that i cannot promise unconditional love to another person unless i know 1000% that they will be unconditional with me....and i guess it's no longer a person i'm chasing, nor an ideal...but values...and the combination of values that makes me feel more connected to a person. <3, not c=3.

in bell hooks's The Will To Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love, she discussed how men have no outlet for their emotions. however, when i was with calvin and became that outlet for his pain. yet i didn't know at that time what to do with someone so broken. and for some reason i thought about his relationship with his father, and my other ex's relationship to his father, and my crush's relationship to his father. all the splintered pieces seemed so small and intricate and i didn't have the patience or skill to put them back together into a whole puzzle again. and this is where i lie at fault in all of my relationships (moreso romantic ones than friendships, but both nonetheless). for example, my girlfriends can tell me about their lives and i will stand as the feminist fighting for their empowerment and support them as a sistah soulja. but i can't do this with my men. i never say to them "hey! stick it to the man." for females it is very easy for me to point fingers to our male counterparts. but our male counterparts suffer from the same system. and though they inherit privilege, it is just as damaging to inherit it without having a conversation about what it means to have such power.

how can i demand a man to be emotional and open with me when i have these standards for who he should be as a man? i see him as tough, protector, the person to soothe me, rather than offering my own self as a tough, strong, protector, provider, counselor for him. and i am wrong...so very wrong to not have loved my men equally the way they loved me. this is where i have been spoiled to believe that i deserved more of their love and when i didn't get it, i threw tantrums...

this is all rooted back to my father....and my lack of relationship with him post-birth of becka. i was angry that he had left me for her, unconsciously angry. vividly though i would write "Don't invite Becka and Dad to my wedding" assured by my childhood spite that i would have another man save me from the family, would replace that father-daughter love.

my father's rage is also very vivid to me. the red in his eyes, the tightness of his mouth and jaw. He would yell in Vietnamese, "Jaw leh!" He'd become possessed and foreign. From that rage seeded in mine and my brother's memories, we learned patriarchy. Being put back into our place as children who didn't know better. this happened often, a game to get my father's attention, to push his buttons after a long day. but there wasn't a day when we had a conversation with him, just expected each other to act in certain ways, play out those roles. it became more apparent when he was diagnosed with hepatitis c. in my journal entries, i read and remember being afraid that he would die. He was tired and his patience worn thin, but we never talked about it; we just couldn't. the fear of our father instilled in us this silence. he remained silent as well because patriarchy couldn't offer him the space in society to voice his own emotions, his own fears about his illness.

Adultism--the disease of our society. we were relentless and unforgiving to the man who gave his life to work for our benefit. both he and we unthinking, yelled, beat, hit, abused our powers as humans. we were capable of so much damage. my mother never said a thing, and for that, she betrayed her own children. we rebelled against her as well. we raised hell back in those days.

women also reinforce these gender roles. i called my mom and asked if ah-gong ever hit her. she said, "no he was really nice. he was always too high to hit us. only gramma did." then i called my gramma and asked her if her parents hit her. she said no. so i challenged her on where or how she learned to be abusive. rightfully so she said that she was pressured to be the provider for her children. without the support of ah-gong and the "acting out" of her kids, she could only channel that energy into verbal and physical abuse. this paragraph is to demystify the ideas of men only being abusive. my grampa never hit my gramma but there was an emotional negligence and lack of communication about shared roles. who is to be provider, who were to take care of the kids, who was to make dinner, etc...

it is only now how i see the functionality of my parents's relationship. there is playfulness, conversations, shared roles, and commitment. and example of my parents teasing each other:

moi: Mom, did you have a lot of boyfriends?
moma:i had a really rich one, but gramma said no
me: what happened?
moma: he was eight years older.
me: so then what'd gramma say about dad
moma: boooy maaaw ah.....not baad
::break into hysterical laughter::

me: how long did you guys date before you guys got married?
moma: a few months
pops: yeah lucky too. if we were this age, and single, no one would want us
moma: no one would want US?!
::tap-kicks dad in the butt::
moma: no one would want YOU, you mean! plenty of guys want me
::more hysterical laughter::

and an example of shared roles: my dad drives the kids to school every day for 22 years and going. my mom takes gramma to all her doctor appointments. my dad cleans up mia's poop and feeds the canaries while mom cleans the kitchen. both of them switch off doing dishes.

at night, or in the car driving from work to home, they talk about customers, the kids, current events, their past lives and dreams....and they both have a commitment to provide for us, kids. they work together, sleep together, eat together. kinda like the way sherwynn and mike knox function. weird.

I remember some time in college i asked my dad why he hit us. he said he didn't know any better either. and there were moments in time when i called him to ask for advice. but even the process of walking on soft grass after walking on cement and glass hurts. one can't appreciate it, scared to hold on to the softness because it may not be forever. scared to cling to softness because patriarchy taught us all to be harder than we really are. i cannot trust who will stay with me. i cannot trust god or life because people get taken away.

so i've told spiritual self to believe and remember that our bodies are temporal and when we die we become connected to the greater collective consciousness....and sometimes they come back in dreams, our parallel world. and i write these down because i'm afraid i might forget him...my father...scared that i would have missed all those times to have talked to him about how i felt, what i think and believe, and how much i really do love him...for all that he does...for all that he is...

and the same for all the men in the world who never felt like they were enough...and the women in the world who never felt like they were enough. let's talk about how much we love one another. and how much we love ourselves...take care...self-care....this life we live is only a dream and we might as well live it out with what we've got.

and for my child, i'd like to raise you in a community where you can learn from people who may not be biologically yours but can teach you by being great role models...mentors....even the bad ones are mentoring you to be better.

drafting life

All of the current events have been triggering anger, violence, frustration....fear. I've been thinking a lot about the Asian American community and where we stand. UCI is unique because we have Asian Americans who are rich and generationally established and we also have Asian Americans who are first-generation, not financially stable, and greatly affected by all these cuts/increases/racism/etc. And is the model minority myth affecting the lack of participation as well?

As a first-generation student, I'm getting my education for my parents. Yes, for myself, but mostly this degree is for my parents. It's for their pride, for the false promise of getting a higher paying job, for a false promise of moving up the socio-economic ladder, for all these imaginary things. I know my parents are proud of me. I know they want more than anything else my happiness as priority. That's it. It's simple. But why can't I break free? Is it because I have internalized these phantasies? The model minority myth too?

My friend asked me what I want from all of this. I can't say "change" because it encompasses so much. Immediately, I thought about my child. Our children. I want my kid to live in a world where they can play and be free, but not be blind to world. Yet, I don't want to live in fear. Probably more likely, I don't want to live in fear. I don't want to be afraid that my child will go outside to play with friends and get shot. I want a community which will support all of our children. There are communities that don't have that at all, who are pushed to the fringes because of red lining, gentrification, lack of education and access, etc.

I want my child to have love. Nothing in the world matters except love. With the post civil rights integration band-aid ripping off, there are wounds that have not properly healed. build up, gunk, puss, just all kinds of bad nasty. fear. and what is it that we're afraid of? are we afraid of our own capacity to love? are we afraid of being honest and being rejected? are we afraid of not living up to the legacy? am I afraid to hurt again?

am i afraid to hurt again? this is it. to hurt: to feel hurt and to hurt another. being in a relationship in which one thinks they're in love can be dangerous because that love can accept so much violence. love can't be possession, nor jealous. we must be able to communicate, and work together to reach a common goal. for us to be good again, to understand. Yes, I am using the relationship as a microcosm of a movement. Why? Because I was driving home from the protests, and in the car next to me, a mother and her two little girls were on their way home too. Getting older, means selfishness and paradoxically selflessness. You give and do everything for your child. Sometimes that means not putting your body at risk or your life in the line for a global cause because there are helpless people depending on you. people who are small, who are pure joy, who are the only cause you'd die for. they depend on you, need you, require you to be there.

my life after calvin has been a love affair. I want to live life with myself, create a new routine, re-invent my being, embrace my being, adopt new hobbies to fill the time....and i got really involved with the revolution because it's a revolution for myself too. all very fitting. in these past 8 months, i've sealed, cemented, cautioned tape every aspect of my heart and only opened it to people who made me feel safe. I think i don't even trust my heart anymore and invested more time in my head. thinking, thinking....partly because it's too unstable to exist by feeling. and even my love for the revolution got me into this strange, grey state....

the moment i jumped back into the protests, i was overwhelmed by all the emotion, i had to step away. it wasn't so much as i was betraying the students, or turning my back from the cause, but really taking a step back so i can see what it is we're trying to accomplish. the system seems so much bigger than i can understand at this moment. there are people invested into the system, invisible hands we can't even see. that's a scary thought. so when all else fails, i call my parents. and as a natural reaction, i cry.

it is in these moments of smallness that i understand what it feels like to surrender. my mom picks up and she asks me about adult things...bills, mail, school. i ask her if i can talk to dad instead, and of course, she feels rejected but laughs it off. my dad consoles me. my mom i can hear in the background facilitating the conversation. she whispers, "ask her 'how are you?'" he parrots the parrot. i tell him: i don't know what i'm doing, every time i feel like i'm an adult, i realize that i know nothing. what am i doing, dad? when do i know i'm an adult? he says to me, "when you're walking on the straight path, and you realizes it's wrong, then you take the path that curves." he didn't need to read Frost to know that. "What about school?" I whine. He says, "If school doesn't make you happy, then don't go to school. If it's too hard then drop out." Crying in the drizzle, I realize that this life that I live down here isn't hard at all. I don't know struggle the way I did when I was younger, working in the restaurant, being in high school, actually being helpless, having nothing. and it is in this nothingness that i feel whole, that i feel a part of a greater world. Again, he asks me if I need money. and I ask him if he needs money. And that's it. we say goodbye.

happiness changes when you're older. for me, it means being a kid again...feeling free and being invincible....laughing from the hallows of my belly. i want to get to this point. to this world. i'm tired of fighting. i hated fighting and arguing in my family. i decided to change that, say i love you, hug, tell people i miss them, encourage wellness in exercise and healthy eating habits....to breathe...meditation. my revolution is a love movement...that goes beyond all these social constructions. love bleeds into all particles...all frequencies...maybe this is a phantasy too...

3:19 innerconnectedness

note to self: blessed to be surrounded by people who love me, challenge me, and keep me growing.

for a long time, i had a feeling that signs were being put in front of my face and i kept jabbing for some clarity but missed it by a second, or my mind was really foggy and just couldn't wake up...

dreamwalking....purple clouds and pink trees...red, green, blue...parallel worlds, leaving clues for myself and laughing at myself. it's so easy...the truth lies in here and you can't seem to find it...people..blurs of people...flashing crowds and laughter....the ocean is near because i can hear the rain crashing on its waves....it's safe here...quiet...when all the world is sleeping without me...

goosebumps...be the love...note taking on what is being said. there is so much information coming in that i must get it out. virtual vomit this blogging. perked. awake...i'm a pervert. we must go through these things to build character, for a reason...there must be a reason why we survived. what could that reason be? and could we fight for it?

think of the children. a space womb. wow a universe within me. triangular spiraling both in and out....imagine a triangular shaped slinky within a regular slinky. genius. foot step...it is the first foot step.

you can tell the size of a man's penis by the pitch and tone of his urine going into a toilet bowl. however, the only way to be sure is to touch it. for your self.

and then strap it on to use on another. preferably give it to someone who can fluid change roles. robots. i am a robot with a human face, or so i'd like to believe...or present. are you a robot? with a human face? let me touch? can i see it?

why are these children's voice in my head again? who's children are these? there is a boy and a girl. both are white. brown hair, light yes and hold them, then you'll know. jerk 'em awake or they jerk you.

peace of mind

the smell of blood and dirt
the sight of clouds and smoke
screams and wails for lost loves
the scrapes on my cheeks
the palms of my hands, my knees
and the pulsing of my heart,
places that have hit the ground
trying to heal itself, throbbing
I've got to keep running,
or get trampled upon...

the wanting of my lungs
the push and pull of air
instinctive, primal
naive....

god, i understand
i am alive

11:11PM

We both fit on the couch lying pieced together. His toes tap my elbow; the top of my foot scoops his butt. He explores the person he is waiting to become in one hand. He reads out loud from The Little Prince, "It took me a long time to understand where he came from." This is how we share hours of ourselves.

hoorah!

today i got my rejection email from UMD. at first it stung. not because i thought i was going to get into school, but the realization that grad school was my safety net all along and now that it's no longer an option for fall 2010, it's time to walk the talk.

no lie, spop interviews, reach, ava, and school are really taking a toll on me. i've got stamina but back to back to back to back is killer. i mean...NOW, i know tired. However, this email brought me back to the core of my believes. sometimes it takes a broken heart to be an open heart. so i was absorbing everything potential spop staffers were saying: live your life to the fullest, it takes one person to change your life, stay positive and learn from your mistakes, and etc.

these are all things i knew before but it's time to apply it to a real world framework...and it feels good to be free. seriously, freedom=my own time to do what i want to do...kinda like summer...but every day...though i'm sure graduates will tell me that it gets old fast. i'm pretty juiced to relax and read read read read read read read paint read....

so many doors...time to take a walk :]

Spiritual Activism

Principles of Spiritual Activism

The following principles emerged from several years' work with social change leaders in Satyana's Leading with Spirit program. We offer these not as definitive truths, but rather as key learnings and guidelines that, taken together, comprise a useful framework for "spiritual activism."

1. Transformation of motivation from anger/fear/despair to compassion/love/purpose. This is a vital challenge for today's social change movement. This is not to deny the noble emotion of appropriate anger or outrage in the face of social injustice. Rather, this entails a crucial shift from fighting against evil to working for love, and the long-term results are very different, even if the outer activities appear virtually identical. Action follows Being, as the Sufi saying goes. Thus "a positive future cannot emerge from the mind of anger and despair" (Dalai Lama).

2.Non-attachment to outcome. This is difficult to put into practice, yet to the extent that we are attached to the results of our work, we rise and fall with our successes and failures—a sure path to burnout. Hold a clear intention, and let go of the outcome—recognizing that a larger wisdom is always operating. As Gandhi said, "the victory is in the doing," not the results. Also, remain flexible in the face of changing circumstances: "Planning is invaluable, but plans are useless."(Churchill)

3.Integrity is your protection. If your work has integrity, this will tend to protect you from negative energy and circumstances. You can often sidestep negative energy from others by becoming "transparent" to it, allowing it to pass through you with no adverse effect upon you. This is a consciousness practice that might be called "psychic aikido."

4. Integrity in means and ends. Integrity in means cultivates integrity in the fruit of one's work. A noble goal cannot be achieved utilizing ignoble means.

5.Don't demonize your adversaries. It makes them more defensive and less receptive to your views. People respond to arrogance with their own arrogance, creating rigid polarization. Be a perpetual learner, and constantly challenge your own views.

6. You are unique. Find and fulfill your true calling. "It is better to tread your own path, however humbly, than that of another, however successfully." (Bhagavad Gita)

7. Love thy enemy. Or at least, have compassion for them. This is a vital challenge for our times. This does not mean indulging falsehood or corruption. It means moving from "us/them" thinking to "we" consciousness, from separation to cooperation, recognizing that we human beings are ultimately far more alike than we are different. This is challenging in situations with people whose views are radically opposed to yours. Be hard on the issues, soft on the people.

8. Your work is for the world, not for you. In doing service work, you are working for others. The full harvest of your work may not take place in your lifetime, yet your efforts now are making possible a better life for future generations. Let your fulfillment come in gratitude for being called to do this work, and from doing it with as much compassion, authenticity, fortitude, and forgiveness as you can muster.

9. Selfless service is a myth. In serving others, we serve our true selves. "It is in giving that we receive." We are sustained by those we serve, just as we are blessed when we forgive others. As Gandhi says, the practice of satyagraha ("clinging to truth") confers a "matchless and universal power" upon those who practice it. Service work is enlightened self-interest, because it cultivates an expanded sense of self that includes all others.

10. Do not insulate yourself from the pain of the world. Shielding yourself from heartbreak prevents transformation. Let your heart break open, and learn to move in the world with a broken heart. As Gibran says, "Your pain is the medicine by which the physician within heals thyself." When we open ourselves to the pain of the world, we become the medicine that heals the world. This is what Gandhi understood so deeply in his principles of ahimsa and satyagraha. A broken heart becomes an open heart, and genuine transformation begins.

11. What you attend to, you become. Your essence is pliable, and ultimately you become that which you most deeply focus your attention upon. You reap what you sow, so choose your actions carefully. If you constantly engage in battles, you become embattled yourself. If you constantly give love, you become love itself.

12. Rely on faith, and let go of having to figure it all out. There are larger 'divine' forces at work that we can trust completely without knowing their precise workings or agendas. Faith means trusting the unknown, and offering yourself as a vehicle for the intrinsic benevolence of the cosmos. "The first step to wisdom is silence. The second is listening." If you genuinely ask inwardly and listen for guidance, and then follow it carefully—you are working in accord with these larger forces, and you become the instrument for their music.

13. Love creates the form. Not the other way around. The heart crosses the abyss that the mind creates, and operates at depths unknown to the mind. Don't get trapped by "pessimism concerning human nature that is not balanced by an optimism concerning divine nature, or you will overlook the cure of grace." (Martin Luther King) Let your heart's love infuse your work and you cannot fail, though your dreams may manifest in ways different from what you imagine.

A Sex Talk With My Gramma

Back in her village in Chaozhou, China, they didn’t talk about sex, but here in America, it surrounds us. One day, my grandmother, glossy-eyed, curly haired, and curious, asks me to sit with her at the kitchen table. She whispers about my gay best friend, “How do they lay together? Do they have both parts?” In literal translations, I say “They do it in the butt, one part in the place we all have.” With laughter, we both find clarity in the things we do not know about each other.

joining the army

note to self: http://ejmas.com/jnc/jncart_channon_0200.htm

Good to see my folks

we were in my 2001 white corolla LE with grey seats on a grey cement driveway on a gloomy day. My mother was sitting next to me in the passenger seat. Chris was in a black SUV to my right, sitting in the passenger seat, talking to me through the window. His hair was cut short, domesticated. My father brought food to my mom, a bowl of white rice noodles with sesame seed sauce, a taiwanese dish. She offered it to me and I offered it to Chris. He shook his head no and put his head back down on the side panel door the way a sad dog does when he is waiting for something to come along. My dad came again and gave my mom another bowl of noodles. I was eating the first one up and stopped to offer Chris another bowl. Again, no. It was time to leave and it started to pour. We were going to drive to Irvine. My mother and Chris got out of the car first. Both Leos, initiators. However I got out of the car too assuming my dad would drive and my mom would sit next to my dad and my mom got into the back seat assuming Chris would take her place. My dad already knew where to go.

The End

My Name

"She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she sorry beacause she couldn't be all the things she wanted to be. [De]. I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window." The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

Are You Experience?

not many times am i called out on my shit. in fact, i truly appreciate people who do call me out because i can feel the dirt against my cheek, bloodied, scraped, raw.

no one gets more raw than my little sister. why? because she can see right through the facade of academic achievements covering up the shit i do on the sidelines. i smile and i am happy but i cannot see myself as objectively the way she does. i am the guru that laid the groundwork for manipulating traditional parents into believing that their daughter is dutiful, which is why she is pro at manipulation. But I am flawed because I am a living hypocrite.

so at school, i have many roles. i am a spop coord, a reach coord, an intern, a B average student, a bridge, a product of programs for underrepresented minorities, smiling socializing bumble bee of sorts, who really seems like she's got everything under control. it's like looking at the ocean from atop a cliff, everything looks serene on the surface yet the closer you get you can see the waves, the scoops, the imperfections, the depth, the dark shadows, and you can feel the cold. i am human.

under close magnification, i am not a leader. in fact, the things i do are probably "bad" examples because i am drawing you to the water and drowning you because you aren't ready to swim. Let me explain further.

my values are different from the norm. in fact, i am re-educating myself because i rejected what was imposed onto me, rejected what my family wanted of me, and here i stand, tabula rasa. i think it is very important for me to have done all the things i have done so i can develop my values. i am constantly questioning my purpose, my self, and so stuck in my own mind that i can't see how i am affecting others. this is me: naturally introspective.

there are people who watch me, read me, and do things that are harmful to themselves only because i am doing it. for example: x. as much as i have felt a part of the ecstasy culture and learned what it means to feel a part of something larger, greater, beautiful--such as my last experience at Together As One 2010--this is my goodbye.

Why? I have been learning a lot this year and my eyes have been opening to how these chemicals we put into our bodies really do affect us biologically. Traumas that happened to us in the past affect us biologically too, and unbalancing the unbalanced is dangerous. This isn't to say I regret doing what I did. I don't discourage experience. All I ask is being critical of our selves, ask yourself why are you doing this? For me, TAO was escaping from the reality--fee increases, fear of graduation, painful familial memories, heartbreaks, fear, pain, fear, pain. After mastering the art of running away, I think 2009 "enough is enough" theme comes into play. I have had enough of being afraid of myself. Time to bungee jump into the rabbit hole....

The power of thousands of people coming together in a space, connected (probably because of a substance), and feeling like this is the way life should always be was an illusion. It's buying into a fantasy, collectively agreeing that this fantasy world is real. Another example is Disneyland. Don't get me wrong, the shared experience is powerful, but I hope to build even stronger relationships than getting to see you annually at a rave. I don't want to pretend any more with substances and big, bright lights. My friend reminded me that there were water bottles all over the floor who would be picked up by whom? And we were all sucked into these bright screens like TV and movies, not thinking just moths flapping around a light bulb. It has also become corporate. "When a group or a phenomena starts getting defined, we all realize that once again, we're only human beings, warts and all.. this is the time to move on, and to create another scene where there are no words to pursue and define the alien within us." - @Om* Fuck the hype! It ain't gonna define me!

And maybe it is up to me to really go above and beyond to reach out to the new friends I have met to go deeper into who you are rather than what you do. Instead of escaping into this world, why not direct the power of thousands of voices and love toward REAL world things? Can you imagine people being friendly to each other every day? Even to strangers, giving money, bracelets, food, or hugs? Can you imagine directing 50,000 voices toward Sacramento, our meat industries, or our educational system? It literally blows my mind how selfless we could all be and how that energy would shift the poles before 2012.

All in all, I want to be naturally high the way a child is, closer to light, the sun, the OG source within and around us. Especially working with Ava, who is only one and half and entering new states of self-awareness, there is purity below knee-level.

as a leader, i feel it is important to be there for the minority voice. In spop that may be the straightedge, and if that is the case, then I will say that I am here for you, to stand by you, fully engaged in the struggle.

again, i am not perfect in actions but i am naked for you all to see that without the clothes, without skin, without blood, and without skeletal frame, i am pure, pure light.

to my little sister and family: i am sorry for not being the best, but i hope you become better. thank you. i love you.

my values thus far:
love for all
the universe
self-respect and integrity
advocate for the unheard/unspoken voice
community and personal development
critical and collective consciousness