Lost and Found

2011-12-23T09:09:00.000-08:00

Raindrops slug on car windows. My entire life I have felt like a collector of words and images. Blue light contours our features. Ourdifferent skin colors are negligible. His proximity weighs in on my shadows. A rainbow appears on glass.

2011-12-23T09:05:00.000-08:00

Lightning storms outside the balcony
Its light catches the suits of our cards.
We play strip poker in humid summer,
Relief from the insolated breath of the South.
We bet pieces of gum and lengthened kisses,
Knowing to whom what is given belongs.

remembering to write

2011-11-27T08:34:00.000-08:00

i don't know why i ever stopped writing on this blog. it was my own fault for jumping onto the tumblr hype without very much satisfaction. so i will come back to you, dear blogspot and share my secrets with few eyes and ears. this way...i can read and write for myself without all the jpegs and gifs.

now i will remember to write.

Sleeping with Demons

2011-01-11T16:07:00.000-08:00

I know he loves me
When he can stand against my demons.

But I must face them on my own.

It is I who sleeps with them,
all their voices coaxing me under.

They drown my in my own vices:
desire, death, and doubt.

Dream demons
Demon dreams

Psychosis

Thoughts

2010-12-16T17:56:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-07T13:27:00.000-08:00

"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

2010-11-30T19:02:00.000-08:00

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

2010-10-10T14:02:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-07T22:49:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-07T22:40:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-07T22:32:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-29T00:15:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-24T12:49:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-27T21:11:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-27T20:25:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-27T20:19:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-26T21:10:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-24T16:01:00.000-07:00

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:

2010-06-22T15:52:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-06-05T19:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-24T23:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-03T00:02:00.001-07:00

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

2010-04-20T16:52:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-12T13:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-12T00:04:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-27T13:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-23T02:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-19T10:12:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-15T23:16:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-02-03T20:40:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-28T00:06:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-24T22:44:00.001-08:00

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

2010-01-18T16:52:00.000-08:00

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

Good to see my folks

2010-01-13T08:40:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-12T11:46:00.001-08:00

"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?

2010-01-04T19:17:00.000-08:00

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

4th chakra: air

2009-12-27T11:16:00.000-08:00

we were in the city happily sliding down the grass in a train, feet and legs wrapped over the person's lap. it was me, mo, fiona, and someone else. a sibling...becka turned andy or maybe even kat. we were going somewhere...somewhere fun. but then, a white hearst with 5 coffins in it appears. one of which enclosed my father. instead of calling it a cemetery, it was called a memoratorium. we walked into the place. mo said, "no, diana i don't do well in this silence." and you look out to see this giant land, kinda like looking over the bay area from the top of wild cat canyon, except everything was grey and randomized locations of graves, or memorials like la pere lachaise. and i wailed in both dimensions from the deepest pits of my heartache brokenness, stitches ripped open and dark matter flooding through. wail wail wail. the sound of an ambulance....

at first all i could think about was my grampa and my mother. this is how she felt when her father died and all her pain zapped through to me via umbilical cord because she knew i could handle it. my gift is holding burden. if you've never been heart broken, i think the closest thing to that is death of a loved one. maybe mine is still sore and a trigger will set the tears rolling, but i haven't cried like that since my dream about calvin.

as above, so below...i must understand that death in this world is a death somewhere greater...a star explosion, and that explosion affects other stars in the galaxy..or maybe the star explosion is my heart and what is left is dust....part of the universe

sometimes it feels like we're trapped into the forms that we have been born into....stars...bodies..hearts...all bounded but we strive to feel free...sometimes freedom comes in the form of loss.

tao te ching 11:

We join spokes together in a wheel,
but it is the center hole
that makes the wagon move.

We shape clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that holds whatever we want.

We hammer wood for a house,
but it is the inner space
that makes it livable.

We work with being,
but non-being is what we use.

someone said to me, "souls aren't solid but you can solidify your acceptance of your soul"

sometimes i am left with no words...just feeling....i feel.....

after one week in my house,

2009-12-26T21:47:00.001-08:00

it is very hard for me to say i have a plan. since i've been home, there has been a lot of pressure about what my future plans are after i graduate. honestly, i don't have anything past september when spop is done. yes, money is a factor but i can't let money hold me down from what i want to do. no, i don't want to work right after because i just want a break.

things are blurry because living in the hypothetical is an unpromising phantasy. for the first time, the university can't promise me a job, stability, continued education, or anything else that i am really excited about. i am not there yet and i don't feel like saying one thing and doing another. yes, i can lie but i would prefer not to.

i have long term and short term plans. long term: get a master's eventually have a career in something i am passionate about and continue in loving-kindness.

someone said to me, "live and be truthful to yourself. that's all you can do. But go all out. Do something and do it the best you can."

my anger and frustration is double-sided. i am angry with everyone worrying about me, all the noise. i am also frustrated with myself because i don't know. i don't have a plan i don't have a plan i don't have a plan all i know is i want a break! EVERYONE JUST GIVE ME A BREAK!!!!!

in a walk to remember, mandy moore said that she doesn't want to be mad at god. and i don't want to be upset with the universe because there is no point in me being upset. what is the point of living if i'm going to be pissed off? so i decided a long time ago that i didn't want to be anything but living in the moment.

and for the moment i have no answers just going with the flow and trusting in whatever is planned for me (even if it sucks).

528 Hz

2009-12-24T19:39:00.000-08:00

when the future is bleak
and i am shackled
to cubicle walls
matrix laws and
wanting gravity
to consume my core

you whisper in prayer
guide in songs of dawn
and i surrender
to the light
clothed in mer-ka-ba
and follow the path

a second chance...

to live one vibrational energy

thank you,
omniverse

dreamwalker

2009-12-24T11:35:00.000-08:00

he leads me through a vendor fair

i see: white flags bannered
and lined with yellow coord
green design in the middle,
leather belts, purses, shoes,
incense, sage burning for clarity,
children attached to bungee coords
jumping on trampolines,

life

he picks up a conch
looks at me, says,
"this reality..."
and blows at the shell

it smokes away and glitters
"is just an illusion"

this isn't love

2009-12-24T11:16:00.000-08:00

gramma never had to break up with him
or go though the healing process that I did

i find my mind grasping for tangible markers:
buddha books, notebooks, meditation music, sun salutations

all left under my bed in my apartment
my safe space to be

without extra noise from gramma,
asking me to call him to hang out,

to pretend we are okay again.
o-kay, cantonese for home, we aren't.

above waking eyes, she insists that she call
and ask if he has a girlfriend!

no, i didn't ask for this.
he doesn't want me.

our fates aren't tied.
i break it down for her. i break up with her for him

echoing someone i've heard before...
she blames my unsettled heart

and i feel her anger attacking my inner
fleeting soul goddess i am

this isn't love, this is choosing sides
obviously, she chose him

and he chose another girl
and i chose me.

the dawning of the sun

2009-12-10T05:54:00.000-08:00

when the world sleeps i can hear my thoughts in full stream.

so i've been scared of leaving home..yeah irvine has become my home away from home. if not, more of a home than the bay because i grew up the most here. independently from my family and dependently on my friends and mentors. dependency has been a challenge. within my core being i don't feel special, don't feel like i deserve to be loved. since i have been here though, i have made more friends than i have in my entire life back at home. i have found more people with the same values as i do who continue striving to make the world a better place. because of that, i am scared to show any signs of love and say goodbye, scared to finish my personal statement, and ask "who am i?" because the truth is...i truly am happy here.

i am trying to put the sweet in the bitterness of these lasts. i'm not a very reminiscent person because of my beliefs in time and usually because i have no one to reminisce with and i'm sorry i don't list peoples names individually and tell you exactly what you've done for me. those are my flaws and i'm working on that. know that as i write this note, images of people come flashing through my mind and these are the images i will hold in my heart wherever i go. and i also know that it's hard for me to use other verbs besides love but i can't help it....love has consumed my heart and i love love love. Brisa, SPOP, CCC, SMLI, REACH, VDC, Briarwood, UCI, Aldrich Park, the OC. i feel and am blessed, feel proud to have taken this path, to be loved and to love....to love and be loved in return...yeah...nothing gets better than this. thank you for the big hoohah!

ahx

2009-12-09T01:55:00.000-08:00

Has anything you've done made your life better?

meditate on that.

Really Full of Thanks

2009-11-28T11:45:00.000-08:00

It takes a trip home to finally take the real step forward toward healing, or at least seal the deal on my own self-healing. Home truly is where the heart is, and at my home where there are no walls, everyone knows my heart was hurting. Calvin penetrated every nook of my house, and after driving on familiar streets, it's easier for him to penetrate my thoughts....However, this is better than being at UCI and I nightmare about him. Why? Because all the mental reminders and notes make it easier for me to think about him and let that thought go instead of unconsciously thinking about him and having my subconscious ruin sweet sleep. This is truth.

I want to let him go. I want to move on. My gramma sat me down this morning, catching me at a very vulnerable state (when I am the most receptive to intimacy) and got REAL. She asked me if I talk to him still (via AIM, text, phone call). I tell her the consequences of those moments of weakness. Yes, but Calvin will never trust me again; he has changed; and he is happier (without me). With that she said that if I am down on my knees begging him to come back and he doesn't accept, then eventually you have to get up and walk away. A person can only take so much rejection and there are plenty of loving arms who won't reject you. Thank you friends who remind me how precious true friends are. This is truth.

Another truth is that age/time does bring change. My siblings have definitely grown into themselves and it makes me happy to see that. I gave them all strengthsfinder and understand who they are by how they work. My gramma had heart surgery the night before I came home. We also celebrated her 86 birthday this Thanksgiving. The doctor said she put on an extra 5 years. It's pretty spectacular hearing, "I put on 20 years!" rather than "I put on 20 pounds!" to me. I always make this dang resolution every year too: exercise more. Exercise in every way--physically mentally intellectually emotionally and spiritually.

In my self-healing, I've realized how much breathing, meditation, painting, and reading has helped me. Stillness. I runaway, stowaway, and flee like steam from a hot pot, evaporated water in the air. But sometimes stillness does a body good because all that invisible evaporation condenses into visible dark rain clouds, then the clouds can fully rain, and at the end of all the sadness comes sunshine. The weather reports for this weekend were right: 30% of rain and storm coming in. There were small bouts of showers in this heart-to-heart with mi abuela. At the end of it though, I feel a lot better and the bay, the heart of California, is looking fantastique!

My gramma keeps me real. It takes my gramma to tell me to move on and for me to listen. We can talk about death, money, and love--fully crying (without touching)--and it'd be okay. True acceptance. Oh! Also, my family has realized that I actually don't have a bed or room in my house therefore it is reasonable why I don't come home often. Of course, I told them that I'm the first bird to fly from the nest and that will probably be the case if I ever did come back home. No lie, I'd probably live in Berkeley. So for this Thanksgiving, I would like to suggest being REAL and trying to integrate that into every part of our lives.

I dunno how long it'll work. for now, I feel like I slowly let the door of my heart chakra open.

2009-11-17T13:45:00.001-08:00

soul searching.

sometimes it takes one person to be real to make you realize that it's okay to let all the layers of ego fall away. undress myself for you to see that inside i'm still broken. even as a strong independent womyn, i hurt just like any other. in the whirlwind of extra-curricular-activist-reclaiming-spiritual-gaining, something deep within me feels loss. i loved a man and a friend and a child who aren't tangible to my fingertips, to my lips, to my lover hips.

to fill such a void, i've immersed myself in community, engaged myself fully in the struggles of peoples so that i don't have to focus on my own internal struggle. but it isn't as satisfying; it is temporary. granted, i am blessed to have the opportunity of being surrounded by the most beautiful people in the world, but these people are not living in my house. when i come home at night, there is no one to hold me, to cuddle with, to eat dinner with, to run their hands on my face when i'm sleeping, to rub cold feet against, to love like lovers.

to be intimate with. yeah i want to share intimacy because it is a manageable, micro-revolution of love. and though i made the choice to live alone for introspection, shit, sometimes independence falls into loneliness and before you even know it, life has moved on and left, forgotten about you....

people mistake me to be a happy person, a warm energy, and it is there, however it came from a deep darker place where children cry, people die, and there ain't no one i can depend on except myself. so it's hard for me to trust others, the warmth others give me, the attention others give me. is it real? at what point did i start to exist? at what moment am i me? i am scared of what is to come knowing there probably won't be anyone to come with me. calvin would've dropped everything for me, and did drop his dreams just to be close to me, but how is that fair? and i couldn't even talk my fears out with him either, i just pushed and pushed and pushed the same way i did with all the others and it's the same damn cycle. fuck my cycles, or "in loves gone bust." everyone knows that one shouldn't judge on identity markers, so why is it that this patriarchal, hypermasculine, slanger, get-by, worker whom i loved was not enough? why am I not enough for myself?

where are you god? and what spaces do you fill? i wanna believe in the silence again. the hum of my laptop isn't enough. are you in the colors of the sand? the scoop of a wave? the light behind the clouds, the cloud itself, the mouth of a boy chewing, the eye of a sewing needle, the laughter of a child, my own laughter?....

after putting immense amounts of energy in caring for Ava, I come home to no child of my own, and i don't know how to describe the smile, hug, laughter of a child but it's pure...holy, sacred because she knows how to be in the present. god, how can i bring a child into a world that knows no justice? that has perils and pain? why am i in this world? what is my calling?

i am drawn to the domestic. i wanna be a mother, i like to cook, notsomuch clean, kick it with my kid, and just play yet something in my soul stirs because there is work to be done; superheroes can't take a break. so do i surrender to your power? my own power?

i'm afraid of what i am capable of.

larval child

2009-10-29T00:08:00.000-07:00

woman with a thousand faces,
you put on lipstick and kiss
the ear of boxes filled with notes
on how to BE.

hold umbrellas to the clouds
that rain cycles of truth,
shower water on the dead
spines of skeletons
hidden in your closet.

come out like re-birth
into the wringing arms
of earth; we can embrace.

i want to hold you
at your core
a larval child.

above is the same as below;
lightning daggers upon your head;
and men in heavy sleeves
wait to lead you down
beetle black stairs.

run

the path within

and hide
naked
in the fabric
of your being.

Womenstual Cycle

2009-10-21T00:35:00.000-07:00

we go through cycles of rebirth
cleaning our walls like new year

the collective sadness
flows from the fountain

and we flush it away....

we, women, carry burden
and birth in our wombs.

Fall Spices

2009-10-20T19:50:00.000-07:00

Cooked lunches for the week:
Indian Curry and Tikka Masala
And topped it off with
Pumpkin Pie Cheesecake
and Chai Latte.

Weekend Wrap-Ups

2009-10-20T19:12:00.001-07:00

Caution: Long Post

Thursday: Hot Umbrella Nights. Got perfectly tipsy and surrounded by beatuiful CCC people. Seriously it's the best clubbingn ight for me because so many of my friends are there and we can talk openly about whatever and get crunk! Critical people can get down :)! Also, RC was there and my friends are such wonderful cockblocks.

Friday: Aftershock. So I wanted to go to Shocktoberfest to watch RC perform. Div was supposed to go with me but he couldn't because he was having his date with his significant partner. Part of my healing process has been trying to overcome or see through my loneliness. My therapist suggested that I find a friend who I can count on to call and support me through these times. I called Mikhal and it was perfect timing because he was feeling down too. We talked it out and I got over the fact that I wasn't going to se RC, and realized that I shouldn't even be sprung over him if he ain't gonna be sprung over me. So in the end, I went to Aftershock which I never went to before. No lie, I felt awkward being sober around all these freshmen who were more drunk than I was but it brought me back to the Spop days when we would have good ol' sober dance parties! In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed the music. DJ Miles hooked it up with some fabulous electronica! Div and I were thoroughly exhausted and sweating balls and felt satisifed with our last Aftershock ever in the history of our college career. On a nostalgic high, we revisited the Del Taco on Campus and got chugged medium rootbeers, then headed over to VDC for a house party. Lol what are the odds that at the hous party, I would re-run into Kirk Nakamoto and this guy from Sussex. All in VDC! What a great night!

Saturday-Sunday: FMLR 2009. WOW. Best time of my life. It brought me back to my purpose to the present. There were no cliques. Everyone was open, and though some people said some things that were controversial, people remained honest. Ale, Kevin and I have been planning FMLR for a while now. I'm glad all the workshops went successfully and that was partly due to the group we had. People weren't afraid to share, weren't afraid to challenge each other, and weren't afraid to share their stories.

More importantly, we all had fun. My cultural dance was belly dancing. Kristen, Anthony, Cedric, Melyssa, Marjory, Dalia, and I transformed into TEAM SEXY and laughed our way onto the stage, holding in our bladders, and shook our hips as if they couldn't tell lies! It was magical! We learned to salsa, meringue, barracha, and had a fabulous party.

King's cup, story telling, critical dialogue, and then finally people were starting to leave by 2 AM. By the end of the night, only a group of us remained and it was by far the highlight of the day. Ale, Vileana, Shacole, Carlos, Matt, Kenny, and I went around the circle telling each other our lives in 30 second intervals. It was like watching TV series and all of us were honest. Fucking amazing. It was like roll talks but on natural highs. Depth. And we ended on positive notes, each one of us being affirmed by all the others. Each one of us engaged. Yes!

Sunday morning we had two more workshops. Privilege walk was ridiculous. I've done this a million times, facilitated a million times, and most of the times I would end up all the way in the back of the room, having many disadvantages in my life. I was aware of this, being used to letting go of others hands, desensitizing myself to the
privileges my friends had. For the first time, I was holding someone's hand at the end of the workshop. Edi, my fellow WOC. She and I are complete opposites, but at the end of the day, she was still holding my hand, helping a WOC out and that to me, was more than I could ever ask for.

Lastly, our values that we chose were: Love, Integrity, Freedom, Personal Development, and Diversity. 3 out of the 5 were in my original list. It's so funny because when the interns first did this we only got 3 out of 5. Out of those 3, I had 0 of my original values on the list. Now that we know how to go through the workshop, we knew what we wanted to get out of it and we got what we wanted. It's definitely about voicing yourself, which is a challenge for me because I don't like imposing on others. My horoscope definitely told me that this year was about sharing my ideas and seeing them in action.

Monday: Kula. Bana texted me and told me that she will prioritize me over anything. I feel the same way. Love DTR even when only half of us are together.

Lesson: Learned. I have learned about others and they have learned about me. Together we are not lonely. I love you all.

Stop This Train

2009-10-12T00:43:00.000-07:00

this describes my life right now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-e1FHJkVoFE&NR=1

No, I'm not colorblind
I know the world is black and white
Try to keep an open mind
But I just can't sleep on this tonight

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

Don't know how else to say it
Don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
From fighting life out on my own

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game
To find a way to say that life has just begun

Had a talk with my old man
Said "help me understand"
He said "turn sixty-eight
You renegotiate"

"Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
And don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train"

Once in awhile, when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
Till you cry when you're driving away in the dark
Singing

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train

Humble

2009-09-29T22:31:00.000-07:00

Spiritual. I believe in a power beyond me, omnipresent, and present within me. I am the vessel. I may not know exactly what my calling is, but It is calling. I can hear my self. Strength. Spirit. Freedom. Love.

However, I was not always like this. Within the confines of white walls, I bashed like personalities in a schizaphrenic's brain. My parents were absent and that created a void I tried to fill with sex. Why sex? Something about affection, temporality, and care drew me to its grasp, yet it abandoned me. I was familiar with abandonment and tortured myself with it. I could not escape, neither house, school hallways, or the backseat of cars. It was lonely where I lived. The more I escaped to sex, the more my parents tried to tie me down. The more they tied me down to cultural values, the more I broke out of them, broken their hearts. We were all broken. Broken English meets clashing cultures means my life in a 4 bedroom 3 bathroom house. We, all separate, in our rooms engaged in our own digital bubbles. Whether it was TV, the computer, video games, landlines, cell phones, or Chinese dramas, we all ran away from each other because we could not face our own heart break, our own disappointments.

I cannot say that my parents were wrong for beating me, for working and not having the time to spend quality time with us, for yelling, for making us pay for our own excesses, for staying up all night while I was out....

Nor will I admit that I was wrong in staying out late, crying, yelling back, attempting suicide, running away, trying to act older than I was, pretending I knew it all, using my education against them, mending my soul.....
All I wanted was to be free.
Because if all those things didn't happen, then I wouldn't be the way that I am today.

After a talk about religion, spirituality, faith, sexuality, disowning children, raising children, and love, I called my parents.

I said to my mom, "I know wah duh si nang (literally, roused the dead=caused a lot of trouble), but wah jing gao LUCKY that luh nang syeuht wah." I caused a lot of trouble going out late at night, and you stayed up for me, but I am very lucky that you love me. My mom laughs at me as I bawl, stuttering for her to listen. "I love you. Thank you. Can you tell dad?" She hands the phone to dad. And I repeat in daddy's little girl sobs, "I roused the dead but am lucky you loved me." Very my dad-like, he tells me about his childhood in Vietnam and tells me to play with the good friends and leave the bad friends behind. I tell him I have them. He asks me if I need money. I ask him if he needs money. He thought I was crying because I was homesick. I told him I was. He told me to study hard. I told him to go to sleep. I said, "Bye." And he said, "I love you."

Despite all the hardships, they loved me and never stopped knowing that I was their child. "It's okay. You were a no gyeah," my dad said. No gyeah, child. Gyeah...walk...no walk...I was a child who did not walk the world and I was blind, but now I see the roots that have been instilled within me. Freedom. Spirit. Love.

The paths I have taken have had many obstacles and they've all led me to healing and feeling more connected to my self, my spirit, my freedom, and my love. To my parents, to all the parents, I am forever grateful for your patience, kindness, and love. Your legacy of love and understanding lives.

Pillow Talk

2009-09-22T21:27:00.000-07:00

i like lying next to you,

naked,

whole in our conversations.

this is me
and you are you.

and we share orange slice stories,
every bit is juicy,
filling,

all given to me jeweled in your musk
a flowing pandora:
memories of the night your mother died;
your belief that having children is a form of narcissism;
your favorite mos def concerts;
singing lines of songs that speak to your soul...

you tell me, in clarity--

your soul.

and i tell you that i'm afraid:
of how beautiful you might think I may be,
hiding bashful smiles under pillow talks;
that my children are political agents in the system;
and how i don't remember my mother in my memories.

our loneliness abated by our together

for tonight; we are intimate, in timid lust.
we kiss....

and morning comes.

there's no turning back.
i've been changed and,
re-arranged and,
it's not like it was before....

i relish in the now
of our isness.

i like lying next to you,

orange slices,

smiling in our pillow talks.

there's no turning back.

cheated

2009-09-19T01:35:00.000-07:00

i lied to him.
before we took a break,
i made love to a man
to spite his painful word.

he called me a whore
and i believed him,
proved him right.

i pretended
that i wasn't hurt,
that my pride was bigger.
that conquering someone else
made me the stronger person.

in reality, i was so defeated
by his words, and by my actions

we would work.
i even gave him a date. june 20th.
in 3 weeks, we'd be back together
because the bruises wouldn't be as visible.

then one day, feverstricken,
he asked if i was seeing someone.
he could tell that my heart was scared to love him
that my heart found counsel in the arms of another.
i answered honestly
after some hesitation,
"yes."
"did you guys kiss?"
"yes."
"have you had sex with him"
"yes."

i tried to ail his broken heart with chicken noodle soup
i tried to mend his broken ego with a blowjob.
i tried to push him away by beating myself up.
i wanted him to stay and he was willing....
but i just couldn't do that to him,
have ME happen to him. I hurt him so much already,
how could i do this to him for the rest of his life?

now i see how much
i took him for granted.
so hold onto your loves
because it's hard to come by
and i'll try to stop
embarrassingly drunk texting you
sadly knowing that i will be
rejected and reminded

over and over and over and over

again...

i lied to him.
it's over.

The Power of Now

2009-09-11T23:48:00.000-07:00

::Chorus "Hip Hop is dead" plays::
""Hip Hop just died this morning
and He's dead, he's dead.."

(Sings) What happened to hip hop? I will not know.
He left me before I could go.

Characters:
Jaci=electronica
Calvin=Hip hop

Diana: electronica/house makes me feel alive, happy, throbbing with the feul of love..special. Hip hop pierces my skin with bullets of struggle. It hurts to love hip hop because walking into his beat is massacre. Electronica, however, is free, free for all, free love for all, freeing the almighty within. I can be assertive, sexual, in love, and independent.

Inner peace: Maybe I'll go alternative and fall into his plain blues, into his six-string vibrations to keep me afloat.

Diana: Wow, I've been conditioned to think of depth as going downward toward our earth like a rock falling to the bottom floors of the deepest oceans. But even that has an end; our earth has limits. What is deeper than earth?

Inner peace: SPACE! It has no limits. The depths of our universe. Shit. That's deep AND infinite!

Diana: I can feel my heart rate increasing as I realize my ego, Director of Diversity, is a lie that I've projected. I also feel compulsive about Calvin, wanting to call him to escape the pain of the future, to feel the pain of the past. Why can't I just BE? What am I afraid of in the present? That I'm actually happy in the present? (I also feel sleepy. Ah the conditioning of my childhood!)

Diana: I'm afraid to know it's over. I will admit that I fucked up. I am afraid to have closure. I am afraid that he can be happy without me. I am afraid that he IS happy without me. I am afraid that I can't be happy in the end without him.

Inner peace: I am happy now, though.

Diana: How can I be so afraid?

Inner peace: Can't you see that you must have faith in me? The peace, I, ai, will bring love, ai, I. It's okay to be alone.

Diana: My brain is shutting down and just wants to sleep.

Inner peace: No, Diana, wake up. It's about time to fucking wake up to life.

Diana: I feel regret for taking Calvin for granted. he made me feel peace within myself. with BEing, (in the beginning). I could be myself and he loved me. We shared bliss, in Eric's apartment, on the floor, we had sex, and I cried in the moment. Bliss. I can feel it. I CAN be blissful. I want that again and my first time was with Calvin and my mind attaches it with him.

Inner peace: But that's one of the causes of human suffering--attachment.

Diana: I shouldn't have a new relationship when the fragments of my past relationship pains are still lodged in my mind/pain-body. I shouldn't have children or marriage because of all those pains. I should be in education either. Shit.

Diana: My inner peace is death. I can hear it drawing in me/me in. The secrets. I take to my grave. No more pain once I'm gone. It can't survive. They will not touch children's ears.

Inner peace: I am already dead. I am dead. I die. I died.

::Diana sobs:: (regathers myself)

Inner peace: So now, I can live the way I want to live.

"Everything is shown up by being exposed to the light, and whatever is exposed to the light itself becomes light."-St. Paul

Diana: I keep thinking about calling Calvin and saying, "You were right all along. I am wrong for not jumping into the unknown."

Inner peace: But that's not true. I am right. He is right. We both are right....just wrong for each other.

Diana: Shit. He was never the one. I am the one who is right for me.

Dream

2009-09-10T11:30:00.000-07:00

I always wanted you to chase me.
Instead, you haunt my dreams.
It's the only place we can meet.

In them, I see you.
I see:
the red of your eyes,
the autumn of your skin,
and the warmth of your soul.
You are alive.

Although there aren't pictures,
letters, cards, or tangible reminders
of your existence in my life,
these dreams memorize,
vividly,
your being.

Still, I cannot gather enough strength
to touch you, to talk to you, to interact,
yet I cannot gather the will
to stop watching you, staring protectively,
obsessively, terrified that you might flee

like ether,

like dreams in the wake,

like you did before....

I don't want to let you go again,
knowing that you won't be in proximity
and that you won't come back,

(except for in my dreams).

indebted

2009-09-08T23:31:00.000-07:00

sometimes being 21 and in school sucks. not because of the people, not because of the place, but because i am guilty for loving it. i love being able to learn, being able to live away from my parents, being able to make friends and foundation away from family.

yet i realize the guilt that plagues me...i have an unspoken duty to my parents that i cannot fully repay. i want to pay for all their accumulating debts, i want to pay for my own insurances, i want to be able to be financially independent so that i am no longer a burden in their lives.

jude: just forget about it... he doesn't realize that we are all under the age of 25 and don't have real career jobs yet. people forget

what can i do, y'know? i just feel so helpless, trapped in my age.

Naked Makings

2009-09-08T21:26:00.000-07:00

I stand naked
in front of the mirror,
in front of you,
so we can see clearly
the making of god's Love.

Pomegranate Seeds

2009-09-08T21:05:00.000-07:00

World, as we know it,
Open your heart
And let the juice
Of your brothers
And your sisters
Dissolve on the tongue,
Collected red with
Mother's love,
Hidden underneath
Protective wear
(From Father's wear)

We are the seeds
of a bigger fruit.

Person of Color

2009-09-08T20:23:00.001-07:00

Take my blood and paint a sunset.
Rip my sorrows from my chest hollow
And fill the oceans with blues.
Grow parks from the green of my eyes.
Ball my innocence, throw it upward,
And let its light guide you in the dark.

Still

2009-09-08T20:10:00.001-07:00

dedicated to Rumi

Still mind.
Still mind.
Lucid.
Every moment,
Every present,
I am,
Manifested,
Found.

Who was I
Before conception?

I was the greater
World spirit.
Wind, mind, motion.

I am all:
The green leaves waving in wind;
The wind that carries--sounds:
Car alarms, crickets, construction,
Dogs barking, people talking, bird chirping,
motorcycle on the freeway, plane in space--
the moon above; the sun to my west;
the house I am in; the houses around me;
the nails in the wood that hold my foundation;
the paint that cracks around it;
the cigarette butts in the ashtray; and
the water in the bucket to collect its burn,
the ashes, the wars, destruction, bones, blood, body,
the steel frames of globalization, gentrification....

Balance, peace, appease, a piece of harmony
I love the world we live.

Still mind.
Still mind.
Lucid.
Every moment,
Every present,
I am,
Manifested,
Found.

Who was I
Before conception?

I was the greater
World spirit.

It is

2009-09-03T00:56:00.000-07:00

red paint
in heat
globs down my room walls
bleeding the origins of my mother
and the cries of my daughters

the sanctuary is not failing;
it is rebuilding

purity
in pain
curled under the rubble
drinking warm water of rivers
and the tears of my fathers

the journey to america is not hard;
it is living

yellow
in diaspora
flood upon flags
and the stiches come undone

the country is not under siege;
it is already ours

Loss

2009-08-26T16:48:00.000-07:00

I don't experience loss that often but this year has brought me rolling waves. Rest in sweet peace Arlene. You were the first female to understand and love me for being the outcast and I love you. I feel guilty for being so close, but not close enough to hold you before you left. I will always remember your smiling face and your giggle, how you got me to shotgun, how you and I talked about our boos, how you and I were sisters in the beat of music....I promise to live life fully, to embrace what was taken from you. You have taught me that the present is a gift. Thank you.

Breakup with Music

2009-08-25T02:58:00.000-07:00

Keeping my ear close to your bass lines,
Imagining purple hyacinths in adagio
Along pale breasts in goosebumps,
And whispering lover words,
I didn't sleep without you, Music.

As if there were no other chest you could live in,
The only space you found breath,
You looped my mind in choruses,
Versed me with depth—
Of your mother,
Of your father,
Of your revolution,
Of our future—
Clinging cobwebs
That made me believe
In the invisible,
In the wind,
In god,
In love…

Our lips
Are tectonic plates
Causing earthquakes
With every kiss.

I bought into your cover art,
Fighting fists at rest in my arms, and
Undeliverable promises:
Opening with moons
Falling out of orbit
If ever you missed a moment of my wake;
Next scene, you, on bended knee, say,
“We are destined
To intertwine together into a cosmic line,
Tracing back to the dusts of our universe;
We
are
creation.”

Yet you existed only in my sorrows; I cried
Into your rhythm and blues, neosoul,
Hip hop, electronica,
Secure in the stability of your measures,
Assured by your selfless heartbeat.

But this disease,
This codependency.
Is sucking the juice out of
Blackberries in Summer’s june.
I can’t be the lucky lady on your top 40 hit
Knowing I was never your lady at all.

I meditate on my pride.
I can’t suspend my sanity on your symphonies;
I can’t love you;
The way you want me to
Or the way you loved me
Because I don’t know how to:

How to breathe on my own
How to love my own
How to live on my own
How to grow my fruit
and eat it too.

In naked candlelight,

I orgasm staccatos
From my chest

And live there…

Without you.

Post-China/Post-APIA Summit/Post-SMLI 09 Reflections:

2009-08-17T00:04:00.000-07:00

This weekend at SMLI while Dean Chemerinsky was presenting on free speech, I had déjà vu. For me, déjà vu is a sign that I am in the right place. When I dream, I enter a different plane of reality and when I am awake, I am in a different plane of reality. When I have déjà vu, it means these dimensions are crossing paths. This was a clue that I left for myself. I’ve been here before. So it was a big deal since I hadn’t experienced this way in a long time. What were the signs?

I was sitting next to Jesse Cheng, Sarah Bana was on the other side of him, Free Speech presentation going on right after the REACH workshops, True Colors posters on the wall behind the Dean, the 50 SMLIes attentively listening in Buckleberry Library.

Everything made sense! What I learned from the people at the APIA Summit was that we, people of color, can CREATE! At first, I thought I wanted to come back to the Bay after I graduate so I could work in non-profits and work with the people, write poetry because I can create valid histories of my family’s journey to America. But at this moment, I saw clearly how I do create. Not only can I create poetry, I create spaces in the world where people can come and learn about diversity issues and gain leadership skills, perspective, world views. My path is to create multicultural/leadership programs like SMLI, REACH, ALL-U, and Women of Color Initiative, and etc...This is how I give back. This is my pay it forward. To quote Justin Woo’s freewrite in Kelly Tsai’s workshop, “This is my work.” And to quote Sarah Bana’s favorite quote, “There is a loftier ambition than merely to stand high in the world. It is to stoop down and lift (hu)mankind a little higher.”-Henry Van Dyke. Bring them to my level and they bring me to theirs.

My fear is knowing where I want to go, knowing my potential and power. I am converting that fear energy into productive energy which will hopefully be apparent in my work. I take APIA/multicultural issues with me everywhere! APIA summiters, like Simone Jacobson, said to remember that when we go off to our own worlds, that we can bring the Summit with us and hold it in our hearts for the next 2 years until we meet again. What I remember is han, the sharing of trauma, joys, experiences, loves, and forging community. If you look into my heart, it is dripping with trauma--OUR traumas (good and bad), OUR stories. I see how I can make the change, BE the change. And again to quote Sarah Bana’s quote and the new theme of my blog, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”-Mahatma Gandhi.

Because I realized this fear, I looked into my palms to read where I was going. The hand I write with is the life I try to control, the other hand is used less so it shows the lines of my destiny. The life I try to create looks like this: long life that’s separate from my career; I will be in a relationship that might end in divorce with 3 kids; lastly, the money I make isn’t fabulous but I can spend a lot and save enough to live comfortably. Sounds like a mediocre American-dream type of life, right? My destiny looks like this: my life will be intertwined with my career which will make me a lot more money; I will spend a lot, save a lot, and give a lot of money back to the community; I never have a relationship, maybe dating and no kids (of my own at least).

My destiny is such a 180 flip of what I’ve tried to create my life to be. It’s funny though because I have always been in love with the thought of an ideal (wo)man, and in love with the thought of being romantically involved with someone, but I understand and accept that that may not be the path I am supposed to lead. It’s okay. I will accept my fate to give back and work hard and live my work. It sounds a little bit like Oprah, but I found out that she is one of the idealists via Jung and Myer-Briggs Personality test. I am really learning about my strengths as a leader and as much as I’m learning other people’s strengths, I am grateful to be the way I am. I am truly blue: emotional, relatable, affectionate, compassionate, idealist, peace-maker, etc. I am an INFJ (Introverted, Intuitive, High in Feeling, and Judgment). Admittedly a lot of my energy has been spent in romantic relationships, but now I am moving off of finding a relationship so I can put my energy into my work…my community…family…my first love.

China was fun, but it was one of the hardest experiences I have ever gone through because I watched the love of my life move onto a new girl in close proximity for ten days. For the first time I felt my heart break. For the first time the game played me. With the help of my women, faith, breath, time, and Tylenol I made my way to the end of the ten days and was happy to find myself back with my apia folks in the Bay, in the struggle. No lie, overcoming heart break is a lot harder than working through social issues. I don’t have time to write love poems!

(Hahaha that’s a lie. I’m about to post one after this post)

This upcoming year, I can feel myself grow more than change. There is a difference between growth and change. Growth is a lot more focused, grounded in who you are just expanding your principles and ideas to enhance who you are. Change is drastic and traumatic, constantly figuring out how to adjust the self, applying new ideas to form new principles. Sarah Bana said that from my first year to now, I have definitely changed more than I have grown. I didn’t see it before, but I believe it. Looking at my pictures from SMLI 06 to SMLI 09 is just crazy. I am excited to grow into my position, grow with my new principles, and grow with my community.

Thank you mentors who kept lifting me higher, continually believing in my potential, and thank you peoples who keep me grounded and real; you give me strength. I am here to serve you all.

You have influenced me a lot in the past few months and I am forever grateful!

Babysitting in Corona Del Mar

2009-08-16T20:03:00.000-07:00

In recent news, I have been working as a babysitter for a family in Corona del Mar. I couldn’t ask for a more chill job, working with a 16 month old with some cool ass parents who make me food and provide boarding. As much as I’ve learned from this job about parenting styles, I am very aware of my role within the community.
As a back story: Knowing that financial aid doesn’t cover my summer expenses, I applied for this job spring quarter via an ad in the New University, but I didn’t hear back from her until July. This was perfect timing for me because people who just graduated were having a hard time looking for work so I felt very blessed to get this job out of the blue. These are the perks: I get paid cash without tax, I get fed home cooked meals by the mom, I have a room that I can crash at, and a living room with a huge ass TV, I go to the beach every day (seriously, I’ve scaled Corona del Mar), I get to hang out with this happy kid, and I am learning about my teaching style as a parent.

Let me add that at 21, I already feel tired taking care of one kid by myself. In other words, I don’t know if I want to have kids anymore. I am so grateful that I have a huge ass family that took care, played, and nurtured each other’s growth. I am very grateful to have this family teach me how to positively reinforce, affirm, and encourage play as a learning device for happiness. It’s crazy how I was trained to be that domestic housewife—cook, clean, laundry,--be 100% selfless, sacrificing, and slaving away for the family. Now, I can see that it doesn’t have to be that way; I can still have my own life outside of my kid. I understand that hiring a babysitter is a privilege, but I also see that having family around is a privilege. Having help is such a gift that I will take it in any form and would love to give it back. For me, my parents were either authoritative or way too lax, both styles are too extreme—traumatic and lack of presence. What is important to me now, though, is taking care of the inner child who had to experience those extremes. Seriously, I love my inner child and try not to spoil it (She is 5 years old btw), raising myself the way I wanted to be raised.

My latest analyses of my position: Something I’ve learned about having a baby is that people will be a million times friendlier, saying “Good morning” to the baby, but really I am saying “Good morning” back. People smile, laugh, stop and play with her, say she’s cute and gorgeous, and those comments help get the day started right. When these strangers say “Bye” I always hope that Ava has changed their day or life around just because she made them smile. I hope my inner child does that to people too.

You can basically call me a regular at the beach because I’m there every morning, doing the same routine with Ava. On our walks though I have encountered some very interesting regulars. The first man I met is named Leonard Bernard. He has blonde, beachy, curly hair, his olive-tanned muscles bulging out of a red, muscle tank top, and wearing black sunglasses to cover the age of his soul. He has been feeding these stray cats around the neighborhood for over 10 years now. What is interesting about him is that he is a self-published writer, selling his books online. He writes children’s books, poetry books like “Poems about the beach and girls,” and etc. He was really happy to hear that I was a Creative Writer, that I am a fellow poet. Why is he interesting? He is the first person I know who lives such a quirky lifestyle. He writes, lives next to the beach, and he feeds stray cats! What a life! Today (Thursday) he gave me one of his self-published and bound books. Not bad.

I met Ascension this morning. He was sitting on a bench looking out of square, gold-rimmed glasses toward the hazy grey where the horizon fogs into the ocean, his skin hard-wood floor brown with dark sun spots like knots. I sat on the bench next to him, getting Ava’s banana ready for her when he sparked up a conversation. He moved to California from Mexico 15 years ago, in a city in the sierra, where there were no schools, electricity, water, and etc. He got laid off from a company that makes multiple-choice scantrons; his first and last job here in America because they moved the company to Pennsylvania. He asked his family if they would move there so that he can work. His wife, also a babysitter in CDM, said, “No, Go by yourself.” His 18-year old son didn’t want to leave is girlfriend. This man, 65 years old, didn’t want to move to a colder area when he realizes that his body isn’t as resilient as it was 15 years ago, and of course, he didn’t want to leave his family. What does a person do in that situation? He has no choice but to wait, keep his body in shape, and hope that the future holds better things. He said to me that it was good I was in school because I am working hard towards the future.

After walking with Ava, I caught a glimpse of a flock of 30 pelicans flying in a ‘V.’ It was a pretty crazy sight to see. What made it even crazier was that the next day I saw probably the same flock but now with 42 birds! The meaning of life. 42

There is street sweeping on Mondays and Tuesdays. I got a ticket by a white woman with brown hair and blue eyes and asked if there was any way I could get it written off. She was in the midst of a conversation with the street sweeper, a tall black man with glasses and curly grey swabs and white hair. He said this to Ava, “You don’t see many people like me around, huh?” And I responded, thinking that he was implying racial critique, “Yeah, it’s unfortunate that there aren’t.” The woman was smiling but I felt her shift tensely. Ava and I walked away, but I still wonder if that’s what he meant, or whether he meant that there aren’t that many street sweepers around. Should I take off this critical race lens?

Part of the reason why I feel so aware of the race relations in CDM is partly my own presence as an Asian-American woman carrying around a hapa baby (Chinese-Italian American) in a predominantly white area. Granted, there are other hapas (a white mother with her obviously more “Asian looking” children), but it’s mostly white woman who workout together, pushing their strollers and children in pairs, congregating at the main grassy knoll. I am all for female empowerment and physical fitness, but when I came home and talked to Ava’s mom about what I saw, she responded, “Yeah I know. It’s not the right crowd.” So where do we go? Women of color, women with children of color, where is our grassy knoll of congregation?

Another thing about being here is the constant construction taking place on every block. The construction workers are all men of earthy-brown skin tones and the blue-print handling people are white men. They sit on the corner eating their lunches and I pass hoping to draw some connection to them, hoping they can see that I am brown too and we are servicing the wealthy. Fuck! This was a big reason why I never wanted to work at the restaurant again. I hated serving dishes to white, wealthy people, especially in North Berkeley. I didn’t like the way they talked differently to my mother. I didn’t like the way they tried to manipulate their orders into something negotiable, bargaining. Likewise, I passed a dark Latina woman pushing a blonde, blue-eyed boy in a push car and following the white older sister on her pink bike. We made eye contact, and I understood my place here. We, women of color, were replacing white mothers. I don’t want to say this is a form of exploitation because I don’t feel exploited, but I do feel something off about the situation.

After talking with Floyd at SMLI, I realized how hard it is to balance a kid and work. It is important for me to be there for my child’s development. It is also important for me to be there for my career. How can we provide more accessible and affordable resources for quality childcare for parents in the workplace? So many questions with no real answers yet….

APIA Summit: "Where You At"-Day 3 and 4

2009-08-04T01:36:00.000-07:00

I will call this recognition of community.

I went to "A Song for Ourselves" a documentary about Chris Iijima. It hit me really deep because we can be political and still maintain a "normal" life. It's easy to be consumed in the community and our work as leaders, but it's important to balance out the stress so we don't get burnt out. A lot of us, if not all, teared up and you could feel the air sink deep into your chest. It hurts to lose someone close to you, especially a person who has fought for the same cause. It made me appreciate the life I have and the good, great, godly people around me. To me, even in his illness, he chose to put a positive lesson or outlook on it. Whatever struggle it was, he followed his heart. When a person can always see the good and the open door in front of them, that's a sign that they are good people. I know many of my mentors have been this way: ray ray, mike song, sherweez and mike knox, my mom, etc. strong, good people y'know? and it's good to build that community because you know that you are being taken care of. We've got your back Chris!

Having three hour lunches is cool because I can just float around with Summit folk and know that it will be okay, that i'm not alone, that sometimes two is company enough. I ate with Jesse at Chipotle and got to talk more to Kelly Tsai about Chicago-style pizza and philly cheesesteaks and she's just so chill...i want to be adopted by her! So cooool!

Afer group picture, I floated into the Body Electric: the Queer Erotic as Power workshop. Nate and Adrien are amazing facilitators. We did a pictionary game but with sex words such as: kissing, doggystyle, blowjob, condom, lick, and etc. That helped get our blood going and our minds working and our nervous giggles out of the way!
Next we did magnetic poetry. One word per piece of paper, associate words to "sex" then do the same thing with the word "erotic." we brok up into groups, two given the sex piles, and two given th erotic piles and composed spoken word pieces. this was ours:

sensual sensual sensual
i got a fruit fetish
nipples
dirty symmetry
69 ecstacy
exoctic excitement and experimental pleasure
is wet whips candlelight
intense awareness of summer raindrops on my skin
bold curves
bondage freedom active verbs
one-up
sensual sensual sensual

pretty cool amazing genius stuff!
after thaaat we talked about the word erotic and what we could associate with it. likewise with the word queer. from those associations we write a QUEER-KU (5-7-5). super cute. interestingly enough, i wrote one that had to do with the negative perspective of "queer." mine went like this:

I was told not to
Live, reclaim, or empower
my sacred spirit.

But everyone started reading theirs and it was all about empowerment and the fluidity of the soul and the universe and the erotic intimacies of queer. so i changed it to:

Listen to Daft Punk.
Live, reclaim, and empower
the throb of self-love.

after audre lorde and regie cabico, we got to free write and share our own feelings about the erotic and queer and what it means to us. What is your erotic?

It's kinda cool learning how to float. I know i've always tried to create my own sense of security by making plans here and there so that I don't have to face the fact that I am alone. Luckily for me I had KC and Huy with me. I was craving yogurt so I got yogurt park and they got their boba drinks. I still didn't feel right so I went to get a donut. How funny was it for me to run into my spop kids, Jeff and Olivia, in the Asian plaza right as i walked out of the donut shop! small world. the pull of my gut and the fate of life....i dunno man..is the future talking to me via gut messages? sugar cravings bringing me small surprises. thank you Life, it's all very sweet! I want to drift forever in the sea of summit folk.

And the summit blew me away with this commuity showcase! serious power and voice and energy and love. so muuuuch looove.

we went to matt's and huddle around a jug of carlo rossi and it was a good time. it was a better time when the bud and budlight showed up :) I had to leave just as the party started though, without even getting to say goodbye (sorry peoples) because my parents called and said thy were on telegraph. such good parents for waiting up for me and driving me around places.

i came home and my gramma looked at me, crying, telling me that she was very scared of me dranking (i will write a poem about this actually) and then i went to sleep.

point: community leading to day 4
we opened up with a free write: I came here looking for....and then another one: I'm leaving here....both my freewrites were whaaack. but we sat in a circle of charis and shared what we wanted to say about the summit. So much thanks for the organizers who made this space available to us. It's a very scary and vulnerable place to be, sharing your honest feelings, thoughts, and reflections, but it truly made an effect on me. Again, I wasn't sure if I was going to share but I felt like I needed to. I didn't want to get up for the mic so I waited for it to float my way. Fantastically, Nikki sitting next to me just handed it over. Perfect.

For me, the summit healed me, or at least showed me that it's okay to be broken because we all are in some way or the other. However, we don't let those breaks get us down. We are survivors, yeah...we all are survivors in this cruel fuckin' world and I was finally able to find voice and body united, harmonious, in sync, in the bay, at home, in me. The women's open mic showed me that we are women who go through the same insecurities and struggles, yet we can be sexy. And man, my erotic is seeing how immersed we are in our passions in the community, in our art, in our history, in our experiences. I was soaking wet sponge because there was was an ocean of voices, many voices, one mic. and the mic was on me. I have a place in this sea.

So I read:
My erotic lubes me with intellect
stimulating thoughts of pain and pleasure--
race riots and community movements--
sensual slips between the inner paradigms, thighs
I traffic temptation, wet secret drip:
our domes, nipples, hips, and toes.
we are filled
with the orgasm of collective struggle.
We fight to reclaim the depth of our universe. I
see you, live you, am you.
I embody
the erotic.

We positives and deltas and voted for Summit 2011 Minneapolis, Minnesota!!!!

and bbqed and open mic and just basked in berkeley sun and golden brown people each brown black bbq! Beautiful....so beautiful that it took hours to leave....it's hard saying goodbye and for me, it never is a goodbye, because the possibility of seeing one another will be what I look forward to! We make the Summit happen and maintaining the relationships we made this weekend outside of it shows us that the fire is still burning.....it's hot...it's real...my APIA Poet community is ALIVE and WELL!

See you all in 2 years (or soooooner)!!!

APIA Summit: Volume Control 3-Day 2

2009-08-01T02:59:00.000-07:00

I woke up sad from last night's closure with Calvin. Yeah it's a lot to take in, but then going to the MCC at UCB in the mornings to hear some amazing talent get spit on the mic really makes me feel like we've got bigger and greater things to talk about and do

so fuck yeah I'm moving on!

Canary in the Coalmines-The canary is important to the coal miners because they can detect traces of cyanide before humans can so if they die then it's time to get the fuck out.

The poet as the canary: we are fortune tellers, hypersensitive, privileged not to work but we got a job to do so our people can stay on the grind, and at the same time our death may be the only thing to make them wake up. golden yellow black brown red and white; poets come in all colors like canaries. we are the voice underneath. we are the voice and we have the power and responsibility to use it.

For the writer not to speak is a form of suicide-Mark Mamuti (?)

Tell your story to crack open the world

Yes! I wanna share my story because the world needs to get deep!

Women's Open Mic:
I was drawn to this open mic because I wanted to closer to my females and feel the depth of our shared experiences.

Naked ghost holding me at night which is the only thing that can put me to sleep-Jerrica

Mactivist-Yvonne

Measured by grades or the numbers on a scale-Irene

Ther darker the berry, the sweeter the juice; The darker the berry, the more it gets used.-Azizah

Open our legs like newspapers in the morning. Origin story is the origin between our legs. -El Dia

Each of these pieces being read is living the experience with them in spirit and THAT is the difference between an artist and a performer.

I was self-conscious about getting my poetry out there so I wanted to work on gaining confidence. Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai from www.yellowgurl.com said, "Get over your selfishness and share your work because some one may need to hear it."

Thank you apia females and the safe welcoming space provided for our family to come in and story tell. Thank you men for being allies. Thank you all for bringing me back to my roots.

Chicken Wrap from in-n-out gyros in berk and buy 1 get 1 free blackberry bliss jamba for dinner. got to talk to fong about richmond and getting involved there. I am really feeling passionate about this work and this community. thailand sex workers, community involvement, to palestinian-isreali conflict to siblings to moving home to poetry. i fucking love this man! holla for my apia men who understand and aren't caught up. YES!

Volume Control 3: we can get loud in voice, in words, in tears
Kiwi, Denizen Kane, Skim, Bao Phi, Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai, Broken Halos, Erica Benton, El Dia, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna Samarasinha, Drizzletron

wow wow wow talent life i feel it. beauty i'm so grateful for everything and everyone. for the space...we are blessed. thank you organizers!

Afterparty at Blake's: socoandcoke. Lee and me. Dancing to hyphy hits and classics spun by mr phatty fantastic. it's not about the venue but the people you're dancing with.

it's real love. it's real family. i'm going in for the squeeze.

"Don't let the Universe regret you!" meditate on that.

APIA Summit: "Where You from" Day 1

2009-07-31T01:15:00.001-07:00

Wooo let me just say that our community is alive!

Wu Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck wit and hip hop initiated me.

Today we took tours to historically important areas for the apia community around the Bay Area. I went to the Eastside Arts Center. Our tour guide and facilitator of the day was Eden. She was the same Eden who was an RA at COSMOS my sophomore year of high school, and here she is now in my neck of the woods. What a small world! And a blessing at that.

In East Oakland, the San Antonio District, International Blvd has a collection of resources: Native American Medical Center, Goodwill, Taco and Burrito Stands, Ice Cream trucks, a Chinese school, McDonald's, taquerias, and then this arts center.

stage, drumset, piano, display cases: critical resistance to the prison systems, sprung floor, recording studio, locked doors, visual arts room, graf in the back lot.

stand shoulder to shoulder: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. we came here as a peoples who have a passion to make waves in our communities. don't forget the struggle, where we came from, who died for us, who die for us, who we die for...

stand toe to toe with someone: learn to embrace the uncomfortableness and let it be comfortable, intimate, trust, share 30 seconds of your thoughts. listen. share..listen

trust fall: balance, stance, you got my back, with eye contact? yes, i got your back! take a second to ground yourself. let the insecurities melt and just have faith....trust...ready? fall! falling...

back to back sitting and 10 seconds of it with the group: focus on your own power squat yet work with the greater collective in the squat pot.

beat machine: rhythm, layers, bass, sound, music, loud, quiet, loud. proud of our music

name game: upper body movements, callin out, calling in, around the world, and back again

YOU: point, eye contact, verbal communication minus the point, minus the verbal communication....be direct, stay focused, concentrate without getting all butt hurt

interrogation game: why you gotta be so mean? why is your whole team mean?

improv machine: theme-asian american sterotypes. act a stereotype and build it like a machine into a working scene. embody the stereotype and then challenge it. frustrating to do it over. sometimes your idea is not interpreted the way you think and you gotta let go of that ego because the idea may come at a later point. confusion. frustration. impatience. performance and success.

speak out: joy, trust, succes, pride, beauty, energy, fun, love, empowerment, englightenment, etc etc etc of fun gooey good stuff in the middle of our breath. in out 3x and OUT OUT OUT everything!

who came to who first? jacky
we aren't broken, we just have downfalls. we are survivors! bryant
chew chew chomp chew! panda express protest! phuong
monks wearing saffron robes. simone
2 sponges, damp and dry, damp and dry, with no water running between. simone

carry the energy within you....

”The role of the revolutionary artist is to make revolution irresistible.”
-Toni Cade Bambara, (1939-1995), writer, activist

2009-07-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

in the echo of my fears, i finally heard my heart break. It transcended through my dreams, different dimensions, and worlds, showing me that it feels the same in all of them; I can't runaway.

Here I am, gripping my chest as if I could've saved it when in reality, I ripped it apart a long time ago. I am a broken girl made of 3: The sex addict, the emotional self, and the crying child. The addict has taught me to survive but pulled me away the hardest, farthest from the core of who I am. The emotional self is sensible, soothed both voices. The child has the most fears of all--abandonment, judgement, rejection.

She drops to her knees, elbows clenched tightly around her sides. "NOOOO!!!" She wails as though the depth of her sorrow has no weight. Both voice and body take refuge in gravity.

I want to be baptized in the ocean
held by a coord from the grey skies
The wind rustles around me,
cackling, whipping, my cold flesh
red rose flush hovering
below the plain of my land
three generations of faceless men--
where have they gone
and where are they walking?

__________________________________________________________

Rant:

I woke up early Wednesday morning and decided to spend two hours reading my book. I had plans to eat with Sobashi at 2:30 in the afternoon and Calvin was going to pick up the rest of his furniture. After I locked myself out and climbed through the window to get back in, I decided to take a shower with the music on blast. I thought I heard someone in the living room and thought for a second it must've been Calvin, but I rationalized and said it must have been the bass from the music. I walked out into the living room in my towel and the door was wide open. Calvin was here. In my vulnerable and drippy state, I started trembling in fear, anxious, and adrenaline pumping through me. I didn't know what to do but I wanted to do something. I heard him coming up the steps and I peeked out in my towel. He saw me and said, "how's it going?" His eyes were red and his hair was longer than normal....sad calvin through diana's speculations or really high. As he went out to put stuf into his car, I went into the bathroom and dried myself off and put on some clothes. I was so torn between my emotions, between the protocol of what to do and what i wanted to do. I wanted to hold him and hug him and tell him never to leave, but I couldn't. I was so terrified and in shock of his presence that I couldn't even say anything. I kept asking, "Do you need help?" "No" he'd say sternly. This pushed me further into my child-like state. I was rejected from his moving on process. I was succumbing to everything I didn't want to be--powerless. As he put stuff in the car, I'd walk to the kitchen window to see where he was, to see if anyone was with him. Then as he was coming back up the stairs, I quickly went into the bathroom and started crying. When he was packing up his stuff, I'd slowly creep out like a curious child, like an unwanted child, and stood against the wall at the end of the hallway hoping he would just scoop me up. Helpless. A silhouette on th edge of light and dark energy, i was sinking. Yet I tried to take in all of him, his white tank top and grey shorts and brown kswiss....his biceps, his shoulders, his eyes, his expression...something...i wanted to keep as much of him as i could but he was rapidly fleeting from the space and from my life. "as far away from you" that's what he's deciding to do. as he was bringing out the last load i asked him if he had the key. he didn't say anything and kept going and i watched him from the window, thinking he was going to leave and so i closed the door. unknowingly he came up to the door and left the key under the mat. he went to the car and as i heard him start the engine i ran out the door sobbing my eyes out. "this is it." "everything's gone. gone." as i stood there crying on the walkway, he drove away giving me one last look.

i never felt so conscious of abandonment. i know my true feelings come from my parents who left me because they had to work. and i have to learn that calvin is also leaving me because he needs to work on his life. I am imposing that need on his life. I left him a long time ago because he called me a whore which linked me back to my father calling me a whore for most of my high school life. don't get me wrong i love my dad but it doesn't give him a right to degrade me. likewise, i love calvin chu so much but i can't believe he said that to me! in public!

that wednesday threw me off, i didn't work out, i just wanted to sleep, i didn't call anyone, i didn't feel good so i'm writing this out to acknowledge that hurt. it's okay for me to feel sad. it's okay for me to recognize that spatially and mentally we're through.

i've been obsessing about all these other things knowing that it's helping me cope with the loss of calvin. i'm still frantically going on his facebook to spy on his recent activities but i'll probably delete him soon. it hurts to look at his pictures and see us close and happy or sad because we can never be close like that again. it hurts to know the spots on his body, the way his tattoos feel and look, the moles on his face...

i know he's having a hard time too but i believe in his resilience. he's always been resilient. i just have to keep striving to be happy. strive to be better in a holistic way.

Karma Locking Me Out

2009-07-08T12:45:00.000-07:00

Man I just locked myself out of my apartment!

The story: I woke up and decided to do some reading and after reaching some profound thoughts, I decided to meditate on it by brushing my teeth. I looked at the screen door leading to the balcony and nervously thought that the winds were changing, seeing the leaves in the trees sway.

As i was brushing my teeth, I wondered what the weather was outside, so instead of going onto my balcony, i walked to the front door and looked down my steps to see it was sunny. just as i was embracing the warmth of the sun, the door slammed. Shit! I checked the knob and it was locked! Damnit! I sat on the steps and looked around, still brushing my teeth, trying to act all calm cool and collected. FUCK!

"I am lunch with Bash at 2:30. I have no idea what time Calvin is coming to pick up the last of his furniture! Usher's Confession's album is going to play fully through before I even get inside! AH!"

All these thoughts kept running through my mind. Calvin was going to come an pick up his stuff so maybe I'll just wait for him to open the door. Div comes home at 5. I'll miss Bash's call and just tell her I got locked out." NO! I did not want to at least try to get in!

I looked for openings--my balcony screen door was wide open and my bedroom window was always kept open. I thought about climbing up the wooden pole to get to my balcony but who am i kidding i can't slink up a pole!!!??! I'd be like Russell from Up trying to climb up the water hose.

So I went walking around my neighborhood, barefoot, to see if any neighbors were home and maybe I could possibly borrow a ladder. Luckily the house to across the street to my left had their garage door open and I saw inside a stepping stool! I went to the front door and asked the man working changing the locks if he'd happen to have a ladder I could borrow because I got locked out of my house. He flat out said no and I awkwardly said thanks and walked back home. Saddened by this white man's unwillingness to help even though I knew he had a ladder-type thing, defeated me! I sat on the steps and agreed with my rationalizations from earlier before. "I guess I'll just wait for Calvin. This is wht I really wanted any way. This is karma!"

Only when there is recognition of karma will she let you out of her wrath! So I looked at the opening of my bedroom window. There are two ledges. The first floor's and then a fence-type ledge under mine. It's the kind where you can pot plants on the sill so there's some space. I was worried the wood would break under my weight! Luckily it was strong! I climbed atop the first floor's ledge, hoping to gosh the neighbor's weren't home and going to pop through the blinds to see my bra-less tits hanging in full view! Unfortunately I am a little too short to fully get my self up to the second ledge! I tried to pull myself, thinking about rock climbing, but again, who am i kidding?!?! I have no upper arm strength!

I walked around again, hoping to find a neighbor. Across the street to my right was another neighbor sitting in his garage. He was about my age on the phone, and he hung up when I approached. I told him I got locked out and wondered if he had a ladder or a stepping stool. He said he didn't have a ladder but found a stepping stool! Perfect! I was so grateful! He even carried it to my apartment!!

So I told him my plan and I set up the stool on the first ledge and jumped over the bush to get on it, climbed up it's two steps, and pulled myself to the bottom of the fencing of the second ledge. I climed onto this 1 inch wood and inched my toes from one gap to another gap until I could open my window screen, and pull my body up onto the ledge and into the window. The entire time he was walking with me on the grass, spotting me just in case I fell! I'm sure anyone would do that but it was great to achieve something I thought was impossible and seeing someone there supporting me!

I jumped through my window and unlocked my door and said my thank yous and laughed at life and myself!

Man, karma you got me locked out!

Soy Goo's story

2009-06-24T15:44:00.000-07:00

"Ma, wah mai keuh"
I don't want to go

The dilemma in mind:
if he goes, drowns, then regret
if he doesn't go, the money spent on his fare, waste

I go; we purposely sink the boat,
so the ship will rescue us, bring us to land.

________________________________________________________

A dream:
He came to me in a dream
tall and looming
covered in white from wrist to ankle
"Ming, burn money for me to use"
"What kind of money, Ah Bah?"
skin pale and finger pointing
to a fire in a bin.
"Geem tzwah" gold paper
to burn for the dead.
"How much?"
"Enough for me to live."

describing faith in an email....

2009-06-15T01:48:00.001-07:00

i guess that's what faith is. it's an internal purpose. i know that when i was on e or after e i just felt like the only thing to think about was the now and being connected to the now and living life because living is great. but e lost that when i started doing it with calvin. it became more about sex actually. you know...faith is like the coldplay concert to me. just fully connected; its beauty reaches a sublime than cannot be expressed. i've had both experiences with ecstacy and with calvin. with calvin, we had sex and we orgasmed at the same time and it was fully connecting, both opening up body, mind, and spirit and feeling safe and comfortable in that exchange. wow. i've never thought about it like that before. it's like an exchange of our souls and laughing....we both laughed because we were so consumed in it. it's like when a baby laughs...pure...joyful...unkowingingly aware of what it's laughing at. i cried afterward because it was beauty at it's most intimate and sensual and sexual and natural human form. with ecstacy it's connecting to the beat of music and to lights and to the people around you...it's tribal...like a heartbeat...simple...as though the light was the stars, the beats were the sound of our drums, the crickets, our hearts, and the moon is always watching overhead....the fire in the middle...is where we burn our insecurities...yeah...it's the love we have for one another...the safety from being together in the dark knowing that we will forever watch after one another spiritually. that's ecstasy to me. tribal. pagan. holistic. both those instances i felt enough. and that's probably what i'm missing right now. faith. purpose.

SAA

2009-06-14T01:14:00.000-07:00

I

Is he lying to me?
Am I lying to myself?
I like his lips, sex, and intellect,
But where are the emotions?
FUCK MY THOUGHTS!

II

You can take my lips.
You can take my tits.
You can take my clit.
You can take my thighs and hips.
But love,
you may never take my eyes.

III

Sex corrupts me, tells me lies:
"You're so beautiful";
"You're so hot";
"Harder. Yeah like that"
And makes me forget the consequences
After the moment. That present
Led to this present
When shit hits the fan
And I'm alone
Again.

IV

I am easy:
easily loved
and
easily fooled

V

sex stains the skin

VI
Brown eyes, lined red,
They've seen blood shed;
Deeper than the "natural" hues,
Blue and Green,
They've seen me.

Affirmations to get me through the day

2009-06-09T12:22:00.000-07:00

I am a really fun person to hang out with.
I am a really cool mom because I am very chill.
I am a very cool coord for REACH because I think about them a lot.
I am a successful student leader, mentor, and student at UCI.
I am fortunate to have such great friends and a supportive family.
I take advantage of life and try new things.
I am open.
I have stretch marks on my ass and tits which means I lost some weight!
I have light brown eyes that look like mud in afternoon sunlight.
I have titties that some other women have to pay for.
I am very flexible and enjoy stretching myself.
I like stretching and massaging others so that they feel good too.
I know how to give myself massages (out and in).
I like to run barefoot but will run in shoes if necessary!
I am able bodied and can explore the deeps, the dips, the treacherous, the highs, and etc.
I have a very loud voice that can outbeat any man's voice!
I know how to whistle, snap, dance, sing (in my car), clap, jump, swim (lightly), cry, and curl my tongue.
I have a great music selection that is more underground.
I can write.
I write.
I know how to show people love.
I can arrange flowers, cut hair, bake, cook, and cater to others.
I enjoy doing hair and make-up.
I am very resourceful.
I am a quick learner.
I know how to cater to myself: baths, music, candles, movies, writing, and masturbation.

These are my affirmations.

Focus of Positive Believing

2009-06-06T00:17:00.001-07:00

Today I woke up with the dark and light clouds shadowing from above. I caught a glimpse of the sun and thought, "Alright, there's some sun. Not too bad." To my surprise, As I peered out through my other window to scan the whole of Irvine and whether they were covered in the gloom, I saw a rainbow!

Then I thought to myself,"Okay. If it's this gloomy but there is a small patch of sun and a rainbow at 8 in the morning, then it is for sure going to be a good day!"

The reason why I was up so early was because I was trying to edit my paper to turn in before 11. I jumped on my laptop to see the 7 pages I left safely on it from the night before. I don't know what happened. Sadly, I couldn't find six of those pages and wound up with the first page which was pretty much the prompt.

I felt a dilemma because normally, I would whine and howl and be utterly discouraged from starting all over and fallen into the pits of despair. However, I could not let the disappearance of my paper get me down because I believed it was going to be a great ass day! So I focused all my energy into cranking out 8 pages in an hour and half! And voila! A final paper!

Focus, getting straight to the point--Concise. This is what I needed and wanted to be in every aspect of my life.

I hung out with Doris at Reggaefest. I bought a new pair of peace earrings for a bargained down price of $5 and a new pair of red-rimmed sunglasses for $5. After Doris left, Calvin and I ate stoner fries and a hot dog from the Pub, went back to my apartment and talked about our relationship (because I broke up with him last weekend), hugged, packed, and I was off to a new CCC interns meeting. I had to leave to facilitate Cross the Line for first-year SPOP Staffers. Staffers from the last training also came back to do it again for more practice! I felt so proud of them!

Satisfied. Efficient. Content.

Calvin surprised me by already being in the parking lot before I even got out of my training so it was great because I expected to wait for him. He was meeting me one step ahead. Perfect way of showing me his love. Got in, headed out to Long Beach so I could fly out to Oakland.

Got to Long Beach but I was early so Calvin and I went to Mickey D's and ordered our faves: 2 caramel sundaes (I get all the nuts), 2 apple pies, 10 pc. chicken nuggets, french fries, and (not normally) a soda. We ate and smiled and laughed. He asked me out on a date to Catalina Island to celebrate the end of the year. I said yes!

Then he dropped me off at the airport at 7PM. I literally got through bag drop and security by 7:02. I called Calvin and we talked about therapy and how we're both in the process of healing and seeking help. At first we felt ashamed, but now we are so confident and recommend it! It's great to connect with him emotionally about the process of healing which is something different than the emotional connection I have with my best friend. My gbf connects with my sexual past and my bf connects with my present and future healing. It's a beautiful thing to finally be connected to Calvin.

It's a full moon and I got my period. It's a cleansing cycle. Shedding the old self, becoming the new.

Anyway, now I'm home and my parents gave me a jade Buddha for strength, my mom gave me advice and meditation tips, my dad cut and porcupined Manila mangoes for me (though they were from Mexico), and I get to sit in the silence of my house and write.

I mean...can life get any better than this?

A Letter to My Son

2009-05-30T12:55:00.001-07:00

son, the lines in your palms
have gotten you this far
and the map in your heart
will take you farther

be safe on your journeys to a new land
where you can....

BE

you
no impositions of definitions
except the ones you choose. you said,

"ma, life is all around you"
and i didn't believe it because for so long
I lived amongst the white walls
white white white walls
white faces that told me:
depend on masks, hair, and bras to up lift
what ever I wasn't
and hide whatever I was

how can i see life, if someone is looking at me to look at myself?
i had no agency, silenced
by their objects yet wearing it
to make myself MORE
of an object
like collecting baseball cards for a collection
i sat on their shelves, in their possessions

until i met you, my son
whose beauty reflects off of me
when i see
how grown you get
just from having colors
of imagination paint depth

and finally from your cries,
i could breathe out
whatever i held in,
at birth

i heard life
and saw life
and kissed life
and made life

aren't you proud of your mother?
despite what they made up,
she made out what was natural to her.

so my sweet son,
you came from a line
of instinct and just follow
what is natural to you.

walking backwards

2009-05-28T16:20:00.001-07:00

normally, i walk home from campus. I have a route: pass uci extension, pass student health center and the police department, through verano place, up through the arc fields, across the backetball courts and up all the stairs.

today i tried walking backwards from home to campus. and though i have this path going one direction, it is a totally different direction going backwards.

even though i'm walking in life on something familiar, i have to start all over, create a new path for myself. even if somewhere in the past i had already created a path.

it's strange the cycle of paths, like routes of water that somehow all connect--ocean rivers lakes ponds rain ponds lakes rivers and back into the ocean.......

it's been tough walking backwards, scary actually
yet i need to trust that the flow of my body will lead me on a path that will get me to where i need to be...

Warring Shame

2009-05-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

I know shame like the shadow near my feet. It haunts, stretches, distorts, and sneaks up on me. There is a depthitude of worlds in which I traveled and never looked back. I ran out of there so fast.

Why would anyone want to be locked in the dark? Silent dark space. No sound, no wind, no smell, no touch, no taste, no you, nor me. We,

insignificant. It's terrifying running into the universe of fears. It's hard getting out. What kept me alive? This dream: white, green, orange, red, light, joy--colurs, flavors, life.

Life conquered the blackhole, where i'm from.

Where i'm from the black waters stole the souls of people. people who looked into their reflections and got dragged in by the Goddess of Death. They just couldn't let go. Yet how does one let go if all they know are their memories? What makes them who they are? Forget where you learned it from, it's in you now. The lines twists and bend into and outside of each other. Cross-eyed, and color blind, it's overwhelming, this war.

The noise of people trying to find each other is so loud that I go deaf. I hear a dead mute. Something in me died, tone deaf, losing my language, I can't hear differences. I just see people crying, running, screaming with mouths wide open, inaudible. No one can hear their voices trampled upon by men in green suits, black boots, jabbing with bayonets. Green, red, black, grey, dirt in the river. We all flowed into the river veins of mother and she cradled us until we found the open womb. Gapetto echoes in the night.

The sun doesn't set too far from the moon; we were born at the edge of a waterfall, rushing in like infection. White blood cells attacked, yelling Get out! You nasty germs pollute our blood with your genetic make-up. So we made ourselves up to disguise as them. But this shadow won't stop telling truth of who I am. I am the weathered skin of my feet. My soles cannot tell lies.

Abandonment

2009-05-11T00:06:00.001-07:00

It hit me through my body,
violent vibrations with no ventilation.
It kept pulsing like fresh blood
from the wound, the womb.

My mother left me
because she had to work,
because of her own fears.
I knew she wanted to hold me,
and hear my cry for her breast,
for her.

My father left me too,
the day he hit me,
because he couldn't recognize
the girl he left behind.

So, he went to my little sister
(whom I am jealous of),
who resents me
for being the person
everyone loves but
can't have.

I abandoned them all
because it hurt too much to feel
their love, distant memory of a love,
lost in transit, in translation, in transition,
in America.

I abandoned the one I loved
before he could leave me. I,
a runaway, got good at hiding, yet
I kept searching for a distant
ideal, love in the form of a man.

Men, mirages, barrages of men,
who thought pulling a girl's hair
was fun, taking her freedom,
raping, molesting, violating, whistling, smothering,
silencing, playing, and lying to a girl was
okay, was everything a "man" does
in today's society.

But even after such violence,
I decided to comeback stronger
to face those men, however painful,
to face my family however painful,
to face my love, and
to face love in general...

(because I'm tired of running away
from being abandoned).

mmmm music

2009-04-28T23:25:00.000-07:00

mmmm music
tick tick tick ticking tick
i want want want want
you

to
dance around me
between me
through me
in me

vi vi vi vibe vibe vibrating
from a steel-string

I moove oooh oooh oooh
in your mouth and
drip from the tip
tip tip drip trip
off your sweet
tongue

um um um
fiddle, faddle, babble,
can you play the guitar?
can you play it louder?
with your fingers
d e e e ee eee eeee eeeeeper

kick kick kick kick tick tick kick t-t-t-tick
zaaah zah zaaah bah bah bah bum bum
um mmmm mmmmm music pleeease

don't stop
singing the blues!
i feel you you ooo oh oh now

now now now aaaah putting it in you baby
putt putt putting in you
a groove all over me

me me me me
I I I I
you you I me me I I I I
aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
want want want want
you

---dedicated to the pain that plagues

Broken Heart

2009-04-22T17:13:00.000-07:00

HEART
HE-ART
(HE)ART
HE ART
ART

4 AM

2009-04-16T04:07:00.000-07:00

In the silence,
I hear echoes
of my spirit.

You are awake.

a letter for easter

2009-04-11T14:39:00.000-07:00

god, tell me i survived death
because my love is that strong
tell me i am surrounded
with strength and the will
to live
because I cannot do this alone

my love is lonely
my life is lonely

god, fill me with love and life again.

How to Cope with Living

2009-04-07T00:23:00.000-07:00

For most of my life I thought I would die at the age of 32. It would be a selfless act for selfish reasons, as strange as it sounds. I was depressed, I was lonely, and I always ran away from heartbreak. In other words, the best and most efficient way of running away forever was simply to die, a perpetual sleep, an escape, peace.

And you know, as dark as I am, the underlying truth is that I care too much. That I am an empath, sensitive to pain, even of inanimate objects. I am sensitive to everything that it's almost overwhelming. It's like autism, when too much information overloads into my brain, I just black out. And as a child I blacked out, or slept, a lot which ultimately led to my current social anxieties.

Sleeping to me meant entering a different, yet parallel dimension. And as much as I loved to sleep, I loved staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning in the silence of the world and write. I wrote in my easyjournal about nothing and everything of those times.

And what distracted me while I was writing was my sexual addictions. I was a sex addict. Actually, I was a love addict who thought sex was my only way of gaining true intimacy. Though i was aware of the risks, I risked anything to feel loved, to feel like someone. This time of my life felt like a different world I went to school during the day and did my thing--a social butterfly that had no true friends, a great student in class, and an active student leader. But in the silence of the night, a recognition of loneliness woke and drove me to websites like wouldyouhitthis.com and chatrooms where I prowled, lurked, advertised my self, flirted, and engaged in sexual encounters.

I became an expert in manipulating, lying about fingering myself while these men cyber sexed me, faking orgasms in phone sex, faking orgasms in real sex. Pretty much I acted like I wanted them so that they could petend that they really wanted me. I was not aware that their sexual love didn't equate to love love, like the kind in the movies. (Come to think of it, the kind in the movies aren't real either!) Even though there was a consciousness somewhere that said, "No. This is your last time," I didn't listen and kept doing what I did because I was good at it, because no one had the guts to stop me, because i couldn't stop myself. The saddest thing about it is that i didn't remember, or couldn't remember, what I had done. I was so emotionally detached from these exchanges that they didn't stay in memories. It was like astroprojection; i left my body and watched from above in third-person perspective. you can imagine how hard it was for me to be honest with calvin when i couldn't even remember. it was amnesia; it was repressed.

May 27th, 2008--
When I found ecstasy, I found redemption. I thought I was going to die that morning. I hit a peak so high that the drop was far scarier than I ever imagined. I sobbed when everyone left; I sobbed harder when I made peace with the fact that I was going to die. I wanted to live an honest life, live an honest death. And obviously, i survived from such an intense experience by choosing to live.

I re-gained spirit, that was once traumatized by molestation, abuse, and neglect. With this new spirit, I wanted to be different. I wanted to seek help and love the people around me who supported me. And I did; I do seek help from the resources I have.

Recently I broke up with calvin because we have issues (we are currently working things out). I didn't cry, I didn't feel anything but numb; I was comfortable being with my friends, being alone, being back in the space where I had been for so long. and nothing changed about me. I still sought out imaginations of a man to love me yet i couldn't really think about having sex with any of them. as the days wore on, so did my hard shell i put up. i was hurting, i wanted someone to come home to, someone to wake up to, someone to share my life with, someone to give me an affection that friends just can't. and i ran to poetry. i tried writing a poem but everything led back to memories of calvin. memories of middle school, high school...things we did when we were in love. nothing to do with the present, nothing to do with our issues; i just longed to be in the place with him, to be in love.

during our relationship, I stopped working to be better. i stopped listening to myself.

tonight, i cried because something was lost in me. a child was lost because men damaged me. i don't have a fear of the world. i have a fear of men. i want love from men. calvin is starting to realize how important it is to be a parent. and as much as i am challenging men to become allies, i am also implying the role of the mother. my mother was absent. my mother didn't defend me; she defended the laws of males, enforced it. and i think back to the days when i was in highschool. i snuck out, ignored my mother;s calls, didn't tell her where i was. she waited up for me until i came home; she knew. and there is something karmically linked between us women, mother and child, sister, this biological understanding of labor, this womanhood, this struggle to prove to men that we are worth looking at.

calvin and i both have a disease--codependency. it streamed from our past and into our current relationship. we are both working to get out of it. i just read that the problem with codependency is resisting fun, so maybe the key to living is just to let it all go and to live.

(note: i need to go bungee jumping soon.)

It's crazy to realize that I have no idea how to live. I don't know HOW to be in a relationship, how to be in a friendship, how to BE. i never learned the standards. i just woke up one day and said this is how i'm going to live my life. since college i've been discovering that there are norms and i'm trying to learn them. I really do wake up and no matter how sad I feel, I think about how lucky I am to be here in the present but i'm working toward a better future, toward a better me.

i'm trying to purify my soul. my therapist said to me: of course you feel sad. it's okay to feel sad, you've gone through so much that it's okay. and for the first time in my life, i have accepted my sadness, mourning, grieving it. it's hard though, to find enough tears in a day to wash away the last 21 years of my life. there's just not enough in me.

post-rejection: we-struggle

2009-03-16T17:18:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to work on my final but I can't stop thinking about SPOP and the reasons why I am here standing at these new paths in life.

After the rejection, I felt relieved actually because I was excited to close a door to find new ones. when this door closed, I was even more obsessed with getting it opened again! the hype and excitement of the new staff just kept me coasting on a strange high even though i was rejected. both happy that i wasn't the only one rejected and truly happy that people i love got the positions.

Yet at the same time, I felt this sadness. After talking to kar, I couldn't stop thinking about how i would feel if i got rejected and a few third year returners got it instead of me. i still couldn't fully feel it the same way he did until i got rejected from my poetry class. I felt like damn! society is not recognizing me as anyone special. what is wrong with me?!

so i said, fuck school. i'm going to the beach with div, after he passed out i thought about short-term and long-term goals. i am only preparing early for my life because i am the most scared.

as we returned to vdc, i talked to one of the new first-year staffers on Friday in a transaction. He said to me, "I'm so excited to do the work!" And it hit me!...

The work; The purpose of SPOP was to help the incoming freshmen transition and get excited about UCI.

In all my feelings and my dramas from both teal and gold, I was so focused on my returners and my first-year staffers that I forgot my initial purpose.

The reason why I wanted to be in SPOP in the first place was because I wanted to help others. Because I was in SPOP for so long and I was so STUCK in the details of the program, I couldn't see the bigger picture. I was here for my kids, the kids, our family.

SPOP became a comfort zone for me and to finally get kicked outta the box to fend for myself is truly bittersweet. i was rejected out of love! I needed this rejection more than ever to see this. I needed to re-feel this lost passion to serve others of all ages, nations, races, ethnicities, spiritualities, etc....humanity

humanity--that's what i was fighting for all along.

and i remember back to what phil lee said, that he didn't do teal year and helped disabled children at a camp, and martos traveled throughout southern america, and kat has a homeless program and went to build homes in new orleans after katrina, and norma helps women and children in a free clinic in mexico, and many of my spoppers didn't apply to go home to be with family, and calvin's keeping at-risk youth off the streets, and what am I doing?

not enough! there are so many things to do because the world isn't quite perfect yet!

it brought me back to my ROOTS. I came from nothing, depression, anger, distrust, fear, loneliness, and abuse. Jesus said to me that he was happy to see me, to be around me because there was something about me that felt happy to be here. and I understand where that happiness came from: the joy I have is seeing people thrive in the community. and though it may not immediately seem like the community is damaged, there are broken pieces everywhere!

(especially since i've spending more time in long beach) calvin got racially profiled and thrown down on the hood of a police car by a rookie police officer this weekend because the officer was having a power trip. my people, all people, we people--i'm coming back down from the high of college life because i see (y)our hurt. because we are human, we will hurt together and we shall heal together.

at UCI, I have a foundation of love and family and the best way to pay it forward is living it every day beyond UCI.

the beauty of the human spirit is our resiliance....

it makes life that much more worth it.

i am saying yes! to clarity and to our real struggles.

Hypnotism

2009-03-04T00:12:00.000-08:00

Hypnotism
I was possessed by you.
No matter how hard my mind told me not to,
I kept thinking about your eyes on me.
You told me that you were the truth, but you lied
And I had to follow what I thought was right
In order to escape your chokehold.

I heard the guns go off
Into, and through the temples of men and women.
You were not dropping knowledge.
Instead, you made us consume
Money—on the floor, from your pockets,
Pick pockets, cycling back into your wallet.
We consumed your corporealation. We, your enterprise,
Consumed our selves by leaving each other behind.

You are not the truth, I kept telling myself
As you whispered behind my eyes,
Sleep! We belonged to your gravity
And molded into the seats that kept us from fully
Falling to our pieces.
Why must you keep us apart?
I tried to hold and coax the others to
Keep them safe in my being.
However, they would not listen.
They kept dancing and laughing
And playing. Guiltily, I laughed and played
To keep the show running.
Though, I did not dance to rejoice
A dream that was not mine
And had to let them go.

With eyes closed, I listened
In resistance to the chaos and madness
That surrounded me.
This silence was the loudest I could voice….
And then it all became silent.

We rekindled a voice
Greater
Than your hypnotism.

Why We Talk So Loud

2009-02-23T13:27:00.001-08:00

Every year, around the same time, I breakdown from weariness and the overwhelming feeling of infinity.

I am not angry at Calvin, but my tone is loud and angry, uncontrollable like burning wildfires. I can't hear my self, tone deaf.

They torture me, the voices, that yell in my head.

"I don't want to fight anymore," I chant to Calvin as he cradles what is left of me. I sob as if to purge what memories, pains, joys, and writings that have yet to escape, that have been replaying over like a scratched record. There are a lot of scratches in my life.

The "I", ai, love was made up of all these collective experiences that keep running through my head, that strings me karmically to a past and to all these voices that talk so loudly.

This is the only time in which I hurt loudly, openly, physically. I keep my left hand to my left eyebrow, pinching my self back to the tangible world. It doesn't work.

And this is the first time, there was a witness--Calvin who kissed me, stroked my temples with the gentle of his fingers, scooped me in his spoon, swallowed my tears, and brought me out of my head.

The back of my head throbbed, pushing out swells from my eyes, and the frontal lobe was bursting against my skull, locked in physical limitations of bone and skin.

"Think about it: There is so much blood going through your brain right now because your thoughts are shooting electrical pulses everywhere!"

Mental explosions, visual explosions, war. "I am so tired. I don't want to fight anymore. I just want to sleep, but I can't because everything hurts," I cry, longing to forget.

I didn't mean to yell; I am not angry at Calvin. I reflect on my brother whose voice is loud and assertive, who always talked to our younger sister protectively. He says, "Bao, I'm not yelling. I am only talking. " But I hear the volume of his decibel. I did not believe that he did not have control.

Now, I understand why we talk so loud. Chinese families are known for talking like they are yelling, but it is merely spirit, overflow of collectiveness. For me, it is like a possession of the soul, this anger, a gaping wound of animosities--relocation, alientation, daily frustrations in middle class--and the torture of potential--wanting more, for knowing more, and for believing in being better.

I am in the process of developing a book, my family, my self. I have been doing this all of my life: listening, writing, imagining, crying, breaking down, and rebuilding. This is the only way I know how to exist.

Misteryou

2009-02-19T20:11:00.000-08:00

this obsession is dehydrating

who are you?

i want to know the depths of you
your affiliations
your affinities
your aspirations

lock eyed in light shows
i am blinded by lust and stuck
looking at you looking at me looking at you

did i start it? or did i catch you? does this mean anything?

to whom does your soul belong?

(and can get in on that)

i want to be the shadow to your
sun-stained skin
and find all the spaces to hide in

touch your fingertips
with my lips
and lie head to neck
immersed in the understandings of the beat
the love, our love of music
and lights

Ecstacy on a Friday Evening

2009-02-19T19:19:00.000-08:00

ideal
binds our tribal community
with love
and understanding

in the space we are in,
there is no one but us
we will care
and support one another

my memory in fragments:
water
lights
vaporub
menthol
gum
massage
daft, cynic, infinity, kaskade, tiesto, benny,
the beat the beat the beat the beat lives
me
you
we
live
attraction
another half pill
beauty
water

let the good times roll.

Love Brings Change

2009-02-18T23:02:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrAh19oGfPM

our love is simple: we love each other.

sometimes so simple that it becomes complex: we care too much.

but i believe in our love and our want for change that the complex process is worth going through to reach the simple truth.

Sneaking In

2009-02-10T17:11:00.000-08:00

We meet at the door, smiling.
It is cold in the night, yet our shivering is more from the adrenaline pulsing through our veins. “Come in,” she says, “Stay close to my body
and follow my every movement as though we’re one person.”
She turns around, grabs my hands, and tugs me into a hug. I can feel her heart dancing across my sternum. I hold my breath,
fearing her parents could hear a difference in the family’s air. We step in,

in unison,
left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.
I am her shadow in the night.
The hard-wood floor creaks under our weight, and surely echoes throughout the wall-less house.
She smells like pears and lime from her evening shower.
That is how close I am to her,
basking in whatever traces of her she will allow me to have.

At the room door, her father snores from his, but we take a right step into the warmth of hers.
The carpet is soft, comforting, inviting, and safe from exposure. She smiles and takes off my coat. I am all hers, nervous, smiling still.
The lights are off but in the middle of the floor a picnic of blanket and pillows are laid out as a surprise,
a nest, our nest that is
different than her bed,
different than the backseat of her car,
and different than the movie theatres.

She lies down, holding my hand
to lead me,
to guide me,
telling me that safety and home is an arm’s length away, within reach. I lie down next to her,
a loyal dog, waiting to be pet, domesticated, affectioned.

On our sides facing each other,
I let her fingers roam up my arm,
down
my back, and around the waistline of my jeans.
Our lips touch like feathers on a wing, overlapping, complementing, patterned, and resistant to the wetness of our tongue swapping saliva.
This mixing and fusing of selves.

She puts my hands on her ribs,
as though she was saying, “Here’s the point of where four corners meet.
Now choose which way to start first.”
I go northwest for her breast.
Maybe I’m too eager but her breasts are an asset to which I have fallen so hopelessly victim.
She moans in agreement,
and rolls onto her back,
so I could explore them on a different plane.

I indulge.
I lift her shirt to add waterfalls to the mountains. I can feel something growing between us, a yearning that only one another’s presence could fully satisfy.
She kisses me hard to put me in my place,
underneath
her straddle; I don’t mind. She kisses me again and glides the tip of her tongue down the profile on my ear and sucks on the lobe. Truly a tease that sends electricity down paralyzed limbs. She has found a path: going down the side of my neck, the top of my collarbone, my chest, and decides to reciprocate nipple action.
She is gentle. Neither pulling nor nibbling, just allowing the natural scoop of her kiss embrace them, then she holds them in her smile.
She makes eye contact to see if I’m enjoying my self. With her eyes she asks me if she can continue down, and eagerly my eyebrows signal flirtation, some form of control.

Yes.

She kisses my ribs, finding a spot between the bones to push pressure from her tongue, a tickle, and I jerk instinctively, but she kisses it away.
Oh, a tease,
using my weakness to seduce me.
And how I am seduced as she unbuttons my jeans, unzips, and part my legs to creating a home for her body. I can’t hide my frustrations that keep pulsing through my head! I nod before she could even ask. I digress to caveman, grunting and wanting without understanding why, only knowing that I am presently here, and she wants me too.

She grabs my thighs, spreading them farther apart so she can see all of me, take in all of the folds, wrinkles, veins, hairs.
Throbbing with a pulse is torture; I thirst. She,
an angel in my drought, puts her breath onto me, her lips, tongue, starting from my balls up to my shaft, and around my head before taking me whole.
I am hostage but alive!

The warmth of her mouth is almost too much. I have to pull away, reaching for her hands to come up. She doesn’t. Her resistance makes her even sexier. She is dangerous, a rebel, but after coaxing her breasts,
she finds her self in the middle of me,
smiling, and kisses me.

I am a sailor washed ashore and blinded by such light, joy that I could only be waking in Heaven. I put her on her back, and because she brought me back from my digression, I do not ravage, but savour every mouthful. Her neck, breasts, navel, pelvis, hips, waist, thighs are
all owned by her.

So I tread as though stumbling into a national park.
I am quiet, all is quiet, and the wind of her wanting breath and shifting faults shake me closer toward this intimacy. Our intimacy. She still shows me how to love her body the way she does. She lifts her hood so I can see the dawning clit;
it is beautiful, and wet.
I put my mouth on it,
and I can feel all
her humanly tensions melt.
She has digressed, or progressed because my chin, too, is wet.

I enter; however, not leaving her clit to fend for its self,
I leave a hand.

She doesn’t take it, gives it back so I am not pieced.
Instead, she rubs herself and I fall into the rhythm of her rhythm.
She moans,
but also self consciously pushes me away before she climaxes. I want to give her more,
but I understand that a geyser loses its magic if all the world was to see it.
Call it performance anxiety.
Still,
we gush into,
onto,
upon,
within each other.

We meet
again in the middle, smiling, ready to immerse,
soak, bathe in celebration of our genitalia’s natural wonders.

Yellow Lights

2009-01-28T15:49:00.000-08:00

yellow lights are flashing
and i'm slowing down
because my thoughts are too fast for my body.
though time can contain both
i haven't contained my self
in the present yet

blue's response

2009-01-20T17:52:00.001-08:00

I love your sexuality
your intercourse with art
and being

and being
everything.

If your mind could rub against my chest
to beat it blue
a mother to her child
a father to the child
a beaten child

then maybe i can breathe
into your
poetry
photography
stories
of sacred purity.

it's lonely in the dark
my fingers have fallen off
and i cannot strum the same chords
within my self

help,
i want to wake.

Sythesis of the Selves

2009-01-19T23:54:00.000-08:00

I've been told that

Poetry

Is not real work.

"There is no function in society; no production
made by hands."

This is a prodcut of my imagination.
Written language is the tangibility of possibility.

Possibility was torture for my mind
Since without clear route
I could not escape
The fear of being lost
Within my selves.

Now, I see the art.

Is the I the same as the person who writes?
What does this say about the self?
Who is the self that is produced?

If the function of ethnic poetry is to claim a space
Then, we are still enslaved.

The self saw its self
Through the eyes of the outside world.
Such pressure
Like ocean water
On
The breath.
My mind
Broken
Into pieces,
Thoughts,
Selves,
Has finally selved
In synthesis.

Hummingbird

2009-01-15T20:27:00.000-08:00

Even a
hummingbird
must perch atop
the apricot tree
branch to see
which flowers
are worthy of
its suckle.

My First Tuesday with Kat

2009-01-14T21:09:00.000-08:00

I stole a quote from S D V a while ago: The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart. ~Elisabeth Foley

After my first week of school back from England, I felt drained. This weekend I spent time with calvin; he is my home, my sanctuary. With him, he knows history that no one else knows, or that I don't need to explain in introductions.

Now, I have weekly lunches with some of my best girl friends whom I never hang out with. This past Tuesday, I had an hour and a half with Kat. We met in art school and when we got into Irvine, our circles were vastly different. This goes the same with a lot of other people. Although I admire and love very specific people in my life, they fall into different social circles. Thus no hang out bonding time.

Yet I feel change, in my self, in others, and in the world....

Kat has changed. We talked about love, marriage, kids...Something that Calvin and I talk about because we have always been serious like that. But for Kat to talk seriously about love, marriage, children....is friggin ridiculous....unexpected...surprising....

Honestly, I couldn't be happier. Here are the reasons why:

1. First and foremost, I am excited to have someone in the transitional thinking that I have been for a long time. This transitional period of planning for the future, thinking about my wants and the effects on the family I also want is lonely. I feel old. I have had too many hit-it-and-quit-its in my life. I am plunging.....for my the betterment of my self. The fact that Kat is now sharing this same transitional mentality is splendid

2. Love. I am very happy and satisfied with Calvin. He went to England to surprise me, he went to England to send me off, he spent the summer 08 with me. And though we spent our every days together, we both still have the butterflies and we both still maintain our individuality. Yesterday we got a purple and white widow session going, but I didn't smoke because of my resolution. Even though I didn't smoke, he and I could read each other's minds without saying a word and from across the patio. It's a mutual thang. We make each other laugh and we both laugh. We make each other giddy and we both feel giddy. We show each other how to love, and we both feel loved. This works for us. And I'm glad that Kat has found someone to work, fall, support, love.

3. She is happy and her happiness spews, spills, and spreads to me and vice versa.

In an hour and a half, I rekindled and resparked a doubt in my self and in my love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSmfNxmaQHc

Necessary Life

2009-01-06T17:03:00.000-08:00

Paris, my first love, you came to me in december when i needed you the most, to revitalize my ideas of love when I had lost my self. I have discovered that the love from my sisters (blood and beyond) empower, encourage, and engage me more than any other man. Together, we are the nation.

Bana and Gacutan-In my transition to find motivations, I have found a deeper balance between my past anger and future imaginations. In my state of delusions, you have given my clarity.

Irvine, Suj, Dor, SPOP-I ran away from you, only to find my self back in the embrace of your ever supportive arms. In my selfish escape, I faced my fears of depression and spiraled back down to the home I left behind. I am ever more humble, appreciative, and determined to give back to you what you have given to me.

Writing and Hip Hop-You keep my heart beating and my soul breathing. I am happy to be alive again.

Viva La Vida

2008-12-01T07:29:00.000-08:00

This weeknd I went to see Coldplay in Concert, their first concert in England. I went with Kay Dub. She cried, inwardly appreciating the music; she sat; she clapped her hands close to her body. She told me afterward that she wished she could be more like the crowd.

A while ago, I chose to become more selfless. I wanted to get out of my head, stopped being self-conscious, and connected with art. I stood up, danced, sang along, and cheered. I let go to show that I am fully appreciative of another person’s art.

I was brought up in a family that didn’t say I love you and didn’t give hugs, but I wanted it to be different so I changed it. I started hugging my mother, my grandmother, my dad, everyone, and told them that i love them, miss them, and want to be around them whenever I can (without exhausting the truth of the message).

Though I admire such inward admiration of beauty, I could probably do that in my room listening to my music. (I am not dogging on the way Kay listens, defines, lives in music. I am only stating what it feels to me.) At the concert no one knows who I am, no one knows which song they loved the most and why, all we know is that we are here, sharing an interest in art.

At the concert, I couldn't sit. I trembled, connected, and exploded. I let go of my critique, I immersed and understood what this music meant to me: the summer of love 2008, ecstacy, come downs, long drives, home, and a journey to find my self. Even though I was a part of the crowd in the greater perspective, I had found redemption by getting lost in the blur.

The movement whether it is because of politics, love, death, art, or religion is a change that is greater than my self. It is collective, global and visible in the rallies, elections, or in the gathering for a concert.

I give thanks for growth, change, empowerment, resilience of the human spirit, and most importantly love. I am alive. I am alive. I am a life. Life.

Barcelona: Spiritual Epic Journey

2008-11-24T11:26:00.001-08:00

Thursday night I went to Honeyclub with Ab and we fucking danced like there ws no tomorrow. I had a bus to catch at 5 so I was ready to stay up all night until I had to meet Lib. After the club, I went to this fish n chips place to get a coke. Some fuckin' guys in the line kept making Karate chop moves in my face.

::HYA!:: "You do Karate?!" The shorter one asked.

"No, I don't."

And the same convos went: where ya from? california. where you really from? california. where are you really really from? california. OOOH YOU'RE AMERICAN?! Darling, you're really far away from home. I suggest you take a boat and go that way! ::points toward Isle:: Are you Republican or democrat? I'm a democrat. ::high five:: HOW'S IRAQ OSAMA?!

"It's Barack Obama."
And while all this is happening, the tall one keeps shoving his face in mine, yelling about stupid shit. WHERE DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? You do karate?!

"NO!" I yell back into his face.

What do you do? I do nothing. I study English literature, poetry. and he asks, "What do you mean you do't do anything? Karate? Sumo?" I ask him what he does. I just do this, "HYA!!" and makes a "karate chop to my face."

Well that killed my high from a really good night out. I got to the bus station and waited until 4:30. Lib came and we started on our journey to BARCELONA!

To get to Barcelona, we rode a bus to get to London. From London we transfer to another bus that took us to Stansted. From Stansted we flew to REUS (BCN). To get to Barcelona we had to take another bus. The bus had left and another came, but it sat idle for an hour before we could actually leave. On the drive there, the sun was setting and it looked like we were driving on the 5. There were mountains, there was sherbert sky and we were on the right side of the road, unlike England.

And when we got to Sants (the bus station) we were like FUCK YES BARCELONA! and had decided that we probably won't drink that much because we were tired. We tried to find our way, and using high school Spanish we managed to ask some guys how to get to Passeig de Gracia. He told us to catch a bus across the street. "He said to catch the 22!" I said. "Um? "Cuarenta y dos is 44," Lib corrected. Ooops. Hahaha.

We get to the hostel, Centric Point and it's friggin bomb. We're on the fifth floor. Some guys from london invited us to go out with them. Super fine men too, but we had to meet up with Lib's friend V. After getting some dinner that was disappointing, showed up and we headed to a tiny bar in the gothic quarter. The bar ws cool but a bit smokey. After that we headed to meet some of his friends who were also studying in Barcelona. They were from UNC and UCSD UCSC and etc. We drank more wine, more cervezas, y heading towards another bar around midnight. I was already pretty fucked because my tolerance is low and I was red and embarassed and felt ridiculous.

We walked through La Rambla, where people sold cans of beer and prostitutes stake out. We got to The Black Sheep and there was a mime as the bouncer! The bar was packed! It looked like old school German underground beer tavern. We got a pitcher of SANGRIA (12 euros) for the 3 of us and a pitcher of beer. THE SANGRIA AT THE BLACK SHEEP IS SOOOO DAAAMN GOOOD! I was knocking back glass after glass because it tasted like juice. THAT SHIT FUUUUUCKS YOU UUUUP! I was sooo blasted! Ridiculous. So we "knicked" some beer mugs because it's own proper British. Lib and I hid it under our coats.

Lib was too drunk, she held hers in her hand and the bouncer at the Lotus was like No. She hid it behind the tree in front and we went in. We danced, smelled like cigarettes, and we (Lib and I) left the club at around 3:30. Somehow the other mug ended up in V's possession, he called us and we were so drunk and lost. He found us, BOTH MUGS IN HAND! We kept laughing until we made it to our hostel and I PTFOed (passed the fuck out)!

10 in the morning we wokeup and planned our day, with Wade (a guy who stayed in the same room, was from LA who travelled for a while, wanted to be a rapper, was annoying, but came in handy later in life). We went to eat at some cafe that also had disappointing food, walked to the merquat de sant joseph and la rambla. The merquat was crowded but the stands were decorated with all different kidns of fruit from basic bananaas to exoctic cactus fruit. There was chocolate, ice cream, fish, meat, and if you couldn't find it there, I'd be really surprised. On the main street, people sold birds, fluffy pigeons to canaries and finches, goldfishes, cactii, etc etc....

We took the metro to Montjuic, and climbed the fuckin' mountain. There was a guy climbing up singing and okaying his guitar. Bomb diggedity bomb because it was HUGE! Met up with V at La Sagrada Familia.

La Sagrada familia is outstanding! It truly is Gaudi's life work. Beautiful. Check it out.

All four us us walked toward la playa. The sky was blue, there was a sailboat in the Mediterranean, a single cloud floated above, and a couple walked passed holding hands. We put our feet in the cold sun until the sun sank behind the palm trees.

Wade and I decided to o back to the hostel so we could nap (in our respective hostel beds) so Lib and V kept going. Thy came back, asked me if I wanted to gru, I said no, they left and told me to call them when I was awake. So I wake. My phone is about to die and Libby's didnt work, so I called V and was ready to meet up with them at the bar they were at. At the metro station, I was pretty much ready to get onto the train and then I remembered that Wade wanted to hang out, so I called and asked if I should get him. They said yeah sure, and so I did. I woke him up and he said that he needed to shower. WTF?!?!! Pretty boy sheesh!

Just as I was ready to call V again about th plans, my phone died. I was like, "SHIT SHIT SHIT! How am I supposed to contact them? I'm alone in Barcelona!!! I didn't want to only hang outwith Wade. It's my last night! WAAAAAAAAH!!!" So I go to the reception and try to make a call to 's phone. I dind't know his number. I went to the payphone across the steet; the number I used still didn't work. I went onto skype and asked Calvin andRizz to help me out. They called and it still didn't work. This is where Wade comes in handy. I go get Wade and he had made some toast with some cheese for dinner, left by Joe (Australian travel companion) in the kitchen where the computers were. We went, and he asked, "Did you try charging your phone on that machine?" There is a machine that has all these different chargers and costs a euro. GENIUS!!!! I charged my phone and shared toast and cheese with Wade.

On the flip side, Lib and V were waiting for me at the Metro, but after an hour were smart to come back to the hostel. The fear of going to the hostel was that I would be going towards them and we would miss each other in transit. Joe happened to be sitting outside the hostel.

Lib: Do you know where Diana and Wade are?
Jo: Wade's in the room.

Upn entering the dark room, Wade and I were no where to be found. But just right then my phone had completely charged d I had called V. V says: DIANA! I say: V!

At once we reconnected and I was never so happy to lay eyes on these two strangers! And it was about time to get fuuuuucked up! I was revived and open to last night in Barcelona!

We went to a hostel that sold a litre of beer for 3 euros. I didn't eat so I was already fucked with my one litre. We met friends from the night before and from Hungary. Megan was V's back and she was beautiful! Political, open, , from new mexico, and a big drinker; i mean beeeeeeautiful! mary was from nebraska and that girl pissed in front of the cash point (atm); too legit to quit! Again, we went back to TBS and downed a pitcher of Sangria and a pitcher of beer within 45 minutes. Wade kept making raps in my ear. they were predictable and he used them over and over again. I was too fucked up to say shit so I kept laughing and laughing, but Megan challenged him so it was good times.

We go to this club called Razzmatazz. It was fucking amaaaazing! There were thousands of people on three floor with multiple dance rooms and diffeent DJs. This was pretty much a fucking rave; it was so bomb! Libby and I kept going from room to room, up and down, down to up, dancing and laughing.; everything happened to fast. "Vamanos," we'd say to escape creepers, "Next room! Next room!"I got to salsa with a guy and that was amazing because taking basic salsa at the ARC really gave me the confidence to show off! Guys offered us drinks. Libby was drinking one, and I yelled, "No! No! It's tainted!" (I don't believe in taking drinks from men because of roofies.) She shrugged and said, "A little won't hurt!" After we got away from this creeper who kept trying to dance with me, I asked for the time. Lib handed me the phone. It read: 5:15! 9 missed calls!

Shit! We were supposed to meet V and co outside the lcub at 5! EEk! We got outside, I was calling V and some guy approached us trying to sell us some hash. Lib said, "No gracias. No gracias.' Then aof a sudden, I hear the guy say to Lib, "Aye fuck you!" I turned around to look at Lib and guy, and simultaneously, we threw up the "Up yours" and shouted, FUCK YOU WANKER!!!" And we ran off, laughing. A perfect way to end the night!

So we walked back to the hostel, all 5 of us, drunk, giggling, warm and cuddly, and Lib and I were ready tocatch our bus to the airport. We PTFoed on the bus and got to the airport early. Checked it and our fuckin' plan was delayed 5 hours! Lucky for me, I PTFoed on the bench and it was sunny enough that I felt I was in Irvine again. Lib made some skateboarder friends who travel and film themselves skateboarding. We got on the plane, and lucky for us we didn't have to pay to get onto the coaches. It was all perfect timing.

On the coach, I realize after hearing Christina Aguiera's "You are Beautiful" that I love Calvin so much and want to be with him and will support his decisions in our break, but I must also love myself and will follow my heart, doing what I want to do. That way there won't be any regrets. Barcelona was about MAXIMIZING and living with no regrets! We only had two days to experience it. And that's just like Life. Short. So I should always be MAXIMIZING and living with no regret by doing what my heart wants to do! We talked about Rizz and how positive perception affects your experience. For him home means being in the environment of home. For us, home is about the people and our hearts yearn for our friends. Heart is where the home is.

On a random note, this guy from Italy hits on me while we're on our way to London. First he says, "Sayonara!" Then he says he wants a Chinese girlfriend in London. The same "Where are you born? California. Where were you originally born? California" and insulted poetry saying that writing is not a useful thing because it isn't making anything. I disgreed. He also said that his yellow fever is only for women who speak English because he can't understand women who come directly from Asia. Boo beans to him. (I told you, this shit doesn't stop!) I just need to chronicle how many times this happens to me.

We get on to Brighton and Lib and I have our goodbyes and thank yous for an amazing weekend. And as much as Barcelona was fun, we were ready to come back to Brighton because living that way was too crazy. I couldn't drink 5 days out of the week. I need ME time and breathing time. Sanity.

follow your heart

2008-11-05T10:49:00.001-08:00

My Uncle Danny came over today and brought over some duck, not just any duck, the one that simmers in secret sauce, no fat, teochiu style...our ethnicity, our secret recipe. And he told me that once i get my degree, i hsould sit by myself and think about waht I want to do. I should sit there, drink in hand, and ask myself, "What do I want?"

Once I have an answer, I will stick to it 100% committed, and granted there will be distractions, but you've got to give it everything. He worked at a high-end French restaurant for years, but knew that he was Asian, and no matter what, if he learned to cook French food and opened up a restaurant, people will judge the quality of the restaurant because of his surname, because of prejudices, no matter how good his French food really was. So he quit and worked at a Chinese restaurant, learning everything from the other Asian chefs, who liked him and were willing to teach him. He got a call from a friend, a distraction, "Hey Dan, come work at United with me. It has good benefits, medical, dental." My Uncle did. Got pulled away. "I wasted seven years of my life there." And all of his dreams were told to my aunt and she supported him 100% no matter how hard, no matter what pay.

I asked him if he was going to open up another restaurant other than the Japanese one. As a young person, I remember so vividly his diligence in learning and training for this trade. He said, "No, then I no longer am a specialty."

We talked about Europe and how he hated the food, the quality, the price of living, and I had to agree completely. We talked about Australia and New Zealand; I originally wanted to study abroad there. I want to visit my aunt there.

"I love to cook." And he's cooking up more than knowledge, he's helping me shape my outlook on life.

I remember being a kid and staying over at their house, but I would cry because I missed my parents, I got so homesick that I lied about being sick so that they would take me home. And all this hearsay about him being shady for making the family pay when they go eat at their restaurant. "It's not that he does; he just doesn't offer to make it free because I'm more than willing to pay for my own meal," they tell me. That's fuckin' bullshit! Ain't no one going to treat you like a queen or boss just because you are family. My E-ma has loads of money, but they aren't travelling, they aren't moving mountains, they aren't making people's day. They are just wasting away, pretending to be big boss. So who is really saving face? Who is living life? The ones on their thrones or the ones in the struggle? I may be a slave to the people, I may be a slave to stereotypes, but I will not be a slave to money!

The end.