somewhere over the mekong

There is no countdown.

2012-01-24T13:28:00.001+07:00

Lunar New Year's comes with no countdowns. There are no numbers really, no counting of time. A New Year's unlike the one that many Americans are familiar with. There is no silent boring ball drops, only loud pop crackers. There are no resolutions, or thinking of ways to "change" this year. It feels rather of a celebration of sorts. It's the Asian version of Christmas, Thanksgiving and Birthdays all mixed together. That is what Tết is. Everyone ages one year older when it comes around.

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I'm already thinking of ways to decorate my apartment now that I'm a working lady. I'm going to really push for comfort, cozy and vintage into every nook and cranny of my room and probably my living room. This is the first time really where I have a place (and the income sorta) to really decorate and see fit that my place, feels like my place. Keeping my inspirations in front of my face - that's important to me. Bringing it out in an organized fashionable colorful tasteful and meaningful manner.

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got nothing to lose.

Instead of city lights, I stare at freeways.

2012-01-23T03:51:00.000+07:00

And perhaps that is the source of my unfortunate decline in blog postings. Time is money and money is time. It seems that I have been doing nothing but driving. Driving to work, driving to my cousin's house, driving home from work, driving driving driving.

Drive to work to pay for this car. Pay for this car to drive to work.

Would I say that L.A. is crushing my rather haphazard soul? No, I wouldn't say that. Instead I would say it's the drive. Those long cemented lines, the yellow dots, the vibrations. It's the red lights. It's the green lights. The heartbeat yellows. The yawns. Kevin and Bean. The honks. The angry drivers. The aggressive ones. The nice ones. The one's that don't know where they are going. It's the traffic. The long hours of driving. It's the stop signs. The look out for cops. It's the heat. It's the pollution. The parallel parking. The hipsters. It's the gangsters, the normal, the families, the smog. The trucks. The toyota corollas. The mercedes, the lexuses, the bmw's, the occassional Range Rover. It's the 60, the 10, the 101, the 110, the Wilshire. It's the Wilshire, the 110, the 101, and the 10. Exit Barranca. It's the things I never cared about but now care for. It's the finances. It's the making money part. It's the apartment searching part. It's the city part. It's the crime. It's the robberies. The rapes. It's the internet. It's craigslist. It's my carpel tunnel. It's craigslist. It's the renters, the owners, the phone calls, the emails, the visits, the scheduling. It's me suddenly missing the travel part of my life. It's me trying to settle in but not really. It's me living out of my luggage. It's me suddenly caring about skin products and sephora. It's me suddenly turning into a capitalist again. It's me trying to be stylish again, trying to return to someone I once was. It's me trying to move forward. It's me not forgetting. It's me caring.

I don't really have time to stare at the sunset which is really unfortunate. The other day I was driving and saw it from my rear view window. It was orange. So very red orange, but I stared at it for a second because I had to refocus on the road again. My world, now reduced to cement, red lights, and the action of braking. My world no longer what it once was, expansive, exploratory, confusing in a settled kinda way. My world and the world of others seemingly confined by the hour and traffic. My once open free running bicycle flowing world no longer hugged by the natural humidity but the stuffy air of my old car. How unfortunate this is. How unfortunate it is that many people don't know a world that is outside of this. It's even more unfortunate that I find myself in this world. The city lights are beautiful though, perhaps it is because they are still. Never inundated. Just there - calling through the black skies. If you look at the lights though - it's knowing that someone is still working through the night, their back aching, perhaps their ears ringing also thinking what the blue skies of the beach look like when happy.

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My ears ring. Almost every night these days. I tell a lot of people that I'm tired. It's my only explanation to how I feel. I feel tired. I feel exhausted. But what is it that's making me so tired? Yes, it's the drive, the apartment searching, but as I hinted above, I think it's something about starting a new chapter in your life and my body perhaps being on alert or stress for the last 3 months.

On a lighter note, I love my job! It's a great place. The last time I posted I was about to start my first day. I couldn't ask for a more supportive and fun job here in Los Angeles at such a great place. I have a big task that lays ahead of me, but I like the energy that's flowing aside from the commuting I do every day. 40 minutes in the morning and about 1 hour at night. Also I'm still floating a bit and it's starting to get to me. I just want to settle into an apartment and begin focusing on other aspects of my life other than driving and commuting (Such as the direction of this blog, having fun with my life, eating healthy, being financially stable)

I need a mental vacation. I would say beach but even then I don't think it's physical locality per say but I just want to feel relaxed. And that would include me NOT DRIVING.

Make the lines shake.

2011-12-13T04:49:00.002+07:00

My former home: Long Xuyen, Photo credit: Someone else!

The big Q tip in Long Xuyen Photo credit: Someone else!

Perhaps there is.

photo credit to the awesome Hy Huynh

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The lines shake

The feet hit the cold

Bare

I run towards the sunrise

I reach towards the horizon

Touch

---

I recently accepted a job offer in downtown L.A. I will provide more details when it becomes real (i.e. after my first day of work). I am ecstatic about the position, the people I will be working with, the organization, and the prospects of living in Los Angeles for the next few years. It feels like a great time in my life and I feel like this is exactly where I want to be. It was a hurdle to get here, mentally and physically from 2 years of living abroad to get to understand the community on a much deeper level, to a month of wandering the Pacific Northwest and the Bay area, to a month at home, really focusing and trying. It may seem like an incredible amount of "sacrifice" if you will, but at the same time there was an immense amount of return for all the decisions that I made, for all the times I listened to myself.

I cannot wait to explore L.A., crossing invisible borders of communities, the cemented cracks of sidewalks, and airy sounds of rusty buildings.

My mom drove me to my job interview. It was her one day off. She is currently helping my uncle at his new Vietnamese restaurant out in the boonies (Ridgecrest, CA) and is gone for most of the week. My interview happen to fall on her one day off.

We argued in the morning because I said her driving me to my job interview will make me nervous. She has a tendency to drop by grocery stores and whatever not and I was anxious that she would do that. She said she wouldn't and that she would drive me straight there. She reassured me that she was good luck.

There is a part of the 10 freeway that intersects with the 101, 5, and 60. It is a matrix of vibrating stone and beating wheels. One little mistake in the wrong lane will put you in a whole other part of L.A. and cause you to be very late or frazzled. This part happens to be my favorite part of driving to L.A. You enter in what feels like a yarn ball of freeways - and right when you forget what the blue skies look like - it happens.

The buildings rise and the blue hues surface.

My mom tells me she used to work in Downtown L.A. She tells me to look for a gigantic B in the skyline as we drove. I tell her to watch the road. It is the part of the 10 freeway that makes the most noise because of these funky lines etched into the ground. I like to think that the vibration of the lines is a reminder to "watch the fuck out for L.A. drivers."

She tells me she sewed. She tells me the floor that she would go on after doing something. I forget the details. Perhaps I was really focused on finding that B. Perhaps it was my side thoughts that entered at that particular moment that made me forget what she said. This is exactly where I want to be for the next few years. This confirms it. Los Angeles Times blocks my view. The Korean churches call me to the left. The burgundy brick and the shiny glass turquoise mix into the crystal blue backdrop with a touch of hazy lingering exhaust. I see the B. I finally see it.

The patterns of my life.

2011-12-10T14:57:00.001+07:00

Familiar beats put me at ease

2011-12-03T02:53:00.001+07:00

just like the heart beats quick with the warmth of lover's heat
the sounds of unsettled dust and damp gossip distract me
my consciousness slips
melting into a consistent drone of familiar beats, comfortable
perhaps too comfortable
the notes mold
shape
grasp the lines
and I struggle to understand
my consciousness
slips
so I fall
into familiar beats
comfortable
nothing
---

Today, on this lazy Saturday of mine I decided to write on paper (and type on a computer) things that I want to remember, things that I like, things that I put aside to get to know my homeland. I sacrificed an incredible amount of self in the process but in the process of shedding things that were important to me, I learned and discovered the things I was capable of. One thing I really want to return to is my passion for music. My passion for music was accidental. I wasn't really allowed to go outside when I was a kid so I sought refuge in my mom's radio. I was laying on her bed one day, and I turned it on, I liked what I heard (rock music) and started to listen religiously. The turning of dials and static between stations was comforting in the unknown world. It was my way to learn what was possible when I couldn't leave the confounds of my home.

The radio is now on my desk. I refuse to throw it away because it was the device where I discovered good music. Epic. It's this device where I learned that beats could ease me. I account this and No Doubt's "Don't Speak" to my so-called music awakening. It's silly but is true. Thank you rolling stone for putting Gwen Stefani on the front cover instead of the other band members, causing the band to almost break up, therefore causing them to make this great video, causing me to fall in love with music. Life.

I love old things. I love anything vintage. I still have my typewriter in a bag in my room. I dress like an old lady. I think that things with history are so much richer than new things. My tv still has antennae that I have to move around to make my tv clear - I love that. My car is my age and I love that. This affinity for old things lead me to discover antique vintage shopping in Vietnam.

Southeast Asia is my mecca for vintage shopping. Seeped in history and blurry memories of my homeland, they make stories come true. I know where to get used shoes and old purses in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I know where to get old vintage lens from europe behind the bus station in front of Cho Benh Thanh in Saigon. I know where to go because I searched for it and asked around - whenever I saw someone with cool glasses I asked them where they got it. I lived with a Vietnamese-Hungarian for two years, and she too had the same love for old things, she understood and showed me so much.

And I can fucking bargain in Vietnamese.

How much is this?

300,000 vnd

Troi oi! What? That's expensive!! Can you reduce the price?

No, that is the correct price.

But but we're volunteers, we don't even live in Saigon we volunteer in the rural areas sir.

Noo...

Awwww c'mon. If you sell us a cheap price we'll come back another time.

Ok ok...

Yes!!!

My most prized possessions are some records I found in a small shop on this antique street. I was walking by and went ecstatic over a phonograph. I asked them if it worked and they played it for me. Beautiful. Then I asked if they sold the record they played. I only wanted to buy the one they played but he told me they had a whole box - I bought 7 because they're heavy. I would of bought them all if I could. I pretty much got a steal on them for 30,000 vnd ($1.50) each after bargaining hard. Vietnamese records from the 1940's to 1970's - some made in France. They told me it was made from some material and was not plastic - making them much more sturdier. They don't make records like these anymore. I also really love the art on the records, simplistic, two colors at the most. A stark contrast to glitter gaudy misplaced wordy designs of Vietnam these days. Now all I need is a record player to hear the old time sounds come present.

Weird, you can see my face in the ipod. For record lovers: I know I stacked them, sorry!!

Staying put does not mean settled...or does it?

2011-12-01T11:14:00.001+07:00

I've been trying to grapple this idea for a bit - what it means when I tell myself that I want to stay put, that I want to be near my family, and that I want to be here for a "while" seeing that I have been moving for the last six years. I feel like this is what my inner core is telling me, no need to runaway anymore, everything has always been right in front of you. I try to tell myself this because sometimes I don't believe it - I sit at my desk and I don't believe it. I'm frustrated, a bit angry, annoyed, and uncomfortable. Suburbs.

I'm not sure what that means but I never really see things in one dimension, always digging through the layers of things mentally. I know that settled doesn't really mean settled - just because I'm not on a plane every month (which at one point I was) does not mean I have settled. I think the human mind can never be settled. There are many things to look forward too - focus on the positive.

Okay, this was really just a small reminder to myself as most of my blog posts are - I get caught up in life sometimes. This week has been a challenging one in preparing myself for interviews - It's one that requires me to reflect on myself and also my vision for the future - it also requires me to communicate to others my experiences and what I went through in a short amount of time - another good thing. It requires me to be vulnerable. I'm a bit exhausted, my shoulder muscle hurts, and my neck is stiff but gonna truck through this strong. Anyways I was in the desert this past week - one thing that I really really missed when I was in Vietnam was mountains and hills and the very very blue sky of California.

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My walls are achingly blank - I'm in transition so my walls have yet to be filled - I have two things up and want to put more up, to help remind me what I like, what inspires me, what is beautiful and what is possible.

For now it's blank.

Thoughts on a Thursday.

2011-11-18T03:09:00.001+07:00

I have this uncanny knack to see people as human before anything else. Sometimes I meet people and wonder what their fears are, what they were like as a child, and how they were brought up. This is what makes them human. I don't wonder what they do for work, how much they've accomplished on paper, or how many awards they've gotten. I don't really care what type of cars you have, how much money you make, how artsy you are. I think everyone has a story. I wonder what they are like as a human.

Sometimes I can read straight through people, and I think they can sense it too. They meet me and they can tell that I can read straight through their facade of confidence and barriers and see who they truly are. They are scared that I can do this. What they don't know is that I won't judge them. People think that when they lay their vulnerabilities out there for people to see, they will be judged. Yet, that is probably the last thing on my mind when I meet someone. I see their beauty. I see their potential. I see the goodness that's always been inside them. The goodness that I believe all children are born with.

It's the goodness that allows a child to speak frankly. It's the goodness where jealously stems from. It's the goodness that tries to be validated. The fall of goodness however, is that it is easily trampled. The goodness that is inside us likes to retreat, likes to hide, because it is sensitive. Goodness that shines is a feat in itself.

I'm human too, I hide my goodness all the time. I hide it because I don't want to be hurt, and it's a huge huge mountain to get over, to let your goodness shine, yet when it does there's nothing that can trample it, there's nothing that can stop it.

The hush hems of her posture whisper.

2011-11-15T11:53:00.000+07:00

They tell me that her dreams often swirl but never rise. They tell me that as she gets older her imagination will harden. I disagree. I sit on what would be considered the bed. It is made of stiff worn wood, with thin blankets, draped with a mosquito net and a hammock hanging in the corner. The sun peeks through the cracked crevices of the flailing walls. The paint chips beg for my attention except my mind is focused elsewhere. I tell her to sit next to me. She is a 13 year old girl who is about to be interviewed by me. I am considering her for a scholarship and I must assess whether she fits in our criteria. She stares at the familiar dirt floors rather than my outsider eyes. The loose threads of her shirt are suddenly worth noticing - my questions not so much. I see her eyes wander over my interview sheet, her eyes curious at my Viet - English scribbles.

She tells me she will quit school. She's 13. She tells me she will quit school to take care of her two younger siblings. Silently her eyes tell me that she's falling apart inside. Her mom's dripping damp clothes and dirt crusted nails tell me so. She tells me she will quit school without it phasing her and I ask her, "How about you?" Perhaps her tears flood because they were never able to before. Her imagination hardens with each sacrifice. I do not need to look in her eyes to know that she is falling apart inside.

Her mom with sun beaten skin is taken aback by her tears. She did not ask her daughter to drop out of school to work. Instead this 13 year old thought of it all by herself. Self sacrifice.

I once stepped into a hut that teetered on top of a river. It was built with barely space for the bed, a small kitchen, and you could not stand up straight in it. Mind you I am 4' 11" The mother of the young girl had passed away, and the father had amassed a large amount of debt, the same amount that I would of spent in a week on food in America. But the hut. The hut was seeped with memories. The little hut held together by fallen hopes and a father's love for his daughter.

Vietnam taught me how to be human. Vietnam and its people taught me how to live, taught me how to be giving, taught me how the world is so complex. These young girls who live in some of the poorest regions of Vietnam taught this college graduate how to feel and be compassionate. I am extremely humbled and privileged to have met the hundreds of young girls living in the Mekong Delta. Their resilience will live with me always. Their voices, their stories will always remain alive within me.

What will you do? How will you live? What do you choose to see? What do you choose to do? I ask myself this whenever I'm faced with the cemented air of suburb life. I'm sure all my life experiences is going to amass into one big celebration of some sorts, but I can't wait for that. I have to be honest. I have to be myself because that is all I have, all I have is myself. All we have is ourselves.

---

Changin' things up. Be creative!

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"Quiet as its kept"
Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison

This is one of the reasons why I am home.

2011-11-15T02:27:00.001+07:00

I'm playing around with picasa and the look of photos on my blog. This is my grandpa. We found him gardening in the back of my aunts house - and no one knew he was there. He's a very loving and warm grandpa, always and constantly pushing us to be the best (ping pong champion included). He loves gardening so does my dad. I'm not sure if he knows how much we all love him. He's the driving force that kept the family together I feel like. He's the person that made the entire 7 children family hop on the greyhound from New York to here to be in California. There was sunshine all the time, how could he resist? Then my dad was waiting at that bus stop so low and behold I was born.*

*excuse my major grammatical errors.

Some inspiration and procrastination.

2011-11-14T10:35:00.001+07:00

Oh how my worlds collide.

Photo shoot with my cousin @ HCMC Museum of Art

2011-11-14T09:29:00.001+07:00

I shot these before I left Vietnam with my cousin My Hoang at Ho Chi Minh City's Museum of Fine Arts. It's a beautiful place and I had mucho fun doing it seeing that I've never done photo shoots really. Anyways enjoy.

Shot it with my Canon S90.

Useless pieces of information un-artistically written.

2011-11-14T06:36:00.001+07:00

I think these type of posts are needed once and a while - I mean I don't sit around thinking about poetry, snap pictures of pretty sunsets and tap into my subconscious all the time (for the most part) - I'm shallow and American too. My friend Linh says she never reads these type of blog posts from me. Ha. Funny though my most popular blog post is a review I did of my favorite restaurant in Vietnam, cuc gach quan - which is now not really my favorite because hoards of people crowd it and there is no room anymore and service sucks.

The other day I was having a conversation with my friend Diane about ipods. She just told me about Apple's recall of ipod nano's - of which I was very excited about but at the same time saddened (I had grown a bit partial to my first generation nano. Plus, I like old things). There was a point in our conversation where I told her that I was going to have lots of ipods soon.

I'm going to have four ipod's now.
Lol, that makes sense, you love music.

I was a bit taken about this logic and at the same time I was like it does make sense. But the logic of this didn't even occur in my head at all what so ever - that I, a lover of music, would have lots of ipods. The reason why I have so much ipods is that I got one for free, I bought one while in college, and then my mom's friend just bought me an ipod touch. (Then I'm getting this new nano replacement deally soon). Interesting thought, useless story. Life.

I am anxiously awaiting for my new headphones that I bought purely on looks, color, price and the fact that they used the word "vintage."Modern headphone performance in a comfy vintage package. SOLD! I'm such a sucker. My old over the ear ones broke so I've been wanting this kind for a while:

I'm actually very loyal to these suckers for the last 6 years or so:

I love these headphones - they last about one year with frequent use, but damn they're light, sound great, and are good for people who have stupid ears where ear buds detest me and always fall out. Excited for the new ones though to get into the habit of listening to music again. Metric I love you, but I think I need new songs.

I've also been obsessed with make up lately, particularly dark spot correctors, acne treatments and perfume. Since dark spot correctors are really expensive I'm going to ask for samples at every department store that I go to, to stock up while I try out this product on some acne scars I have.

Alright mundane tmi materialistic tid bits of my life (Hi, America): done. I've been rather strangely satisfied by capitalism, almost "happy" when I do spend money, purchase things, find a bargain or look at products. I fear sometimes that I may be forgetting Vietnam. Forgetting what I learned there, forgetting what had happened to me but I know that I cannot. My experiences there have intrinsically changed me and I behave in a different way, subtly but very different. I don't take people's bullshit, I am much more at ease with life, and I enjoy the most simplest things ever, like driving on a freeway or listening to my cousins taunt each other through pop songs.

Sung to the tune of "Hey there Delia"
Hey there emily
Why are you so fat
you eat to much
you eat to muuuuuuuch.
Oh why are you so faaaaaaaaat.
OH why are you so fat, please lose weight.
OHHHHH...

It's also nice to finally be in one place, to just be at home and focusing (trying) on the job hunt. My skin is much clearer, and I'm drinking more water. Soon I will start jogging my 2 mile routine again and actively eat healthier, which I don't do unfortunately.

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Went grocery shopping with Dad and was delighted by Chinese people. I understand their culture! So cool. I think these things to myself sometimes.

For those of you that don't know, I am ethnically Chinese but my parents were born in Vietnam. This means I get the best of both cultures which I thoroughly enjoy. I understand both Mandarin and Vietnamese, too bad I don't understand Cantonese. I really want to.

In other news, I saw a car accident today right in front of my face. Those kinds of things always shock me and I gasped really loudly. Idiot decided to take a left turn in the right turn only lane and turned straight into a van on his left. I finally satisfied my craving for boba. Yum.

Weekends at home depress me.

2011-11-12T05:36:00.001+07:00

And I feel it coming. When I am at home on a Friday or Saturday I get sad and anxious - hmmm, what should I do this weekend that doesn't require me to leave the house?

Decorate my walls + room.
Find my old tree paintings.
Find my art box in the garage (kill some spiders while I am at it)
Discover some music.
Organize my digital photos - put into best of categories.
Apply for jobs.
Sketch some stuff.
Write some stories.
Sew something.
Cook some good food - Fettucini, broccoli, and chicken?
Visit Michaels and 99 ranch.
Bake something.
Do some blog look updating.
Figure out twitter and make it look cool.

Experience is relative.

2011-11-12T02:45:00.001+07:00

Wrote most of this last Friday while killing time at a conference (I just had my first cup of coffee for the first time in a long time):

My writing that I really like – my best writing – is when Itap into a part of myself that rarely surfaces in physical conversation. It is apart of my subconscious that rules and compels me to feel. It is the part thatis quintessentially who I am. It is a part of me that I tap into when I am allby myself in the house and I can sing and dance as loud as I want with no onejudging me. It is a part of myself where I am a superstar and I am atease. It is the raw part of me. It is the truth. It is the way that I want to seeand rule my world. It is the part of me that I tap into when I am not realizingthe reality but rather a dream like state that consists of heart tugs andbutterflies. It is a part of me that rarely surfaces in physical conversation.

It is a part of me when I get a paintbrush and a canvas or paper and exacto andam asked to create for something. It is the part of me that makes me stick out my tongue in concentration. Ihaven't stuck out my tongue in a long time because I am not at ease.

People like to ask me what it feels like to be back. I appreciate the question, it is an acknowledgment that I have been "gone" for two years. However, for some people I know that even had I not physically been in another country - I still would of been "gone" from their lives because pathways would of separated us. Distance would of separated us. Traffic and work would of separated us. And other life concerns and lovers would of separated us regardless of where I was. That is reality. Distance is arbitrary, our will, our connections and what we value is the real reason. Life is also pretty fucking overwhelming and with the world's population hitting 7 billion – we only have time for so much before our eyelids fall heavy.

I givevarious answers according to who I speak to. I know for some people they don’tlike to hear everything, I try to be honest in my answers and true to myself sofor many I reveal that it has been a difficult transition but I can’t explain it all. I end it bysaying that I really really love being back and this is exactly where I want tobe. I say this because it is the truth but also so I can connect them to what I am feeling, to something they are able to recognize, to something you are familiar with. That is my 5 minutes answer to this rather tremendous transition inmy life. This is my 5 minute answer to those that only give me 5 minutes. Ialso have a 1 minute answer and probably an hour answer. I can tell if you arelistening to me. I can almost always tell.

Maybe we'll cross paths. Maybe we'll see each other again. Maybe we'll intersect at a different time. Maybe we'll have another time under the sun. Maybe we'll have a class together, do a project together, do a workshop together, ride bicycles together. It all builds together. All the connections we have, all the people we've met, all the moments we've had, all that we can remember build and mesh together to create the world that you see. I may be the only blog you read. I may be the only person you know who went to Vietnam. I may be the only person that you know that is 4' 11" and over 21 years old. I may be the only person you know that likes street art. I may be the only person you know that takes pictures of my feet. I may be the only person you know that loves Totoro, Charlie Brown and the Peanut Gang, and Sesame Street. I may be the only "artsy/indie" person you know. I may be the only Kim Dam you know. I may be the only Kim Dam for many people, and for that sole reason...

I need to be true to myself.

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My dad the other day excitedly calls me to watch something on tv. It was an interview with an author that wrote a book called "Boat People." I yawned and didn't really care since I've seen this kind of stuff before especially in the academia world. I know there are books about boat people, I know there are services surrounding boat people, I know that people study it in University. However, my dad has absolutely no idea. I think he was amazed that there was a book written about a history that he connects to. He doesn't know that I write. He tells me that I should write a book titled, "Daughter of Refugee Boat People." I laugh at the idea that he has no idea that this is a part of my identity that I consistently think about. For something that I think so much about, my dad has no idea! So strange. Yet, as I was talking to him I remained resistant. "There are already many books like that Daddy." "Yeah but you should write one about our story" "Writing is very hard daddy, I didn't study it." I'm not sure why I talk like that to him, why I shot down his idea and dismissed it as silly when in fact I thought was a great idea. I don't know why I do that - maybe because it was his idea. Like father, like daughter.

Whoa, Vietnamese coffee gave me a epiphany.

2011-11-11T04:06:00.001+07:00

In the midst of me trying "very hard" to apply for jobs (my current job is applying for jobs) and drinking Vietnamese coffee and wikipedia-ing David Choe (I don't like him but his art is incredibly moving)...I decided that I will work for a few years, then go back to school - something relating to art. This may be a fleeting feeling, but I'd thought I'd record it down. For some reason this makes total sense to me in my head: work, save money, then go pursue what you've always wanted to pursue, art. But during the years of working, actively pursue it, make it a part of your life, stable yourself and let yourself do art again. Life is weird but sometimes it feels so right.

Everything is really in front of your face.

2011-11-10T11:48:00.002+07:00

I say this over and over again and it's a theme that I see surfacing in many of my blog posts. I constantly need the reminder to live in the present and to open my eyes to what is in front of my face - instead of dreaming so much. Dreaming ain't bad, imagination is awesome, but sometimes you need to bridge the two. The two need to be together.

Trying to learn how to tell my story.

2011-11-10T09:31:00.003+07:00

Not sure when the next time I will see this again.

2011-11-10T00:55:00.004+07:00

Going to go into turtle shell mode - and really job hunt hardcore. I haven't taken it seriously but my dad gave me a "talk" yesterday snapping me back into reality. He wasn't mean, he wasn't mad, I think he was frustrated and saw something that I didn't see - which I was running around a lot where it was hard to have a day to myself - and when I did I just wanted to do nothing. I need to focus. It's hard to do it here in the I.E. but I suppose I should just ride the waves.

No worries, I'll still be writing - it's the only thing that keeps me from going insane these days. Maybe I'll read more. Learn vocabulary. ~~Focus.~~ Drink coffee. Focus. And not try to help too many people. I need to be in one place. I need to rest. I need to concentrate and stop being so floaty. I need to face it. I need to really recover but I just don't really know how and I don't feel like talking about it.

I am filled with those kind of memories.

2011-11-03T09:58:00.003+07:00

Those moments where sentences seem to slip into a realm of unconsciousness and then life seems to just be. It feels really good to be in that place. The soundtrack of your life comes to existence in that place, and a dreamy haze envelops you. I constantly have trouble living in reality, because I'd rather be in that place.

Japan is really small. We can find him.

Sometimes you have to go halfway around the world to come full circle (stolen from Lost in Translation) Usually some form of admiration or love triggers me to write.

I wanted love.
I needed to love.
Most of all.
Most of all.
Someone said true love was dead.
And I was bound to fall.
Bound to fall.
For you.

Whoever that may be.

The other day I was sitting on the bus as people were saying their goodbyes. I hate love goodbyes. That gripping goodbye. That I'm going to kiss you real hard because this is the last kiss you will get in a long time kind of goodbye. That kind of goodbye that you can only get from missing someone, it comes along only once and a while, and is so rare that when it happens you don't know what hit you. And when it doesn't happen all you want is for it to hit you.

I don't even know why I bother to unpack.

2011-11-03T09:56:00.000+07:00

I have big teeth...and a bird on my shoulder.

Off again to Anaheim tomorrow for three days for a conference on evaluation - I am tired and really just want to sit around, mope and do nothing. But then I decided to "suck it up and just do it." I suppose I should keep moving or else I do things like make $70 purchases on Sephora.com. I am quite excited for my purchases. Consumer happiness, oh how fleeting but so satisfying, sort of like good looking crushes.

On another note, I am currently applying for jobs. And by applying I mean I applied to really just two jobs. To my luck I made it to the second round of in person interviews for one and tried really hard to prepare for it. This is another reason why I am tired (not including a 6 hour bus ride down from the bay area that knocked me out from 330 pm to 10 pm). Now all I can do is wait, but I can't help but feel really funky, anxious, and nervous about it but what the means is that you will get a proliferation of blog posts from me!

If I could I would travel the world going to shows and concerts - an international roadie? That sounds wrong. If I could I would be a full time best friend to as many people as possible and get paid. If I could I would learn how to play an instrument. If I could I would be in a band. If I could I would rent my own studio and work my magic in a studio creating things. If I could I would throw parties and get to know people and make them do art with me. If I could I would actually be badass (I'm not I follow too many rules and am so scared of authority). If I could I would find a job that allows me to be creative and by creative I mean give me the tools and give me a vision or goal and tell me to get there with the limited tools. I fucking love that kind of challenge. If I could I would get paint and run it through the city. If I could I would repaint my walls. If I could I would teleport. If I could I would make the first move. If I could I would tell my story more creatively. I would tell my story more constantly. I would tell my story visually. I would not give up and I would keep going. I would not be weak and I would not mope. If I could I would. And if I would I could and I should.

I'm going to make a habit of recording everything. My day. I have a really bad habit of forgetting what had happened, what had been said, what I had accomplished and the works - so going to really try to do this.

Bye October, Hello November.

2011-11-03T01:51:00.000+07:00

Stanford

Stanford - Where the floor is so clean you want to roll around on it - or at least I wanted to.

Stanford is really really beautiful, my photos don't capture the magnificence of this church.

The "other" school - darn it private schools.

The bay.

This is what happens when you hang out with Vietnamese staff - you pick fruits in stranger's yards.

Persimmons!

The biggest pomegranate ever. Costco.

Their first time dressing up for halloween - I put birds on them. =)

This lady is AWESOME - my favorite person in Vietnam.

Blurry party memories.

View from the party. SF.

Put. A. Bird. On. It.

This halloween was awesome, I had TWO HALLOWEENS! My cousin James.

The grudge.

Highlight of my night. Seeing TOTORO.

"I'm 12 years old" - Nick

The night's exchange.

Everything has been in front of me all along.

2011-10-29T23:52:00.000+07:00

Everything. I once spoke to a friend and he said something along the lines of,"We have to go so very far to realize that everything has been in front of us all along." And I've been hella far! Crossing oceans to learn how to ride a bicycle, traversing borders to learn what it means to laugh, hopping on planes to learn that goodness still exists.

I spent three days in San Francisco, 1.5 days in Berkeley, and more days then I expected in Santa Clara, CA. I bought a one way ticket and I'm still here. I will leave tomorrow morning.

I haven't been writing because I have been living and I have been lazy. However, the turn of events these last 1.5 weeks has been great, I've learned that my friends are well connected and tapped into a circles that you would never think to reach. I learned that people are human and extremely nice. I also learned that I still have new fears to overcome or perhaps they are just old fears that have resurfaced.

Somehow I found myself at a three day conference for "Advancing Justice" for API's which was quite inspirational and well run. I haven't really had these types of discussions for over 2 years, it was refreshing and moving. It was particularly great to see my fellow friends and peers becoming the movers and shakers that they are, i.e. taking over the world. I could feel it, they will become someone big someday.

I found myself at this conference because at around 9:15 pm the night before I decided to meet with my friend Anthony for boba after meeting my friend Libby (We have officially met in three countries!). I was about to cancel this boba run too because I needed to catch someone else to talk to them about healthcare and the census. But then I was like, "fuck it" and stopped worrying about the logistics of time and met with my friend Anthony, since I wasn't sure I would see him later. Then he encouraged me to go to the conference and there I was! Amazing.

Anyways I find the series of events so bomb-ass for better lack of words - I didn't really expect to stay up here for too long, I actually really miss home home right now. I sort of just want to hang out with my cousins, cook for my dad, hang out with gramps, and fall in love - you know the usual feelings that surface when routine has broken in and settling ain't so bad...

...when home is real.

---

I had no cash on me. I was walking across the pedestrian bridge that overlooks Geary near Japan Town. It's an extremely beautiful pedestrian bridge, especially to the eyes of someone who hasn't seen such a thing in so long. The soft lights fade into the darkness. The voices of my friends trailing behind me, their energy so pulsating. Friends who I hadn't seen in a very long time, but it felt like yesterday. Cars run around below me and the Bay breeze nudges me cold. The tall buildings tell me not to worry and we tiptoe around the shattered remains of glass and I worry that I am bothering my friends and making them walk too far because I don't want to pay the extra atm fees. Then I tell myself that I'm being stupid and that they don't care.

Man this city is beautiful.

You are starting to love every city you go to. That's really good.

---

I've recently discovered the magical world that is Sephora Online Shopping. I haven't partaken in it, but it's fun to see what kind of deals I can get online and not in person.

---

I think I will write a very long story about Vietnam soon. Maybe.

You should just write about it.

I like to read magazines backwards.

2011-10-15T14:32:00.004+07:00

Sitting in Chinatown, Los Angeles I was feeling the humidity wrap around me. I was wearing two layers of clothing and didn't mind. I sort of miss the humidity of Vietnam. I can take the heat you see. Zach Galifianakis is staring to me from the left. Why is he on the cover of GQ magazine? Confused I pick it up and glance through it. I like to read magazines backwards. Maybe because there are so many pictures but that is what I like to do. I used to think that it was because I was Chinese and that Chinese books are written from the right to the left rather than right to the left.

I've been feeling a bit funky these days as you probably know. I realized that I cussed a bit too much in my last post due to a lack of better words. Lately I have been feeling a bit blank. Blank when it comes to people asking me things about my life. I draw but a blank. Sort of like that glazed feeling you get when you are driving on the freeway for a while, the lights begin to flow into one another, and what is in front of you is no longer the road, or a car. This time its a different kind of funky. A type of funky that I don't really feel like talking about, a funky that I don't want to deal with, a funky that I don't think I will overcome anytime soon.

SPERMDL That's what is said on this ladies Mercedes as I was sitting on plastic green chairs in Chinatown, Los Angeles. I was getting my air conditioned fixed by my dad's long time friend who's a mechanic there. I was quiet excited to be there, especially since he was part of the Chinatown community since he came from Vietnam back in the late 70's/early 80's. I talked to his wife. She told me much about her older son who was about to get married. He makes 6 figures and recently just figured out his life in the last 4 years or so. He studied to be an artist. She has another son who is almost exactly one month older than me. May 30th. I was born on June 28th. Her husband, Uncle David, decides to argue with her the date of my birthday, while I am standing in between them.

Nope, she's born on June 30th.
No she isn't...she just said...
No, June 30th! Exactly one month after our son because when we called them to come to our son's 1 month birthday she went into labor!
No, but she said her birthday is....
Yeah my birthday is June 28.

I love this. I freaking love this kind of stuff. I spent most of the afternoon talking to his wife in Vietnamese. I was suddenly very happy that I could speak Vietnamese because had I not been able to, who knows how long our conversation could of last, perhaps a fraction of what had been.

---

Today I called my cousin James to try to ask him if he wanted me to make tacos for him. He's 11. My grandpa picked up the phone and since he spends most of his days by himself I decided to chit chat with him. He's always happy to hear from me, I am his favorite grandchild. I know this for a fact because one time he was like:

You are my favorite grandchild.

It's nice to know you are loved. I told him how I just got off a job interview and it was sort of whatever. He was ecstatic and said I would for sure get the job. Then he talked to me about Obama and something about his job plan. I then told him I got my air conditioning fixed in my car, and he equally ecstatic about this piece of information.

Make sure you call me and update me on your life. I like to hear these things.

---

Everything is going to be okay. I have to remind myself of that.

I cover myself like a turtle.

2011-10-13T04:09:00.000+07:00

Los Angeles, CA Photo Credit: Sally Kikuchi

Perhaps a bit too frequently. That picture above is ridiculous. Why am I walking around like that? Why am I covering myself for no reason? And why am I hiding my purse underneath my jacket as if some motorbike is going to drive down the stairs and snatch it?

It's a horrible habit I picked up in Vietnam because #1 I didn't want people staring at me #2 The sun fucking burns and #3 I wanted to be unseen like a local.

Unfortunately, #3 wasn't accomplished so well in Vietnam:

"Where is that girl from? She seems strange."
Damn it. (to myself)
"Oh she's American"
"I knew it!"

Well I suppose wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, tight purple pants, converses, flowy purple jackets from the forever 21 factory in Vietnam and a mask ain't local enough.

Now that I am back in America, the same conversation is being said:

"Where is that girl from? She seems strange."

Damn it. (to myself)

"Oh she just came from Vietnam"

"I knew it!"

I am so far from any kind of local now, I am in my own category. Strange.

---

On another note I have been jogging lately. It's nice. So far I've seen lots of dog poop (people pick up your dog's shit! jesus), randomly thought of suburban stories to tell, reached 2 miles without stopping, said hi to a nice person, said thank you to nice people, saw a 4 car accident, asian people! and noticed that people keep they're lawns very nice.

I am still off face book until I find a job. That is my goal.

How about you just throw bird seeds at yourself.

2011-10-05T02:50:00.001+07:00

The wise words of my friend Sally Kikuchi. That was her response when I told her that I was going to be the woman in the movie The Birds and I was going to stick birds in my hair and have blood drip from my head. Good point Sally Kikuchi why don't I just throw bird seeds so that the L.A. pigeons attack me.

I'm on a good morning high right now because some small mundane happy things happened this morning. I was feeling a bit shitty in my home but as with many things I feel unhappy whenever I am facing the mundane.

Sometimes the static seems to be more accompanying than the newscasters. The newscasters bring bad news. Tonight a shooting occurred in South L.A and killed a couple in their car. Research states that coffee will increase your blood pressure. The Michael Jackson court case is the most important thing and requires hours of coverage from our news station. Tomorrow will be a forecast of 96 degrees with some clouds coming in. Get ready to hit the beaches! Fuck you channel 2, 4, 5, 9, and fox news. You're fucking useless and pounce on the vulnerabilities of suburbia. My vulnerabilities. Static on the other hand brings you a different type of bad news. The type that makes you realize that life is more than just staring at a blank screen and receiving creativity and good fuzzy feelings. Although static does feel strangely warm at times. Warm like a trip on a sidewalk. It makes you feel like you are living. It makes you think that you are someone in this world and that your existence is actually meaningful. Static hands down trumps newscasters. Newscasters are the bringers of bad news. Static is the bringer of nothing - and that's better news.

Today in a feeling of being useless I decided to read this book that I brought to Vietnam but never opened. Drawing with the right side of your brain. I read the first chapter and stopped after reading the list of things that I need to buy. I have all those things, they are somewhere in my art box. I don't know where my art box went but when I went to go find it in the backyard I got scared of the black widows and stopped. So I stopped reading. Fucking poisonous spiders - what the fuck why do you exist?

Sometimes in the midst of living I forget what things mean. This usually occurs when I have to do something important, like applying for jobs and school. It's hard to be useful because for some reason our bodies naturally are useless. Perhaps this is because truth is, our lives are nothing but a speck in the abyss. The thought a bit daunting but true. You know it is that's why we don't pay attention to this truth and instead focus on things to distract us. Fears are hard to face, that's why we avoid them as much as possible. That is why I watch tv. That is why I lay on my bed staring at my computer waiting for something to happen. Waiting for creativity to happen for me.

The process of creating is anything but magical. The process of learning and becoming smart. The process of being someone. It's hard. It's extremely ugly and it doesn't look nice. Sometimes I forget this. Actually I forget this all the time and then I sit there forgetting that it's suppose to be just like this. Shitty feeling. Maybe the shitty feeling is not knowing what life will take you next. That shitty feeling is just what life throws at you. Many many people cannot handle that shitty feeling and will hide in different ways. Through statuses, through tweets, through photos, life suddenly feels good when you are able to tell your story. Tell your magical fucking story.

My story is quite magical you see. Pretty fucking magical. That's why I write this blog because I feel like I need to share this magic with you. The magic that is occasionally known as the shitty feeling.

You ever feel like your heart is being tugged? Like it's about to burst for a reason you are not willing to disclose? It's a secret and you're not going to tell nobody because you're scared. I'm scared and my heart is ready to burst for a reason that I am not willing to disclose. I think this is due to the fact that for many years I put my heart on pause and although I have recognized that love comes from a place that is not a lover, I am still not willing to let my heart be out there. I used to think that I did it once. That I let my heart burst and be out there but I was wrong. I was so very wrong. I have never let it go and for that my heart despises me. It hates me a bit because I never let it go, I never let it make mistakes and so it hurts. So now it tugs because that's all it knows. It's waiting to burst for a reason I am not willing to disclose.

Music opens up a certain part of my brain. Good shit - now I'm hungry and going to stimulate another part of my brain. Thank you suburbia madness.

I fell in love with L.A. recently.

2011-10-04T03:17:00.001+07:00

And am thinking I can stay for quite a long time. Home never felt so good friends. L.A. is a beautiful city, too bad I didn't realize that before. I feel pulled to it - and like many other things I tend to trust my instinct or that "pull" if you will.

The sun followed me for a bit to Vancouver, Victoria and Seattle

2011-10-04T03:02:00.000+07:00

Look at the scenery (to the right).

I'm not too sure what this means but it sounds zesty.

Chicken standoff

Victoria, Canada

Ferry ride

Seattle, Washington

I like to stare at the sun: Seattle, Washington

Seattle, Washington

The troll

Seattle, Washington

Wash U, Seattle, Washington

Seattle, Washington

First Starbucks ever.

Seattle, Washington

Vancouver, BC

Vancouver, B.C.

I broke the front door of my house.

2011-09-30T02:30:00.001+07:00

And I was trapped. My dad doesn't think that we need to buy a new one, we just need to deal with the old one. This is how my brother and I are able to go to college, our family just doesn't spend money. I don't think people really understand how frugal we are. Extremely frugal. I will tell you in person how frugal we are, but let's just say that my mom has coupons for coupons, I don't ever ever EVER pay regular price for any of my items, and don't have cable, home phone service, and internet at home. Hence the lack of blogging.

As a result, I watch a lot of tv and clean the house a lot. The office comes on at 6 pm to 7 pm on channel 13 to my extreme delight and tonight is a new episode! TV. I didn't watch tv for two years in Vietnam and I come back here and that's almost all that I do. I'm slowly learning to turn it off though since my return from Canada this past Sunday, slowly getting into the hang of things and trying to start tackling my to - do list. Unfortunately I don't know where I put this to do list. Scribbled somewhere, this to-do list is lost in the abyss of whatever not.

Whatever.

Will have internet installed into my house soon. For now you can find me prowling Starbucks sprinkled across southern california.

If you don't recall this post about me crying in public I am currently going through that - I don't think culture shock is the correct word, but more so as Alice Walker puts it "overcoming speechlessness"

Lot's of stories swirling inside me...not sure what to do with them...not sure. Anyways thanks for your patience as I navigate freeways, prowl grocery markets rather confusingly, and nestle in coffee shops.

It's my time to shine.

2011-09-17T07:06:00.000+07:00

My roomie from college Tika, who is in Berkeley, sent me a few quotes that reminded her of me:

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”

“The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.”

“Paradoxically though it may seem, it is none the less true that life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”

― Oscar Wilde

I liked this a lot because I sometimes forget the true essence of my personality and my passions. It's hard to live and breathe presently. I also had a great conversation with my friend Patricia, who is in Vietnam, whose words never fall short of being super uber encouraging and supportive. She believes in me as an artist and there are only a few people who believe in me that way, less than a peace sign probably. My other friend Linh, who is in Iowa, also made me laugh across the states and reminded me of what I believe in philosophically and intrinsically (yes you did that somehow!). I pdf'ed things for Sally, who is in Torrance and who continues to be one of the few people who can make me extremely happy. My friend Hope, who is in Milpitas, understood why I was excited to take "real" showers. My friend Ai wrote the NICEST most beautifully written articulate thing that anyone's ever said about my blog.

"Oh wait, it’s more than a blog – it’s simultaneously a celebration of Vietnam, an isolated search for humanity, and a first-hand perspective of social injustices."

There are many of you and even though I don't mention you here I think about all my friends constantly even if I haven't spoken to you in a while. These words of encouragement mean the world to me and actually spark me to continue life passionately.

My friends and family belief in me has helped me focus and will help me to believe in myself. I'm going to attack the monster called "graduate school applications" and quite frankly I'm scared shitless. When I am scared shitless I do useless things like facebook excessively and sleep and try to do everything else to avoid the thing that I am scared shitless about. I suppose I wasn't believing in myself, just like the young trafficking survivors that I met, who stopped themselves from progressing because they just didn't believe in themselves, they stopped before they tried. They didn't see the beauty in themselves. Somehow along the way their beauty was lost. Hammered and beaten out of them their beauty was lost, not missing, but just lost. Yet the girls were extremely beautiful, bright, and resilient. They have changed my life more than any "successful" person can ever do. They lived and for that I admired them. They continued to live. And now with all the hoopla of life I also feel lost but in a very good way, it's because I am fortunate enough to have lots of people who believe in me and wonderful people I met in the last two years.

I have this fear I will forget them. I will forget what Vietnam is like. Costco will wipe any sort of soul that I have inside of me. America as it is The thing is there are a lot of souls in America and any where you find it. Everyone has a soul, everyone has a story, and anyone can teach you something. Sometimes time and fate doesn't allow it. Sometimes the person is a douche bag. Like the idiot that walked straight on the street without getting out of my fucking way. Fucking douche bag. I contemplated walking straight first, but didn't want to make myself angry. I tried this once at the Vietnam airport and douche bag who was a grown man and had at least 20 feet of space around him PUSHED ME on my shoulder because I wouldn't move out of his way. Fucker. I'm sure he has a story too. I'm sure he's got some soul. I'm sure that if he learned who I was and what I had done with my life, he would of never pushed me. But we remove ourselves. People remove themselves because they can't face it. They cannot face the goodness.

So this is my task, to retain my goodness and to emanate it to others. To help people recognize the goodness that was once theirs. Maybe this is why I am stressed because I think about this kind of stuff. I have friends who do this naturally. Who bring the goodness out of others and for that I admire how they can do it so effortlessly.

The other day I did some free writing because I was feeling really stuck. Things are repetitive, some don't make sense, but for some reason it helped me a bit. I thought I'd share it with you.

make the 1st move. don't be afraid. don't be embarrassed. don't think that you are not cool enough. don't think that others are cooler than you. make that connection. be friendly. reach out. connect. don't hesitate. don't be "too cool." learn to be silly. learn to speak the truth. learn to be mischievous and silly. don't take things too seriously. calm down. don't stress @ ppl problems. free on yourself. don't worry. be positive share w/ ppl. face your fears. reach out to ppl. make friends. be confident. don't be so quiet. put yourself out there. share your story. no need to hold it in in case ppl feel emotional. don't be lazy. don't wait until next time - be spontaneous. don't be a child - don't be afraid to ask questions be weird. be who you are. you are cool - you are awesome. you are funky and weird and people like that about you. be interested in ppl + ask questions. you are cool. you have something to share. you have something to teach. you are 24 years old and have traveled the world. be present don't think about what others think of you. who cares. you can only be what you strive to be. Just be. ask questions. be cheerful. be yourself. make the 1st move.

And the sun it shines - Granville Street, Vancouver, BC Canada

Punks! So COOL. Granville Street, Vancouver, BC Canada

The suburbs ain't so bad - Burnaby, BC, Canada

Japadog food stand

Ume dog

The lines, they run.

25% of the year, Vancouver gets sunshine.

2011-09-15T12:52:00.002+07:00

Had a good day today with mama. Although she was being extremely whiney about walking for 3 hours. I forget how old she is. =(

Got to see my awesome friend Lisa Fang who not only brought us to a great restaurant to eat in downtown Vancouver, but also drove us around afterwards. Luckily for us she lives really close to the house I'm staying at!

I felt like a grandma wearing my tennis shoes but I'm glad I did. I didn't want to wear my lovely leather shoes because they hurt if I walk too much. I felt a bit self conscious because I feel like my shoes and what I wear dictate my personality so when I don't have those things I feel a bit shitty particularly in an urban environment. (In Vietnam I could care less.) For some reason I felt a heightened sense of insecurity today and realized that at the end of the day I should not rely on materialistic things to display my personality (nor could they really). There's just something about me traveling to a foreign place with a lot of strangers that I feel like I must prove something to people, particularly random strangers. I've been like this since I was little when I used to travel all over America with my parents. I needed to show that I am cool and that I am awesome and that what people thought about me really mattered. I suppose this trip is causing me to tap into some strange childhood anxiety of mine. My friend Linh told me to send out positive vibes to the universe and they will be answered. Throw them at me universe!

Anyways pictures for you because I'm tired:

Chasing pigeons.

Showin' some skin (be proud of me Donna).

Vancouver you so tiny!

One of these things is not like the other...

One of these things just doesn't belong...

I am so tiny.

Cool dead tree.

Trying.

That hurt.

Japanese Tapas with Lisa Fang =)!

SO DELICIOUS! The roasted garlic was to die for!

Indeed!

Kimchi udon noodles with fish eggs.

Random photo: Ontario, CA - where the freeways meet.

The 60 like I've never seen it before.

Photos for ya aye.

2011-09-14T12:02:00.001+07:00

Ah kiddos, I'm "back" (whatever that means). I never left per say, but maybe my mind did. Pre-departure insanity has come and gone and now it's post-departure insanity but I'm okay with that. I'm in Canada for some reason (plane tickets were cheap) so I'm using my time here to gather myself together and feel at ease.

I've learned that I have this ability to make people cry within 5 minutes of telling them about my experience in Vietnam. (And even made a whole room cry!) It's sort of cool and sort of really sad at the same time - makes me realize that I emotionally took in a lot while I was in Vietnam and that most people could not handle what I saw, felt and experienced. If people are crying within 5 minutes of me talking imagine 2 years of that. 2 years of that.

I've lost a tremendous amount of focus and need to close up a few projects I've started and have yet to finish. Problem is, I don't really know what will make me focus.

for cohizzle Mango Yummy!!

I like the sound of the word CHILLIWACK.

I am not in Asia...I think.

And the alleys speak.

Somewhere way over the mekong, leftover film remains.

2011-09-13T14:00:00.002+07:00

I know that I'm exhausted when my ears are ringing. It's only when I lay down and do nothing that I hear this ringing - when I am still. Exhaustion has taken over me - nothing but heavy dreams can stop it. The problem is, I think this ringing has been happening for some time now and I haven't been able to stop it.

In a roll of film there are 35 exposures. My family vacations usually average 33 exposures. There will almost always be 2 exposures left unused. Unlike the digital camera of our generation, the film camera is selective, strategic, and dare I say, artful. You can't just fucking snap something then delete because you made a mistake or accidently put your finger into the screen. No, there is none of that nonsense. You get only one chance to make it right and if you don't, well that's okay too.

Kim why are you in Canada?
Escaping reality.
Oh okay. lol.

With the ringing nowhere near assuaged, I hopped on a plane again and made my way to another "foreign country." Dirt roads, humidity and vietnamese gossip still clinging to my fingertips, I try. I try to move on. I try to do this thing call "move back." But it was much much more difficult than I expected it to be. Much more difficult on a deeper level. On the surface I am actually very happy to be back. I am so very happy to be hanging out with my cousins who have grown up, laughing with my friends, buying a new rug and throwing away my papers from high school and middle school, having my dad come into my room for no reason to adjust my lamps, having my dad come into my room to close my blinds so that strangers don't peek into my window, having my dad ask out loud "where is my con gai (daughter)?" when he steps into the house.

Film cameras keep secrets from you. It keeps you anxiously waiting. So of course, with the average being 33 exposures per family trip, my dad does not wait for the next scenery worth taking photos of. With the leftover film, he takes pictures of my brother and I. Worthwhile I suppose. You can spot them right away, the photos that are from the left film exposures. The photos are of just my brother and I against a wall or with no scenery. These particular photos stand apart in stark contrast with the others. The others consist of our family situated in the center of the photo with nature scenes in the back indicating that we were present at that location at that point in time. However, the left over film photos do not do that, instead they feel more raw, spur of the moment, spontaneous by the desire to finish the roll of film. These are my favorite.

When I got home I ruined one roll of 35 mm film and my other film camera broke down on me so I had to wind it up before I finished it. I have yet to develop it. I also haven't taken the time to realize that my head is ringing. I know it is and I should rest. But resting for me consist of writing and listening to music both of which I have not been able to do. I feel restless and extremely antsy because I have two years of life changing experiences that are held inside me. I have the stories of hundreds of people, of young girls in poverty, of a life that I have yet to share and don't know how to share. I have been overwhelmed with this thought and it's swirling inside me constantly. I just need to be. Calm down and be.

I suppose telling our story is a life long process. People tell their story in different ways. Some through writing, some through photos, some by word of mouth. My blog is one of those ways including my photos. I don't think I will ever get myself organized or settled as life feels like one constant journey of ups and down, but I suppose what I can do is what I can do. All I have to do is suck it up and try, one of my best lessons from Vietnam.

Will be back shortly...

2011-09-05T08:09:00.002+07:00

currently traversing borders, dreams and nostalgia. Thanks for understanding.

It doesn't feel like I'm leaving.

2011-08-14T23:27:00.000+07:00

My last scholarship visit in Kien Giang. These are my favorite set of photos. Capturing the family right before the formal photo.

It feels like I'm just continuing my steps really, not necessarily reaching an end. And I can tell you for sure it won't end here.

When nothing makes sense, I like to write.

2011-07-27T19:04:00.003+07:00

My draft box is getting clogged as I am not liking anything that I've mustered onto this bloggy of mine in the last few days. Forcibly written, I tend to vomit my words rather than spit it and like vomit it feels unnatural. Acidic I suppose. So I clean it up fast so no one sees.

My favorite literary device is the metaphor.
Simple is as simple does.
I understand you.
My other favorite literary device is parallelism. It's harder to understand but it sure sounds good when you do.

I'm a pretty big fan of symbolism or basically writing about something in the form of something else so that the reader doesn't detect it as readily apparent, but the reader knows. Unconsciously the reader knows.

I enjoy beats over lyrics.
I enjoy the idea rather than the details.
I enjoy the colors over content.

I wonder what this all means.

I like things in three.

---
nice word:
cemented

---

I let her have the window seat. I love the window seat, it calms me, and makes me happy. But this time I gave her the window seat because I knew it calmed her and made her happy. I looked over at her to see if my theory was true - it was. She stared out of the window just as I do. It eases us.

Had I not decided to stay in Vietnam for 2 years I would of never met her. Never met the person whose resilience and weakness altogether inspires me to recommit myself to my passions. Her resilience along with those of other trafficking returnees have me realize that the world is a beautiful place.

I lost this somewhere along the way in college. I became "jaded" and I stopped caring. I went on a search again what it meant to be a human. I went really far away too to find it, I went to Hong Kong. I sure found it. I found it in many ways but when I went back, I went back. The contradictions and the inability for people's words to relegate into their actions disappointed me deeply.

I fall asleep with the light on sometimes. I'm so tired. Sometimes I get stuck in swirls. Suspended between different worlds and contradictions I feel tugged. One day I'll buy a cupcake for 2 dollars and the next day I'll conduct an interview where a mother tells me after an entire arduous day out in the fields she makes $2.50. What the fuck Universe why do you do that to me? Why do you let me compare the two worlds? Why do you do that? How can you do that?

One of my favorite literary devices is parallelism because it allows you to balance a sentence - but one part without the other is not as strong. Together the sentence is an "OH YES". A very overused example is MLK's "Not by the color of my skin but the content of my character"

OH YES.

---

I need to read.
I need to pack.
I need to do things.
I need to be.
I need to be smarter.
I need to be less shy.
I need to relax.

Sometimes I am filled with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

2011-07-24T00:05:00.003+07:00

Similar to the realization that your existence may be moot or to that "fuck my life" feeling after watching an idealistic love movie.

You all know exactly what I'm talking about.

Oh that feeling.
Yes, that feeling.

I don't have much to say about this at the moment because my brain feels really fried. Sizzle sizzle.

---

If you haven't googled JK Rowling Speech at Harvard yet you should. I'm not going to leave a link here because you probably won't click it. She speaks truth and mirrors a lot of what I follow in life.

---

I have just about over three weeks left. I think I've entered that insanity pre-departure state. Everything is just so full of emotion for me right now. Getting that nuoc mia, getting that pho, doing my workshops, packing my life into a luggage, gradschools, goodbyes, realizations, work work work, saying no to people who want me to carry things back for them, pretty darn great but I'm exhausted.

---

It's July ya'll! And I just went to the rural areas to visit homes of potential scholarship recipients. Just thought you might like to take a peak and what I see. I absolutely love their homes, the wood, and the things they use to decorate. Beautiful.

"What is that fruit?" a scholarship recipient asks. A rare one!

Rice grains

This family is from the central region and moved down to the Mekong Delta. You can totally tell with the hot tea they served me.

Video:

Out on a program scholarship house visits to conduct interviews for new scholarships. Here I am on a motorbike with a teacher and a student going to each of the houses. (With the student who knows where everyone lives and is guiding us as we conduct interviews.) People really know each other, a real community, and many of the teachers I meet really care about their students. This is a typical moment in my work and I'll miss this part of my work a lot.

Just 5 days left - help me as much as I help you waste time with my blog!

2011-07-15T12:04:00.008+07:00

Hi Everyone. I know you guys love reading why I love Vietnam but here's a serious one. I love Vietnam because the girls and young women here are brilliant and resilient. I see myself in them. Unfortunately for girls born in the rural border regions can be vulnerable to sexual trafficking. Most of the girls I meet are under 18, some even 13. If you ever stare into the eyes of a child whose hope for the world has been beat out of them you wouldn't be able to look away. It's disheartening.

Do something. Lovely friends please take the same amount of time you take to browse facebook albums to:

1) Create a simple profile here, http://www.changemakers.com/

2) Until July 19 - Discuss, share and like ADAPT into the semi-finals. This means, to like, share on your social networks, and post a comment or question about ADAPT, I or other staff will answer them =). We'll engage with you.

We've got just 5 days left.

If there are at least 15 people who sign up and help me...let me know! (email me: kimhdam@gmail.com). I'll enter you in a RAFFLE to win a beautifully designed photo book of my current art workshop project with trafficking returnees, cây by Donna Choi.

Let your roomies, friends and family know. <3

hugs hugs and more hugs.

Kim

Today the lady who sells me tofu made me smile.

2011-07-14T20:56:00.000+07:00

She was yelling or talking really loudly rather (this is hard to distinguish for Vietnamese people) about noodles. She was saying something about noodles being tossed to the side to the lady in the stall next to her and about her having to throw away those noodles at the end of the day. As my tofu lady, she sells much more than tofu. She sells noodles, any kind of "Banh" stuff that you need, from banh hoi to banh canh. She usually greets with me with a smile. Today was no different.

Yelling or talking loudly to the lady next to her.
What would you like honey?
I point to the fried tofu. She continues to yell/talk loudly.
How many again?
2
There you go honey. 4000.
Continues to yell/talk.

I love Vietnamese people. With so much going on things like that don't phase them. The other day I forgot that I was heating up my soup and left it on for a long time until all the liquid evaporated and what was left was charcoal black. The burnt stunk up the office but no one seemed to mind. In fact one staff member said "it smells like caramelized sugar!" On the contrary however, Vietnamese people are not scared to "blow up" in public. It is not a pretty site. Luckily for me, I can stand and watch like it's a soap opera show with no shame.

In Vietnamese...
FUUUUUCCCK YOU!!!!!
WHAT HUH? YOU WANT TO HIT ME HUH?
RAAAWWWWRRR. #@$#^%$*^%!
HIT ME! HIIIIIIIT ME!
FUCK YOU!
SEE EVERYONE SEE!! MY OWN SON EVERYONE! HAHAHAHA!

Whoa. Yes that was pretty intense. I stood on my balcony for a long time watching this fight scene between a mother and her son. There was lot of pacing, shoes thrown around, and a motorbike on the ground and what seemed to be a stoic father.

Anyways, I went to the market with the accountant, Loan. She drove the motorbike and although it is really just a 2 minute walk from the market I was feeling really lazy myself. There is some sort of lethargy or sluggishness that has taken over my mind and tasks as of late. I am unsure way but I'm sure it has something to do with fear. Anyways we hit the market. Loan decided to by mouse. I am still not used to this mouse meat and almost threw up when I tried to watch the lady clean the insides of the mouse meat. What made me want to throw up was seeing an entire skinless mouse. But this is not your average "dirty" rat as locals tell me. It's like a prairie mouse that runs through the rice paddies so it's okay! I've lived here for a while, but I think I'll pass. I've tried it a few times and couldn't stomach it.

Blood, sweat, mud, and dirt is what I love about a Vietnamese market. The food is dirty. The food came straight from the ground that morning, the food was caught that morning, the food was killed that morning, the food is fresh, alive, raw and real. In America we're removed from our food. Placed in pristine packages, wrapped in plastic, hidden in boxes, strategically stacked on top of one another, organized in aisles, expiration date stamped, seal of approval met, distinguished as organic, on sale, frozen. Our food comes to us perfect. We are removed from our food we have no idea where it comes from, who touched it, or what it took to get to the grocery store that day.

I know that all the fish and seafood was caught either early that morning or the night before. The fishermen work hard and the women transport the soon to be dinner items to the market. They sell, clean the fish and bargain with you. They chit chat with one another, sleep in hammocks at noon, and have another go in the afternoon. They are the market vendors whose livelihood is encompassed in fresh vegetables, a pig or cow, or mangosteen.

Green onion and chili is always given for free with your purchase. When I get green onion that still has a whole bunch of dirt clinging to its roots I'm always taken aback a bit. Oh yeah...this shit came from the ground, and someone had to pick it whoa.

I'm already feeling it. I'm going to have incredible withdrawals when I get home. I'm also scared that this sense of loneliness will come back to me. The kind I used to get in high school and college. Southern California is so painfully lonely. The California sun is just not warm enough. I'm not good enough. I'm fucking scared. I will be a lone wolf among the pack of people who are driven by the American dream. Fuck you google+. Cemented rigid dreams will envelop me, one that is shaped by the necessity of order, sanitation and materialism. I won't understand and they won't understand me. I know I will quickly be broken into routine. I will be guided by sales at Ontario Mills. Forever 21 and H&M will rule my fashion sense. Ralphs and Whole Foods will tell me what to eat. I will go to 99 ranch and try to imagine myself in Asia. I will go to Westminster and speak Vietnamese. I will become acquainted with my pals, the 60, the 10, the 71, the 101, and the 405. I will get to know my family again. My southern California family and their dreams. I will be part of it again after 6 years. I will get to spend holidays such as Christmas and Thanksgiving with them. I will again, try to get all 20 something people in a picture together. I will drive. I will be scared to go over 75 mph. I will get to know my highschool BFF's once more. I will dance. I will go to shows. I will come back to my art drawer and do art. I will make cards for friends. I will overcome fears and not overcome them. I will be nervous. I will cry. I will laugh. And I suppose I'll figure out a way to be alive again.

Reason #2 + The process of canh bí đỏ (pumpkin broth soup)

2011-07-12T22:17:00.014+07:00

Anytime, anywhere.Why I love Vietnam!
Reason #2

Anytime, anywhere you can find people singing with no shame in the form of Karaoke. (As the Vietnamese say: KA RA OKAY!) You would think that the prevalence of "saving face" would serve as a deterrent to really bad singing but no, it does not. I've actually grown quite fond of it. The way that a mother grows fond of her baby's never ending crying and tantrums. No special event is needed. Unexpected and unpredictable, Karaoke surfaces in the morning, on a Wednesday late afternoon, and even when there's a wild party at 7:15 pm at night.

I'm trying really hard to share my abroad experiences through stories, photos and video clips. Hopefully I can post everyday. Enjoy!

---
The process of canh bí đỏ (pumpkin broth soup)

I fucking love soup. My friend Linh says I make good soup. Here, I've learned that soup is not easy to make. It requires patience, knowing the right amount to put in without measuring cups and the correct order of putting things in. In America, I never quite understood how to make soup. Unfortunately my mom's attempts of teaching me were not exactly conducive to soup making.

While mom is cooking soup
Come here and learn how to do something.
How do you know how much to put in?
I just know.
Yeah but how do you know? Like one teaspoon or what? I don't get it.
You just know.
Okay...
I attempt to "help"
Stop that, oh just get out the kitchen.
But...
You're going to burn the house down.

That was the extent of my soup lessons. I mean teaching soup lessons to a kid is like reading Moby Dick to a toddler. We just got no patience.

However, after a few attempts and learning from fabulous cooks, I now know how to cook soup.

Step 1: REALLY IMPORTANT. Turn on stove to boil water.

Step 2: Get tools ready. That is a certain kind of pumpkin - I don't know it's name. Don't use the pumpkin that you find on Halloween. You will not be happy.

Step 3: Use tools and peel that shit. I hate this part. (Hey Kim how did you take that picture if you live by yourself? Tuck it into my chin.)

Step 4: Scoop mushy insides out. (Martha Steward would be proud of my instructions).

Step 5: Try to cut into evenly divided pieces.

Secret Step 6: Heat up the garlic first to let it sizzle and smell good. My mom may beg to differ, since this actually burns the garlic but I enjoy burnt things.

Secret Step 7: Cook the pumpkin! Yes! You don't throw it in the soup, doing so will cause the pumpkin to disintegrate into stringy pieces. Stir frying it first keeps it together.

Step 8: Viola.

Step 9: Water should be boiling by now.

Secret step 10: Dried shrimp. This is like Vietnam's quick fix, sort of like Prego spaghetti sauce. Instead of stewing over the stove waiting for your beef to cook, just throw these suckers in and your soup is savory and fishy smelling.

Step 11: Throw everything in. Marinate with salt, sugar, and stock according to your tastes.


Step 12: YAY! Add cilantro, green onion, and pepper. Makes it look prettier and taste better!

I almost fell asleep writing this blog post. I thought for some reason soup would be mildly entertaining. I suppose I can tell you why I really like this soup. I live with this amazing staff member named Thao whose an artist and lived in Hungary for 15 years whose story telling skills have people lying on the floor laughing or captivated in still silence. She cooks me this soup. When she's out on field visits, I attempt to cook the things that she cooks but can never quite match up in wholesome goodness. Also a trafficking returnee showed me some of the "secrets" to this soup such as stir frying the pumpkin before I throw it in the water. I use the word "secrets" but it's probably my dumb ass not knowing very basic Vietnamese soup 101.

Now that I am about to leave Vietnam, I not only have awesome soup recipe's up my sleeve, but also have ever lasting memories that come with it. And that's why I fucking love soup.

Why I love Vietnam: anytime, anywhere.

2011-07-11T17:51:00.002+07:00

Reason #1
Anytime, anywhere I find aunts feeding me or delivering food to me. Yesterday one aunt delivered a durian to my doorstep. This morning my other aunt drove over homemade bamboo soup. Nothing beats the warmth of Vietnamese people. Vietnamese people don't say "I love you" but they definitely show it through hot soups and stinky fruits.

In my last days here I'm going to start a series called "Why I love Vietnam: anytime, anywhere." It's a count down simply put of why I love Vietnam. There are many things that permeate the culture and you can basically find them at anytime, anywhere in Vietnam. Through this I hope to capture the small nuances of my day and the things I now take for granted having lived here for nearly 2 years.

---

The process of Sầu riêng (Durian)

Non-Asian people think this fruit smells. Actually Asian people also think it smells but at least we don't use it as an ingredient on Fear Factor. Psh. Noobs.

This is my first attempt at opening a durian all by myself. My aunt dropped it by my house yesterday, I was very excited and a tad bit overwhelmed at the prospects of opening this extremely spikey fruit.

Step 1: Stare at fruit.

Step 2: Poke at fruit to see really how sharp it is. It's sharp.


Step 3: Get REALLY BIG KNIFE!

Step 4: Find a strong person (in this case myself). Rip open with bare hands. RAWWWWR!

Step 5: Bask in success.

Step 6: Bon appetite. This delicacy beats caviar any day suckas.

Note: Ok, so for the observant, yes there was already slices in the durian when I first got it. Yes, that means it was actually really easy to open. No, I didn't use the really big knife at all actually. No, you still need to be really strong to open it. Yes I am one of the best damn durian openers ever. Thank you.

Trying to turn on my brain on.

2011-07-10T08:48:00.001+07:00

Sometimes I forget that I graduated from a 4 year University. I also forget that I used to be really "smart" in high school, so much so that I was ranked #2. I feel normal and most of the time I feel stupid compared to the other brilliants in the world. I tend to be more quiet so for the most part no one knows what the fuck I'm thinking. I'm not really competitive. Not really argumentative. I wander rather than banter.

In a group of friends.
Poverty no longer exists!
I beg to differ, if we look at the statistics (insert academic statistic that friend wrote in a paper)
What do you think Kim?
What?

What's really going on in my head: Sweeping generalizations and your singular comments about poverty will not reduce it. So immediately I zone out. In fact I'm pretty good at labeling a conversation useless before it starts. Usually it begins whether I feel like the person will listen to me. Sadly, 90% of the time this is not true, the person I talk to never truly listens to me, here are some examples:

Me: I think when you go outside of the city you learn much more from the people, you connect more.
Idiot: I do connect to the people!
Me: Really?
Idiot: I talk to the lady that sells me bread in the backpackers district everyday!

Me: I live in Long Xuyen, 5 hours away.
Someone: Why would you do that to yourself?

Baby steps. I realize maybe people are just scared to be wrong. Some are quick to judge. Like me, they are scared of being stupid. Some are less inhibited and talk their ass off.

---

The limitations of my vocabulary and poor spelling skills (damn you auto correct) sometimes scares me. My rather sad GRE score also scares me, but for the first time I will be saying "fuck it" to my score and I'm just going to apply. I'm usually not this carefree when it comes to academics but for the first time I think I am becoming that and it's quiet nice. I'm slowly realizing that I should not care where I get into because I am now very good at finding the best out of the situation (I lived in small town Vietnam for two years and loved that experience). It's about the people.

I've been grappling with thoughts of how to take my rich deep experiences in Vietnam and translate it into my career in America. The other day I talk to my mom's childhood friend who asked me this question in a honest genuine way (she has a daughter in Australia):

In Vietnamese:
Do you regret that you stayed here for two years? Like do you think you wasted your time?
Definitely not. I've learned a new language, met so many people, have friends from all over the states now. I wanted to come here to understand my parent's culture.

I personally can answer that question with conviction. I've never been so sure of an answer in my life. In college, high school and sometimes in my childhood life I would get really sad sometimes. This really aching sense of loneliness would overcome me and I would just be sad. I never told anyone but people would find me crying sometimes, my aunt, my friends. Sometimes people wouldn't find me crying but I was right in front of them. I couldn't see the beauty of the people and things that surrounded me. But here in Vietnam I never cried over that type of sadness. It's different here. Me being alone here is much different than the states. I never felt that sadness. I am content with what is in front of me. I am surprisingly very happy with my life. I am excited for the adventures to come, the reconnections I will make and also the new friends that will come into my life. Vietnam has made me happy. It has given me a warmth and familiarity that I've been seeking all my life. It has given me a piece of mind. It has allowed me to not only put together faded memories but also build new ones that are connected with that.

I know the exact bridge that my uncle fell off of as a kid. I know that he thinks my mom really disconnected from the family once she got married. I know that my dad is a really great father. I know my mom is a social butterfly with all her friends loving her. She's a dedicated friend, a great logistics planner and an incredibly smart woman who navigated America with such tenacity that I am unsure if I could do what she did if I were in her place. I learned that I am more like my parent's that I could of ever imagined. I learned that their sense of adventure is instilled within me. I learned that I may be more Vietnamese than my parent's now. I learned that my family is a fantastic normally dysfunctional family. I learned that each of my aunts and uncles really love me. I learned that my grandpa really loves me. I learned that people can be extremely giving.

My optometrist uncle once told me that the happiest time of his life was college. It's unfortunate that his happiness is encapsulated in just four years of his youth. I hope that my happiness permeates throughout my lifetime.

---

Oh hey I recently turned 24. Probably one of my best birthdays because well I'm finally content. Content with what is in front of me. Once I figured that out, everything just suddenly seems to be delightful.

When we were younger my brother and I battled over everything.

2011-07-08T21:32:00.002+07:00

There was the two of us. In our little minds, two means that we must divide everything by half, to not do so would be like defying gravity. No dividing between our parents. Hell no, why would we do that? Only between us. Of course this resulted in fights.

My brother and I claimed our territory of food and drinks particularly the processed chemical filled sweets and drinks. My mom would only buy things with coupons so this made these type of treats really really rare.

Sunny D. Jeff and I loved our Sunny D. The pack came in 6, so we would divide three and three. One day, being the great older sister that I am I was like "fuck it" and drank a 4th one. All hell broke loose.

"KIIIIIIIIMMMM DID YOU DRINK MY SUNNY D?"
"Ummm..."
"WHAT THE HELL MAN! THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!"

My brother held that grudge for a long time so much that he held my Sunny D thievery against me as much as he could.

The last slice of pizza
You drank my Sunny D.
Fine.

The last piece of steak
You drank my Sunny D.

And it went on like this for years.

Even when it came down to these mini yogurt drinks. They came with 7 in a pack. How do we divide that you ask?

The final mini yogurt drink:

I'm going to drink half of the last yogurt drink!

No let me drink it first.

No way I'm going to drink it.

But you always drink more than half!

Whatever.

You drank my Sunny D.

It was always about "being fair." And by fair that meant we divided everything by half. Of course perhaps he clung to this because I was never fair myself. I was pretty mean.

You're stupid.

STOP CALLING ME THAT!

If you don't do this I'm going to tell mom that you (insert something trivial).

STOP BLACK MAILING ME ALL THE TIME!

Stop eating your toothpaste. There are ants in it.

Your music sucks.

Today my brother doesn't listen to me anymore unfortunately. In fact, he's learned how to block me out completely and very well actually. I mean I never did a thing to him.

I've been present in all of my brother's major accidents in his life (Except the time he cut himself carrying a mirror hah!)

When I was five and he was a baby my dad told me to watch him a bit as he ran inside the house to get something.

Jeff falls down.

I laugh really really hard.

Then I notice that Baby Jeff is bleeding profusely from his head and I freak out instantly calling my parents.

I'm in trouble.

We were jumping on the bed for fun.

Jeff falls down.

I laugh really really hard.

Then I notice that Jeff can't move at all and is laying on the floor crying. He fractured his collarbone.

I'm in trouble.

He's brushing his teeth in the restroom.

HEY JEFFREY! (opens door really fast, slams into his foot)

Jeff falls down.

I'm in trouble.

Jeff is hiding under my blankets to scare me.

I run into my room scared of ghosts and leap really hard into my bed.

Jeff cries.

I'm in trouble.

I see some patterns.

My brother and I would do stupid things together. We spent hours on our beds rolling ourselves into our blankets like tacos. That was pretty fucking entertaining actually. One time my brother got stuck.

KIM I'M STUCK!!!

I laugh really really hard.

HELP!!

I continue to laugh really really hard.

I'M NOT KIDDING!!

I just saw a Sunny D commercial and realized how ridiculous it was that we fought over high fructose products. If you take away those products, my bullying, and Jeff's medical bills, what you will find is two kids trying to make sense of the world. Even today I actually get a twinge jealous inside if someone has a bit more than me (smarts, money, beauty, sunny d), something in my brain reverts back to my child self, thinking, "that's not fair, they get more than me" Then I let that pass and realize that I'm an adult and can handle these things. I'm learning how to be giving.

"Being fair" was so simple back then, just splitting things in half. Today notions of fair comes in different forms.

I didn't get admitted to that school.
That's not fair.

I didn't get that job.
That's not fair.

She's prettier than me.

That's not fair.

Not fair not fair who cares.

Keep it simple folks, as my 5 year old self would say "split it in half"

My room gets hot without the air conditioning on.

2011-07-07T22:03:00.001+07:00

I am stressed at work. When I am stressed or exhausted I have this ringing in my ear, a warning if you will, telling me to just lay down. I fall asleep. Sometimes I get sad because I think I'm lazy, not diligent enough, and not on top of my shit.

I'm silly. I think my mind is thinking really silly these days because thoughts surface and go very quickly. I'm stupid. My heart is stupid. I'm overwhelmed. I'm leaving soon and I'm not sure if I'm ready to say goodbye. I'm also not ready to stay. One second I find myself on a bicycle in rural areas with little kids following me. The next I find myself falling asleep on the plane. The next I am on a motorbike. The next I am on the bus. The next I am reading emails from close friends. The next I am staring at the computer screen wanting to feel something. I log onto facebook and feel nothing. Life is confusing. The time is ticking.

I call my mom today since I haven't talked to her in a while.

Are you busy in September?
No not really, unless I find a job. But I mean I don't have to find one yet.
Do you want to go Canada? Can you go for two weeks?
Um yeah ok!

I like how mama and I will be unemployed. This will be interesting. My mama has dealt with her unemployment by traveling to Australia, Vietnam, and Texas for long periods of time. She travels to see her friends, live with them and just be. I enjoy that.

---

I enjoyed a grand three day weekend full of coffee, bike rides, funky accents, a beating sun, an hour of obnoxious American music with the friends Lillian, Ai, Elliot, Tony and Phillip. I also recently got my hair permed on Tuesday with Mark and Hy. I realized that I don't talk too much about my daily activities, my friends, who I talk to and what I do. So here's a snippet and maybe you can understand why I stayed in Vietnam for two years. I have really awesome down to earth friends here, all of whom I admire. Click their names to see what they're up to.

Friday night - Number of coffee's: none; Number of cupcakes: 3

I arrive to Lillian's in Saigon after the usual 5 hour bus ride after work. I take a motorbike taxi to Lillian's. It cost me $1.50. Lillian lives on top of "Cali Steakhouse" I enjoy this fact very much. We bake cupcakes (Party Rainbow Flavor), eat lychees and drink beer. I tell Lillian to add cinnamon to the batter and it becomes fantasmic. Mark, Hy and I get delighted talking about haircuts and Art Hair Salon and we schedule a time to get our haircuts done on Tuesday when I come back. I have coupons and I want a perm.

Looking up haircuts.

The haircut I want.

Saturday early early morning - Number of coffee's: 2

With little sleep, Lillian and I wake up at 4:30 am. Our flight is at 6:40 am however we have to go pick up 4 boxes of kotex pads for our friend Ai's shelter in Hue. Each box has 900 pads. That's hella pads. However, we do anything for our friends so wearily trug out of bed and push those boxes to the airport (with the help of the taxi driver).

Talking to the airport people.
What's in these boxes?
Pads.
What?
PADS.
OH ok.

We arrive in Hue safety. For those that don't know Hue its a quaint city in the middle region of Vietnam. It's seeped in history and retains many of its temples and buildings from it's past including a gigantic nostalgic feeling citadel. I spend the rest of the day accomplishing the goals I set out for this trip: eat good food, spend time with good friends, and play with sparklers.

Chili Chili Chili everywhere.


Of course, my first Hue meal, Bun Bo.

First Hue coffee!

Coffee with ice already in the cup is called "Cafe Saigon"

Ellioto in his natural habitat

In the supermarket. Yes, there are TWO security guards to protect the hot out of the oven bread buyers. See the red baskets ready? There's actually a whole system in place, these women come buy the bread and then sell it outside for an extra 1000 VND to people who are too lazy to park and come into the supermarket. Vietnamese people are so saavy.

4th of July Party on Elliot and Ai's roof. Awesome mats.

The BBQ setup. Those are onions and garlic wrapped in foil. YUM.


View from Ai and Elliot's roof.


View to the right. Awesome lookin' church.

South Africans sure know how to bbq man. Christaan doing his thing.


Tony and his responsible ass.

FEAST.

Ai and Tony chit chattin' it up. Oh how we love eachother.

I busted out the sparkler for people of all nations to enjoy! The South Africans! The British! The Vietnamese! YAY.

Ai obviously enjoying herself to the tunes of Party in the USA.

Elliot being grumpy over our obnoxious USA play list (music nazi)

A lot of people that I don't know.

USA Crew

FEAST ATE.

Sunday - Number of coffee's: 1; Number of smoothies: 2; Number of fresh squeezed sugar cane: 1

A day of more good food and bike riding all around Hue. The hot was pretty damn hot, but a shower and smoothie later we were on the road again exploring and biking.

Sunny side up eggs with beef!

Coffee, napkins, and cow.


Mango and papaya smoothies. This place also has this special peanut butter fruit cup with ice. I ate it before I could take a picture.

Ai clearly enjoying her smoothie.

Right outside of Hue.

Just outside of Hue. These cute kids found us amusing. I asked them to point the way back to the city, they laugh and point to the right.

Bicycle gangster chasing me, i.e. Lillian

Nhau time.

Monday - Number of coffee's: 1

Last day in Hue. Lillian and I don't leave until late at night though but I suppose out of the revelry of the day I didn't take any photos except for the morning. We ate really good hue dishes wrapped in leaves. Ai's organization that she ~~slaves~~ volunteers for Friends of Hue is opening a cute cafe. Lillian and I help Ai paint a table and see her stressed. Ai yelling in a Hue accent is a pretty great site to see, too bad I didn't film it. At night we had dinner at a bomb ass vegetarian place and ate some che with the spare time we had. Then it is off to Saigon.

There are so many things on the table right now.

Lillian doing what she does best. Drinking coffee.

Tuesday

HAIRCUT! The pictures speak for themselves.

BEFORE

MARK!

ME!

HY!

AFTER!

40,000VND Korean POPSTAR haircut

80,000 VND ($4) FRIZZ BALL PERM

90, 000 VND Korean SUPER STAR.

There is something a bit mesmerizing about karaoke.

2011-06-26T16:14:00.001+07:00

At deafening volumes, karaoke to the Vietnamese is sort of what ~~plinko~~ pachinko is to the Japanese. Loud, mindless, and a tad bit enjoyable, Vietnamese people find refuge in the wailings of their fellow karaokers. I find myself sometimes satisfyingly staring blankly at the white words turning red as the monotonous beat with occasional high synth note hits.

Mind blowing.

July 6, 2011 Correction: Plinko is actually a game on the Price is Right. Thank you Sally Kikuchi for pointing out my blunder. I am glad you read my blog.

Welcome to the wonderful world of Kim the randomiest place on earth.

2011-06-26T11:15:00.000+07:00

Of course this goes to say that all human beings and living creatures are complex.

I love that word. Complex.

I mean the word itself looks complex. There's an x in it and usually words with x's arouse notions of complexity and confusion.

Xenophobia

Xena

Xylophone

Ex-boyfriend

Experience

X-men

X-generation

XXX

You know the works. Anyways, I just finished my GRE's which means that I will resume my normal state of randomosity twinkled with a bit of crazy happy fun.

I think IMPACTFUL is a word but it isn't. I really wish it was. I think I'm mixing it up with another word but have yet to find that original word. For now, IMPACTFUL will erroneously suffice. It has also dawned on me that I have less than 2 months left before I return to the suburbs and it's probably going to go something like this:

@ Grocery store:

Wandering around the grocery store I will become saddened by the impressive array and replete nature of processed foods that I will just squat in the middle of the aisle hoping that fresh green vegetables, lively jumping fish and red blood unsanitary meat covered in flies will appear.

Announcement over the p.a. "Clean up on aisle three. There is a despondent asian girl crying in front of the spam"

@ Starbucks:

Can I have some sweet milk with my coffee?

What? 2% Soymilk with no sugar?

No, You know condense milk.

What? No we don't have that.

"Um boss there's this asian girl who just started squatting and crying and won't leave."

@ the Mall:

Hi how much is this?

Let me check the price for you. Ok $10.99

How about $9.99?

What? No ma'am it's $10.99

Oh c'mon I just volunteered in Vietnam for two years and I'm poor just give me a dollar off $9.99.

Ma'am we don't bargain here.

"Ma'am please get up, you're making a scene. Please."

@ a restaurant

What is this TIP?

Kim, you gotta give 20% TIP.

What? TIP? I can tip the table at a 20 degree angle by putting some napkins under it but that's gonna be a mess.

Kim.

What?

...

"Kim, please get off the floor. I got the tip don't worry about it."

@ 10 am calling a friend on Tuesday

Hey, wanna grab some food and drinks?

What? Kim I'm in the middle of work I'm not even suppose to be on the phone.

Yeah don't worry about it, c'mon let's grab a smoothie.

I can't.

Why? I don't get it.

BECAUSE I HAVE TO WORK.

And? I have no idea what you are saying right now, you still drink and eat food don't you?

No, I can't. Here let me look at my calendar I have some time on Saturday between 2 to 3 pm does that work for you?

...

Kim? You there?

...

Kim stop crying...Ok ok, how about 2 to 3:30 pm.

Yup, and the list goes on. Be ready folks for the crying and squatting Kim. It will probably happen at regular intervals seeing that American life is pretty mundane, banal and predictable.

---

A friend told me that one of my difficult challenges will probably be relaying my experience and what I've learned to people back home. I believe this is the task of life in general as everyone has a difficult time relaying their experience and what they've learned from other people. Some of my friends have written to me telling me that their life is usual and they have nothing really to update. I believe they are wrong. Stories are how you tell them. I love to hear about little things in life, the conversation with the 10 year old, the past stories of youth, the day of doing nothing but learning something new on tv, working hard for something and accomplishing it. These small things I care about. Things that are gaudy and flashy rarely impress me. What impresses me is people who are people. People who are just themselves around me. People who work hard. People who are nice. People who care for their loved ones. People who have difficult times at home. People who share. People who laugh and make me laugh. People who find beauty in everything. People who are creative naturally and in their own way. This is what that impresses me. This to me is what is worth living for.

Many people will try to live through their materials. Materials are finite and something you can have and touch and have someone be envious of you. But there is no strength in living through your materials because in the end of the day we all do the same things. That is eat, sleep, drink, and feel. People do each one to varying degrees. Some people hide their feelings, some people eat fancy meals, some people eat to survive. I have a hard time relaying my experiences and stories to people. I have a hard time really being outgoing and connecting to people because sometimes my shyness takes over me. Actually my shyness consistently takes over and I get nervous and my insecurities turn on. My voice is really little. Some people can't hear me sometimes, or most people. It actually hurts my throat to talk too loud. I have really nice friends who are conscious of this and always ask me to speak or to hear my opinions. I appreciate that.

As for now, I am going to try to figure out ways to express myself. To create. It's really hard for me sometimes because this sense of laziness sort of overcomes me or perhaps its insecurities and this lostness I feel when I am forcing myself to do art. I'd rather be doing nothing than something. Ok, art based workshop #5 today. I'm going to teach the girls how to story tell and mural today. I have less than two hours to put it together now.

G.R.whhhhhhhaaaaat.

2011-06-18T23:37:00.002+07:00

Vestiges of soft unrequited love remain nestled between the cracks of broken cement and dirty brown carpet. Masked by straight lines and squared lawns, his love for her was reduced to the consistent inaudible drone of Chinese and Vietnamese radio, hum drums delights of celebrity Taiwanese game shows, and the wailing rain of Korean dramas. Outside of this, the clanking of dishes and sizzle of blood-fresh meat and pounded garlic occasionally surfaced. It was hard to believe that love existed in this place.

For their daughter, love was finite and existed at her desk. Her desk was small, made of plastic plywood and had an eclectic variation of shelves. Dents and marks were covered with stickers. Stickers were layered with even more dents and marks. She would methodically place her school papers to the left, her aladdin picture on the back and whatever novelty items she hoarded.

Her dad's peculiar obsession with moving furniture around the house kept her desk moving. Her desk was familiar with many rooms in the house. For a period of time her desk spent time in the dining room/living room. She rather enjoyed this lack of privacy. She saw her dad more this way.

...to be continued

---
Dear Arcade Fire,

You are good to me. Thank you for filling my morning with inspirational dance goodness through the harmonious belching of your preachy songs. Thank you for existing and creating.

hugs, kim

I've been in a frenzied state because I have my GRE's in 4 days and continue to score very poorly on practice tests. I realized that most of this has to do with stress and me concentrating on "finishing" rather than answering each one with caution and care. I'm just going to relax and breath and concentrate on the test. Listen to Arcade Fire. Try to do my best and if I don't do well, it won't be the end of the world.

Afterwards I'm getting a cupcake for myself and my friend Linh and we're going to eat fuckin' crab. Linh will fly to America back to Des Moines, Iowa the very next day so I am sad. However, I am very delighted with the fact that I have friends in the Midwest. This means that I can probably satisfy my dreams of midwestern way of life by being a stupid California tourist who can't tell the difference between Idaho and Iowa in the very near future.

June 23rd will mark the "last stretch" if you will. Here are my travel plans:

July 2nd - July 4th - Hue, Vietnam - final VIA hooplah! Goodbye to Ellioto.
July 11th - 13th - Phnom Penh, Cambodia for work (maybe Siem Reap?)
August 16th - 21st - Taipei, Taiwan - to do what I don't know but I really want to speak Chinese.
August 21st - Los Angeles, CA, USA (!) - land of people who speak English!
August 28th - Huntington Beach, CA - ADAPT Inspires - Pacific Links Foundation fundraising luncheon - I'm a speaker!

In there I want to fit in another rendezvous in Hong Kong to see some friends and a trip to Hanoi and our shelter for trafficking returnees in Lao Cai province. In addition to all the goodbye Vietnamese dinners I must do before I leave.

---
And what is a post without videos? Arcade Fire!

I GUESS WE JUST HAVE TO ADDJUUUUUUUUUUUST!!! My Vietnamese neighbors probably don't know what hit them.

---

I really like this blog entry from good girl dinette in Los Angeles, CA - "American diner meets Vietnamese comfort food." I like how she captures her parent's early dates with such color and liveliness.

Because her blog is nestled into her website I am unfortunately am unable to get the link to the exact entry. If you scroll down you can find the entry under the title "date" Here's a snippet:

banh khot
the tiny stall is packed with hungry diners waiting in front of dimpled pans in which a mixture of rice, coconut milk, and scallions is sputtering in oil. when the banh khot with dried shrimp and mung bean come out, they are perfectly blistered and crisp. she eats deliberately. he can see her mind working. she knows the basic recipe, but cannot discern the ingredient or technique that distinguishes these cakes from the others at the market. he laughs as she looks from their empty plates to the coveted batter next to the fire. he lets her take one last look, then takes her hand and they exit onto the street.

che
before too long, a vendor stops in front of them. in today's yoke are mung beans and red beans in coconut milk, neatly poured into plastic bags, each with a straw fastened by rubber bands. they take two bags and resume their saunter.

cine
the marquee advertises charlie chaplin's "modern times." they walk toward their seats, arms carrying beef jerky, coca-colas, and popcorn. the cool and dark of the movie house and her perfume do their magic and he falls asleep halfway into the film. this time it's she who indulges him and lets him sleep. when the movie ends, she nudges him awake and takes his hand to leave the theater.

---

I've realized that I'm very good with creativity if I have limitations or guidelines. Like a homework assignment. I love K-12 homework assignments, I'm very good at them. Make this. Make that. Do this using these things. I may entertain the idea of doing a project that gives me guidelines to make this and make that. I also love following rules (like a martinet) and hate not following rules, and I say this with as much veracity as I can. Breaking rules gives me a heart attack.

If I can focus this much time to my GRE's I probably damn could focus it on other things...like learning how to read music, doing art and trying to practice and be good at it, exercise, spend time with family, old friends.

Read 'em: "Who Runs The World?: On Beyonce, Sampling, Race, and Power" by Isaac Miller

2011-06-06T18:07:00.000+07:00

Very recently, I posted Beyonce's video "Who Runs the World (girls)" - praising it. I was a bit hesitant of my praise because the little Berkeley activist voice inside me was like "this video is problematic"

But I decided to "fuck it" and post it anyways from the mere naive exhilaration I felt from the video. Explosions! Beyonce dancing! Mainstream pop music focusing on what seems to be girl's empowerment! AMAZING.

Note: I was also experiencing American pop music and culture for the first time in a long time. After a long period of watching teeny bopper Vietnamese and Korean music videos, this stuff was mind blowing.

I overlooked the problems of the video, being that I have taken on the "absorb and listen (and ignore) instead of critique and attack immediately" stance since first studying abroad in Hong Kong years ago. (This is my way of dealing with stupid people and enjoying myself.)

Hyenas on chains! Whatever!
A girl crawling out of a cage? I...I didn't see that.
Militant like theme of the video? What? Her outfit is awesome!

Anyways this article by Isaac Miller a fellow Berkeleyian and CalSERVEr puts it together so well that it's mind blowing! Read it here.

He goes beyond talking about "Who Runs the World" video, but dives into diplo, sampling, and provides just an in depth look at music, race, and all the things I love to critique all rolled into one.

---

"This seems like it wasn't originally written in English" - a fellow volunteer on a case story I wrote originally in English.

I am going to make a conscious effort to reduce my grammatical errors and passive sentence structure on this blog. The combination of speaking Vietnamese and being surrounded by Vietnamese locals who don't speak English 95% of the time, translating Vietnamese to English, and not writing anything else outside of my blog and factsheets has led to the demise of my writing ability.

Unfortunately this frequent and careless dismissal results in the attenuation of my ability to write eloquently and well.

Also, apologies in advance for my superfluous use of annoying "difficult" words. I'm trying to practice for my gre's - bear with me.

A rather obvious soliloquy for the audience at large.

2011-06-03T00:01:00.002+07:00

Sometimes I get lost in visioning or daydreaming about the future. I like to do that you know, daydream. I also like to talk to myself, but only when I am by myself and really by myself. Some people like to talk to themselves with people around. I don't because I don't want anyone to answer me. I want to be that tree that falls and no one hears. I imagine conversations, what had been and what could of been. If I had only done this and that. I reenact things.

In my conversations with myself I am confident, articulate, profound. I can stop, pause, rewind. Redo a sentence. Make it more clever. In my conversations I am sexy. In my conversations I am at least 5 feet tall. My teeth don't clatter from nervousness. I make sense. There is no question about my intelligence. I am clear and people can see me for who I am. In my conversations my inhibitions do not stop me. People love me. I can talk back quickly and keenly. I am sassy. In my conversations I am a lead singer of a band. I play guitar. And drums. And electric keyboard. Sometimes the synth.

---

If you look at kids, all they want is love and to be cared for. Adults want that too, but for whatever reason we have forgotten how to ask for that love and care, as if we aren't allowed to.

"Grow up"
"Act like an adult"
"Stop being a child"

It's through this denial that we ironically don't grow and develop. That humans are stagnant. It's this inability to reconcile our childhood, face the truth that is us.

Now I'm not saying "avoid all responsibility!" "BE A BIG BABY!"
No. I am not saying that, if you think I am than you're an idiot. One should embrace who they are. Remember that you have feelings. And that it's okay. Underneath a wizened smile and hoary exterior, everyone is truly a kid, an experienced aged kid but essentially that's what we want: love and care.

---

I'm going to apologize for my previous haphazard posts about what I don't exactly know. A combination of current pop culture music videos, gaga mother monster syndrome, random adoration for musicians who are 25 years old, and photos of my favorite cartoons. This is probably what insanity looks like.

Speaking of insanity, I've always liked it when my friend Ed asks me the following simple question:

"How you be?"

It's sort of an unintentional spin off of "to be or not to be" but instead of asking me that...the question assumes I chose "to be." So the next obvious question is "How you be?"

How do you live? How are you present? How have you been truthful to yourself?

---

I once met a social worker who told me to think of a place where I felt the most comfortable and most free to be by yourself. She said something that surprised me:

"For example...think of when you're on the toilet and you are free to truly be yourself with no restrictions"

I laughed because the toilet was the last place I thought of as the most "comfortable" place to be but I have to admit, I feel pretty fuckin' free on the toilet honestly! (Insert toilet joke)
---

My friend Diane reminds me to be silly. I've recently recruited her to volunteer for my organization stateside so I get the pleasure of hearing her voice in our staff meetings with the staff in the U.S.
I forget what it's like to have a person who you can laugh with/at.

"Bubbly thoughts kimmy!"

I don't think she knows how much the staff love her. I like how her personality, words, phrases, and sentences unintentionally makes people laugh and lighten up even across oceans. That's the magic of it, almost always it's unintentional. She's just herself. People love it! I love her!

---

I knew that you were nervous around me.

Years ago, a cute boy once recommended Broken Social Scene's Lover's Spit to me. It's still one of my top favorite "romantic" songs to listen to. I've had the stupidest crush on you since.

I saw his shoes from the corner of my eyes and smiled. I loved his shoes. It was the first time he came up to me to speak to me. "I really like your painting" Speechless, I uttered a mere "thanks." It was also the last day of class.

You lingered for a little longer than you should of. I noticed.

Although you were just the boy who worked in the art store and I knew nothing about you, I think I fell for you when you suddenly told me a story about your mom.

My teeth clattered not because I was cold...but because you were cute.

---

Moments only become real when you yourself are.

Liking Is for Cowards. Go for What Hurts.

2011-06-01T15:00:00.000+07:00

NYTimes opinion article can be read here. Found this on my friend Elliot's gchat status and LOVED IT. It's exactly how I feel about technology and life. The author's sudden for love mirrors the love that I've encountered while living in small city Vietnam for the last two years. An unexpected love that lasts.

Movies to watch + random + seemingly dissonance galore!

2011-05-29T00:36:00.002+07:00

I've only watched a small snippet of this film, but the attention to detail is great. Especially the scene where the old grandmother-like servant is cooking. You literally smell the food she is stir frying. The film captures the sounds of Vietnam very well. Vietnam is really noisy if you are quiet. You can always hear something whether it be a fan buzzing, an air conditioner humming, a motorbike whizzing, a Vietnamese neighbor (người hàng xóm) blabbering about the drama in her family, birds, crickets, everything is always talking.

Here's a good review of the movie.

The Scent of Green Papaya:

Full length version (no subtitles):

Vertical Ray of the Sun:

---
Half the Sky. Women are part of the solution not the problem.

---
Just completed CAY project's 4th health workshop for trafficking survivors. It's going well, the pace is much slower. Change can't happen over night, but at least maybe we can try. Today we talked about "burdens" and ways in which we can release that "burden" so we can be healthy.

I saw them build a tree today. We were working with wires.

"I can't do it"
"This hurts my hands"
"There is no way (to make it tall)"
"This is enough"
"I can't cut this"

One of them kept shaking her head from left to right very quickly, as if to say "no" but she never did say it. We were building a box in order to "warm up" before we build the bigger tree. She had made two squares, and tossed them on the ground. "Bó Tay" (tied hands) you might say. I was getting a bit frustrated at her giving up so early.

"Why do you keep shaking your head like that?"
"Can't do it"
"Do you have a shaking head disease? Stop doing that" I begin to shake my head too.
I took up the two pieces.

"Now you have these two squares, now what, how can you connect them?"

We begin to connect the two squares to make a box.
I knick my hand with the wire while I am helping her. It begins to bleed a bit but I keep going.

She sees that I am bleeding. She takes the half finished box from me.

"Here let me take it" She finished the box.

Another girl tells me she can't finish the box and wants help.

"Come here and sit next to me"
"Alright what do you do to connect the two boxes?" I repeat. Guiding her. I've never built a box out of wire before. She completes the box.

The next task was to build a tree as tall as you can with the wires.

Two of the three girls sat idly to the side. Slowly though, I am unsure what suddenly clicked in their head, but all three worked together to build the tree and it stood tall. It was a beautiful sight to see, both the tree and the girls working together to build it. You can tell they were beginning to really believe they could build it. Seeing that transformation was a wonderful feeling for me. For them to be able to step up (bước lên) and build the tree together and communicate from not even wanting to touch the wires is at least to me a small step forward.

We were painting ideas of how to "relieve our stress." One girl put down her paint brush and then dipped her fingers into the paint and painted her hand. I loved the spontaneity. I think you have to understand that here, spontaneity is rare.

"I like to paint, be messy with paint"
"I liked the painting because it helps relieve my stress"
"I painted a house because I miss my home. I miss my mom. I miss sleeping next to her"

I personally forgot how much I love the texture of paint. Especially how it feels on a brush and when it gets on you. I don't like to wash off paint when it gets on my clothes. I think it gives it more character.

It's because all their lives they've been told they could not do anything by society. That they are at the bottom. Now they stop themselves before they even try. I hope to change that. They are so capable and able, I want them to believe it and know it. This is so hard to do.

---

Flies in Vietnam are ferocious and behave differently from flies in America. In America we kill them. In Vietnam we don't. Fly swatters aren't readily available. I think this makes the flies more tenacious. The flies in America, if you swat at them they run away. The ones here don't and they buzz in your ear.

There is a stupid fly in my room right now and I am scared.
Mosquitos in Vietnam are smart. They bite you before they buzz in your ear. The ones in America buzz in your ear before they bite you.

---

In Vietnamese there is a distinction between Vietnamese grandparents on your mom side and Vietnamese parents on your dad side.

ông nội: Grandfather - Dad's side
bà nội: Grandmother - Dad's side
ông ngoại: Grandfather - Mom's side
bà ngoại: Grandmother - Mom's side

Familial lineage is strongly linked to the male, so much so that even the name implies it. When referring to grandparents on the mother's side the word "ngoại" is used which means "outside."

There are many distinctions in the language that I don't comprehend. There are many words for the color of red and black.

Stir-frying is distinctly different from frying.

Lots of euphemisms that go over my head.

---

Pop song fun. I love catching up with pop culture. As of recently pop songs are beginning to delight me - maybe Vietnam has simplified my expectations of music. I suppose it's a guilty pleasure of mine (save me now) I can't help but love the following songs:

"Pop culture is my religion" - Lady Gaga

I really like this gaga song. ~~JESUS.~~ JUDAS. I'm such a holy fool. Oh baby it's so cruel.

This kid is pretty damn talented. Add him to my list of kids my age who are "pretty fuckin' accomplished." My affinity towards talented musicians is no exception to Jimmy (Chaz who? Hahaha.)- a self-employed musician and artist currently living in L.A he spends his days making two videos a week. His remake of Britney Spear's new single is SO GOOD. He also makes a good response to that ching chong ling long girl from U.C.L.A.

---
Can't wait to come back to go to shows. SHOOOOOOOOOOWS.

I usually only enjoy shows where I know the songs/artists. Pre-party for the ears!

If I can have an ideal life it would look something like this.

1. go to shows. 2. have a nice house decorated like the movie "Scent of a Green Papaya" in a cool, airy place 3. work at the radio station. 4. be near/accessible to my family 5. have the ability travel

I've gone to shows by myself before. That's how much I love them.

---

Sharpening my ~~pencil.~~ writing.

My friend Patricia recently gave me this awesome tiger balm stuff that is from Thailand. It makes my hands all warm. Helps with the carpel tunnel? Well I'll type anyways, even if it's the death of my hands.

It has come to my attention that I've been making many solecisms as of late. Poor writing, learning a new language, and trying to fix people's passive voice has lead to my writing abilities demise. (I think that was passive).

---

Things that make me extremely happy:

Damn Vietnamese coffee.

People who are my age (approx) who are pretty fuckin' accomplished

2011-05-26T16:21:00.000+07:00

anyways i'm tired. my stomach hurts. i ate eggs that were left outside for too long (donna i think you warned me about this one).

i will purchase my ticket home today I think...I've been avoiding it for a while and having nightmares about it.

If you haven't already - I went through a mad pop music catch up the other day. I tend to be really late with this kind of stuff but whatever.

This video is great for very obvious reasons. Lots of awesome hair flippage. I want to be able to be able to ~~dance~~ walk in heals like that. I find Beyonce's music interesting especially since she decides to focus on women's empowerment. Of course you got your feminist critics (I read a few articles), but eh, there are bigger fish to fry. I'm glad a mainstream artists decides to focus on women issues in general. If you look at all her videos, you hardly ever see a man and the focus is usually on her vs pop music videos where men are in it (see timberland videos for reference lol.) - you gotta have a woman or else you aren't cool. Think about it.

Knitta, please.

2011-05-21T13:00:00.001+07:00

This is probably the best play on word of the day via a recent nytimes article.

Knitta, please is the website of yarn artist Magna Sayeg.
Her blog is also playfully called Knitta, por favor.

Also for overall knitting greatness, have a look at my friend's blog: Aromy's Originals. Not only does she have a bad ass name, she knits pretty bad ass things. Here's some of her awesomely cute work:

---

Just had a talk with the mother. My uncle is taking my grandpa and grandma to France on First Class (or so we hear).

"I have no idea when you will be able to pay for me a first class trip to France."
"How old is uncle?"
"He is two years younger than me."
"Ok, so 50 years old?"
"Yeah"
"Ok when I'm 50."

In the background I hear my dad ask "How is work?" That's how he usually talks to me, through the background when I talk to my mom. She hands the phone off to my dad. And I chit chat with him for a bit. I tell him about the poor people I met in rural villages of Vietnam.

"That's why I went to America"

I've been entertaining the idea of going to Taiwan on my way back. I'd really like to see the country side and visit a shelter for abused foreign brides and trafficking victims (with a good amount being Vietnamese). Also I want to use my Chinese and Vietnamese. I had tried to use my Chinese in Laos with the Chinese community there. They immediately gave me a better price.

"Why didn't you say you could speak Chinese earlier? I could of chatted it up with you"

In Vietnam, there is this ongoing joke about the Chinese who live in Vietnam.

"Oh you are one of them"

Apparently our existence is very furtive, as people can rarely identify the fact that I am Chinese unless I tell them so.

---

One of my favorite topics and least favorite topics to think about is racial identity. I suppose I can't get away from it seeing that I studied it in University. I have a theory as to why Vietnamese locals consistently identify me as Japanese or Korean.

A foreign Asian can never be considered American. American to Vietnamese locals means white.
Due to this formula, Vietnamese locals need to label my foreignness as something, but obviously it cannot be American because I am not white.

Therefore I have to be the "next best thing" and the explanation of my foreignness would be a foreign asian in the category of Japanese or Korean.

Rarely Vietnamese-American, this category does not truly exist at its core.

"You look Japanese or Korean"
"It's because I'm American. You probably don't know what a Vietnamese American looks like huh?"

---

I'm a strong believer of "friendship vibes." That is when you suddenly think of a friend (without trying) and they pop into your life randomly in the next few days via email or gchat or phone or something else.

(Temporarily) quitting facebook was a good idea

2011-05-19T22:50:00.000+07:00

I'm reading an incredible amount (at least in my book) of ny times articles. This doesn't make me smarter but because it is my homepage, it is the first thing that pops up. So I read.

Sometimes, I feel stupid for having read a stupid article. Did I just let that piece of information really enter my brain? For the most part the articles are alright, and reaching the nytimes.com limit is driving me crazy. Nytimes is interesting because this is the hegemonic discourse that dominates many social issues that are chosen to be "important." Who are the people who decide what is important to be on front page?

I really like reading sex scandals of politicians and high ranking people. There is something about that news that delights me, something about imperfection being revealed (very publicly so), just like dystopias! I love dystopia stories. Just goes to show you, we're all just human and people need to be nice and check themselves.

---

I mentally come to conclusions very quickly. Often times, unfortunately, this results in silence, or me being nonchalant about something. I just can't engage when I know my thoughts don't really contribute to the conclusion.

But I've learned that dominant society likes to talk. Talk talk talk talk talk. They talk about what they know, and with conviction. Their thoughts don't inhibit them. Maybe I should start doing that.

"I'd like to preface my speech with the fact that I am right. Everything I say will be right. Anything you say will have no influence on my thoughts. I'll let you have some feeble attempts at convincing me. I'll nod and smile. Maybe even laugh. But I'll think you're stupid nevertheless. So let us begin..."

I kid (a bit). But some people honestly talk like that sometimes. It's a bit excruciating to take in. This is not to say that I don't like to talk or listen to people talk. I'm talking about a specific kind of talk, the kind that comes with narrow lens, and it usually comes from a person who has the inability to shift lens.

---

Don't be an activist. Just be human.

---

Live a little. Literally. Stop staring at the screen and thinking other people's lives are better than you because it's not. Just because:

A. someone knows how to use the self timer button on their camera to take pictures of themselves
B. goes to the club every weekend
C. goes to las vegas
D. shops at Forever 21 and H&M
E. travels/ lives in another country

...this does not make them cool.

I'm not targeting anyone - the above listed have made me jealous of people, then I get a bit sad, and then I realize that I just haven't posted cool photos in a long time nor gotten any comments. Facebook psychological affects you.

Despite the said benefits of quitting facebook, I did sadly miss the announcement of one of my high school best friend's engagement. I wonder what else am I missing...

Often times when I am on a caffeine high I wonder what drugs would do for my writing.

2011-05-17T12:46:00.004+07:00

However, seeing that I'm rather naive, paranoid about health dangers, scared in general of dying and of taking risks, I will probably never know.

I once hallucinated after taking nyquil when I was 12, that was scary. Try making a planet in order to save a friend. You would think it's scary too.

Lately anything MSG or caffeine or overly sugar related - I can feel it in my cheeks. It feels a bit heavy.

But caffeine, especially Vietnamese coffee does something very good for my mind. About an hour into drinking the coffee, things seem very clear and happy lasting approximately 2.5 hours. Then afterwards, I am tired and my hands start trembling (if I haven't had breakfast).

She reached over to get the pepper and for a short second he thought about molecules. Not because her skin was soft and smooth despite her disgust of water and her haphazard use of lotion. He had a chemistry final coming up in 4 weeks. CO2, H2O, H2, HCl, NHCl, and whatever combination of letters least used in society. She was talking but logic wasn't coming out. CO2 definitely was. Did you know that mosquitoes are attracted to the CO2 that we breath? Not because of the smell of your blood, or the perfume you put on. That shit doesn't matter. It's all about the molecules.

He loved her or so he thought. In school he was not taught to recognize love. He can read formulas, molecules, atoms, acidity, ions, salt, elements and predict their reactions. Bonding. Yes I definitely understood bonding. That was simple. Double bonds, triple bonds.

I definitely don't understand her. He breathed in O2 and let out some CO2. Her face faded into the diner the way red barns do among rustic wheat fields.

Right now things are very clear and happy.

Certain songs can make me feel that way. Right now the combination of Daft Punk and Vietnamese coffee ain't all that bad. You should try it.

Temporal clarity and elation can exhaust you. Which may be a good metaphor to life anyways...

Can't be fucking happy all the time, you would annoy the fuck out of people, cos we know it isn't real.

---

Last night/early in the wee mornings a fellow volunteer and I were staying up late, I was working on a film clip and she was doing an email catch up. We also wanted to keep a certain mouse company. I think he/she was hungry because it was running everywhere. I screamed and jumped on my chair each time I saw it. Hey buddy. It ran around and when it saw me it would screech to a halt, catch itself and run into a different direction. Nhu Tien got a box ready to catch it.

Nhu Tien: Volunteer by day... from Kim Dam on Vimeo.

We ~~never~~ did catch that mouse (and another one!) updated: 5/19/2011

---

The sun sets pink over the horizon.

A young girl working right side her family picking these bull horn looking potato tasting snack.

The Mekong Delta snakes through southern Vietnam. Most of the rural families rely on it for fish, food, and other forms of income.

Noodles on the go.

The back of the room where we did anti-human trafficking workshops. This is the hat of a mother, she uses it to cover the hot sun while picking chili peppers.

The mekong delta.

Smart way of rocking the baby and resting.

Preventing human trafficking of girls like her.

Eating pho in rural areas.

Her fingers are not black from dirt. It is the residue from picking chili peppers, they snap it with their fingers because they are not given cutting tools. They are paid 3,000 VND (17 cents) for every kilo of chili peppers they pick. She does this on top of going to school.

I've recently returned from the rural areas after doing anti-human trafficking and the importance of education for our scholarship recipients and their parents. I'm also messign with Adobe Premiere Pro its pretty fun =) more GRE procrastination. Will post the video once its final.

things to make you cry, because i cried too.

2011-05-15T21:48:00.001+07:00

jesus LOUISE!!!!!!!!

dammit cute old people, asian americans, and love!! any form of that combination kills me each time.

i have such an old soul.

Vietnamese words in commericals also make me cry:

Well actually, anything Vietnamese related:

Theresa Nguyen (L) talks to her daughter, Stephanie (R), about balancing their Vietnamese heritage with raising a family in the United States.

This Vietnamese movie following a father, his son and daughter, and a prostitute - features the Mekong Delta - where I work!!! Watch it hear. Had me balling my eyes out.

Let's give it a go with one of my favorite authors.

2011-05-11T22:18:00.002+07:00

via wikipedia.

In his book Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction, Vonnegut listed eight rules for writing a short story:

Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

I'd also recommend reading this, How to Write With Style, by Kurt Vonnegut.

1. Find a subject you care about

2. Do not ramble, though

3. Keep it simple

4. Have guts to cut

5. Sound like yourself

6. Say what you mean

7. Pity the readers

---

The above mentioned advice has nothing to do with my GRE stories. In fact my GRE stories probably go against most of the said above. Good Real Effort (GRE) I wonder if this is really my way of studying or really just a way to condone my procrastination. Anyways I decided to make the GRE stories real life (much harder) instead of made up pseudometaphors and parallels about themes of what I see and feel in life.

I did see a grave in rice paddies though.

There was once a time when photos did not exist. There was no way to capture a moment in time, with all its truth and honesty. Mendacious paintings trying to do a photo's job obstructed the truth. But photos today fall in the same lines as august, affected constructed paintings of the wealthy. They are glibs that skewed reality and made others invidious, wanting a life that is really not what they think it to be.

---

Today I found out sort of life changing current news from a few friends. All in one day! I am very happy for each of them.

I am a big believer of "friendship vibes" that is when I think about a friend and miss them, they suddenly pop into my life in some way or form.

My friend Ai recently entertained the idea of me living in Austin, Texas. She or maybe Lillian, can't remember talked about a friend who used to live in New York, and went/moved to Austin and was blown away by the music scene. Que Divertido! She said she will be blogging Austin cafe scene and whatever not to convince me to move there. Living costs are really low too!

I really just want a life, where I have friends, family and see a lot of shows and art - and to end human trafficking. I've got a few years to accomplish that.

My California goal is to learn spanish pero quiero hablar espanol muy. Ir a la playa y escuchar y talk with the community. I think this is a very doable endeavor. Might as well up the anty with the number of languages I can speak to 4.

---

and now random pictures in my computer to delight the reader, in no particular sense:

A temple in Vietnam. It's a fake tree with REAL BIRDS living in it. Talk about living in denial. Literally.

I did this circle art activity with the girls at the shelter, where we had to complete each other's drawings. I'm not too sure if that is an upside v-neck or saggy boobs that reach into my arms. The likeness is uncanny.

This photo looks familiar. I guess I wasn't nostalgically staring into the distance and reflecting. Like all facebook profile pictures, they are skewed reality. I was just sitting next to my mama on the Melbourne subway yappin' my ass off. Good job brother for capturing that.

The first time I ate a chicken after seeing it alive a few hours ago. GUILT.

This popped up on my facebook (when I was on it) and I laughed out loud. Sally is now one ocean closer to me!! =)

Productivity at its best. "Hey Sally how's the roller coaster ride?" "Really peaceful, relaxing" "Hey Tam how's the nice hot weather on the beach? "The air conditioner is making me cold" "Kim how's the fishes?" "There's a surprising amount of oxygen down here"

Touch. The. Dinosaur. I really miss those holey jeans.

This is my last show in the states. Metric! God we're sooooo legit. This is after walking past the metric t-shirt hawkers. Aline is my friend the the far left. She's uber legit, can dance AND she lives in Kansas. That probably calls for a upgrade to uber legit midwesterner (If my California geography is correct) I love midwesterners.

I learned how to eat these spicy critters. I certainly feel legit.

Beginning signs of carpel tunnel sucks.

2011-05-11T01:53:00.002+07:00

Oh well. Will have to calm down with the computer typing. Have to think about computer time more wisely. Helps that I haven't been on face book for 1 month! woo.

22 GRE words chosen at random:

a literal metaphor

My mother often compares me
to my stubborn father
I stubbornly choose
not to believe her.

---

Easing into a lethargic somber, the swaying green placated the graves. The seeping dirt held such repose that any form of dissonance dissipated into the abyss. Despite living mold and growing cracks, the ossified reverse was happening inside. Souls were hardening.

On the east end of the fields, two kites hovered over four sportive children, the birds languid over the occasion flew by without a second look. The anodyne kites soothed their unwashed little hands; the strings held onto the gold. Ephemeral, this would only last a few more years. Soon their hands would be wizened - soon not later. The sun would find refuge in the crevices of their palms, relentless like a potentate ruling over his empire. The children would eventually fall into lassitude, exhausted. Living in penury, they had nothing but their kites. The kites had nothing but their children. Both had the sky.

The children did not believe the apocryphal tales of a creature who lured the night whose stare would leave a curse. This did not keep them up at night. What kept them up was the pejorative comments their invidious parents yelled to one another. Their children did not sleep nor did they.

There was something unconscionable about their love. It was an unfair kind of love. It wasn't the type of love you saw in the movies. It also wasn't the unimaginable type of love. It was the kind of love that once existed but died. It was a lost kind of love. He hoped that she would take note of his subtle obsequious attempts to please her but she had already fallen deep in her thoughts. She often found herself in investitures, gaining power and authority. In these ceremonies she would rise in grandiose gowns. No kites flew high here. The weather was always pristine. She had everything, but her kites.

Words are fun to play with.

2011-05-09T01:31:00.000+07:00

Called mama for mother's day. I tell her I found old Vietnamese records from the 1940's to 1970's. She tells me that back in the day everything was recorded live, not by a machine and not in separate parts. The guitarist, the drummer, the singers, they all had to be there. I was delighted by this little piece of information. She asks me how I'm going to play the records. I said daddy had one. I hope he still has it. The sounds that come off those records are beautiful, archaic, lost. She then goes on to tell me about her purchases at Kohl's yesterday.

I spoke to my grandma in Vietnamese for the first time today. We had a full conversation that lasted maybe 5 minutes, but this is the longest ever in my life. I asked her what she was doing, she said she was cooking Bun Ca but a special kind from Chau Doc. I told her that Bun Ca in Long Xuyen didn't taste so good. I asked who she was cooking it for. She listed it off for me. It was nice being able to speak to a woman whose taken care of you since you were little for the first time. She yelled at me really bad once when I took her lipstick and drew it all over my hands. I remember trying to wash it off as she was yelling at me. I ran into my uncles room. Love right there. I usually call my grandpa only, so she was very surprised to get a phone call from me. Her voice a bit older than a few years ago, I can see her gray hairs. But still has cheerful and fluffy as she has always been. She tells me how the other day she went to eat sushi with my cousin Rebecca and I ask her about her upcoming trip to France. She is going for about 20 days. Leaving on July 4th and coming back around July 26th. I'm really excited for her. I tell her I really want to go. She entertains the idea for a little bit before realizing that I won't return until the end of August. I try to tell her in the most simplest terms that Joseph (my cousin) read something that I wrote my work in Vietnam and he's doing good too. She laughs and sounds happy about it. She says something about us cousins doing good together.

I talk to my aunt who I call Mommy, appropriate day to call her. She just awoke because last night she went to see a music show. One of her favorite things to do. Mine as well. We talk about Vietnam and the people we know. I update her on how people are doing. She talks to me about her daughter Rebecca who bought her a pretty black purse for mother's day since she now has a job as a volleyball coach. She's proud. I like listening to her talk. She always talks with so much passion and knowledge. In fact, I like to listen to all the women in our family talk. It's actually a pass time of mine when I was little and well into highschool.

Whenever I would hear my mom get on the phone with my grandma at 9:00 pm because minutes were free then, I sat around and listened because this was the only way I could really get to know them, by listening. I couldn't speak the language they spoke over the phone but I can damn well listen to it.

Happy Mother's Day mama, mommy, and abo. I miss you.

---

I realized that if I combine my love for story writing and gre words, I will remember them better! Get your dictionaries out. I've also been reading Kurt Vonneget's Slaughter House Five - maybe I'm influenced by it.

"The cockles of Billy's heart, at any rate, were glowing coals. What made them so hot was Billy's belief that he was going to comfort so many people with the truth about time. " - Slaughter House Five, Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

20 words chosen at random:

Her hoarding idiosyncrasies were beginning to carve a place between her implacable urges of unrequited love and her hyperbolic tendency to express her love for strangers after a few drinks. She was a mess. Casual conversations with strangers became a rather grievous event. She had unfortunately become a garrulous parrot. It didn't make sense. She was "happy" with work, as happy as a 20 something single woman can be. She was liberal or rather voted for Obama on accident when she was distracted by the handsome young man in the booth next to her, was your average impious church attendee, attending church only when her mom reminded her to, and was an impetuous shopper having just purchased a $200 pen because it was pretty? Surprisingly she felt stuck, in an impasse unable to overcome her inability to satisfy herself with material goods. Fucking pen.

There was something inchoate inside of her, she felt disorganized despite her three separate work stacks. TO DO. IN REVIEW. COMPLETE. Three simple categories to make sense of her mundane shifting of papers, documents, folders, excel sheets, word documents. She lived by these three categories unconsciously. Yet, she knowingly kept a fourth category at the bottom third drawer to the left. Undetected by the average passerby or nosy gossiper, the achingly plain brown forth drawer was where she garnered her growing collection of bread crust. It started as her need to husband food scraps so she could have a snack throughout the day, but it escalated. The drawer full of bread crust comforted her. At least that was absolute. At least she had control over that forth category. This is not a legerdemain, I'm telling the truth, I swear I am. Maybe a guile, but definitely not a legerdemain.

On Friday nights she found herself in stiff imperturbable rituals. 5:00 pm get off work. 6:00 pm get home after commute. 7:00 pm shower after doing nothing 8:00 pm attempt at fancy dinner/food while being frugal 8:22 pm realize that that's impossible and opt for frozen tv dinner 9:00 pm so exhausted, facebook 11:40 pm what the heck. 12:45 pm knock out, feeling rather bummed at the night's lack of fortuitous events

Repeat Saturday and Sunday too. She knew she would blight any chances of having friends if she went to the bars. She often behaved fatuously unable to control her emotions, she could be found in the corner crying to some poor fellow who thought she was cute. Lethargic after her tv dinner she shifts into unreachable dreams. Fucking pen. She writes in her dreams.

What does it really mean to have patience?

2011-05-08T12:34:00.000+07:00

If you measure people's capacity for patience I think you learn a lot about them, not everything but a lot.

People who state things rather "matter of factly" I think are people who are incapable of acknowledging they may be wrong. This is how A is, and A will be like that because I said so.

If you think about it, nothing we say can truly be fact, absoluted, definite. How can something so complicated be reduced to something a single human utters? Sometimes I can't express this to people, because well, it's complicated

---

In order to help me study for my GRE's I am going to use 10 GRE words picked at random in the following paragraph:

Sometimes I can feel the stagnation of America across oceans, through the voices, emails, and g-chat pings of people, there is something that is still and heavy that lingers in the background, every so quiescently. Maybe it's their inability to understand what I've learned in the last 2 years of my life abroad. Maybe it's my tendency towards taciturn expression. Maybe it's distance. Broken into routine, their myopic lives have little that challenge them. And when I talk about challenge I'm not talking about the oblique challenges that some tend to make up these days, shifting the blame to excuses that aren't very valid and skew the honest to god core truth.

"My iphone doesn't work"
"Stupid waiter didn't get my order right"
"You live too far"
"I don't have time"
"I'm tired"
"Gas is expensive"

What I say to this, is that life can be much worse. Trust me. After traveling, and seeing how others live and how people are. Things can be much worse. My prescient decisions on where to go are knowing that with displacement and removal I tend to learn much more than if I stayed in one place. I know this. I stayed for 13 years of my life in the safe quiet Ontario, and I was stagnate but my dad took me on trips to see most of the U.S. I appreciate that only now. My experience there would set stage for several years of movement. My job itself requires me to move an incredible amount. I ride my bike to places, I spend at least 12 hours of travel almost every week. I know this is possible if there is a will, it's possible - no one can tell me I am too far, if I spent the last 1.5 years traveling for 10 hours for friends. Time is only as valuable to you as you use it. In our lives we have a lot of hours, how do you use it? Do you use it on facebook? Do you use it to inspire? Do you use it with technology? Do you use it to rest and revitalize yourself? Do you use it to seek acknowledge-ment or do you use it to acknowledge others?

What do you remember?
What were your proudest moments and what were your saddest moments?
What made you most happy?
What left you satisfied? What left you fufilled?

Ask yourself what you value. Certain movements have given me a proclivity for certain values. I appreciate movement and displacement and what it forces me to learn, what it allows me to learn. Yet, I think its something more, if I dare be so audacious to say so. Something that is born inside individuals through experiences, irreplaceable, and most of the time incomprehensible.

Lately, and I know I shouldn't, but I get disappointed. I cannot put my finger on it yet, but I am disappointed. Although I speak about a will, a certain prudence, there is also the issue of money, which for many will be a deciding factor for many things, it plays a big role in my life but it should not be the only role. Don't let it limit you when it doesn't have to.

Some people in my life don't quiet understand this. And that's understandable. Sometimes I want to upbraid my friends for not understanding, for being lazy, for not being able to value certain things in life as they should. But that would be useless.

Now as I navigate through this rather nascent stage of my life I know the clock is ticking folks. At the very least, don't forget that. We still have plenty of time though.