Make the lines shake.

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.

Familiar beats put me at ease

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?

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.

===

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.

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.

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!

---

"Quiet as its kept"
Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison

This is one of the reasons why I am home.

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.

Oh how my worlds collide.

Photo shoot with my cousin @ HCMC Museum of Art

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.

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.