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.

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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.

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.

Weekends at home depress me.

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.

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 I tap into a part of myself that rarely surfaces in physical conversation. It is a part of my subconscious that rules and compels me to feel. It is the part that is quintessentially who I am. It is a part of me that I tap into when I am all by myself in the house and I can sing and dance as loud as I want with no one judging me. It is a part of myself where I am a superstar and I am at ease. It is the raw part of me. It is the truth. It is the way that I want to see and rule my world. It is the part of me that I tap into when I am not realizing the reality but rather a dream like state that consists of heart tugs and butterflies. 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 and am asked to create for something. It is the part of me that makes me stick out my tongue in concentration. I haven'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 give various answers according to who I speak to. I know for some people they don’t like to hear everything, I try to be honest in my answers and true to myself so for many I reveal that it has been a difficult transition but I can’t explain it all. I end it by saying that I really really love being back and this is exactly where I want to be. 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 in my life. This is my 5 minute answer to those that only give me 5 minutes. I also have a 1 minute answer and probably an hour answer. I can tell if you are listening 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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.