It's just you that's different, it's just you that's changed.
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I think it's time to get nervous again (in a good way), will you let it happen?
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Don't let the Ugly get to you.
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Maybe it's time to let the scenery fly by again, put it back into perspective, and live again.
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I am most creative when I sit at a desk. I am very good at sitting in one place for hours on hours at a time. It was something I practiced when young. The inability to go outside and play with the neighbors, the refugee fear, my desk was my refuge.
It was a small desk, but it was enough. It was no more than 4 feet wide, but it had shelves, and boy did it have shelves. Perhaps this is where I get my habit of having to see things in order to remember that they exist. My stacked shelves helped me see this. I remember the moment when I first stayed up to midnight to finish a school project. It was when I was able to listen all the way through to the end of a radio show that I liked. "It ends? OMG" My desk comprised of everything I owned. From my little boom box, to my stuff animals, to my aladdin wooden portrait that continues to collect dust in my room.
Those days are over now, but my little desk, the things I learned while sitting there for hours on end, remain with me.
25.11.13
20.11.13
Intro to kettle bells my ass.
I'm sore from my workout, but I have some wandering thoughts.
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As a child, I spent my days running down aisles. Grocery aisles, stacked with things I couldn't have. For hours on end my brother and I was subjected to hanging out in the grocery aisles as my mom meticulously and strategically ordered her coupons so she can save money. There was no such thing as buying things without coupons. No such thing. Even milk. Maybe french bread though.
The narrow aisles of los angeles' sweatshops to only collapse on a large bag of unmade clothing. Do you know what our clothes look like before they hit the racks? They are all in separate pieces like pieces of a puzzle. Each part is sewn together by a woman. Each part stitched on the dreams of having a good home, food on the table, to see your child smile because you brought her a mickey mouse towel home.
Do you know what thread looks like? It's thin, colorful, and paints the sweatshop with life. I particularly like the leftover cloth and thread that piles up when you sew. You see, when you sew two pieces together there is also a sharp knife that cuts the fabric to make it perfect. Perfect so when you pick it up in the store you don't notice the imperfection that once was. Nothing is perfect. The sharp knife cuts the fabric simultaneously as the thread stitches together the two pieces together. As a result you get a pile of cut cloth that falls down a shoot into a paper bag or whatever you put there to catch it. The result is dusty, colorful, mass of shredded fabric.
Those are the aisles I ran between.
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As a child, I spent my days running down aisles. Grocery aisles, stacked with things I couldn't have. For hours on end my brother and I was subjected to hanging out in the grocery aisles as my mom meticulously and strategically ordered her coupons so she can save money. There was no such thing as buying things without coupons. No such thing. Even milk. Maybe french bread though.
The narrow aisles of los angeles' sweatshops to only collapse on a large bag of unmade clothing. Do you know what our clothes look like before they hit the racks? They are all in separate pieces like pieces of a puzzle. Each part is sewn together by a woman. Each part stitched on the dreams of having a good home, food on the table, to see your child smile because you brought her a mickey mouse towel home.
Do you know what thread looks like? It's thin, colorful, and paints the sweatshop with life. I particularly like the leftover cloth and thread that piles up when you sew. You see, when you sew two pieces together there is also a sharp knife that cuts the fabric to make it perfect. Perfect so when you pick it up in the store you don't notice the imperfection that once was. Nothing is perfect. The sharp knife cuts the fabric simultaneously as the thread stitches together the two pieces together. As a result you get a pile of cut cloth that falls down a shoot into a paper bag or whatever you put there to catch it. The result is dusty, colorful, mass of shredded fabric.
Those are the aisles I ran between.
18.11.13
16.11.13
Run-ons after run-ons, let's run.
I'd like to think I'm a multiple mix of things. I lie somewhere between three different worlds - one of which is an old soul type of world, the kind that enjoys the flowing, expansiveness that is america, everything old, kitsch loving kim. berkeley student movement, civil rights movement, midwest, the south, the east. the one that in the midst of bleakness comes beauty, the kind that finds idleness fascinating and the movement of spirits even more so. Blue grass, banjos, old school radio static loving me. The second is one that clings to the vintage nostalgia of asian countries, the one that is bounded by the hearts of war, the kind where 80's refugee colors of burgundy blue and yellow mean so much more than just color, the movement of it all over waters, over lost love, language and tongue. This one is shaped by the fact that I often slip in and out of different cultures with my ability to speak three languages, The last and by all means not final perhaps too idealistic world that I believe that all people deserve good. Most importantly I believe that there is a war against women and girls and children all over this world day by day minute by minute. There is an Ugly that lurks and manifests itself in the form of some of the most heinous acts in the world. I dedicate my life's work to learning more about this. I can handle more than you think. People often doubt me because I don't like to talk. Well let me tell you one thing, I'm always listening. I'm always listening to the invisible voices suppressed by a lifetime of hatred and self-disgust because the world just didn't love you enough. The kind that is formed when as a child you make the unfortunate mistake of thinking that love doesn't exist for you.
My work is out of love.
Often times the three worlds clash and pull. Often times the three worlds are forgotten as I become immersed in present time forgetting the ancestors, spirits, and overall bad assess that came before me to give me the color that I see today. I am at my best when I combine these worlds together, when it is revealed that I am all these things and more.
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you ever just let yourself go with a song? like let it replace your consciousness. that's actually what happens when I write. I let a great thing replace my consciousness and then from there it runs, it flows, and there's suddenly a constant stream connecting my inner self to these clickety clack sounds of keyboard.
This is why blog because I LOVE this feeling. I've been writing since 2nd grade and it ain't gonna stop.
I came way before thought catalog. The books reveal so much more. note to self: The stupid lists of 20 things 20 year olds are feeling have been written in books before the end of time. Instead of succumbing to the simplistic pathetic lists that are on Facebook, why don't you pick up a book and for once read something that has so much more color and feelings than that.
My work is out of love.
Often times the three worlds clash and pull. Often times the three worlds are forgotten as I become immersed in present time forgetting the ancestors, spirits, and overall bad assess that came before me to give me the color that I see today. I am at my best when I combine these worlds together, when it is revealed that I am all these things and more.
---
you ever just let yourself go with a song? like let it replace your consciousness. that's actually what happens when I write. I let a great thing replace my consciousness and then from there it runs, it flows, and there's suddenly a constant stream connecting my inner self to these clickety clack sounds of keyboard.
This is why blog because I LOVE this feeling. I've been writing since 2nd grade and it ain't gonna stop.
I came way before thought catalog. The books reveal so much more. note to self: The stupid lists of 20 things 20 year olds are feeling have been written in books before the end of time. Instead of succumbing to the simplistic pathetic lists that are on Facebook, why don't you pick up a book and for once read something that has so much more color and feelings than that.
15.11.13
Hey there.
Rejuvenation feels incredibly good. I've been taking active and passive steps to enjoy life a bit more. I suppose the universe is coming together so I can remember what I love. Reading books, listening to music, seeing shows, talking on the phone, exploring rather aimlessly with good ol' friends and following the flow of things including art alleyways, milkshakes, and crunchy leaves: all the simple things that I love to pieces.
Don't get my wrong, my heart and ego occasionally aches, but then when a really good album hits the spot you forget about those things and enjoy things in the moment.
I'm extremely fortunate and blessed (for better lack of words) that I get the opportunity to return to Vietnam and Malaysia this winter break. Southeast Asia is a constant thought in my mind, and after booking my tickets it's come to fruition. I will believe it when I step out of the airport and breathe the sweet and sweaty humid air of the city.
What I do know is that I will be getting on plane rides, public transportation, and much more: the things I love.
If my life just consisted of passing scenes, music/shows, good friends, and new scenes I think I can live happily
As of late, I've been having lots of mixed feelings about where I want to be next. The idea of my future looming has unfortunately taken the best of me without me really enjoying where I am in life.
Iwill am fucking enjoying myself. Yes, a bit stressed about school, but there's gotta be some kind of balance.
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Darling you know I love you, I'll stay if you asked me to. - Tennis
Don't get my wrong, my heart and ego occasionally aches, but then when a really good album hits the spot you forget about those things and enjoy things in the moment.
I'm extremely fortunate and blessed (for better lack of words) that I get the opportunity to return to Vietnam and Malaysia this winter break. Southeast Asia is a constant thought in my mind, and after booking my tickets it's come to fruition. I will believe it when I step out of the airport and breathe the sweet and sweaty humid air of the city.
What I do know is that I will be getting on plane rides, public transportation, and much more: the things I love.
If my life just consisted of passing scenes, music/shows, good friends, and new scenes I think I can live happily
As of late, I've been having lots of mixed feelings about where I want to be next. The idea of my future looming has unfortunately taken the best of me without me really enjoying where I am in life.
I
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Darling you know I love you, I'll stay if you asked me to. - Tennis
8.11.13
Today I felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
It overcame me just now as I'm studying. While studying I procrastinate by perusing Facebook and the articles posted. The myriads of articles posted. Everything disappoints me from a negative comment of a class mate on the hopkins Facebook page, to the sad articles that are real or not real seeped with gender inequality, racial discrimination, oppressions, injustices, every single nook and cranny. This is Facebook depression. Then I am overcome by a really overwhelming sense that the world does not think like me and a sense of disappointment for a lack of better words.
I thought about it for another few seconds, and I realized that in the midst of hours of studying and going from class to class, to a lesser extent do I get of the warmth, support, and laughter intellectually, theoretically, and philosophically as I did back home. This is not to negate the wonderful experience I've had with the wonderful new friends I've made. I'm mostly focusing on the negative aspects that I haven't really spoken about. I have removed myself of my comforts literally and figuratively. Stripped of my support system that I had build, including family, friends, familiar faces and boyfriend, I left it all behind to be here and it's not easy. At home, there was a shared sense of struggle. The kind that I learned about when I was at Berkeley. The kind that I grew up with, the kind that exist in the sewing factories of los angeles in the humming drums of needle, thread and immigrant chatter, the kind in the kitchen of warm aroma of food and gossip of refugee mothers, the kind at a civil rights organization focused on the empowerment of asian americans while building a collective vision of other people of color. A collective unspoken struggle manifested in my friends' and family's work, every day surroundings and our livelihood.
Here - literally and figuratively - this is not the case. Or is it?
I thought about it for another few seconds, and I realized that in the midst of hours of studying and going from class to class, to a lesser extent do I get of the warmth, support, and laughter intellectually, theoretically, and philosophically as I did back home. This is not to negate the wonderful experience I've had with the wonderful new friends I've made. I'm mostly focusing on the negative aspects that I haven't really spoken about. I have removed myself of my comforts literally and figuratively. Stripped of my support system that I had build, including family, friends, familiar faces and boyfriend, I left it all behind to be here and it's not easy. At home, there was a shared sense of struggle. The kind that I learned about when I was at Berkeley. The kind that I grew up with, the kind that exist in the sewing factories of los angeles in the humming drums of needle, thread and immigrant chatter, the kind in the kitchen of warm aroma of food and gossip of refugee mothers, the kind at a civil rights organization focused on the empowerment of asian americans while building a collective vision of other people of color. A collective unspoken struggle manifested in my friends' and family's work, every day surroundings and our livelihood.
Here - literally and figuratively - this is not the case. Or is it?
