Sometimes I am filled with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Today the lady who sells me tofu made me smile.

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.

Trying to turn on my brain on.

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.

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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.

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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.

Movies to watch + random + seemingly dissonance galore!

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:

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).



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Things that make me extremely happy:

Damn Vietnamese coffee.

Knitta, please.

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:

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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.

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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?"

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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.

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

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.


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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


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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.

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

via wikipedia.

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

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. 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.
7. 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.
8. 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

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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. 

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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. 

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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.

What does it really mean to have patience?

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

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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.

I've been having a series of strange dreams.

It leaves me exhausted when I awake into reality. It's like both worlds are keeping me awake, sleepily navigating reality, I remember what I can, absorb what I can, do what I can.

Lately the words of "meaning of life" have been surfacing. I'm not sure why, but I suppose the combination of exhaustion and work and maybe some stress have something to do with that. Stress. The constant stress of trying to convey my thoughts clearly to the external tires me. I think it tires me more than I would like to admit.

Today I talk to friends about "shifting blame" if the whole world can just suck it up, admit they're wrong, then maybe we would all just get along. But since the "downfall of man was that he was once a child" I suppose this will never be.

I have gray bags under my eyes. I wonder if they will go away once appeared.

"If the accident will..."

As anxious as I am, I feel really good for some reason.

Repeat photo: My street that I live on. The sun was funky that day.

Lately, or when I've been in the office too long, I get a tad anxious about life and living it.

I think images reflect a lot on peoples inner feelings, which is why blogs, facebook, and other social networking media things are really addictive. I admire people for being able to paint themselves in a way for the public to see.

It's like a little show. I think Olivia Lo, a fashion blogger that I follow, does a damn good job of it, yet we all know this barely 18 year old girl living in the suburbs of southern california spends more time editing photos of herself than outside. This is not to say that she doesn't produce beautiful work. It's beautiful and she has great fashion sense.

Nothing comes easy and I need to constantly remember that. I forget what it's like to work hard towards something. I feel like I haven't done that in so long. I was a straight A student in high school, I call that working hard. Working hard like there was no end in sight, working hard because that is all that you know.

Any type of work or anything you see that is beautiful takes a lot of work, beautiful products aren't born necessarily. I feel a change coming, it's been raining a lot. The rain reveals.

I enjoy opening umbrella's indoors. Legit.

I had a conversation with my aunt today over dinner, she asked me how I was. I said I was "S-tress" as the Vietnamese pronounce it, there is no direct translation of "stress." She then told me something along the lines of "You should try to split it up" in Vietnamese. I misunderstood.

"Split it up? What do you mean? I can't, my work is my own"
"No, like, tell others about your stress, so that you don't bottle it in"
"Oh..."

I didn't even realize it, that I bottle in my feelings a lot. Today, I was frustrated at this report I have to start, that I just went to take a nap. Kids do that you know, when they are really emotional or frustrated or sad, they deal with it by sleeping. That's why you will see kids fall asleep after they cry really really hard. It's freakin' exhausting man.

Speaking of exhausting, here are my 35 mm photos from my one day in Korea and a week in Laos. I'm going to bed now.

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Vietnamese homes don't really have a living room. In fact its usually a two to four story home, that's pretty narrow. The bottom floor is usually used as a storefront business. The other floors are rooms, etc. I suppose this is why a kitchen is what brings a Vietnamese family together. The kitchen is our living room. The kitchen is where love is shared.

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A bat flew into my room last night at 1:20 am. Strange because I just got into bed, after deciding to stay up that night despite having Vietnamese class at 8 am in the morning (I canceled my class, because I woke up with a big headache). My headache started around 11 or midnight, and it's still lingering. I suppose its because I went a few days without drinking water, I hate water. But when my headache started, there were several things going on, my staff member's brother just received news that her brother was in the hospital in Saigon, Burma was struck with a 6.8 earthquake, and for some reason blogger was letting me post photos at lightening speed (hence, the 35 mm photos). It was a strange night to begin with. I didn't study for my GRE's and was g-chatted by friends who I hadn't talked to in a while. There was something about last night that I needed to stay up. 

When I shut the lights, I heard a lot of noise, like there was something in my room. Thinking that it was the birds who've made a home in my ventilation fan, I tried to ignore it. I realized that the birds usually only make noise in the day time. Then I heard it again. I happen to have a flashlight in my room, since the night before it was raining so hard, that my electricity started to flicker, so I got scared and went to get it from the supply cabinet downstairs. I happen to have the flashlight with me.

I heard it again. So I reached for my flashlight, and flashed it at the wall. I see something flying back and forth very quickly. I go turn on the lights, and it goes crazy! And I go crazy! And run out of my room shutting the door behind me. I wake up My Kim, a fellow volunteer.

I stand at my door for a while, scared to open it. My Kim comes and helps me open the door with mosquito racket in her hand. Then its gone. I decide to sleep with the lights on, since I think bats are scared of lights.

It was a strange night. A really strange night.

On my way to Saigon this weekend, this time with no purpose really. I think I need to get out of this house and I would like to watch a movie.