the laid.back buddhist

And you are?

2008-01-14T15:05:00.000-05:00

I do believe it’s been a month. Miss me?

Well, I definitely missed blogging.

Chidings for unceremoniously giving the blog the cold shoulder wouldn’t be undeserved, but as even my closest friends know, I disappear over break, rarely seeing even them. It’s the time I set aside for self-recovery and spending the days with my family (with only a handful exceptions over the past couple of years). It’s always a relief for me to cut off the cell, the relentless email, and my time-consuming laptop…it’s almost as if disconnecting ironically allows me to re-connect myself.

Oh, but it’s certainly good to be back, as hectic as Life will soon undoubtedly become again.

There was a delay because I wanted to make sure my new self-hosted (using Siteground thanks to Cooper’s recommendation) Wordpress site was presentable first. Yes, you read that correctly. The laid.back Buddhist received a fully upgraded make-over. With a new color scheme, layout, and pages—I even switched up the quotes!

Now, it was supposed to be super secret until this post, but some of you have already discovered its existence. There are even people who subscribed to the new feed before I even got a chance to, which certainly worked on inspiring me to get a move on it! But just a heads up, there’s still some tweaks left (i.e. finish adding links, adding some plugins, etc).

Anyhow, I’m keeping this Blogger site up to prevent broken links (aka I refuse to lose my 200+ Technorati rating, ha). Plus, since it’s the New Year, I thought it rather fitting to have a completely new site, too.

Ahem. Of course, I realize that it’s been 2 weeks since Jan. 1st.

But! Luckily, the inherent procrastinator is also a laid-back Buddhist who celebrates the Chinese New Year.

Without further digression:

Welcome to the laid.back Buddhist 2008!

Come on over. =)

Simply Bribe Me With Food

2007-12-18T20:18:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I'm that easy.

But it’s hard work, this work-hard-play-hard-eat-hard thing.

This week marks the transition from being a sedentary university student with jet-lagged days of sleeping, studying, eating, and skipping yoga to…being my mother’s daughter.

And it’s killing my calves!

Before Vy starts throwing Facebook cows at me (again), let me explain...

I haven’t played basketball in months and usually when that happens, I make-up for it by running on the ellipticals at the gym for an hour, 1-2x a week. But then this year, I got lazy and decided that going to the gym once (sadly, if even!) a week for yoga would be enough.

Yeah, not one of my brightest ideas.

Understandably, my body protested the whole Thanksgiving week in Taiwan—and sore muscles paired with lack of sleep is a surefire way to put a girl in a cranky mood, which is not the best way to spend a vacation. So, I refuse to have déjà-vu torture this upcoming week when we, as my mom jokes, continue to conquer Japan (Sapporo is in the works for the Spring/Summer).

That means re-building my leg muscle. That equals painfully hard work.

It all started Sunday. One brutal, sweat-filled hour of dance sport with Todd (aka Cutest Tush Ever). Feeling overconfident, I decided to bake stuff (in addition to all the usual household chores I pick up when I come home). Toss in cutting my own hair, my sister’s hair, and cut/dyeing my mom’s hair…I’m spending a lot of time on my feet.

It’s enough to induce me to skip 6:15 AM yoga. More than enough.

Unless, of course, you bribe me with food.

This morning, my mom bought a 6” mango cake from Whole Foods. And tomorrow? She’s going for my weak spot: their pumpkin pie.

Mmm, and it’s totally going to work, you know. I didn’t get to eat pumpkin pie or pumpkin cheesecake for Thanksgiving, which is something I look forward to every year starting in October. Therefore, it’s quite safe to say, I’ve been having this unsatisfied pumpkin craving for over 2 MONTHS!

I’ll be damned if I don’t wake up tomorrow at 5:30 AM to go to yoga.

That pie is so mine.

Contentment is not Satisfaction

2007-12-09T23:32:00.000-05:00

I’ve been distracted. From writing.

It’s a temporary affliction, I assure you.

With finals week looming over my head, my current life mainly consists of alternating between my studies and rewarding myself with episodes of Korean dramas/movies. So, I haven’t really had the time to focus on blogging. And instead of writing before bed, I’ve taken up leisure reading, which is something I NEVER do during the academic year. The current book is a whim (a collection of poems by Rumi) that I picked up from Barnes & Noble over the weekend.

However, it’s not so much distraction as it is dissatisfaction. My thoughts are in chaotic limbo, so please...consider yourself forewarned.

I scolded him when I wrote back the other day. For being bored in Darmstadt.

I gave him the quote from my dad on how the world is like a book, urged him to “read more lines,” and joked that he was seriously being jipped if he—especially with the thirst for activity I know he has—didn’t take full advantage during his stay. I also wrote that it takes me awhile to build a new heart so he can stop asking if I’ve met anybody new, thanks.

Truthfully, even if I did, I think it'd be difficult to make work.

You see, during this time I’d be too suspicious that I was just exhibiting rebound behavior or something. And I must confess...that’s also the reason I haven’t gone clubbin’ at all this semester, believe it or not. You know how I once wrote that the darkness of the night reminded me of him? It’s because I often spent the evenings with him and even when separately with our friends, we spent a good amount of our nights together. So, I knew that this new start of not having the option of his arms to hold me afterwards would crush my heart, flat out overwhelm it with loneliness and/or longing.

Yup, and that concludes the impromptu sob story of why I stopped going to nightclubs on weekends.

Honestly, the appeal has totally been lost and I don’t know if it’ll ever come back since I can satisfy my dance urges at private parties with friends or rockin’ it out alone in my room to all my favorite songs.

On a side note, not partying it up as much as I used to has saved me a shit load of money. Once, my mom even asked if I was secretly working a job on the side because (1) my money market account, for which the account statements are sent home, has been growing faster than usual and (2) she already knows I don’t like receiving a monthly allowance, especially since it keeps increasing (“To keep up with inflation!” she claims). For someone who has never had an allowance growing up, to suddenly be given so much money after entering college still bewilders me.

Another reason, I’m what most people would call…cute when drunk. Think of it as my normal crazy impulsiveness in happy overdrive. I’ve also a tendency to be very, very...friendly. That sort of uninhibited attraction is absolutely fine when I’m raising hell with good friends (gets diffused amongst us) or when my heart is already engaged (gets channeled towards that one person). Otherwise, I fear the alcohol would make me do something my self-esteem would ~~probably~~ definitely regret. So, I’ve taken care not to put myself in situations where rebound behavior could possibly come out and bite me in the ass (if you haven’t noticed, I tend to curse more when stressed from exams, too).

But I’ve digressed.

This post has drifted so far from the originally intended topic (see title for a refresher)… I’ll have to re-start this topic another day, as tonight I’m not sure exactly what I’m blabbering about.

Oh, and did you know? I remember the exact moment when I lose my heart to someone.

Sure, I’ll be somewhat unclear as to all the reasons WHY...in fact, I’m likely to drive myself crazy trying to figure it all out. But I know that once given away, it’s GONE and even if I could, I don’t want it back (ideally, I’d want that person to give me his heart instead).

And for that very reason, I’m scared.

Because I fear that if I see—in the flesh—the person who broke my heart, he could take this new one I’ve only just begun to re-build. I fear that, and it frustrates me as it means that on some level, I also don’t trust my heart. Or perhaps I am stronger, have come further than I think. However, sometimes I get to thinking...what if I’m more scared that in meeting each other again, I would realize I’m over him, over it ALL.

For if that were the case, it means I can’t use nursing-the-broken-heart or still-hung-up-over-the-past-heart to cowardly guard my heart away in oblivion.

So, maybe all I know for sure is that…I’m never going to be sure.

And maybe, just maybe, for now that’s good enough.

I Think So...Er, I Am

2007-12-05T16:58:00.000-05:00

“We’re going to Seattle for winter break.”

“Okay. To visit Scott in Vancouver?” Scott’s my favorite younger male cousin.

"That, too."

3 weeks later.

“Actually, we decided on New York.”

“Ooh, does this mean we get to see Brian?” My favorite older male cousin.

“Yes.”

“Yay! Okay.”

Last week.

Voicemail: “Honey, don’t forget to bring back your passport. We’re going to Japan instead.”

That's an interesting new development.

2 days ago.

“Where do you think we should go for winter break?”

Ah, welcome to my mother. Queen of impulsive short getaway trips. I’ve learned not to get overly excited upon hearing a new destination, as there’s a good chance it’ll change.

“What happened to Japan?”

“Osaka’s too cold for your old Ma in the winter.”

I chuckle, guess there IS a way to put a clamp on impulsiveness after all!

“Well, I don’t care where we go if you want to travel," I mention the last part hopefully (albeit casually, I know how much my mom loves the family trips), "And, staying home is just fine, too, you know?”

Yesterday, early evening.

Email from Darmstadt informing me that someone’s going to be back during winter break and with a subtle invitation that he would like to catch up in person, anytime from Dec. 21 to Jan. 3.

Shit.

I changed my mind, Mom. I definitely want to travel—far, far away, please.

Yesterday, late evening.

“You called earlier?”

“Yeah, we might still be going to Japan.”

“Really! Mom, I thought you said Osaka was too cold?”

“Not if we go to the southern part of Japan.”

“Hm, I see.”

“Right now, we’re waiting for tickets from Tokyo to open up. I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Oh, wait…what are the dates you’re looking at?”

“Why?”

“I, uhh, just curious.”

Did I mention I suck at hiding things from my mom? Well, I do. MAJORLY.

Today.

Final Confirmation. Wish granted, Japan trip is on!

And I'm completely happy about this, right?

Friends and Lovers

2007-12-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

Everything I say…

It’s an art form, they say.

Erich Fromm wrote The Art of Loving. Sun Tzu wrote The Art of War. Those are just two of all the many, many books titled with The Arts on just about anything you can think of. And that’s just the start of it.

Everything I say is true, but…

The ultimate goal is to take everything to a form of art, isn’t it?

To be able to say: hey look! I mastered it (oh, you sly devil, you), this art of fill-in-the-blank. Sure, it was a long, difficult journey and half the time I thought I was losing my ~~mind~~ way rather than finding it.

But see, I made it. Because I’m here now.

Ends don’t necessarily justify the means, but they make the journey meaningful. They’re a way of giving life purpose for us, lost souls. So, we continue to take everything to a form of art, including the art of an indispensable justification.

The art of justifying why I should say I’m happy after losing a friendship.

I don’t need a lesson on loss. I know what loss is and know that the hardest part is not the actual loss but of letting go. I’ve been a sorry witness to the havoc that not letting go wrecks on a person (and the people who love that person). It’s tough, learning how to come to terms with reality while being able to hold on to dreams. It’s having the guts to make such dreams reality by first having the courage to acknowledge the past for what's worth and simply...let go.

Everything I say is true, but what if…

You see, I have issues. No need to quote me on that, but I do. With letting go. Sometimes, it comes waaaay too close to sounding like giving up. So, I question it. Every goddamn step of the way. Would I be calling it quits or coming to my senses? Or perhaps, calling it quits is coming to my senses.

Okay, sure I’m happy that I’m happy with the latest realization, but that also means I’m happy I lost a friend, doesn’t it? The irony doesn’t escape me.

Everything I say is true, but what if it’s not…

The fact that I did...lose--slowly, inevitably, and despite really naïve hopes--made me sad and hurt and terribly confused because I cared.

And by following my weird, roundabout logic correctly, does being happy now mean I no longer care?

I never expect easy answers, but what I hadn’t expected was not being so sure anymore. Because I do care. Always will, that’s who I am. It’s an indispensable justification for ALL my actions, you ought to know.

I’m happy, I’m alright, and I’m sad that our communication is henceforth going to be just me giving happy birthday wishes once a year.

But that’s how I keep in touch with someone I’ve let go, if the past is any indication. That’s how lovers become friends become yearly well-wishers.

I’m happy, and I care.

Everything I say is true, but what if it’s not what I really wanted to say?

Very much so.

Validity of Singlehood

2007-11-29T06:58:00.000-05:00

Yet another sleepless night due to jet-lag for me.

Not having my Mon/Wed classes anymore is seriously screwing yours truly over. So, I’m not lacking in sleep and in fact, I’ve never slept MORE in this unsuccessful effort to get myself onto the right cycle (as if there’s one for college students?!).

I’ll be depending on some real strong black coffee to save my sanity today because I have a full day of classes AND the trio (Kath & Vy) plans on going to see Enchanted tonight. Hope I make it, I’m a big Disney fan. If not through sheer will, the prospect of melting into heaps over Patrick Dempsey's twinkling eyes ought to guarantee it.

In the meantime, let’s talk vacation.

Coming back from break, I feel different—

Sort of like how you don’t see any physical change in yourself because you look into the mirror every day and it’s the same face staring back atcha. Often for me, it’ll take photos from a year or two ago to fully realize how all the minor changes added up…and changed ME.

But this time, I’m not talking about looking but feeling different.

I think this family trip to the other side of the world made me realize that a part of me had been unhappy not just from nursing a broken heart, but also because I wasn’t quite comfortable with being single again.

It’s hard for me to admit that. And, to be completely honest, I can probably only admit it now because I am A-OK with it.

Well, no…as I was “okay” with it these past 7 months or so. It’s more that I’m finally happy for it.

YES, there’s a difference.

Has to be. Because like I said, I feel different and I think it has something to do with this undone knot that had been twisting itself sore in my heart. The realization came from an epiphany that all the bewilderment I’m causing my relatives at being single doesn’t annoy me or embarrass me in the least.

It amuses me!

And if truth be told, I even think I’m some kind of flattered...

1. The first relative to ask about my love life over Thanksgiving break: my dearest grandaunt. The lady’s a hardcore Buddhist and loves me like one of her granddaughters (actually, her decided preference for me makes it hard to be truly close to her real granddaughters, my cousins).

Always a ripe straight-shooter, she pulled me aside one morning to ask, “Do you have a boyfriend yet?”

My sheepish smile turns into an indulgent grin as she gives her head a quick shake and makes a really cute series of clucking disapproval.

“Don’t worry, Ah-Ma,” I call her the Taiwanese version of grandmother because growing up that’s what I heard my cousins calling her and it ~~stuck~~ always felt right to continue to do so, “When I do have a boyfriend, I’ll take him back to see you. For you to see how great he is, okay?”

She responds with some more disapproving clucks before finally giving in to my smiles.

2. The second to ask was my favorite uncle. Even after all these years, I still can’t get over the fact that everyday people of Taiwan will know his name and recognize him on the streets of Taipei.

“Soo, Joanne. Do you have a boyfriend?” It’s a question he always asks every time I see him.

“Nope.” And, it’s the same answer he always gets.

“Now, are you just saying that because your parents are sitting here?”

I laugh at the way he’s grinning at me. “There really isn’t a boyfriend in the picture.”

He proceeds to give me a look saying that he thinks I’m lying before changing the topic.

3. Third (and last, I lucked out because I didn’t get to see my 4th/3rd/2nd aunts this time) were my godmothers. Yes, my sister and I have 2. They are my mom’s college friends and they’re friggin’ hilarious.

“No boyfriend?”

“No.”

“No? Really?!” She exclaims as I chuckle over my bowl of really good Japanese rice.

I nod and offer a half-shrug.

“Or is it because kids these days have different definitions for boyfriends? You might not think so, but it might mean boyfriend to us.”

My mind briefly flashes with an image of my former lover.

At this point, my mom interjects the conversation, “Joanne won’t bring a guy home until it’s time to go to the altar.” She purses her lips while giving me a meaningful look of displeasure, “When she should BEFORE then to let her wiser parents take a look at him. She’s so protective! It’s not like I would chew the boy to shreds.”

Raising an amused right eyebrow, I call her out, “Oh, mom. You know you so would!”

She picks up her chopsticks to continue eating, “Well, only if he deserved it and couldn’t hold his own. If he was a good boy, there isn't anything to worry about, is there?”

I laugh.

She makes a valid point.

GAHHHH.

2007-11-28T06:05:00.000-05:00

Jet-lag is such a bitch. Couldn’t fall asleep at all Monday night. Made it through classes, an exam, and then crashed at 4 PM. Unsurprisingly, I woke up at 4 AM and had so much friggin’ energy! Cripes, I got myself onto the weirdest cycle.

I had an IM waiting from Vy when I opened my laptop: “someone wants to greet you when you wake up:” …hot damn. Incoherent gushing may have occurred.

Everyone’s either sleeping or studying, so you know what that means?

Story time.

I got shoes over break!
I chose shiny black pumps!
And suede brown boots!

Okay, so that’s not really a travel story per se (they will come later and eventually) and much more like a series of gushing proclamations.

But for this girl, that’s kind of a BIG deal because (for once!) it’s NOT tennis shoes or super-cute, comfy walking shoes… I mean, as much as I love those.

Growing up, I burned through my tennis shoes every year (think basketball). Literally created holes, the bottom peeling off…wasn’t pretty and it drove my mom nuts: "I thought I was raising a girl?!”

It’s gotten better, though, since I realized that they last longer when I’ve several different pairs to rotate between.

It took much of my later teens to get used to wearing heels (I already felt so tall, you see, and had yet to learn how to be fully comfortable in one's own skin). For the longest time, I just owned a pair of practical strappy 2” black ones. Several years later, I graduated to 3” dark-brown leather ankle boots. Then, somewhere along the way, I started really appreciating my height and began (dare I say it?)… liking heels!

And now?

I love having the options, and it's one less silly self-imposed constraint! Got no problem rocking out in 4” heels, if so desired.

Well, except when a gal forgets that she hasn’t worn a pair of heels in well over 7 months, and so a smarter gal wouldn’t have spent entire days ~~voluntarily~~ vainly choosing to walk around Taipei in her new 3” brown suede boots (mid-calf to knee high, oh but they looked so good!).

Seriously, how do other women manage it?! My feet punished me in spades.

Ah, the price of vanity—a lesson which can’t ever be over re-learned.

Guess Who

2007-11-26T02:54:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving was a relief (though at times, tantalizing close to torturous).

A bittersweet symphony of outrageously fun laughter and occasionally not-so-friendly bantering. Family can be such a big ol’ mess with all the vibrancies of raw love.

I had a good time, but as with all vacation-traveling, it was tiring.

After the 14-hr flight from Tokyo (coming back isn’t as bad because following the flight from Taipei, Taiwan, we stayed in Narita, Japan one night before heading back to the States), the family and I arrived home Saturday morning at around 11:30 AM.

...and, uh, I slept until 4 AM the next day.

Tis a naïve hope, I know, to overcome the time-switch from Asia in 1 day, but I’ll try regardless (as I futilely do every year). And so, yours truly is ambitiously attempting to get her lazy, jet-lagged bum to ALL 3 of the yoga classes offered today, a feat yet to be conquered this semester...

11 days away yields a TON of stories to share and to fondly reflect back on. With everything so recent and so very much at once, it’s hard to know where to even begin.

“The world is like a book: if you’ve only lived in one place, you’ve only read one page of that book,” as my dad likes to say.

His dream/tentative future plan is to retire in 5-10 years, take my mom (and lesser-paying temporary positions) to live in various countries for anywhere from 3 to 6+ months. Although, I’m trying to figure out how our past and recent family visits to other countries fits into this whole book analogy of his.

I suppose traveling could be like the teaser on the back or the inside flap of a book. Sure you'll get the gist of it, but none of the richer details?

Could that be one of the reasons why we always go back to the same countries over and over again...because one visit left us hungering for more?

Oh, and hungering is quite the fitting word for my family.

You know that motto WORK HARD, PLAY HARD?

We add a third: EAT.

Just one of the reasons I ought not skip going to the gym this week!!!

Up, Up, and Away!

2007-11-14T11:56:00.000-05:00

Damn, it’s almost noon.

I need to:

1. Pack my bags (yes, still)

2. ~~Do laundry~~ bring it home

3.Clear the fridge

(jeez, seriously have got to stop doing things the day of)

4.Resist the urge to help out the Judicial Office

5.Resist the urge to pack my textbooks and work…

Because break for me is exactly that.

No cell phone, email, or laptop. I go on a social hiatus, flip the switch and my number one priority and focus is my family.

Okay, not that they aren’t always numero uno.

But when I’m away at school, student life becomes this greedy attention-whore. It’s why my mom has to pull a preemptive strike to make sure I visit on weekends (by the way, I totally aced my Mom’s Ritual Health Inspection…well, except the whole eating-meat-5x-a-week thing).

I tried to explain to her that the number isn’t really as bad as it seemed because the actual amount each time isn’t a lot and that when I occasionally make dinner with Vy, we’ll use organic chicken. She still looked aghast, though.

Well, I’ve been busy getting work done early (gasp, the inherent procrastinator?!) because I don’t like dealing with the guilt of having unfinished work looming over my head when I’m with my family or when trying to enjoy my full-body massages.

Speaking of which, last week I realized that it’s been over 6 months since someone (other than me) has touched my legs. Holy shit, the dry Virginia winter air wreaks vicious havoc on careless bums who don’t lotion their bodies after showers.

And oh boy, this is going to sound borderline hypocritical of me…but when I don’t have Someone of Interest to me, I get lazy and instead of moisturizing my skin every day, it becomes every 2-3 days (read: basically when my skin screams back at me in vindictive mutiny). Likewise (for partly the same reason for my haphazard use of body lotion), these days I’m also more likely to be seen wearing The Uniform of hoodie, jeans, and tennis shoes. There’s this really sweet German grad student whom I worked with last year, and she said how much she liked my style. How unique it is...

...uh, sadly...this year, the past few times I've ran into her on-campus I’ve been wearing The Uniform. What’s more embarrassing is that for each of those times, I happened to wearing the exact same Maroon hoodie.

Cringes.

Anyhow. I need to finish some work (so that I’m not tempted to bring it along) and start throwing in dirty clothes into my suitcase. Just wanted to wish everyone a super-early Thanksgiving, I’ll be out of touch.

So, enjoy the reconnecting, rejuvenating recharge with your families, I know I will*!

_______________________________________________
*Well, besides fending off questions from extended family of why I don’t have a boyfriend, why I decided not to go to med. school after all, why I plan on moving across the country, etc and oh…yeah that 24/7 nurse-maid who always tries to flirt unsuccessfully (and very distastefully) with my dad whenever we visit.

7 Things You Don't Know, But I Do

2007-11-10T16:37:00.000-05:00

Yikes, I'm so behind on my memes.

'Bout time for another one (I’m also behind in replying to comments for the past 3-4 previous posts!). So I'm jumping around because...uh, this is the shortest one on my Memo of Memes To-do list.

Tag is thanks to Rich! And Mitch! <--exclamations to point out! How they rhyme!

Here goes:

I can’t fall asleep until my feet are warm.

I believe in destiny. I believe in fighting it so that I can say I found it and not the other way around.

I love cartoons and animated movies. I can fall for a guy who isn’t fazed when I choose Over the Hedge for our movie night.

If I drink coffee, I like it black. I usually opt for Japanese green tea, preferably Shincha (the first harvest of Sencha) and from Japan. I know, I’m such a tea snob like that.

I’m a Chinese elementary school dropout. My speaking fluency is mainly due to growing up on Chinese drama/martial art TV series. My reading ability was further honed by the Chinese subtitles for Japanese and Korean drama series. My writing ability is stuck in the fifth grade. But that was good enough for me to once be a TA for a university-taught Elementary Chinese course...food for thought, huh?

I did not wear make-up until I was almost 19. Mascara is too much effort most days. I stick with eyeliner, some eye shadow, and chapstick. I refuse to put on foundation of any sort unless it’s performing on a stage.

In high school, I liked to ~~torment~~ tease my mother with proclaiming my intentions to have children by going to a sperm bank. When she was struck speechless, I knew I had struck gold. However, she was able to quickly recover and swiftly warned me I better watch what I say or karma is gonna get me and I’ll have smart-mouthed brats who enjoying torturing their mother.

Hell yeah, I got rice, bitch.

Who's next in line?

My blog sparring partner, Dan. Of course.

And Lisa, to see what other brilliant randomness she can send my way. Mr. Kimchihead because his stories intrigue me. Mcgee. Even though she already confessed some secrets, I want to see if there are any other ways I can relate to her awesomeness. And because I can never get enough of Susie and her thoughtful musings. Marc, for being so freakin' fantastic and talented. Abba, who already gives me a generous dose of kick-ass attitude with each post...but I want more because damn if I'm just greedy like that. MissMrs: this is karmic return, haha. And good thing, as I just realized I forgot to add your meme to my to-do list on the sidebar! Jason. Words can't express, only laughter. What's next? Zesty, who needs to tell me what LTTP means...Love That Titillating Post? Like, Totally Too Predicatable?!

You can tell meeeeee. *pats halo above head and smiles winningly*

Enthused.

2007-11-10T03:01:00.000-05:00

So, there’s a secret bursting to have its story told.

Oh, it drives me crazy, keeps me up late even when I can finally go to sleep at a decent hour (relatively speaking) for the first time in days, and cuts me open, flooding my senses with both fretful apprehension and fulfilling excitement. Each morning, I wake up whimpering to my modestly obnoxious alarm, bemused to find my sheets twisted halfway to the floor (seriously, again?!) and a ginormous knot of hair in the back of my head.

No, I’m not sharing my bed with someone.

But I am excited about this new thing I'm trying.

You see, it's the first time I’m dedicating time to find a place for my own two feet, not someone else’s. I’m not battling to help save an organization from dwindling finances or pursuing recognition for the untold stories of unheard voices. I’m not protesting the continually undercut funds for the language programs at an engineering and athletics-focused school or protecting the naïve mistakes of my residents. I’m not falling for a person unwilling to give me the same in return.

Instead, I’m redirecting that focused, unconditional energy inwards, where it’s needed the most right now.

I’m reining in my ~~restlessness~~ excuses not to grow up, excuses not to pursue what makes me deliriously happy. I’m daring to think that what I want is actually possible…for the sole reason being because I want it. I’m focusing on details that’ll keep me hastily jotting down jumbled thoughts on a yellow legal pad well past 3 AM.

I’m asking myself tough questions. Over and over again, until I admit the answers.

Walking back tonight, I suddenly realized that the darkness of night no longer bothers me because I can look up and smile at the stars. They twinkle back, promising me the unknown delight of another night, a prelude to the new day.

I’m championing my own cause, and the irony is that it’s so I can champion the causes of others.

Conspiring to Ignite

2007-11-07T12:23:00.000-05:00

What are you waiting for?

I’m waiting for me to be ready.

No. What you are is AFRAID.

I believe you can have anything you want, you can do everything you put your mind to...and you?

You’re scared shitless.

Oh sure, you say don’t know the direction your life is headed. But behind that safer façade of restlessness, you always knew. You saw the truth of the matter but saved the details for later. So how much longer are you going to spend pondering how you got here?

There's experience, and then there's experiencing.

Things aren't ever quite the way you'd want it to be. You can waste your time looking for answers already found or you can make your move.

You can make it. Now.

Nothing’s going to change you but yourself. Why let things happen? Open your eyes, chase this spark, and make it your light.

I don’t care if you’re angry when I say...

If you continue to wait, you may never be ready.

And who the hell are you?
I’m the start of a new you.

She doesn't only chase boldness. She is boldness.

Reminder to Vote Me!

2007-11-06T15:50:00.000-05:00

Sure, I like the number 3 a lot.

It's one of those numbers I'm fascinated by. However, it loses some of its appeal when 3 is for being stuck at 3rd place for all eternity (yes, I'm aware I'm implying eternity to end on Nov. 8th, the last day to vote!). It's just that a gal likes to change it up a little...you know, with your support of course!

So please help me appreciate the number 3 again by getting me to 2nd place. In fact, I can see myself really appreciate being stuck at 3rd place more if in the end I manage to reach 1st place, ha! ;)

Thanks for all the overwhelming support so far!

You people have proved that bloggers totally ROCK.

I Can Pay For Your Shrink

2007-11-06T00:59:00.000-05:00

This morning’s inbox brought in a ~~long email~~ plea for help from my kid sis, who's about to turn 16 in a month (holy crap! she’s reached her sweet 16 already?!).

But I’m only a mere 5 years older than her. I mean, who am I to give her advice on Life when I’m still trying to figure out my own!!!

Oh, boy. I sure hope my advice isn't so off the mark or scarring in the way that causes people to seek therapy to recover later on in life.

___________________________

Keeks,

First, I’m SO glad Todd is coming back safe from overseas! Do you know if it’s for sure? Mom and I took his class over the summer right before he was deployed (you were at Northwestern). HE IS AWESOME. You’ll probably see an increase in people attending the sports dance class. I swear, that man has the cutest tush ever…and the way he shakes it puts ME to blush! I can’t say if you’ll feel the exact same connection (near impossible when everyone’s different), but he’s an excellent teacher, to boot. So don’t worry, you’ll love him and you’ll learn a lot.

Oh, AND he’s drop-dead gorgeous, tall, great smile, very toned…and in sleeveless cut-off shirts, he looks more like some hot basketball player than a professional dancer/teacher. Babe, I’m so freakin’ envious!!!

Okay, enough gushing from me. Back to the serious topic at hand.

You’re right, it’s never too late. Take your old jie for example. You know from last weekend that I’ve only just figured out some things. It was a long time coming—what you don’t know is that it’s been an idea in the back of mind all these years. I let it marinate, patiently waiting for the right opportunity. Or perhaps, I was simply waiting for me to be ready. Because something can be right and not the right timing. Don’t feel rushed. Opportunities come and go, yes…but half of those opportunities come because we made damn sure they would.

You know Katherine? It reminds me of her wise advice in regards to splurge-shopping: don’t buy it right away but if you find yourself constantly thinking about it over the next couple of days, then that means you really want it. My decision took four years (and counting!) to come into being. So take it easy and just ride it out.

You and I both know that when Mom says “it’s too expensive,” it’s only half-true. We both did fencing at the Academy and got sent off to summer camps for how many years? Exactly.

You are definitely old enough to make your own decisions (though that doesn’t change the fact that you are indeed the baby of the family still!). HOWEVER, one of the reasons mom is opposed is because she may feel that this is a passing phase or that it should just remain a hobby.

Do you remember how Mom and I fought it out during middle/high school when I wanted to try out for the girls’ basketball team? Afraid that I’d be doomed to never grow out of my tomboy-ness phase, she had final word in this matter (as you know is usually the case, haha), but dad secretly asked me on the side if I did try-outs just for kicks. Which meant that if I really wanted to and proved my capability, Dad would’ve championed my cause (like when I joined the volleyball team). In that instance, it turned out that Mom happened to be right—basketball is a purely recreational thing once I realized that one of the main reasons I play is because of how much I enjoy the pick-up games with the guys.

You never know what’s in store for you, and as you get older you do garner a better idea of what your preferences and dreams are. But see, even that is subject to change.

My advice?

The next time you decide to hash it out with Mom, be more prepared than a boy scout. Show her that this is something you are willing to handle, that you CAN handle. Follow-up on those options! These are questions you should be asking Meagel, or ask the manager at our health club if they’d be willing to take Meagel on as full-time staff, etc. And even if in the end things doesn’t work out the way you want to, keep in touch with her because who knows? Maybe your senior year, timing will be right again and you can pursue this passion with Mom’s approval. Or, like you said, at college.

Sure, it seems a long ways away and that you’re losing a one-time opportunity, BUT this could also be the experience that shows you that this is a passion you want to keep up.

And for the record, Life definitely gives you second chances…

You only need to look for ‘em.

Much love, jie.

(jie = Chinese for older sister)

WARNING: With Strings Attached

2007-11-05T12:07:00.000-05:00

They say girls can’t separate love from sex like guys can.

And while I’m sure there are exceptions out there—perhaps with dire consequences—I’m not one such exception. I may love without strings attached, but every action of mine does come with my heart attached.

Sounds morbid. Although actually it just means that everything I do is driven by my feelings.

Which definitely makes for a tricky situation if one’s lover was one’s friend but not one’s boyfriend (but twas an educational experience nonetheless).

Girls are generally unfazed, but it amuses me like no other when some of my guy friends get momentarily thrown off by the quick kiss on the cheek I occasionally give as we hug good-bye, usually spur-of-the moment or if we haven’t seen each in a long time. It’s akin to how when you see children bump their head against a table…if you don’t make an issue out of it, guess what? IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL.

Plus, who doesn’t like a friendly kiss (or two!) on a cheek? It’s so sweet!

You see, I love it when the initial, potentially awkward grey-phase with a guy is over and you both know that the relationship is purely platonic. I get to be greeted with kisses! Strong bear hugs that spin me around!

And have frank conversations such as this:

In response to hearing that I'm taking a Human Sexuality course this semester, Tony, one of my more sexually open-minded male friends (it must have something to do with his Latin blood) asked me when he came down for the ~~deflating~~ BC game aka Tyrod-Taylor-is-not-allowed-to-sprain-his-ankle-EVER (and I don't even like football!) only one question about it:

“So, do you know where the G-spot for men is?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Because Life's Not Bad...

2007-11-04T23:44:00.000-05:00

...or at least, generally not as bad as we often think it is.

"Baby was up all night again crying. I'm not 100% sure but I have a feeling she was up crying out of embarrassment over how badly her mom is getting her ass kicked in the polls." - Mrs. Furious

I read that on the Weblog sidebar and could NOT STOP LAUGHING!!!

After checking out her category to see how the sassy Ms. Furious was really faring, I realized that my 200-some votes behind is actually quite marginal in comparison to her 1,000-plus-some votes needed to surpass the leading contestant.

Anyhow.

Thanks for voting, showing such continual support AND for using this as an opportunity to mess around with my mind...

YC:Oh shucks what if I clicked the wrong button??
JK:Hm, if you clicked the wrong button I don't think there's anything to be done...I guess you'll just have to make sure you click the right one for the next 24 hr period? LOLs!
YC:LOL! I was just kiddin', Joanne :)

*whew!*

I’m so freakin’ gullible...and the Internet seems to compound such gullibility.

And just now starting to realize that this whole Weblog Awards thing...?

It's kind of a big deal.

VOTE ME for Best Diarist?

2007-11-03T12:12:00.000-04:00

I am in awe*.

Thanks to everyone’s support, Cooper’s** nomination carried me through...to become a 2007 Weblog Awards FINALIST.

Suh-weet!

However, that means the real hardcore voting has now officially begun:

Click HERE to cast your vote!

To give underdogs a fighting chance, individuals are allowed to vote ONCE every day. The voting period extends til Thursday, Nov. 8th, so please help a girl out these next 6 days by voting for yours truly.

And then who knows?!

I might actually have a decent shot at winning this thing!

In fact, I might even feel bold enough by the show of support to hold a no-bounds (eeps!!) “You Q; I’ll A” session to celebrate afterwards…

Was that a bribe in not-so-subtle disguise?

Why, of course. ;)

I mean, did you seriously expect anything LESS devious from a...well, deviant laid-back Buddhist?!

Plus, you ought to realize how firmly I believe in the whole point of learning rules simply to figure out which ones to bend and break.

(JUST KIDDING…um, hi Kevin!)

So have at it!

This is especially targeted at those 80-some feed readers who may have already (or not) de-lurked your lovely, witty selves.

Yes, that was a blatant (albeit sincerely meant!) attempt at cajoling flattery.

Anyhow. Feel free to leave a comment so that I may gush excitedly, give personal thanks, and send IOU's of back massages...

You know, the works.
_____________________________________________________
*and as such, my competitive (good-natured, ‘course!) instinct has kicked into overdrive.
**Cooper made finalist herself: Vote WONDERLAND OR NOT!

The Runaways

2007-11-02T04:23:00.000-04:00

My family is my home, and home is my saving grace.

Not a place for me stay, it’s a place for me to COME BACK to.

Clearly it’s quite different from being a castaway, as I’m not being rejected. Instead, I’m the one deciding to reject...to seek new possibilities.

Instead I am the runaway, first.

I remember how back in the 2nd/3rd grade we got to write short stories that were then bound into spiffy, grown-up-looking miniature books. I wrote books with whimsical titles like “Her Unicorn” and “Momma Mia, Poppa Pia!”

But my ultimate favorite was titled “The Runaways.”

Even having since left childhood, the appeal of such an idea has stayed with me. It’s the seed that spawns my incurable restlessness and my keen yearning to experience absolutely everything at once!…my bursting ambition to have it all, just so I know (and can choose for myself) what I don’t need or want.

And for all the words in the world, I can’t explain it.

Especially when I’m on the verge of realizing what I’ve been running away, running towards all my life thus far. I know it, I think I see it, and yet I have no idea what the It actually is!

It’s the fleeting epiphany that haunts me.

A sweet sound of the last breath.

This time last year I finally started admitting to people that I was applying for med school. Though only when I was specifically asked as I never offered that information first. And with each time I uttered the words “pre-med,” the surer I became that it was exactly opposite of what I wanted.

Oh, but I kept saying it still.

Each time growing ever more dissatisfied with myself.

So, this time last year, I started leading a double-life of sorts.

It seemed to others I was pursuing one thing when really I was doing all I could to run in the other direction. Taking the MCATs barely broke a sweat for me because I didn’t care enough to stress. I was fine with my average score (hell, even my writing scored the letter right smack dab in the middle) because my life didn’t depend on it.

It wasn’t the life I wanted anyhow.

Call it the very best-kept of all my secrets from year 2006.

Or so I thought.

This time this year, my mom casually said at the dinner table:

“The thing you wanted to tell us this weekend, is it that you don’t want to go to med. school?”

My dad and little sister jerked up their heads.

I took a deep breath, or two.

My parents' words of 'whatever you want to do, we will support your decision as long as it's your passion' was being put to the test. I know of their unconditional support, but I feared the crushing possibility of their disapproval, of disappointment.

“Yes.”

Letting go of the breath I was holding, I was finally able to take my first...

“Okay. What're you going to do instead?”

...breath of utter relief.

At those words and to the surprise of everyone at the dinner table (including myself), I proceeded to cry puddles into my plate of half-eaten food. Not the pretty kind, mind you. But the unstoppable kind where my nose turns red and my cheeks get all blotchy, where I’m sniffling and hiccuping at alternating intervals…

The kind only my family and a few, close friends have seen.

You see, The Runaway would’ve run away following her heart regardless, but damn! running away is SO MUCH BETTER with the ones you love and respect the most.

It's so much lighter.

This Is What Cold Weather Does To Me

2007-11-01T02:01:00.000-04:00

The range extremes of my day-to-day concerns will worry while simultaneously amusing me.

I’ll be contemplating the next city I want to live in. Next moment, I consider how some kind of lonely my bed seems with just me in it.

I’ll be imagining what I might possibly see myself doing in the next couple of years. After re-verifying that those particular possibilities are endless and will be unexpected as per usual, my mind wanders off into a realm of infinite different sorts of possibilities: namely, (un)comfortable spooning positions to sleep in.

I’ll be thinking about what work I need to do first and when’s the best time to complete it, then I’ll be calculating how much sleep I’ll allow myself tonight. And before I know it, I’m yearning for some warm body to wrap his arms around me as I drift off into sleep.

I’ll be sitting in The Lyric (a small, cozy theater downtown complete with a balcony and velvet curtains!) with Kath as we watch the oh-so uplifting Rape of Europa on Halloween night (because we be cool like that)... Then, sheesh! All this talk of the Germans unwittingly reminded me of that certain German/French boy who broke my heart and is currently in Germany.

Gah!

You see what I have to put up with everyday?

I’m going to bed.

Yes, in a threesome...called me, myself, and I.

Skintastic

2007-10-31T18:05:00.000-04:00

Stripping off my sweats, I’m in the girls’ locker room at the gym for yoga class. As I turn around to grab my shorts, I happen to glance over to my right.

Wow. She is way too thin.

Hipbones jutting out and with a concave belly, her legs are smaller in diameter than some guys’ arms. She’s sliding into a swim suit and I’m trying not to wince.

I wanted to cross over the wooden bench, to place gentle hands on her bony shoulders, and to say:

“Look, you are beautiful. Absolutely BEAUTIFUL. But you’ll be a thousand times better with more curves. Eat more, please.”

However, instead I resigned myself to inwardly cringing and stealing furtive, worried glances at her direction…

Because, you see, I never know what to do when I see a girl that thin, why should I assume that she has anorexia? In some cases, a girl just may have high metabolism (something much more commonly found in guys). Looking back on the moment, I think that perhaps I should’ve said some encouraging words of concern.

I understand the struggles with one's own body.

Last Thanksgiving break, I was in the locker room at a hot springs bath an hour from Taipei, Taiwan. In my bra/underwear and in the process of sliding into my jeans, I heard a middle-aged woman say to another beside her:

“Wah, she’s so fat!”

My fingers froze in mid-air while holding my belt.

Intensely still, I stared into my locker as I looped, in deliberate slow motion, the belt around my waist. As the only other person in the locker room and seeing out of the corner of my eye, the second woman’s glances in my direction, I knew precisely of whom they were talking about.

Me.

Little did they know that even though I may look “ABC” (slang for American-Born Chinese), I am quite fluent in Mandarin Chinese…and with good ears, to boot. Meeting my dad outside a few minutes later, I tried to relate the incident to him in a joke, to carelessly brush it off with a flippant laugh.

But the words got caught in my throat.

I had barely croaked out the word FAT when tears started streaming down my cheeks. I knew I wasn’t unhealthily obese and that I have a tall frame to help hide any extra pounds, but those words of a complete stranger behind my (and half-naked, at that!) back really, really stung.

They hurt the most because I saw some truth in them as well.

Last year's Thanksgiving Break, I was hovering around 148 lbs, and by “Asian standards”…that’s considered overweight.

And currently?

I’m at 135 lbs, which is 3 lbs shy of the goal I set for myself back in May of this year. Over the course of these past 6 months, I’ve shed those 10 lbs slowly, in a conscious effort to make sure it stays off.

So, I gradually add to my exercise regimen only activities I know I’ll be able to keep up for a lifetime. Plus, as a girl of HUGE appetite, I like to eat A LOT. I love food with an adoring fervor and will make savoring noises involuntarily.

Oooh, and did I mention I have a separate stomach for desserts as well?

Well, I do. ;)

Tis the only explanation for why I always have room for my favorite sweets!

And as much as I know how important balance and moderation is in a diet, it’s tough whenever I’m away from home to eat right because (1) there are so many convenient and unhealthy options and (2) my mom isn’t there to make sure I don’t stray too far.

But bit by bit, I’ve learned how to take care of my body on my own.

Body image is a ginormously sensitive subject and always will be. Just like how I'm never fully comfortable in front of the camera (though it has gotten better over the years).

I'm still learning how to love my body for all its imperfections.

To appreciate being comfortable in one's own skin.

To simply being utterly skintastic!

Photography: Tyn Cathedral by GeniuZ

(happy halloween!)

Forgive Me

2007-10-30T23:23:00.000-04:00

This week is just about killing yours truly.

Don’t know if anyone noticed my brief absence, but I went home this past weekend. Boycotting my laptop, I also put all my work on pause for a much needed mini-vacation. More on how that went down later.

The result was me spending ALL of yesterday (Monday) holed up at my desk, running on caffeine fumes, playing catch-up, and quite possibly getting high off of my freshly henna-dyed strands of hair.

Insomniac panic had ensued, to say the least.

One of these days, I swear procrastination is going to be the death of me. It's a bad habit that seems to become more flamboyant as the years go by. However, I ~~figure~~ rationalize that there is wisdom in why stockbrokers take the weekend off in order to come back Monday morning with a fresh and sharper mind.

Plus, I'm feeling considerably lighter after all my yoga despite the protesting of my abs. On the other hand, my neck and shoulder blades are MUCH happier, as those are the hot spots where I tend to carry all my stress.

Anyhow, I've decided to post some low-resolution (read: built-in laptop camera) and spur-of-the-moment boredom (read: in between classes after finishing an exam) pictures of my crazy non-Asian-like hair (read: natural curls doing their thang)!

The angle's weird b/c my laptop is...well, on my lap. And, I'm on 4 hrs of sleep!

As I said, forgive me.

Gotta love those flattering concrete blocks...
Sitting on the floor and waiting for the classroom to open up.
My bangs are doing that whoosh! thing as per usual.
See my unruly curls?

2nd favorite hoodie of all time, gift from Kath and Vy our sophomore (?) year.
And, look at the new shades for a new beginning I was talking about!
You like? Nine West, $12 courtesy of Marshall's. Sweetness.

This picture just makes me laugh. Had to include it.
Translation: "Oh, crap...I'm late for class."

So, there you are. Me in color, once again.

Because Stubborn Is As Stubborn Does

2007-10-29T02:21:00.000-04:00

Are mothers’ are always right?
Oh, you betcha.
Will I ever learn that they're always right?
Apparently not.

“You need to put in more blonde.”

I frantically...stubbornly shook my head no. Blonde is so NOT me.

Sure, I’ve gradually chosen lighter and lighter shades of red-brown, to the point where my last dye was called “Terracotta Blonde.” But there was no way in hell you’d see me applying straight-up blonde coloring, especially with the sort of name like “Persian Blonde” (!?) to my hair...

[she proceeded to dump half the container of aforementioned Persian blonde henna into the mixing bowl]

...er, voluntarily, that is.

“Aaagh! Mom!”

I immediately dump more "Auburn Mahogany" henna into the bowl in a retaliating effort to salvage what I fearfully imagined to be some sort of blonde disaster just waiting to plague my hair.

After rinsing out the henna (3 hrs later), I saw my reflection peering back at me in the bathroom mirror give way to dawning realization.

“Oh, no.”

The red tones darkened it completely.

Gone were the 7 months of gradually lightened shades of golden reddish-brown. She was so right, I definitely needed more of that blonde to bring the red out. As of right now, in non-sunlight it looks brown, which is a first for me (I actually don't mind such a color, but my roots barely picked up any color...which was the whole point).

So, the next morning, I lamented my trivial woes of having to re-dye to my dad.

To which he responded with, “No, I think it’s better darker."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow at those words, especially when accompanied with that goofy grin of his.

"It looks like some blonde dog hair when it’s too light.”

“Dad, that is NOT true!!!”

It has never looked as such. Really! He just relishes in getting us to exclaim in indignant half-mocked horror.

On a side note, can a person get high off of sniffing henna-dyed strands of hair?

It smelled damned good. Like, intoxicating good.

I wonder if I should be worried about that...

Nice Guys vs. Heartbreakers

2007-10-25T00:59:00.000-04:00

“There's something I don't wanna understand
the only way a woman is gonna want a man
the only way you'll ever keep her in you hands
is breaking apart her heart
Can't you see the way she's crying
Well, that's what keeps her trying,
she knew that she could have you,
And he don't give her what she wants...”

Hm.

I had added the new Good Charlotte album to my punk/rock/alternative playlist to see if any songs other than Dance Floor Anthem would grow on me. And so ~~the other day~~ ~~late night~~ in the wee hours of morning while I was cranking out a paper, these lyrics pierced through my working-mode.

Causing me to wonder, if it was possibly true for myself…

Intuitively, I immediately fired back with an empathetic hell no, who do you take me for crazy?!

(uhh, no need to actually answer that ;)

Having my heart so casually used. Feeling a fireball of pain hurled around only to be trapped in the back of my throat. When hurt takes a trigger-shot straight to the tips of my fingers, making them curl in cruel, anguished tingling...

What kind of person seeks such agony?

Oh, right. The Bleeding-Heart Masochist in me last year.

But it’s comforting to know that I can pick myself up. A relief to be able to say that I won’t settle for less than I deserve, knowing it’ll still hold true even in moments of utter hormonal irrationality.

Plus, the idea of long-term pining after a heartbreaker is not very appealing or desirable. In fact, it sounds downright tiring. The Unattainable Crush is one thing, but playing games with my honest emotions is quite the other. Disappointment wears a gal down and crying does horribly puffy things to my eyes for the next day.

And so, they like to say how nice guys always finish last.

Well, I agree they do if "nice" means boring pushovers. I like it when a guy can not only hold his own, but challenge me.

For instance, one of the HUGE soft spots (among other weaknesses) I have is for nerdy guys.

Er, perhaps not this kind of nerdy that Dan once wrote of per se.

But I find it charmingly alluring when a person is really passionate about something (obscure or not), knows what he’s talking about, and isn’t afraid to show it. I like it when he can make me laugh, encourage me to try something new, or persuade me to a new line of thinking.

Call me crazy, but I like it when he’s NOT (insert gasp) tearing my heart to pieces.

So you see, this sort of guy could be a “nice guy,” and he could break my heart.

Once.