The Pink Sleeves

Peer interview

2011-02-24T13:39:00.000-08:00

OK. So, I'm posting something I did for the first three weeks of the semester for a multimedia writing class. I want to digitize my work so I don't have to keep the paper version.

Anyway, we got paired up and had to do a cover for our interview with each other. We weren't told how we should write it or what media the script is written for. So I had a really long, open-ended, playful tone for my first draft, which is not graded, and here's what I got for my final, which can be good for a TV production, but not necessarily on Radio. Probably best for the Internet, so here goes:

Soon-to-be screenwriter Darryl Lopez is taking Writing For Multimedia at the Academy of Art University this spring. At 25, he has spent his adolescence making sketch comedies, parodies, and other entertaining short-form productions. With all its satirical portrayals of the modern-day quarter-life crisis as we know it, I was thrilled to get to know him better when he said that he's following the footsteps of Judd Apatow, the funny man behind box-office hits like The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, and Funny People.

After three years studying film at the Academy, Lopez realize that his passion is about telling stories that are personal, yet at the same time funny. Using comical elements to its advantage, with a twist of irony, he's determined to create funny yet witty films that people can easily relate to. I recognized that drive behind his serious facade - although stars are glimmering in his dark brown eyes as he was speaking. The more he talks, the more I noticed the darkness of his curly hair, and the more he looks like Seth Rogen.

Except - he's not blonde.

He's very approachable, though. His face was beaming whenever I asked him questions related to the film and entertainment industry, as he's "hoping to make it big" someday. Taking aside overrated moments on the red-carpet, Lopez prefers watching The Onion on Comedy Central than getting the latest updates form the Hollywood buzz, or watching Steve Carrell fooling around in the daily inanities on The Office.

Like most of us,  Lopez practically grew up with American TV sitcom favorites, such as Seinfeld and Friends. I wasn't surprised when he told me he's born and raised in sunny, laidback San jose. Which is cool.

What's cooler is that his dreams are starting to become reality. Recently, he got together with his production partner for an independent feature project, working it all to meet their $5,000 budget. And, by the way, this is the first time they're financing themselves. Still, they have high hopes for making it to the local film festival after its release scheduled this summer.

This feature is going to be about the coming-of-age story of a boy into his manhood, struggling to find his fit in the world outside college. Would he and his friends survive graduating with "traditional majors" that clashes with the modern society's need for innovation today? Are college degrees going to help him earn a steady job that provides sufficient income, guarantees his insurance, and also make the most out of his life? How can he connect these dots with an urge to live out his true passions? Don't we all need to stop saying, "I hate my job" in this economic downturn?

Plus, everybody deserves to live to the fullest.

Is Lopez crafting this believable character as his fictionalized self?

We'll see. In the meantime, let's get to know him a little better as the semester goes, shall we? Let's watch him carefully turn his dreams into reality.

Instructor's Note: Good pace, good focus. 19/20

Spreading my testosterones...

2011-02-19T12:06:00.000-08:00

Just in case you aren't informed or you didn't listen to your Biology lectures in high school, testosterone is a prominent hormone that keeps the male breed functioning. It gets them excited like a dog, it lets them wail their tails when they see a Victoria's Secret model, and it's responsible for the development of healthy sperms fishing around to fertilize your egg, ladies.

Here's the thing. I've got a confession to make. Last month, I visited a gynecologist for the first time, and had the first Pap Smear in my life. Why? Because the last time I had my menstrual cycle was about 4 months ago (from January 2011). I can also tell you something even more outrageous: I only had my period twice last year.

Sounds weird enough? Well, after doing my journalistic research online, I now found out why.

It's not only men who produces progesterone. We do too; just like many other animals. Only that men produces them 10 times more than we do, and that we are more sensitive to the hormone.

There's also an explanation behind why I tend to be very clumsy, careless, ignorant, impatient, afraid of commitment, and like to talk about sex. It's the natural gene I get from birth, that I have a high testosterone as a woman. And probably the fact that I love to play violent pranks with my two older brothers. And that my mother keeps telling me, "You're a girl, not a boy." And that I love to wear shorts and jeans better than skirts. And after all the testosteroney days, I would cry helplessly because I can get very sensitive if emotionally hurt. In other words, imbalanced hormones.

Which is part of a make-up for my personality, with neuroticism high and conscientiousness low out of psychology's Big Five.

In a nutshell, our hormones play a big role in making each of us and our personalities unique.

Anyway, my high levels of testosterones is relatively responsible for my imbalanced menstrual cycle. I mean, they never come at the expected dates each month ever since I hit my puberty. And ever since I changed my physical body into that of an athlete, i.e. body fat percentage 12% last year, I practically skipped one to three periods in some 16~18 months. (Yes, boys are adrenaline and endorphins junkie, aren't they? So am I.)

Then last year, due to personal life reasons, I got into episodes of mild depression and high levels of stress, i.e. cortisol, and gained back some body fat, which is responsible for producing the female hormone oestrogen. I gained so much more body fat just in one year, which is why my progesterone levels were greatly reduced. And I wasn't born this way. I wasn't myself. The progesterone and oestrogen are two main components during a woman's ovulation period, which will determine whether her uterine lining will shed or provide support if an egg is fertilized by a lucky sperm.

Luckily, I have no need to fear more dangerous clinical abnormalities if I'm sexually active for the last 12 months (That's fancy speak for innocence. I mean flower. I mean virginity. Oh my, can't believe I'm saying this out loud. But hey, there's a good reason). My doctor gave me Medroxyprogesterone. Now, progesterone is known as the "pregnancy hormone", and it is released during the body's production of testosterones. My shocking reduction in the levels of testosterones, really, was given a kick in 7 continuous days, popping the pills every night, so that the progesterones can synthesize to line my uterus to prepare for pregnancy, which then I didn't accept any sperm fishing about, which then breaks down into drops of blood, and there I had the period, FINALLY.

Right now I'm still getting readjusted to my usual self. Last year taught me well, even if I decided to be a journalist, using sensationalism or not, I still have to be myself and fulfill the need to satisfy my natural curiosity and to express my self, which is part of the self-actualization needs according to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.

And I do feel that my testosterones are pumping up again, because my muscle mass is increasing again and my body fat, at least around my belly and waist, are almost nonexistent again. My bones feel strong again, and my hips and legs feel like a cheetah again. Oh, and part of having a good short hair-do is feeling androgynous 24/7. Which is beneficial for both sexes, because then you can relate more, and you communicate better, and you'll get great relationships.

My doctor also said that if my period's not coming again this month, I've got to get a blood test. Which is very troublesome. I workout often to keep my endorphins pumping and satisfy my testosterones. Currently that's the only way to meet my physiological needs. But the symptoms followed by the missing periods last year... I'm still struggling to get through them. Things like:

IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome), according to my gynecologist after my Pap Smear test
insulin resistance (which correlates to IBS)
balance of circadian rhythm, stabilize my biological clock
reduced libido (which I'm now maintaining by watching Ok Taecyeon, Jay Chou, and moving into my new apartment that has lots of hot guys)

Meaning, I'm watching what I eat, when I eat, when I exercise, how I exercise, why I love these guys, when I'll meet a lucky sperm, and waiting for my bloodstream to stabilize... Because if it doesn't, woman, you can lead yourselves to infertility!

And, woman, we are not so different than the guys after all, you know? It's good to be androgynous, because hunger, thirst, and sex are the three most basic needs of every reproductive biological organism. We're animals after all, just that we're sapiens. We have the limbic brain working together with our reptilian brain. Now, before I go off topic, let me just close off with why you should keep your hormones in balance by fulfilling your basic needs: They keep you healthy, so don't be shy!

Read more: WebMD: Normal Testosterone and Oestrogen Levels in Women

Legs on high heels? Hair of the mare?

2011-02-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

Hey! What do you know? Turns out that the most attractive feature of a woman is their hair, not a supermodel's neverending legs.

OK. Honestly, the main reason why I chopped off my long, long, long, long hair (up to the top of my butt) was because it's hard to maintain, takes a lot of time to blow-dry, heavy to carry around, always stuck between my layers of clothes, and the fact that I have to keep tying them up (which explains why I always have a hairband around my wrist).

After I cut my hair 3-4 months ago, for the first time since my last short hair-do (2-3 years ago), I feel that I'm wearing the short hair happily, instead of the short hair wearing me. And I just know that I'm going to keep this length for long.

I know it sounds corny, but a woman's hair is so much connected to the woman's emotions more than anyone can think of. Any woman can agree with that. Which is why the salon business is huge. And for that matter, I go to the hair salon once every year, unless there are special occasions that I have to attend, or whatever.

Anyway, the Pantene report concludes the following statistics:

74% of men indicated that they notice women because of their hair.
44% of men surveyed said that hair is the first thing they notice about a woman, more than her clothes (26%), legs (25%), or makeup (4%), and most men surveyed would be more likely to approach a woman at a bar with great hair than a woman wearing a low-cut shirt.
82% of men indicated that sexy hair is a key element to a woman's overall sex appeal.
60% of men surveyed say they would rather date a woman with great hair than a woman with big breasts.
78% of men surveyed consider healthy hair to be a turn-on.

So, you see? From the Martians' point of view, above all the makeup and furry clothes and bling-bling bags and Louboutins, the hair is the most natural feature out of the most obvious things you can spot just by glancing at a woman.

Oh, and one more thing, ladies: Your hair is the only thing out of all those things that is not perishable. Unless you have great quality leather handbags. Or you decided to go bald or something.

Doesn't mean you've got to spend one hour doing your hair! Hey, one thing I love about having some extra air flowing above my neck and on shoulders now is that I'm saving so much time getting out of the bathroom. Which you can use as a 15-minute quickie with your husband or something.

Just kidding!

Cut, cut, cut again

2011-02-17T10:41:00.000-08:00

As promised, I cut my hair. Oh, how even colder it felt, but happy I am, because I can feel easier controlling good posture without heavy hindhair slouching my shoulders.

So Keiko cut my hair again, and I showed her some celeb photos I want to imitate for my cut, though I didn't show pictures of Yamada Yu because I wanted the side-swept bangs.

It was meant to be a wide bob, like this:

But my layers haven't grown that long, so this is the widest I can get. Besides, I won't be liking it that much if it widens my round face. Which I loathe.

Anyway, once it grows up to shoulder-length again, I even already have something else in mind. In the meantime, I want to get some sleep and hibernate throughout the weekend while unpacking the mess in my background, all the stuff I brought since I moved in.

I don't want to be lethargic by next week, when I turn 21. Which I wish is not a big deal. But 21 is a pretty big deal. Oh boy.

Broken home

2011-02-17T10:21:00.000-08:00

Been a year;

Missing homelands.

The end is near,

Where is my home?

Always in transit;

Lived a third of 21 years

in the airport.

When is my next flight?

The whole of me

builds castles among clouds.

Bits and pieces, I have

built.

Why am I here

and also there?

The skies open

endlessly.

I am just

lost in the unbroken.

My home is everywhere, nowhere.

How do I get there?

No, I'm not mad

I'm just a nomad.

A soul left displaced.

What is this place?

"Welcome to Jakarta,"

said the attendant. "Goodbye!"

I stop running

My castle left unfinished

yet again.

If this is my home,

Who's coming?

And who's going to be there?

A pleasant surprise

2011-02-16T12:31:00.000-08:00

It's dark.

My cherry-red lips withstand this cold

biting autumn leaves,

as the crimson sky leaves the day old.

One, two, three… Twelve.

The petals shy, never made love;

"Keep away from direct sunlight," labelled itself.

Who art thou?

Why do you care?

"You'll never know,"

it says, from: Someone Far, Far Away

to my dismay.

What is this?

What is this feeling?

I bit my lip

and count to twelve

then drift myself off to sleep.

In my dreams

as though it seems

My anonymous Valentine is way, way

ahead, somewhere miles away, faraway

in the future:

Who am I?

I feel so close, yet

Where is my love?

You are a mystery.

Springing forward
It's spring.

I stop questioning love next morning

And the lovely new day brings

sunlit roses in my heart now blooming.

Crazy cold V-day and beyond

2011-02-15T23:35:00.000-08:00

Hey. So let me add to my previous post something about my Semester project: Freewriting exercise. It's also called the stream-of-consciousness writing. Basically, the concept revolves round free association, a term for describing the full expression of the unconscious self regardless of how trivial or embarrassing the things you say are. This is one way to discover what is it that ails you, or motivates you, and all the other private feelings you have. And I want to apply that until by the end of the semester.

Freewriting is really just about writing words and letters without any requirement of proper grammar, punctuations, and all that stuff. You just let the pen move to whatever words you perceive at that moment. Write out within a certain time limit, or simply set a specific paper size to fill out completely. Do this for a certain timeframe, and you can pick up the pieces together to discover what are those conflicts between the selfish deed and the selfless superego.

Anyway, getting away from psychology here for a while, I've settled down into my new apartment. It is so darn cold tonight and I am exhausted throughout these past two days of moving about all day long with all my stuff. Oh boy, what I really need is a full-body massage right now.

However, on a very surprising note here, I received a dozen red roses from an anonymous person, which I usually would giddy up and play guessing games in my head like I used to back in high school and all stuff dealing with the boys and the birds and bees. But darn, San Francisco's weather is getting worse by the minute since the night before Valentine's, which was on February 13.

The Weather Channel reports its 10-day predictions with winds and showers. And it looks like my energy went along with it; or maybe it was just the whole thing about moving out and switching myself into a new environment (a much better one, definitely, than downtown San Francisco, right here in Japantown). So I had a pretty hard time giving my usual full attention during class lectures and function the best that I could generally. Seriously, right now I feel my whole body's heating up and all I want to do is just hibernate beneath these five layers of blankets and just completely shut off my consciousness and then collapse on my bed into a dreamy sleep.

Going into dreams here, I still cannot believe the fact that I received those roses, because they're too beautiful for me to take good care of. I myself find it hard to put down how it looks like into words (My camera is somewhere inside the mountains of cardboard boxes in my room right now; I have no energy to unpack everything yet).

There's also an anonymous text message I received that said I only met the sender once, and he apologized for thinking I am a Japanese, because I am a Chinese, and the Chinese had a bad history with the Japanese during the warring times, and then so on and so forth. Which is pretty weird.

When asked what's the favorite Valentine's day movie people do like, most would answer The Notebook, which is also my all-time go-to movie to go dreaming about my mystery guy who would be my future husband. But a classmate got a weird response for our class interview project, where the spokesperson claims that his favorite Valentine's day movie is Elf.

Anyway, the celebration of love and dreams is over now. I'll be getting a haircut soon. That short bob that I mentioned some time ago.

Actually, I've set up an appointment with my hairdresser today, immediately I got off the bus from school. I wasn't prepared; I didn't plan to cut it tomorrow. I didn't think of all this. I am merely exhausted, and the tiredness just pushed me to where I should be right now: Feel lighter, feel better. And that is, literally, by chopping off my hair, get my butt on the Stairmaster, and getting a deep, full-body massage, and spending all day pampering myself at the spa.

Seriously, I haven't felt this tired in years!

Less stuff, less stress.

2011-02-13T12:44:00.000-08:00

Hey. Yeah. So I did a quick breakdown yesterday and made a schedule for my self-evaluation breakdown for the Semester Project (Self-evaluation is a required component of the project, because it has to have useful, helpful, and applicable attributions to my happy, heallthy, and fully-functional life):

3.1-mile runs (total of 12) every week
RHR records (total of 12) every week
Body weight-ins (total of 6) every 2 week
Body fat percentage measurements (total of 4) every 3 weeks
Systolic/Diastolic blood pressure tests (total of 3) every 4 weeks
Grades (total of 3) every 4 weeks (excluding the first progress grade, because that's the starting point)

I'll get more into that in my future posts this semester.

Anyway, I did a major de-cluttering today (and tomorrow too), because I'm finally moving out of my neighborhood here in downtown, where just recently, a man's body was found slain. Just last semester, there's also been 2 fire incidents nearby, whereby policemen found the cases "suspicious". Two semesters ago, the owner of the pizza place right across my building was murdered.

So, you get the idea.

So, anyway, I got a bad news last night from my new roommate. She's not going to be here by the end of March, and so does my other roommates. So I have to go through the trouble to find roommates immediately right after I settle down to my new place starting tomorrow. Phew.

My first thought last night was really, why? why? WHY?

But you know, for the purposes of positive psychology here, I shifted my thought to dreamy things like, hmmm perhaps I will be sharing my unit with a comforting person later, or a hot dude I can cook my meals too, or, you know, wherever my imagination goes.

After I got rid of my table, chair, dresser, bedframe, and desk today, and selling my humongous bags of clothes, I feel so, so, so good. In my new place I'm going to share a bedroom, so I've got minimal space with a private balcony by my side, looking over the city. Oh yeah.

I think the major sources of stress was due to my spatial arrangements, internally and physically, of my room. I know it sounds stupid, but the more space you have around you, and the less stuff you have, and the more organized you are with you and your stuff, your behaviors, in return, will benefit to more positive changes. In my five years of living in the States, I've probably moved around more than 7 times. I think.

Probably my mind is wandering about, trying to fit in to the "right" American culture here. But I finally accepted the fact that I will never fit in. I belong 100% in Asia. (NOTE: Self-acceptance!)

On the other hand, probably it's due to the fact that I'm born in the Year of the Horse. I'm never settled, I love to be free, and my poetries and sketches are all about freedom and liberty, my best friends knew better than to witness my "wild" side, and the fact that I'm just as afraid of commitments as any straight guy.

As a defense mechanism, I love using humor to hide my low conscientiousness (I am very impulsive, which can be either romantic or careless; and I think better on my feet) and high neuroticism (insecurities, instability, ... I can't believe I'm saying this out loud), out of openness, extraversion, and agreeableness (See: The Big Five Factors of Personality Traits). Pretty much like Friends beloved comedian, Chandler Muriel Bing (Oh, that name! Always cracks me up). Yeah, and the defense mechanism I always unconsciously apply to hide my ultra weak, feminine self, oh-so-soft like porcelain and can always break down and cry easily, I tend to cover it all up with lots of negative thoughts, self-denial, and all the major pathological and immature defense mechanisms.

Anyway, I'm letting it go, letting it all go. I don't want no resistance holding me inside, stuffed with bad, puffy air and double the stress. I'd like to use the least defense mechanisms as possible to tackle the endless conflicts between my galloping id and my controlling superego. There's magic in looking at the bright side of tough situations, because I remember that Someone up there is by my side, doing behind-the-scenes work. I'll just have to tackle my problems one by one, spacing out more rather than massing life's stresses, ups and downs, all at once. Gosh, how much of a control-freak I can be?

I think this is what they call sublimation. Somehow, my troubles fade away slowly every time I shift my thoughts to other things I love thinking about.

I'm probably having a full-body massage tonight. Tomorrow's going to be moving day!

Turning a control freak into a self-actualized woman.

2011-02-12T10:46:00.000-08:00

If you have been reading The Blue Boots for some time now, you should've noticed my scientifially-unreliable experiment on having 180-minute cardiovascular exercise a week, and my terminated experiment on 20-minute cardiovascular exercise a day due to personal reasons going on in my life. Consequently, I've also terminated from the national challenge to run 2011km this year.

This year I want to focus on the opposite of stress and pressure: Relaxation. Reduction. Breathing. Inhaling. Rejuvenating. Healing. I believe in the idea that less is more.

This applies to the prominent aspects of my life, including the little inanities of my days. You know, the economy of words, the lower the body weight, the less stuff we have, the reduction of our consumption of any form, and so on and so forth.

In my work, I used to be so impressed with the latest headlines and biggest news stories there ever published. I keep following these news and try to digest them personally, so that I can process them and craft my ideas with them, and turn these information into my own articles. I'm more of the big-picture first than detail-by-detail person, so I like to look at all perspectives first of my subject matter before I make a formal statement. However, before I know it, I got lost in the words I dove in to; different people use different vocabularies, and I realized that the simpler the words used, the better it is for people to understand, because at the end of the day, it's not the words you say that makes you memorable. It's how you make them feel. Maya Angelou knows that better than anyone else.

For example, we can get big stories out of little stories. This applies to almost anyone I meet, no matter how ordinary they are. Most of the time, it's the people who are given the least attention that turns out to be our everyday heroes. And I appreciate how the security in my new apartment building is just the way he is - always positive, always ready to chatter with tenants and strangers alike.

I also think that the way a person dresses, the way he or she puts on clothes to show their skin, is the way they project themselves - and in turn, their behaviors create amazing images of themselves when they have made a terrific impression on somebody else's eyes. If we happen to smile a lot, like the security guard at my lobby, we recite our biological similarities instead of finding our racial, ethnic, and gender differences. This is called positive psychology.

I learned that positive psychology, a new optimistic branch of psychology, is defined as the scientific study of optimal human functioning; aims to discover and promote strengths and virtues that enable individuals and communities to thrive. I believe that using the less is more rule is applicable to anything.

In this case, I'm introducing you to my plans for my Semester Project for my psychology class, which I'm focusing on positive psychology, mainly using internal locus of control, which is scientifically defined as the perception that you control your own fate. In fancy language, it's basically what they call the self-fulfilling prophecy. Now, since psychology is the science of behaviors and mental processes, I don't want to get too philosophical about the metaphysical aspects of the word "prophecy".

During our first class 2 weeks ago, my professor went back to a little bit of Science 101. He explained to us the definitive term of "the placebo effect" we get when scientists perform operational experiments. The placebo effect are causations only by expectations only. "Believe, and you will," he simply said. It's really just like our spiritual faith: We just trust the process, no questions about it.

Sounds simple enough. But if we take that into our internal locus of control, that we believe that we have the right and the power to control our fate towards positive, healthy, and happy expectations, we've established the power of our will, and optimism is as infectious as God's will, just like the smile of a stranger can go viral and make everyone's day just a little bit better.

Before, I told you that I told my professor about my 20-minute a day of cardiovascular exercise hypothesis, that it can increase my GPA, which I was thinking about to make as my Semester Project. But I took it to the next level.

I've always despised those quarterly semester progress grades we get, because it pressures us in terms of how we do in our academic standing so periodically. Now, I'm taking it to its fullest advantage. We'll see how my 4th week (out of 15) reflects my performance. From there, I would be having 2 more consistent progress grades until my instructors determine my final grades.

To help my academic performance, I also included other specific measurements that I can easily control (Since gradings are determined by external factors, not completely internal). This includes 13 paces of 3.1-mile runs, 13 records of my RHR (Rsting Heart Rate), 7 Weigh-Ins on body weight, 5 measurements of body fat percentage, and 3 tests of systolic and diastolic blood pressures, all to be done consistently every week, every 2 weeks, every 3 weeks, and every month.

Here's the breakdown:

3.1-mile runs (total of 13) every week
RHR records (total of 13) every week
Body weight-ins (total of 7) every 2 week
Body fat percentage measurements (total of 5) every 3 weeks
Systolic/Diastolic blood pressure tests (total of 3) every 4 weeks
Grades (total of 4) every 4 weeks

The date that I would officially start accounting this survey would be my birthday on 24 February 2011, when I'll be turning 21 years old. My intention to perform this practical, yet applicable habits (which I'm going to tell you in a minute) is to adopt the good habits that would last a lifetime. For the sole purpose of successful aging in my future years, I'd like to use the above specific measurements, which are basic tests of healthy physiology and maintenance of good homeostasis, to mark my progress as I go along trusting this process we all go through - life.

Breaking the term successful aging further down into bio-psycho-social factors, there are a lot of influences that comes into factor, mainly:

Biological Influences:

no genes predisposing dementia or other diseases
appropriate nutrition

Psychological Influences:

optimistic outlook
physically and mentally active life-style

Social-Cultural influences:

support from family and friends
meaningful activities
cultural respect for aging
safe living conditions

So, when I said I want to apply my personal less-is-more truth I want to realize (make real) out of the placebo effect of this Semester Project, I meant doing optimally in a little portion of my life (just one whole semester) that applies to the length of my lifetime, in other words, learning long-term habits and creating permanent memory that should become good habits I will be turning into my second nature, all these positive psychology learned in such a short time.

These habits include:

8 hours of sleep everyday
shifting negative thoughts everyday
30 minutes of sunlight everyday
1200 ~ 1500 calorie consumption everyday
30 minutes aerobic exercise, 3 times a week
2 meaningful social engagements a week

"Simply put: Humans were never designed for the sedentary, disengaged, socially isolated, poorly nourished, sleep-deprived pace of 21st century American life," said Stephen Ilardi, the man behind TLC (Theraupetic Lifestyle Change).

By now, I think I've established my reasons why I'm doing this. For the practice of successful aging, for optimum health and happiness, for finding the true meaning of my life once I get out of this quarter-life crisis, for the reminder that we all have control of our lives, starting from the day I turn 21.

Now, for specificity's sake, I have 3 specific goals out of this Spring Semester:

Earn A to A- grades for all my classes.
Write about Saluna, my alter-ego, until the name "Saluna" is interchangeable with "Stacia" (i.e. taming my id and optimizing my ego and superego, so self-actualization is applicable here). For the final creative nonfiction project of my Creative Writing class, I'm accounting this semester.
Run a 3.1-mile distance at 15'34", beating my personal best 5k by 1 second.

So, as you can see, I'm also simplifying my workload by doing this Semester Project, because then I don't have to break down my brain into disassociation states for different classes and make my brain work harder than it needs to be.

FYI, Psychology Wiki defines disassociation as a psychological phenomenon in which certain thoughts, emotions, sensations, and memories are separated from the psyche. (See more)

Good enough reasons for the project, eh? By May 16, 2011, I should already become a definition of Homo sapiens, literally meaning "wise man," and with less stress, being officially an adult won't be so difficult as they say anymore, because it's what they say.

And this is what I say: Less is more. It's that simple, scientifically speaking.

Nice beats released this week: 2/10 - 2/17

2011-02-11T22:49:00.000-08:00

All purchases available on Beatport.

1. "Kiunguja" (Original Mix) - Luigi Lusini, Thomas Schwartz

2. "Missing" (Greg Downey Mix) - Everything But The Girl

3. "Love is Darkness" (Original Mix) - Sander van Doorn feat. Carol Lee

4. "Free of You" (Arnej Club Mix) - Arnej feat. Sally Saifi

5. "You Belong To Me" (Original Mix) - Bobina feat. Betsie Larkin

6. "In My Dreams" (Original Vocal Mix) - Lifted Emotion feat. Anastasiia Purple

7. "Believe" (Original Mix) - Running Man

8. "Awake" (Chillout Mix) - Cymatics

9. "Easy To Love" (Original Mix) - M-Box and Ciara Newell

Asian tunes weekly: 2/10 - 2/17

2011-02-11T22:22:00.000-08:00

Apologies for the missing post last week!

I'm still not adjusted to posting the weekly charts yet, so... Gomennasai!

Let's start off this week with a really emo yet melodious Bad Man by the strong, beautiful voice of JOO. For some comedy and lots of entertainment, my friend referred to me I Heart You, an upbeat tune by SM*SH that you can sit still and watch and learn while you shake your head from side to side. I won't say that I'm proud to be an Indonesian from this music video though. Just, no comment. Anyway, let's continue to the Korean culture here with GAVY NJ's Cup of Latte, a pretty warm and sweet treat for anyone's celebrating Valentine's Day in a couple of days! As I drift off with Wilber Pan in my imaginations, I picture him singing U U U to me (And many other celebs too. By the way, has anyone else seen Will Pan's Touch MV that also features 2PM's Nickhun? Oh no. Oh yes. Oh YES I picture both of them on each side of my bed). Finally, for the members of the single club (like myself), don't go off to sleep crying! It's great to be comfortable alone, because somewhere across the universe, Daichi Miura is singing a beautiful Lullaby. Let's celebrate love!

Asian tunes weekly: 1/25 - 2/1

2011-02-01T00:02:00.000-08:00

What Can I Do by Seung Ri (of Big Bang, the super cute boy band. I mean, band with super cute boys) hits the K-pop charts this week since its debut. Since I'm pretty much feeling all low with my PMS this week, I'm hitting it off with So Nice To Meet You, with melodies beautifully sung by See Ya. The new kawaii girl band, Happiness, which I'm sure can melt the heart of any straight men, released a whimsical tune, Happy Talk, which I enjoy when I pretend I'm a princess. This was released quite a while ago, but I still love listening to the softspoken words sung by HOMEMADE KAZOKU, Nukumori. Last but not least is the Taiwanese b-boy Wilber Pan and his not-so-usual slow music, among his hips and hops and all that rappin', Xiao Xiao Ma Yi. Enjoy!

Nice beats released this week: 1/25 - 2/1

2011-02-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

Some of them are released earlier. I just included them because I like them [After all this is my personal playlist that I'm sharing with you readers =) ].

All purchases available on Beatport.

1. "Narco" (Original Mix) - David Newsum

2. "The Far Side" (Original Mix) - Soundprank

3. "Love Lost" (Kim Svard Mix) - Nuera feat. Szen

4. "Disarn Yourself" (Club Mix) - Dash Berlin feat. Emma Hewitt

5. "The Gift" (Tritorial Air Up There Remix) - Norin & Rad. vs. Recurve

6. "Mirage (Of Hope)" (Sied van Riel Vocal Mix) - Hemstock & Jennings

7. "Millennia" - Mat Zo

8. "Pull Over" (Original Mix) - Evol Waves

9. "Alcatraz" (Sequentia Mix) - Stonevalley

"I really do need a girl..."

2011-01-27T13:20:00.000-08:00

"...who would support me," said Jay Chou in a recent Taiwanese interview.

(Source: Asianbite)

Here's a quick PR (Public-Related) update for you about the king of Asian popstars:

Age: 32
Sign: Capricorn
Plays violin, guitar, piano, flute, and cello.

You can tell how dedicated he is to music just by those information. He began to explore the musical world since the age of 3. That's 29 years of wandering about in melodies and rhythms. Consider the following adorable characteristics.

Talented, obviously.
Loves daydreaming ever since he was a kid.
Likes to perform magic tricks.
Hopelessly romantic.
Shy, quiet, and undeniably cool.
Does not smoke.
Does not drink.
Do: DANCE.
Able to deal with his emo (i.e. through his music career).
Cute in his own ways, i.e. the coughing sounds, wearing a hideous hat, and his murmuring sounds.

OK. I'm about to kill myself just by dreaming of him in awe. But, as you may all know, he's recently hit the Hollywood scenes, which is a major breakthrough in his career. His new movie, The Green Hornet, (which I haven't seen, but plans to BUY the DVD [I told you: I BUY all his stuff]), hits theatres today.

He also admits that he had a chemistry with Taiwanese model and actress Lin-Chi Ling.

Ouch, I felt a little jealousy in my stomach. Despite the issue with the man-should-be-taller-woman-should-be-smaller dating rule, he fully expressed his love-conquers-all attitude, shrugging off the media with a simple reply: "We're the same height, really." Standing at 173 cm, along with his talents and other attributes, he's a perfect living description of the most-of-the-most perfect perfection.

He expressed the following criteria for his supportive girl: "She must at least understand my music and we can communicate."

"For someone like me, who puts an emphasis on my career, I really need a girl who will support me. I hope there is such a girl, apart from my mother."

Help. I'm melting off into the nothingness of entertainment news.

WARNING: From hereon, you'll delve into nothing but my fiction. I'm switching on my non-PR mode (non Public [you, reader of this article] -Related). Purely for any blog-jumping, compulsive-consuming reading entertainment (And words and letters for my Jay in the context of love, i.e. not a boy-crushed man-crazy fanletter). (After all, isn't that what the art of fiction is all about?).

Urgh. I just want to pinch his cheeks so that they turn pink and let him embrace my bubbly pink sleeves. Because of him I made it 100% huggable.

Dear Jay,
When I first listened to you, you seemed uncool to me. As a matter of fact, I pretty much judged you by your melodies instead of your musical content. It seemed pretty mainstream to me, and I like variety in music.

And then I started listening to Qing Tian, my very first listen. I know it's so popular, so I was quite curious why everybody was so crazy about it. You and your murmur-rapping thing going on - I thought it's just a matter of trying to be cool, which is uncool.

I cannot recall how I came to appreciate your music, but it grew very slowly, pretty much like love. I listened from one track to another, and coincidentally, my eldest brother, who is just as shy and quiet as you but really cool sometimes, is a fan of your music. My closest cousin, too, who's the perfect opposite of shy, quiet, and cool, is a big fan of yours. He's always updating his library with your music. He has a special playlist of all of your music, just like I do.

And so I started listening to your stuff more and more, and I kept watching your videos, following news about you, and followed-up to your consistent annual album releases. It just goes to show how serious you are with your work.

And then I buy your albums. And I kept buying them. And I buy them some more. Before I knew it, I'm in love with your music (And other facts about you, from what I heard in the news).

I know your real-life love stories are media-magnets, which is why I don't trust them, even if the sources are sources I trust. I've never met you in my entire life, but hopes to meet you someday, even if it's just us being in the same same room (that is, probably you having your concert and me watching you among the billions of fangirls out there). After all these years getting to know you through your music and through the scrutinizing eyes of the public, I gradually built up my castles in the sky into a realistic one. I became a media communicator (Guess what? My major is in communications!), though I still cannot understand why I became one, except for the fact that I'm the first-listener of all stories.

All those stories I've heard about you, filtered by my distrust of rumors about you, empowered by your positive attitude through your work - it seemed as if my castle, my work, can turn into a reality. As crazy as it may seem, your perfectionistic attitude made me to believe in my daydreaming about you that you are a trustworthy lover in romance. You maintained a good public image in your work and real life, your hardworking personality is like a straight-A schoolboy continuously making your mom proud, your East-meets-West music making a revolution and powerful influence to the industry of music, spreading across Asia and probably, someday, all over the world, all without you realizing your own power. That's what so cute about you, even though you're about a third older than my age.

I, too, puts an emphasis on my career, though in my special case of being a woman, I sometimes lose myself in my work, because if I have to choose, I would just rather go on with life searching for the right man for me and support him for all my life rather than working by myself until I die. In your case, I've died many times melting in your music and is still able to live and breathe normally. That's pretty amazing, considering that I listen to your music whenever I'm awake and when I'm about to sleep.

In many ways, your music is just like my work. It's undoubtedly art; a juxtaposition of rhythms you create with you he-he-ha-hi (Shuang Jie Gun, Ban Shou Ren, et cetera), your Pop/R&B beats that undoubtedly sell in the context of popular music in this modern era, but extrapolated with lingering theories of classical music that undoubtedly sell in the context of timeless music, comparable to the classics composed during European Romantic era, which is why I never get bored listening to your music. For fun and joy, I even sing your songs in public and in the showers, sang your songs on stage in high school, played your music in the piano, and permanently learned to rap Ren Zhe.

And you know what I think? I think that, with your unconventional ways of telling your truth (as opposed to other celebrities), you're trying to tell it in a positive light, sans unhealthy manners, drug-free attitude, and all the more loving words you juxtaposed in your musical content. Maybe you're trying to recreate a movement for the next generation so that the little children who Ting Ma Ma De Hua would look up to you with all their smiles. Whatever your ultimate goal is, your music has inspired many people across the world to do RIGHT, not exactly like the perfectionista that I am (just like you), but at the very least, you've created another world of your own, where people can never be ashamed of living their realities by dreaming forever.

All I'm trying to say here is, I will never stop supporting you! Plus the following information:

I'm 5 cm shorter than you.
I'm so much lighter than you, i.e. you can piggyback me.
I can sing with you and play with your pink piano, and I can dance with you.
I don't drink. I don't smoke.
And I trust you!

Please take off your hat (and your shirt) and show off your confidence forevermore!

Truly forever yours, 何沁芸

Asian tunes weekly: 1/17 - 1/24

2011-01-25T00:48:00.000-08:00

For my love of music, I'm including a separate music chart here: Combination of 5 songs in Chinese, Korean, and Japanese.

I'm sorry, I just have to include Jay Chou in the first post of this series, even though I already had Zi Dao Zi Yan months ago when I bought his album immediately after it was released in May 2010. Yes, I buy all of his albums, I don't download. He's the king of Asian music, for God's sake (and the king of my fictional kingdom aka my dreams). Newly released I Promise You by Park Hyo Shin is a pleasant tune for the melancholics, or anybody out there who's feeling quite emo for the week. Stay is a catchy one stuck on the MNET chart for weeks now, making a debut for the new boy group MBLAQ a success. If you need something happy, you won't miss anything from EXILE, particularly with I Wish For You. Lastly, remembering my childhood fangirl moments with kawaii teenage boybands, Be As One is melodic enough to bring back those memories while looking back at w-inds. and their breakthroughs in the J-pop industry all these years.

Nice beats released this week: 1/17 - 1/24

2011-01-24T23:56:00.000-08:00

Introducing to you... Nice beats released - a weekly chart I'm regularly posting in music. Part of the reason why I do this is I tend to update my iTunes on a very regular basis to soothe my ears as I walk, jog, or run with my iPod shuffle, a total of 9 must-listens that I want to share with you readers.

All songs are available for purchase through Beatport.

1. "Mood Swing" (Original Mix) - Simon Patterson

2. "Promised" (Emotional Mix) - Daniel Kandi

3. "My Enemy" (Rank 1 Remix) - Super8 & Tab feat. Julie Thompson

4. "Departures" (Cosmic Gate Remix) - Robbie Rivera feat. Lizzie Curious

5. "If Only" (Original Mix) - Vito de Santis, Soulforge

6. "Fly Into the Night" (Antillas & Dankann Mix) - Schodt feat. Aida Fenhel

7. "Future Cities" (Intro Mix) - Markus Schulz

8. "The Greater Good" (Marcus Schossow Remix) - Judge Jules

9. "Smile First" (Original Mix) - Matthew Nagle

"Mental" people: Labeling as propaganda for bad publicity

2011-01-22T21:30:00.000-08:00

Since the novel is based on the author's real-life experience, Coelho questioned himself in the third chapter: How do I put these information in the right way? As in, properly?

When any government, or any church for that matter, undertakes to say to its subjects, 'This you may not read, this you must not see, this you are forbidden to know,' the end result is tyranny and oppression, no matter how holy the motives. Mighty little force is needed to control a man whose mind has been hoodwinked; contrariwise, no amount of force can control a free man, a man whose mind is free. No, not the rack, not fission bombs, not anything—you can't conquer a free man; the most you can do is kill him. - Robert A. Heinlein, author of Stranger in a Strange Land

Coelho does not wish to label this other Veronika as "Veronika the lunatic", which no doubt anyone would say is pretty rude. Really; since when do individuals have the right to put a label on one another? Unless it's under a totalitarian government, like a Big Brother world of 1984, individual existence remains unique to their own will.

Coelho considered changing the main character's name, thinking ahead for possible future publicity issues that may come with the real-life Veronika, but he ended up using the real one. Also, he had another friend called Veronika who showed up only briefly at this point of the book, only expressing her sympathy for the so-called "lunatic" people. This other friend is also the daughter of the doctor-in-charge of the asylum where they kept the Veronika, our main character. Upon hearing Veronika's treatment in the asylum, she replied by explaining to the reader that the word 'asylum' comes from the Middle Ages, from a person's right to seek refuge in churches and other holy places. The right to asylum is something any civilized person can understand. And as we've learned from my previous post, obviously, the nurse didn't realize that Veronika, a patient under treatment in the asylum and socially-labelled as "insane", actually have the right to make a decision to die, especially when she does not suffer from any degree of mental disorders. She is just that: A perfectly healthy woman who decided to die and had the individual right to do so.

Placing labels on individuals are essential in identity politics. Yet all foreigners in a foreign land would recognize the feeling of being ostracized - You come from somewhere faraway, but they know you are still on the same globe. But they focus on your faraway factor. In an increasingly Big Brotherly world, stepping in to this new land with new people, you are "supposed" to bring to the table the place where you come from, leaving little room for the expression of the self, which always have the right to roam elsewhere, anywhere. To illustrate Veronika's resentment letter about Slovenia, here's a great talk about the struggles of a Turkish fiction writer who's "labelled" as the faraway lands of Turkey.

Part of why Coelho decided to write this novel was not only because for the love of writing (not because he's "just doing his job"), but mainly for those artistic expressions that can manifest itself through the act of writing. Any writer knows what to tell in order to tell the story best, and what needs not. He wanted to share to the reader his past experiences surrounded in such mental institutes, as he was kept in an asylum, too, thrice in his life - and vowed never to go back again. He made a decision to "touch publicly on the issue", that is, writing about it, after his parents are dead, just so he will not worry about them getting hurt. As the art of writing involves a lot of situation-manipulation, he found that writing Veronika's personal story also coincides with his personal promise to write about his being committed to mental hospitals, of reasons which he still found pretty odd. Part of the desire to write is to tell his own story, and the other part is simply disclosing the knowledge he learned from this magnificent, character-driven true story.

I feel that I'm telling Saluna's journalistic story for the same reasons. To be continued...

Rules are meant to be broken.

2011-01-22T20:02:00.000-08:00

When Veronika wakes up, she's in a national asylum best-known for lunatics-gone-wild stories published in the press. As her body is rejecting her, the nurse in her accompaniment shared a personal story that she thought might relate to her, but in truth, it doesn't, because that nurse doesn't understand in the first place the underlying reasons why she, Veronika, decided to commit suicide - comparing her "stupid" actions to her aunt's.

Everybody has different reasons for their set of actions. A decision is a will. No one can judge. Each person knows the extent of their own suffering or the absence of meaning in their lives, Veronika thought. Even if the nurse is trying to help, she took the wrong step to make a snap judgment of Veronika and her decision to die, judging her specifically as a patient in the asylum, but not wholly as a person.

As a nurse, the job is to take responsibility for one's healthcare, and for people who are merely thinking that they're just doing their job in this life, it's sad for a character like Veronika to think about her - What is the point of doing their job if they haven't have the human interest? What if she had shown some respect to the decision another soul different from hers has made? What if she lose her job unexpectedly one day, say, a layoff due to the poor economy, and going on with life but still holding on to her judgment about suicides, never gaining a different perspective? What will she do then, after losing her job? Does she have an ulterior will? Even if suicide is a taboo, a "rule" by many traditions, Veronika decided to heck with it.

"Rules are mostly made to be broken, and are too often for the lazy to hide behind." Sir Douglas MacArthur

Without further ado, laying motionless yet mindfully restless, Veronika felt powerless, much like Saluna. As a journalist, her mind is always thinking about the whirlwinds of stories spreading all over the press, as translated into the flashy headlines of our modern communications systems. There are so much tragedies going about, leading to too much information overload, and she felt that, out of the billions of people still living and breathing in this world, someone has to do something.

Within the last century our world population has also risen up dramatically to 7 billion, according to a special report featured in the January 2011 issue of National Geographic. As third world countries like India and China, the world's most populous countries, also rose to power comparable to the economic equivalent of United States, natural resources left to use for energy, such as oil, food, and cleanwater are put into question. "Increased global consumption may stress the planet more than population growth does as income rise," and so I thought, even if you have a job that provides you with all the income and access to these necessities in life for you to continue working, that is, "doing your job", but coming with the cost of losing Earth as our global home in the process - it's like a long-overdue suicide for all. If we don't have a home, where will we cease to exist? Which happens if the rate of GDP growth remains as the main determinant for the population's appetite...

Let's say that Saluna is not alone. Millions of helpless people who are trying to protect the Earth or delay end-of-the-world situations as we know it are turning themselves into entrepreneurs everyday, creating a series of success stories to impress the press, and even further stories for the press to stamp committers of suicide as "lunatics". There is no doubt that entrepreneurs practice the general rule of breaking the rules. They've set their hearts and souls and made a purpose in their lives, doing something actually relevant for a global cause, and therefore can rest in peace once they die, leaving a legacy in the footprints they've left behind when alive. However, if the people they serve continue to grow exponentially, and there is no other systematic way to serve our wills other than mass management, then the world would continue hungering for GDP growth, intangible asset dependent, getting lost in liquidation, not seeing life through a more careful eye.

Let alone with the pair of physical eyes. Are we blinded by the press? What if, just what if, the nurse who just tranquilized Veronika back into a dreamless, unconscious state, had someone saying to her that the "rule", the part where she "is just doing her job", was to die? Like someone turning her course in life abruptly by saying "Go and die!" and she really, stupidly jumped off the rooftop without further questions and "just doing her job"?

We always have a choice to read between the lines, and that is why Saluna took the redpill. To be continued...

Geijutsu wa Nagaku; Jinsei wa Mijikashi.

2011-01-22T18:46:00.000-08:00

Front cover

I grabbed Veronika Decides to Die (by Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho) from my dusty bookshelf to begin with, out of my many online reading challenges I'm participating in 2011. I've always loved reading ever since I was a kid; but I got off the way a couple of years ago.

I bought the book so many years ago and I borrowed it to a number of people, and they've returned it to me, having read the book, and I myself haven't read it after all these years. Since I'm also doing my reading challenge, I'll be posting some reviews about the subjects explored within these books I read. Sort of like book reviews; just from a personal standpoint, and perhaps for inspiration plotting fiction as a writer. Especially with my character, my role-play, Saluna the Student.

I've just flipped through the first few pages, finishing the first chapter. She was just going through a period of self-exploration, spending some time in full consciousness, thinking about life in general, after taking doses of sleeping pills and waiting for her body to die slowly. Choosing this method shows her feminine method of dying - rather than jumping off the roof and such. Questioning God's existence, she probes readers hard, philosophical questions. Much like my character, Saluna. It was mentioned that Veronika watches the TV, reads the newspapers, and knows thoroughly what's going on in the world, and her powerlessness to help reaffirms her decision to commit suicide, despite knowing it is a "taboo", to hell with traditions. In which case, by the end of the chapter, her body rejects her, and then she completely lost her consciousness.

Sarah Michelle Gellar as Veronika

She decided to make her last act before death as writing a letter to the magazine she was reading while waiting for the minutes to go by before her death, because the journalist started the article she was reading with a very stupid question: "Where is Slovenia?" Homme, the magazine she's referring to, is published throughout Europe, so it's a stupid idea to start the first line of an article.

As to how it relates to me, I tend to have some degrees of feeling inclined to write long, boring letters explaining where Indonesia is in the map of the world to Americans when they asked me where it is. One time, the reply I get from saying "right on the Equator", was: "Where is the Equator?"

If I were to put myself into Veronika's position, deciding to die, after tiresome ponderings on life-and-death situations, I would've had the same patterns of thoughts in my head: What would it matter if the headlines on the newspaper frontpage is this absurd? A middle-aged woman writing a letter to a magazine as a suicide note, without specifying the reasons for her suicide. After all, with the other bombarding news stories we are receiving day by day, would it really matter?

芸術は長く人生は短し。- Japanese Proverb

It doesn't matter. There are a lot of issues that can be put to better use when fully expressed with thoughtful words, especially if it's best expressed in different languages, much like the saying I quoted above. (Romaji is the headline of this post). Other things are just better left unsaid, and death is a lifelong silence.

Translated directly, it is: Life is short, and Art long.

Life is short, and Art long; 

the crisis fleeting; experience perilous, and decision difficult. 

The physician must not only be prepared to do what is right himself, 

but also to make the patient, the attendants, and externals cooperate.  - Hippocrates

Even if the world is going crazy, that is, the externals ceases to cooperate, Veronika shouldn't have taken the sleeping pills. Otherwise, there won't be future stories coming from her psyche. It would pretty much be equivalent to Saluna taking the bluepill as her final decision, which is dreaming forever and never finding out the truth.

つづく。。。The last time I wrote about Saluna through MyWOTD, I reported to you her tragic death swallowing the redpill. To be continued...

(4) Love Letter

2011-01-20T02:16:00.000-08:00

Letter to Juliet

Thursday, 20 January 2011

Dear Juliet:

I am still dreaming of the beautiful film my Romeo and I shall play for the rest of our lives. Although, I now realize that soul-searching, in reality, do not involve speaking in its truest, most romantic forms as the written words does.

Human beings, carrying their souls on Earth speaks its best self through body language. Words, unspoken.
They say it best, when they say nothing at all, like Ronan Keating said to all of us in his musical lyrics.

Tell me Juliet:

Should I tell him my secrets? My soul? His mystery? The truth?
Will he get my spoken and unspoken words?

A woman's heart is an ocean-deep of secrets, and you know that best, Juliet.
Which is why, this is me, as a wife, and my definition of innovation: multi-functional purpose; if, ever, a human being can turn into a techified slave for love, swimming in the sea of mysteries.

zzzzzzzzz

Letter to MISTER Y.

To: Future husband (Identity unknown until further investigation), no date

Hello MISTER Y. It’s been a while since I last wrote a letter to you.

Well, here’s the thing: Despite my hopelessly romantic words from my previous letters, on a day-to-day basis, of course I don’t speak that way, do I?

Which brings why I sent a mysterious letter, or should I say, a letter to you, my mystery man, to the Collective Experience... And the public will never know who you are. Here's what I told the dove to fly away with:

To: Future husband (Identity unknown until further investigation), no date

I don’t know who you are, but I know you’re somewhere out there. Or somewhat. Or somehow. Just like you always say that I’m really something.

To date, I’ve writ these words in no date, just as there is no expiration date for love that’s everlasting.

I am crafting my story because of you. Let me be your novel. Or your novelty. You can have both at a time, or nothing at all. I am just fine in solitude, though I can always be better when I’m with you.

I love the way you read me, in every way that you see me, no-matter and how-ever hard I tried using the playful arts to hide myself, with you always watching over me like this, nature’s always fooling me back into love, pulling me back to your attention.

You read my lips,

things written in my eyes,

You read me

from the written things

I show to the world out there,

You respond through

rewriting what has been written,

And you watch me over, and over again.

I blush everytime I realize that you are watching over me with that smile. Everytime I see other people, I mention how mysterious you are.

As I lie down and cry myself to sleep, I am missing you, the kind man I remember to have never met.

Because it is from losing my mind that makes my true facade behind this masquerade.

I am truly and only who you see, just as love is to lose our minds and believe in something we work for together, for living together, in times of harmony and hardships forevermore. Is it what they call when two hearts be-come as one?

Yet as I cry with gratitude to have you by my side, right here, right now, I know that whenever gravity pulls me down, I’ll fly high as I can, galloping the highway towards where my freedom roams. Oftentimes, it’s inside of you.

Set me free, honey, and I’ll light your fire for life. I promise.

It shall be open to the public, along with many other love letters written by other hopeless romantics out there.

It can't be helped. In love, there are just too many ways to convey words of love, baby. So beware: Looking ahead, you’ll be receiving many kinds of love letters from me, just because I love to speak in different tones AND different tongues.

For this one letter, I’m speaking sexy with you, my hunny bunny.

Let me present to you an oath: I do not just to provide a home for you, but also everything else in between - In between the sheets, and in between the many roles I shall play, in life AND in bed. (What do you wish me to wear tonight?)

When you get home from work and you haven’t eaten anything good throughout the day, don’t worry – I’ve cooked, especially for you.

Or is it? That shall remain a mystery.

If you happen to be tired from work, shall we go for a quickie ride? Or, if you’re extremely tired, shall I give you a quick rub? A massage? With oil? Your wish is my command.

Or is it? That shall remain a mystery.

However, I’m dedicating our weekends for quality time with love – with God, i.e. Sunday School. Our kids are still my number one. You’re up second on the list. Hey, they need me more than you do.

I am their home. Thanks for all the sex, you’ve helped me create amazing new lives to nurture.

So it’s workweek again. Okaerinasai. What else do you need? Food? Check. Playtime? Check. Any more functional apps I should be downloading for future purposes? You’ll never know what I can do, baby. You’ll never know.

Which is the ultimate Master Control button from the many functional buttons on my body? You’ll never know where it is exactly to touch me. It's my sweetest spot, just as mysterious as you are.

So, there you have it - you can never go about life feeling dissatisfied. You can never get lost in life. You can never ever in our many years of marriage feeling that something’s missing, like many of the failed marriages we are having in this world. And you will never go out from home looking for one-night stands, or hookups with hookers, because you’ve got the whole package right here in the comfort of your sheets. And all the more fun stuff in your many nights to come, with me. Be it in bed, in the living room, in the kids’ bedrooms; everywhere. Let's get wild.

Rawr.

A happy dream tale

2011-01-20T00:06:00.000-08:00

For all the happy-ever-after believers out there, here's a read for you.

When you grow up, who do you want to be? Since I'm pretty much still stuck in my quarter-life crisis, I don't know much about who I am. In fact, if you hack my Facebook account and ask 80% off my Friend list to post a testimonial, you'll pretty much get mixed reviews. Sadly, that's what a crisis is.

Charisie here wants to be happy. Glad to know that. Here's my happy story. Well, it's not a happy story, it's more a story about happiness.

Princess

Growing up as a little girl, I was thought in the public eye as daddy's little princess, just because there are two big bodyguards (i.e. brothers) that I can hold my hands with, and a dad with thriving business, plus a cool young mom. Although, I'm never really that spoiled, because every time someone does something "wrong" in the presence of my mom, I would act the "right" way that I should.
Let me illustrate my point. I remember a random occasion when my parents and I are out together as usual, as weekends have always been family day, and guess what's new? The little princess gets all the shopping treats, even though I've never felt that I need that much stuff. We were choosing socks, and my mother asked me which one looked nice. I liked a white colored one, with no frills, no patterns, no nothing, and then my mother chose the other colorful one for me. And then I say, "That one." Somehow, I felt the need to satisfy my mom. And have always been ever since.

My mommy equals to reality. The word "mommy" to me is synonymous to "control". It's reality check, because one thing I know about myself is that I practically daydream 24/7.

OK. So I still get all the Polly Pockets and Barbie McMansions and Sailor Moon action figures everytime I aced an exam, and that's what I came to love doing - studying.

Control

My personal bodyguard, and
a role my brothers are
addicted to playing

Call me a nerd. But you discover so many things in the written word and math formulas applicable to real life, in general, once you solve all your problems handed in to you. There's a reason why it's called Applied Sciences. It's like RPG - You pose as someone, and then you become strategic, and then you come back to reality and you see yourself as Cloud Strife trying to save Shinra, i.e. the evil empire of the world. I guess it's one of the reasons why I've switched my aspired profession to journalism and writing, you know, as mediators.

I won't say I've been doing journalism in the past when I never knew such a profession even exists. It was more like writing words in meaningless jumbles, with tons of redundancies, which is pretty much what I always do during my transition from a little girl to a bigger girl, i.e. puberty: Blogging. Only difference now is that back then, it was a breeding ground for me to vent, to complain, to cry my loudest out of teenage drama stories, including my tearful bites of reality. I was even sued once by my homeroom teacher for saying some unethical stuff on my previous blogs, when I was about 15 years old or so, and that was one of those life lessons I know I will never forget: Be picky with your words. (Right now, she's actually one of the most identifiable teachers in my life. She's as picky in choosing question words when designing exam questions, as much as I do pick my words, and as picky as I am choosing a boyfriend too). Miss L, if you're reading this, let me just say that I'm not kissing-ass: Your pickiness has made me into a detail-oriented person.

Tide

A tide breaks.

OK. Get away from the study room for now, and let's go back to princess land at home. One day, there comes the tide at its peak, standing in your way towards the ocean's horizon. Some may call that big wall ahead as a failed marriage, others would just say it's the usual dry season after the first honeymoon phases of marriage life. Personally, I don't believe in families that can thrive without good parenting coming from both heads of the members. It's like teamwork in a mini-tribe - even if your leaders don't get along, both sides should know whatever their responsible for in order for the project to be successful. Or, in tribal situations, merely a matter of survival of the fittest.

Like Leo Tolstoy's infamous beginning line for "the best ever written" novel, Anne Karenina: "Happy families are all alike; unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

And so little baby girl not only has to study even harder, but also learn how to be a tough female, leading a driven life, with a strong purpose. Why? Because I thought it was my will. Because I felt it's my responsibility. Because it's all to slick em elephant-sized glue so that all the broken pieces of my family photograph can come together again. Here's the picture: I was sitting down on the bed, with my brothers on each side, and my parents sitting cross-legged ahead of me, and we're all playing cards and munching on grapes and drinking wine late at night, and then my mother would ask me to play the horrible cha-cha cassettes and dance with my dad like silly schoolkids. And then they would all lie to me that the grape seeds I've swollen would grow into a giant plant someday inside my stomach, and I believed them. Because I was 8. And I drank wine.

When I was 10 or so, I distinctly recall a night like that, where I had a glue in my hand to put back all the pieces of that photograph, which is unlike many other weekend nights, because it was, strangely, not as a happy as the many nights before. On the late evenings every weekend, our family days tend to end with a single night's stay at a random five-star hotel, just to experience living in them - their swimming pools, their saunas, their many other luxury services, and at the end of the day, little princess gets to be the judge.
"Here, take a bite," said my mom and dad during a particular dinner night at a buffet restaurant, in some hotel I can't remember. It was the first time I saw a raw, pink fish served as an edible food. It was a salmon sashimi. It had a greenish gooey stuff with a tray of soy sauce, which I learned later called the wasabi (and made me cry). I took a bite, without the wasabi and soy sauce. Their eyes both looked deep into mine. I munch, munch, and keep on munching. They were watching me very closely. It tasted so soft and moist and fresh in my mouth. Once I gulped the pieces, it left a taste I became addicted to up till today. And right then and there, they said, "You know how rare it is people can eat this?" I shook my head. Now? Yeah right. Back then, Japanese food wasn't as trendy as it is today. "Glad you loved it. Keep on taking more servings. That fish makes you smart," said my mom. And they both looked at each other and smiled.

But then, one particular night, when I was lounging in the sauna room with my mom, not long after the big tide has come and my big brothers and I eavesdropped all the noises coming from the master bedroom, I had a really brilliant idea: I got up from the hot and steamy bubbles, and then I fell down on the slippery floors, and I got hit hard on the head, and it all became quite blurry. I was unconscious for 1, 2 minute. And when I woke up again, my mother, without any hesitation, called up my dad. And right there in my head I was happy again; since it's been a while since the last time I felt happy being told a lie that grapes would grow inside my stomach. They talked... They talked! And everything will go back to normal again.

Dead

Alas, it's not that simple. It grew worse throughout the years. When one day, my mother would ask me whether I can remain happy staying with only one parent by my side. I said I don't know. I really didn't know. And right now, as I'm sitting here typing down these words I carefully picked out from my English dictionary, I finally knew: No, I can't.

If all the weekend family trips and staying together for the mere purpose of looking like they're still together and "doing it all for the kids", then I can't truly be happy.

For the whole year of 2010, I've been searching everywhere to find back that spark of happiness all by myself. I thought that with money, I can bring back happiness into my mother's life and take her on trips around the world like she has always dreamed to venture upon. And then I can let my father be proud of what I've accomplished, and my brothers would lead their own lives with aspiring careers alike, and we'll all come back to our hometown happy as a clown. With money, you can be anything you want. With money, you can be whoever you want to be. I would be the glue of my family, and everything will be fine.

Suddenly, dating is not a part of my life anymore, as you might have read my little singlehood memoir. I am the glue of the family, I am the last hope to bring back all the pieces together. All of my family members suffered that much alone, now, broken in their own worlds. I listen to the many stories from my mother; I became the private ears of both of my brothers; I even sympathize my dad, because I've finally gotten to know him after having absolutely no relationship with him for soon-to-be 21 years of my life, except for the daily costs of living.
"I don't want you to end up like me," he said. And I wondered why, because he makes so much money. With money, you can be whoever you want to be, right? "You should do what you love, and not be stupid and quit school and go make money like daddy," he continued.

Trust me; many thoughts of quitting school and getting a job have crossed into my head throughout the year of 2010. And many more life-and-death situations too. How can I bring them back? How? I would do anything just to make them all happy again. I would even quit my life just to make them all happy together, and, even better, bring them all back together into one mended photograph once again.

I cried my worst on 2010 Valentine's day, hearing my father's voice. I spent my Valentine's day evening calling up my eldest brother, my second brother, my mother, and my father, who are all in different places in different timezones throughout the world. "I love you, Yin, please don't cry anymore." He slowed down his voice, which was transmitted onto my phone far, far away from China. "Don't make yourself too hard, because money can come later. You must become happy, okay?" Honestly, I didn't count how many times he said "I love you", but it felt good to hear that from someone I barely even know.

And then, on the other line, my mother, who just woke up in Indonesia, said, "Actually, I'm glad you are learning how to make money. But don't let that interfere your grades in school." See? Reality check.

Home

Plus, Asian mothers are unpredictable. They want the best of the best stuff for their children. Even more pressure for the daughter, and yet more pressure for the only daughter in the family - because becoming a lady means the ability to build a home and nurture the home throughout their lives, just like any other mother. They nag; they scorn; they criticize; and worst of all, they like pinching your chubby cheeks even when it turns red with all the pinching already, and then say, you're so fat. If you've ever read or watched Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club, you'll know what I mean. Or, for that matter, any of Amy Tan's stuff. Her stuff is good stuff.

But one thing's for sure: Their love is undying. They would give up anything for the child. Even if it's their lives.

Knowing that their children is always safe and sound, living happy lives, that's then that they know they've lived a good life. As much as I've always loved baby pets and little children (besides how cute they are), I came to have a really big dream: Becoming a mother. Yes it's hard to build a home, and it takes a lifetime to nurture one. But the joy of looking after a life you've created? It's more than money and all the fortune you can get.
I mentioned on dreaming of having many children by my side to my mom, and she just pinched my cheeks and said, "You don't even have boyfriend yet and you want children. You crazy ah."

Because really, all that dating stuff really doesn't matter that much anymore, especially once you switched your brain into the world of journalism. Out of the many nights I came to think about life-and-death situations, I finally realized that there was no one else other than my own will to satisfy. It's just like getting picky about my word choice - You see the word headings for these paragraphs I've written? Princess, Control, Tide, Dead, Home... If I happen to add adjectives, conjunctions, or any other additional word with these headings, they can exemplify totally different meanings of the following paragraphs they represent.

Romantic Comedy

I used to think that my purpose of getting an education abroad is to experience the world outside of my borders, see the imaginations in my head from all the stuff I've read from my studies, and then earn a living by actually earning it, working hard for it; not by going the easy route - inheritance and marriage. Like a princess finding a prince from some faraway land and live happily ever after.

Right now? Sure, I still feel that it's my responsibility to be the ultimate glue to put back all the broken pieces of my family. Sure, I still feel the greater expectations the general society now has for whoever you are, for whatever you do. Sure, I still feel that I have to put on a tough female facade every single day, for fear that no one will ever find out just how weak and frail I am, putting on a smile everyday that no one ever gets what the smile is for, or just why I can never open up my mouth and ask for help.

But, as from my singlehood years I've learned, and from the family photograph I'm still trying to mend, and also from the major I've recently switched my brain to, the truth is, I really am weak. And after all these years that I couldn't accept that fact, I've finally given up. I had never been good at maintaining my Type A personality in working-life situations for long, although I'm pretty much a control freak in all other aspects of my life, usually the trivial stuff, like cooking.
Of course I need some sperms to fertilize my egg in order to build a family and have all the little children by my side, and the simple yet beautiful home we can all live in. If there's no sperm, there's no child. And in part to glue-stick the letters of the word 'f a m i l y' together into a single piece of photograph, it requires getting along for a lifetime with that sperm-owner, which I'm still unable to identify who, so that my dad would finally be proud of what I've accomplished, and my mom would earn back her long-lost happiness, and that I'll quit my job as a princess who acts tough all the time. Maybe there's no way to break the tide at this point now, as it's too heavy of a weight we've all carried with ourselves over the years those grapes have been growing inside my body, but I guess there's a way in re-creating a family of my own, with little cute children who I can spoil. I would give up my dream job as a journalist just to see the children who are made up of my own flesh and blood and bones.

That said, I also believe in self-fulfilling prophecies. Whatever you believe in, the universe conspires your will. That's why the word is called affirmation. So that later in life, you can confirm it.

Now I know that not every word found in the dictionary can turn itself into reality, no matter how much I've studied, no matter how many A grades I've earned post grad.

Dream

No, I'm not merely satisfying my mother's tastes of colorful socks anymore. In matters of giving birth to live, and in life-and-death situations, there was no one else other than our own will to satisfy, just like getting picky about word choice - though dream is such a powerful word.

Taking all the modern feministic expectations aside, and taking down the tough facade I've put on for so long, my dream has always been to become a really great writer, and I've committed myself to writing about happy-ending stories. If it's an unhappy episode, it shall be a series until it ends up happy.

I also dream to become a mother. As a control freak, I can have multiple orgasms just by having everything at home under control, and then everything in the little house is made as perfect as possible. Like juxtaposing slides and bites inside a journalistic story, housekeeping requires good content AND presentation. Like a good game with good enough graphics. Like Final Fantasy 7. And a good hubby, which is a lifetime boytoy, and the children I dream about since the yesteryears.

I want to become a housewife. Perhaps a good career as a home-working writer, but 100% dedicated to the sperm-owner and fellow life-giver to the flesh and bones that came out of my womb.

I want to become a sexpert (please don't laugh). Along with that, a runner, a dancer, an actress, a comedian, and everything else a princess dreams of, even though it is so damn hard for me to put down the tough act.

At least, if I do get all these dreams come true, the faces on my family's photograph would turn into a smile, even though they're left in pieces.

Baby: A Trivia

Thanks to technology. I guess, subconsciously, my inherent "talent" performing in front of the camera (which I found in my broadcasting classes, that I almost got an A) came from my childhood. You see, like many other YouTube baby dancing videos, although not as high quality as this one, I was on air 24/7. There's a special deck of my video tapes exclusively stored in a corner of my parents' bedroom, and in their walk-in wardrobe, the whole space on both left and right ends of the pigeon-holes were stacks upon stacks of photo albums dedicated to the naked baby girl, probably 90% more than the two baby boys in the family.

Obviously I don't remember a single thing about all the things going on in my head whenever I get flirty in front of the camera back when I was 2 months, 6 months, 8 months, 2 years, 5, 6, 7, and so on. And my mother, the most active camerawoman I've ever known, told me that I was the one who insisted on getting those pretty red shoes and cute dresses with short short skirts, with a headband, some earrings, and a baby doll to accompany me. Right now all those video tapes are not within my reach, as I'm here in San Francisco. But I remember a scene where I giddied up around my house and screamed out loud, just because my maid won't be able to get me my shoes and my dress soon enough. Man, that little girl loves the camera, and I have not a single memory about that.

A very short bob, coming soon

2011-01-14T13:09:00.000-08:00

OK. I got a confession to make. I have a girl crush, like with other celebrity crushes I have. And that's with Japanese model/actress/singer Yamada Yu 山田優.

I mean, I've been her fan since I was a kid, flipping through the pages of CanCam. And now she's moved on to GINGER. Watching her practical fashion style for so many years, I was delighted to watch her blooming acting career, and actually, she has a nice voice when singing too. But I thought she did better with her acting, just because she can portray a variety of distinct characters.

Her most recent TV appearance was on Gakeppuchi no Eri 崖っぷちのエリー, where she got her first lead role as the main character, Eriko, an innocent child in pursuit of a debt-free life. In previous drama series that I've watched, including Seigi no Mikata 正義の味方, Mei-chan no Shitsuji メイちゃんの執事, and a minor role in Gokusen 3 ごくせん III, she portrays more or less of the following: power, wealth, fame, and beauty - and Eriko is the complete opposite of all that. In reality, though, this talented actress is nothing like all that.

GINGER's 1st anniversary fashion show
on OneAsianWorld.com

You can see how her ever-changing roles actually made her real-life personality shine. In Spring 2008, she caught the heart of one of my many boy crushes, Oguri Shun 小栗旬, who is best known for his role as Hanazawa Rui in Hana Yori Dango 花より男子. They've been dating ever since, although there's a lot of rumors going about Shun Oguri cheating on her, following a scoop published on FRIDAY magazine early November last year. Ah, men, especially good-looking ones... You can't help but see that coming.

Hunky Shun Oguri

The Okinawa-born model, now 26, declared that she wants to get married by 28. Living with boyfriend Oguri shortly after dating for five months, they were rumored to get married in July last year. But after Oguri's story broke, she reportedly left Japan to spend some time in America. We see her first public appearance in a promotion event of Disney's TRON: Legacy in Yokohama, where she shrugged off probing questions journalists asked her about how her relationship is doing, declining to answer, and smiling.

Let's respect her quite a bit, shall we? I adored her for holding on to her wedding dreams like every little girl does. I love her even more when she chopped off her locks, marking the end of her CanCam days. Like many other celeb's new short cuts I love, hers is one of the most versatile - and what I meant by that is low-maintenance.

My cut three months ago have grown so fast, right now my hair's hanging all over my shoulders again. These recent weeks I've spent a lot of time browsing through the next cut, where I know I won't want to spend so much time curling my ends so that it's bobby enough. Just a simple, get-out-of-the-bed head that matches every outfit is what I'm looking for. That's why I went for Yamada Yu.

Roberto Cavalli - 40th Anniversary Gala dinner, Paris

Roberto Cavalli - Front Row:
Milan Fashion week, Womenswear, S/S 2011

Well, not exactly this one, as it's not everyday that you see a T-shirt-and-jeans-wearing woman walking down the street, putting on this hairstyle (though I personally love her fashion style; it's the kind I wear to parties too =D). I was eyeing on her bob and long bangs, yes, the cute, androgynous haircut that I placed in the beginning of this post.

Shu Uemura ad

Shu Uemura campaign

It's pretty short, so I'm preparing myself mentally and physically for this cut (You know how emotional a girl can get following a haircut...) As soon as I chopped it all off, I'll post a picture up!

11/1: Getting laid back into love

2011-01-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

It's the magic number 11-1-11, and I'm reading a magical story published on 1-1-11, A Lazy Resolution That Will Change Your Love Life while surfing 'Reality' stories on CollegeCandy.

Looking back at my last 3 years being single, I've learned a lot about love, though I may say that you can never know too much about love. If you do, what's the point of dating in the first place?

I'm also one of those who never make resolution lists every new year. To me, the fireworks symbolizes bursts of new hopes and dreams to look forward to, and hidden beneath those bright lights is a silent reminder that your time living in the here and now is limited. So there's no point in making a list of changes - might as well do the math in my head and prioritize the most important things to change. Indeed, I do feel better knowing that only 12% of people who make resolutions actually follow through those big life changes.

What do you want?

With relation to the article, let's head to the love department. The weather's looking pretty grim. It's true that I never asked for what I wanted or even have the slightest idea of what I wanted, although I never really have that negative self-talk in my head that I'm "done and done." Looking back, being single has been, in general, a huge benefit for changing my narrow perspective on dating, love, and relationships.

My attitude about it is simple: Commitment. I think this has always worked for me in the past when I was in my boy-dependent years, when I my parents didn't actually allow me to go on dates and I went behind their back. Really, I was at a ripe age of 16-18 - what are the odds of having a successful long-term commitment when your hormones are raging all over the place? Although, it was easier to have guys who really want to commit, knowing that I'm brought up by a strict household and considerably overprotected.

But after those years as I grew up, it's really not that easy to stumble upon guys who actually ask you out for the purest reasons to commit to you: It's why you make them laugh, why you made them cry, and how you make him feel like he wants to be a better man.

In the next 3 consecutive years transforming into a whole new person, I welcomed new characteristics into myself, like being nitpicky, insensitive and all, and the transformation has broadened my naive views on so many levels. Psychologically speaking, I think that for whatever reasons I've built a wall subconsciously in my head, and successfully kept my distance away from every new people in my life, perhaps to prevent myself from getting hurt. It's like a defense mechanism, though as I'm pondering on my lazy couch right now and looking back at my younger years of dating, I think that this attitude is completely unrealistic. I mean, how can you expect a guy to commit when you're just getting to know each other? Now that I'm officially given the "freedom" from my parents, I behaved just the opposite way.

Belief System

So here are my current views on those dating myths mentioned in the article:

I don't believe that all good guys are taken.
I don't believe that all guys are douche bags.
I don't believe that any sane guy does not want to commit at some point in their lives.
And I don't believe that they only one that one thing. (What are they, animal?)

I don't believe, I don't believe. As Kira mentioned, we are our own self-fulfilling prophecy. In short, I don't believe in absolutes. There is nothing in this world as absolute as 100% that things can or cannot happen. On the flip side, I can never let go of my belief that there's 100% chance of sharing the kind of love I'd like to have, because I had experienced it before, and that chance can only happen on a certain set of conditions, taking all the crap out from the big picture. My self-defense mechanism being one.

Conditioning

When I was 16-18, I've witnessed my best friend dating many guys I know I would never want to go out with. Knowing what you don't want is always easier to know what it is that you want. I was foolish - just because I've never dated before, I had great luck meeting a great guy with great attributes who gives love abundantly enough to commit: a rare occurrence. I had my butterflies in my stomach, though I didn't wait long enough to make sure whether it's the kind of butterfly big enough for you to reciprocate; strong enough you can commit for a really long time, or was it just a fluttering butterfly you second-placed on your life's priority list. And I thought, then came a chance, so if it's not now, then when would I get another chance?

Fast forward to a guy who came later. Wasn't living up to my taste in terms of character, but definitely an eye candy to feed my ideal. I've never really thought of good looks as a good attribute, but after some time of being single (i.e. a time for self-improvement), I learned that physical attributes actually signifies good health. You know, good looks and good genes. However, I was still rooted firmly on my commitment grounds, and I could never picture myself with the guy building a lasting future. But at that time, I was quite aware of these defects that I have, that I only want to commit if the guy is willing to commit for the long run. So I hushed that little voice away, ignoring them completely and denied myself against my basic belief system: I gave the guy a chance, even though I know that it's bound to end at some point.

Of course good looks pay a price, with the abundant supply of testosterone. That was the first time I ended a relationship with not much of a good reason, which doesn't have to happen if I listened to my instincts in the first place. In which case, I wasn't hurt or anything, but the whole experience of going against my will became a foundation for my super strong defense mechanism that I have all around my wall.

Singlehood meant reality. After some time of life-reassessment sans boys, I realized how important it is to survive life independently without someone to have and to hold. Of course as you get better in life, you know better what you really want. Though marriage still holds a strong place in my girlish dreams, somehow training yourself to become the independent woman that you are makes you ask yourself: Do you need a guy?

On a side note, there's been a trend of feminism since Hilary Clinton was voted as a candidate in the 2008 presidential campaign, and women in power has just been growing during Obama's presidency, along with thriving womentrepreneurs and mom-bloggers making money at home and the like.

Nevertheless, the phrase-word "guy-dependent" is no longer in my dictionary. I learned a lot about what I don't want, but what I truly want is looking like a faraway land unheard of - ambiguous, mysterious. Of course singlehood gets you all the choices the world can give you, but that's how I became viciously picky. As you learn to improve yourself and broaden your horizons, eventually you climb up the social ladder, meet new people of all kinds, and you get to see how well these new personalities suit yourself. Once you've climbed up many social circles, you'll realized that the ladder is neverending.

As I get pickier and pickier, with rejections one after the other, lying to myself that I can handle life and all, putting up a strong face 24/7 up 'til this day, that's when it hit me: It's not a matter of need - it all goes back to what you want.

Choices

photo by ilovestrawberries

Writing down your thoughts is the surefire way of being honest with yourself. When I looked up the word "pick" on Dictionary.com, this is what it says:

–verb (used with object)

to choose or select from among a group: to pick a contestant from the audience.

Choice. The verb there is choosing. When life is hard enough, these are the choices: To depend or not? The reality is that sometimes, a girl's gotta have a shoulder to cry on, a fact that I've kept as a self-denial for these years.

Breaking my defensive wall is my first step, and I know it's going to be so damn hard. Deep down, my oestrogen still foolishly believes that there's a 100% chance the kind of love I'd love to have is somewhere out there, though not something too testosteroney.

To depend, or stay independent? After spending some time getting cozy on my couch, pondering these mushy aspect of my life, and clearing all the crap in my head, I think that these opposing verbs can co-exist. And it shall be my dating makeover challenge.

Denimspiration: The classic shirt

2011-01-06T13:30:00.000-08:00

Inspired Style: Denim Does Ladylike Camel
on FabSugar.com

Erin Wasson for January 2011 Elle Spain

Ale launches new website

Alana Zimmer for Antidote

Anja Rubik, 2010

Sasha Knezevic

Cameron Russell for Autumn 2010 H&M

Hilary Rhoda for 2010 November Vogue Russia

Son dam Bi in denim oversized bomber jacket

Katie Holmes, January 2010

Alexa Chung, 2009

Gap 2009

End of 2010

Han Hyo Joo for CeCi, 2010 December issue, Korea

2011-01-06T12:21:00.000-08:00

The Shining Inheritance star pulled off yet another short haircut with a little pixie twist. How cute!