My Only Advice

Take in this moment,

for it will never return.

On the Inside

Every once in a while, I kinda get frustrated with myself for being so ... wimpy. Yes, I'm kinda chicken-shit. I get frustrated with the fact that I can't be more courageous, that I don't believe in myself enough, that I can't let go and let things be. But then again, after living in fear for so long -- through college and some -- it's hard to expect that much from myself so fast.

There are wounds that just take way longer to heal. There are ghosts that keep haunting. And there are inner-demons that take so much more to conquer.

It is a constant battle I fight with myself. Yes, I can move on and take care of myself on my own with or without anyone. No, I'm so tired of fighting and having to fend for myself; I want to trust someone enough to take care of me. On certain days, it just feels like the struggle will go on forever. And sometimes, I prefer to deal with things alone because, well, I just don't want to dump it on anyone. I don't want to be a burden. And ... I'm just afraid to open up and be let down and hurt when people leave the moment they realize that this isn't the part about me that they wanted to know. I don't wanna have to pay for being honest and trusting. I already had to pay too much.

Every now and then, just when I think I'm ok, I would wake up in a panic in tears from a deep sleep. Just when I think I'm untouchable, ghosts of the past would graze me by and leave me shuddering for days. Just when I think I'm moving along in life, some invisible power would suck me back to the place from which I ran away. Just when I think I've managed to leave my baggages behind and have forgotten about it because it's so distant, it simply reappears out of nowhere.

If you're really lucky, you might have someone you love wake you from your nightmare and tell you that you're loved and that everything is ok because you're not alone.

But you know, ...

... even if nothing is for real and nothing is sincere, even if you think nothing and no one can help you heal, I guess just hearing those words can make you feel better, especially when you least expect it from anyone, when you, alone, are trapped in your own fears.

So ... thanks. Thanks so much, Brian, for being there when I woke up shaken.

On the Inside

Every once in a while, I kinda get frustrated with myself for being so ... wimpy. Yes, I'm kinda chicken-shit. I get frustrated with the fact that I can't be more courageous, that I don't believe in myself enough, that I can't let go and let things be. But then again, after living in fear for so long -- through college and some -- it's hard to expect that much from myself so fast.

There are wounds that just take way longer to heal. There are ghosts that keep haunting. And there are inner-demons that take so much more to conquer.

It is a constant battle I fight with myself. Yes, I can move on and take care of myself on my own with or without anyone. No, I'm so tired of fighting and having to fend for myself; I want to trust someone enough to take care of me. On certain days, it just feels like the struggle will go on forever. And sometimes, I prefer to deal with things alone because, well, I just don't want to dump it on anyone. I don't want to be a burden. And ... I'm just afraid to open up and be let down and hurt when people leave the moment they realize that this isn't the part about me that they wanted to know. I don't wanna have to pay for being honest and trusting. I already had to pay too much.

Every now and then, just when I think I'm ok, I would wake up in a panic in tears from a deep sleep. Just when I think I'm untouchable, ghosts of the past would graze me by and leave me shuddering for days. Just when I think I'm moving along in life, some invisible power would suck me back to the place from which I ran away. Just when I think I've managed to leave my baggages behind and have forgotten about it because it's so distant, it simply reappears out of nowhere.

If you're really lucky, you might have someone you love wake you from your nightmare and tell you that you're loved and that everything is ok because you're not alone.

But you know, ...

... even if nothing is for real and nothing is sincere, even if you think nothing and no one can help you heal, I guess just hearing those words can make you feel better, especially when you least expect it from anyone, when you, alone, are trapped in your own fears.

So ... thanks. Thanks so much, Brian, for being there when I woke up shaken.

NYTimes.com

You know what I just realized?

That (at least) the front page of the newspapers have become the new obituary section:

~ Israels two-front conflict had its heaviest day of fighting, killing 9 Israeli soldiers, dozens of Hezbollah fighters and at least 23 Palestinians in Gaza.
~ A pair of mortar rounds followed minutes later by a car bomb blasted a religiously mixed neighborhood controlled by a major Shiite party.
~ Majorities doubt there will be peace between Israel and its neighbors, or that troops will be able to leave Iraq soon.
~ In a lawsuit, one of Brooke Astor's grandsons accuses her son, who is her legal guardian, of mistreating her.
~ Two very different games that revolve around killing, and being killed.

No wonder why I don't like reading the papers anymore.

What a Joke

I am supposed to be doing homework, but I got distracted. Something about seeing "Fuck the Troops" on MySpace bothered me. And, really, if you're in touch wih your surroundings at all, you'd understand why I'm bothered by seeing something like that on a public forum.

American troops are there. We can say that our government put them there. Our country's hidden, alterior agenda caused an invisible, monster of a hand to trigger a machine called the military to start a war, and we ... WE have nothing to do with it. Thus, "fuck the troops", some say.

But have we forgotten? WE ARE THE COUNTRY.

We can fervently protest about how the government tricked us into believing what we should not have believed, resulting in the dire situation we find ourselves currently involved in globally.

But really, truly, honestly, WHAT HAVE WE CONSTRUCTIVELY DONE TO PREVENT THESE THINGS FROM HAPPENING??

Don't sit around here and tell me that there wasn't anything to be done. Don't tell me that the politicians are too powerful, and they pulled wool over our eyes, therefore, we couldn't have done anything.

You know just as well as I know that, if we want it badly enough, we can do anything. Did you want it bad enough?

I will admit right here and now that I did not do all that I could to help influence the outcome of the crisis. I cared more about my own personal life. I cared more about school, about money, about my ups and downs, about boys, about friends, about what I like to do when I have the luxury to choose .... I missed the window of opportunity out of which I could have made a difference.

What about you? What did you do? What stopped you from changing the situation in the first place, and brought you here to sit and wonder about the title "Fuck the Troops" and where you stand?

Ask yourselves, as I now question my heart: WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY?

Then, ask: WHAT CAN I DO NOW TO MAKE THE SITUATION BETTER?

American troops have been deployed. Many were killed. Killed. Someone's son, grandson, husband, father, brother, uncle, friend lost his life. Someone's daughter, grand-daughter, wife, mother, sister, aunt, friend lost her life. These are people. They are real people with souls, hearts, blood and flesh ... just like you and me. Except that they are there, and you are here. Think of the difference.

Regardless of whether they should be there in the first place, they are there. Whether you like it or not, it's because WE didn't do our jobs as fellow countrymen and global citizens to keep them from being there. The best we can do now is to face the consequences, for we gave our troops their fate.

Quit our complaining and support them. Stop the mentality of "THEY are the troops. THEY are the government. THEY DID THIS." Don't forget. WE ARE the country. WE can control what happens. We should be ashamed of ourselves instead.

"Fuck the troops."

What a joke.

What a Joke

I am supposed to be doing homework, but I got distracted. Something about seeing "Fuck the Troops" on MySpace bothered me. And, really, if you're in touch wih your surroundings at all, you'd understand why I'm bothered by seeing something like that on a public forum.

American troops are there. We can say that our government put them there. Our country's hidden, alterior agenda caused an invisible, monster of a hand to trigger a machine called the military to start a war, and we ... WE have nothing to do with it. Thus, "fuck the troops", some say.

But have we forgotten? WE ARE THE COUNTRY.

We can fervently protest about how the government tricked us into believing what we should not have believed, resulting in the dire situation we find ourselves currently involved in globally.

But really, truly, honestly, WHAT HAVE WE CONSTRUCTIVELY DONE TO PREVENT THESE THINGS FROM HAPPENING??

Don't sit around here and tell me that there wasn't anything to be done. Don't tell me that the politicians are too powerful, and they pulled wool over our eyes, therefore, we couldn't have done anything.

You know just as well as I know that, if we want it badly enough, we can do anything. Did you want it bad enough?

I will admit right here and now that I did not do all that I could to help influence the outcome of the crisis. I cared more about my own personal life. I cared more about school, about money, about my ups and downs, about boys, about friends, about what I like to do when I have the luxury to choose .... I missed the window of opportunity out of which I could have made a difference.

What about you? What did you do? What stopped you from changing the situation in the first place, and brought you here to sit and wonder about the title "Fuck the Troops" and where you stand?

Ask yourselves, as I now question my heart: WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY?

Then, ask: WHAT CAN I DO NOW TO MAKE THE SITUATION BETTER?

American troops have been deployed. Many were killed. Killed. Someone's son, grandson, husband, father, brother, uncle, friend lost his life. Someone's daughter, grand-daughter, wife, mother, sister, aunt, friend lost her life. These are people. They are real people with souls, hearts, blood and flesh ... just like you and me. Except that they are there, and you are here. Think of the difference.

Regardless of whether they should be there in the first place, they are there. Whether you like it or not, it's because WE didn't do our jobs as fellow countrymen and global citizens to keep them from being there. The best we can do now is to face the consequences, for we gave our troops their fate.

Quit our complaining and support them. Stop the mentality of "THEY are the troops. THEY are the government. THEY DID THIS." Don't forget. WE ARE the country. WE can control what happens. We should be ashamed of ourselves instead.

"Fuck the troops."

What a joke.

2007 Travalling Plans

2007 Travelling Plans

I'm so excited! I hope Brian can come with me. :)

March 4-March 11 Tokyo
March 11-March 18 Beijing
March 18-March 25 Shanghai
March 25-April 2 Free to go wherever

August 11-August 20 Europe (London and Continental)

Hijack Aftermath

So I'm slowly reconstructing my MySpace profile. This is one that I used to have a while back. For whatever reason, I decided to save all of the codes on my comp. Wow. It actually came in handy. So yeah, bear with me please.

And those who have the same problem, please visit this site:
http://chaseandsam.com/2006/07/myspace-hack-spreading-like-wildfire.html

Don't Do It

I don't know how you people hacked onto my MySpace account and changed everything around, but I really didn't appreciate it.

So please don't do it again. Thanks.

To the Wind

Every once in a while, I tend to get frustrated and think, "I don't want to have to fend for myself anymore! I'm tired! I don't wanna be strong. I don't wanna fight. Maybe I should just marry myself off to some dude and get it over with!" I'd wanna run out on the street screaming to every person I see: "I DON'T FUCK'N CARE!"

But then, that'd be a lie. I care. I always do. About anything, anyone. I think the great but scary thing about me is that I have the capacity to care so much and love so deeply ... and actually to believe that it would make a difference in the end, that my passion will be able to touch someone and heal wounds seen and unseen.

I'm too alive to give it all up to the wind and let it all blow away.

Guess I'm Going to Europe Soon

Well, so she's got a job!! Valerie's got a job!!

I suppose I did help her a bit. But mostly, she did it by herself. Nothing I did for her could have changed the outcome if she hadn't fought for herself.

I am so proud of her.

So now, she wants to buy me a plane ticket to London to visit her and to visit Europe! I don't even know what to do or what to say! (She really shouldn't have!) I don't know when I should go. Fall? Spring? I have no clue. It's so sudden!

To the Wind

Every once in a while, I tend to get frustrated and think, "I don't want to have to fend for myself anymore! I'm tired! I don't wanna be strong. I don't wanna fight. Maybe I should just marry myself off to some dude and get it over with!" I'd wanna run out on the street screaming to every person I see: "I DON'T FUCK'N CARE!"

But then, that'd be a lie. I care. I always do. About anything, anyone. I think the great but scary thing about me is that I have the capacity to care so much and love so deeply ... and actually to believe that it would make a difference in the end, that my passion will be able to touch someone and heal wounds seen and unseen.

I'm too alive to give it all up to the wind and let it all blow away.

The Rhythm and the Picture

Have you ever tried staring up the sky with the sunroof open while sitting on the passenger side of a moving car? (or in my case, I was just staring upside-down through a bus window with Brian's arm as a comfy headrest -- thanks, babe! You're the best. :-D )

I can never get tired of the green of trees against the blue of skies. It's just such a comforting blend of colors -- as if nothing can go wrong, and all that you think is wrong can be pushed off 'til later. Because just for this moment, you are happy, you are smiling, and you can breathe.

I can never bore myself with the golden light line the edges of leaves. Watching them glisten is a lot like watching the Christmas lights, except in the summer.

And to listen to someone you care deeply about sitting next to you breathe, holding you. His (well, or hers, in your case, whoever you are) touch, his caress, his heartbeat ... all of it seem to compliment the rhythm of, not only the molecules and chemistry outside that makes the pictures you see move and be animated, but also the cells that bounce around in your body to make YOU who you are.

It doesn't matter that neither people utters a word. Silence is harmony to the melody. Silence is the song of comfort and peace.

Everything -- the grass, the wind, the birds, you ... and me -- are all alive.

Alive.

Maybe all we're living for are just moments like this, when everything, at least for a matter a few minutes, are (though not perfect, per se) at ease with each other, creating pictures that you would want to commit to memory, soft silky threads of music that goes from the outside to your ears to everything of you inside that make you want to go on and live for another day.

Rhythm and the Picture

Have you ever tried staring up the sky with the sunroof open while sitting on the passenger side of a moving car? (or in my case, I was just staring upside-down through a bus window with Brian's arm as a comfy headrest -- thanks, babe! You're the best. :-D )

I can never get tired of the green of trees against the blue of skies. It's just such a comforting blend of colors -- as if nothing can go wrong, and all that you think is wrong can be pushed off 'til later. Because just for this moment, you are happy, you are smiling, and you can breathe.

I can never bore myself with the golden light line the edges of leaves. Watching them glisten is a lot like watching the Christmas lights, except in the summer.

And to listen to someone you care deeply about sitting next to you breathe, holding you. His (well, or hers, in your case, whoever you are) touch, his caress, his heartbeat ... all of it seem to compliment the rhythm of, not only the molecules and chemistry outside that makes the pictures you see move and be animated, but also the cells that bounce around in your body to make YOU who you are.

It doesn't matter that neither people utters a word. Silence is harmony to the melody. Silence is the song of comfort and peace.

Everything -- the grass, the wind, the birds, you ... and me -- are all alive.

Alive.

Maybe all we're living for are just moments like this, when everything, at least for a matter a few minutes, are (though not perfect, per se) at ease with each other, creating pictures that you would want to commit to memory, soft silky threads of music that goes from the outside to your ears to everything of you inside that make you want to go on and live for another day.

Blahblahblahblah ... Someone Love Me!

Ok, 7: 30am. Saturday.

Just got home from Brian's house, trying to get ready for a Stats final. Yeah, well, actually, I've done all the prep I can do, so here I am ... on MySpace again.

Outside, some dude is playing on the guitar, singing on top of his lungs. He reminds me of Matchbox 20. Maybe he's good. I don't know. But he sure as hell isn't at 7:30 in the morning of my stats final.

The Saturday Farmer's Market is on today. I always have to pass it on the way to class. It usually takes about 4 and a half minutes to get to my destination, but with the festivities going on, it usually takes me twice as long.

All right. I have nothing witty to say. Sorry to have disappointed you.

Oh, and, friends, please send me something ... anything. I need some love. I'm tired, cranky, lonely, worried and definitely anxious.

k. Come back later.

Stats Final

Stats final.

Sucky.

Wish me luck.

Mindless Babbling about *gasp* Marriage

Marriage.

I just read on someone's blog a giant list of things to look for in "the perfect guy" to marry. I was at a loss for words. I was just at a loss. I actually haven't given much thought into the topic. And being someone whose mind is constantly reeling, THAT is odd. I'm not thinking, for ONCE!

Marriage.

I wonder.
Why does it scare you? Why is it that we've now grown to be "immune to the marriage epidemic"? Why is it that we are afraid of committing to one person for the rest of our lives? What is so important about freedom and autonomy as opposed to stability? Have we all be hurt too much and seen too much to let go, to dive in?

I don't really know. I honestly don't understand ANY of it. I don't understand why many think that it's ok to enter a contracted commitment without really thinking it through, and then when things go awry, as most thoughtless (or at least lack of enough thought) decisions result, they think it's ok to quit. Of course, there are exceptions ... hey, sometimes things go bad without you planning it or foreseeing it. But still ...

I'm not opposed to getting married (eventually, that is), and -- who knows? -- I might get lucky one day. But I know for sure that I will not do it unless I can feel it in my gut, that every cell in my body lights up like Christmas lights ... that's when I know.

If I am going to do it, I'll do it right. Or else I won't do it at all.

It's a lot like partnering with someone to do business. Marriage as an institutional device really is just to merge two people's finances and properties together with a piece of paper (the famous and infamous "paper solution" of the Western society), which hopefully can give a society better order, something for members of that society to anchor themselves to. When I enter a business, I don't aim for it to fail in the end; I won't give myself the option. I aim for it to prosper and flourish. How's marriage any different?

But hey, then again, I might never end up getting married. I may not even have to worry about it EVER! (At least my mother seems to feel more at ease with the idea of me never getting married. "It can get messy," said she. Maybe she has a point.)

So why the blabber? I mean, at least I'm happy at where I am now. Not married, no kids ("anyone wanna go halves on a baby?" hahaha!), no worries. Just a good life, impending masters degree, bright future, excellent family and friends, amazing start to a relationship with a wonderful guy, at ease with myself. I'm just gonna leave it at that.

Guestbook

I honestly wonder who and how many people read this stuff that I write on here.

Most the time it's just random babbling ... but yes, it's all from the heart, it's all real.

Well, how 'bout this? You can read my stuff, and you get to leave me a comment telling me "I'm so-and-so. I was here! Your blog rocks/sucks!"

Kinda like a guestbook, you know?

Ok. DO IT. And off I go to econ.

So It Goes Like This

French: [C'est ma vie en juillet.]
English: [This is my life in July.]
German: [Dieses ist mein Leben im Juli.]
Chinese (Mandarin): [Je shi wo chi yue de sheng huo.]
Chinese (Cantonese): [Lee goh hai ngo tsat yuet ge sung woot.]

Macro-econ, laundry, accounting exam, Pirates 2, climbing, Brian, stats homework, stats exam on a Saturday morning, Econ Exam, more climbing, more Brian (hopefully), more laundry, Sand in the City, lots of coffee ... perhaps even spiked, call Andy, I think Tracey has a housewarming party on one of these days, assignment for new job, people from school want to go to the Coast on Sunday, financial aid, micro-econ, managerial accounting, stress, finance, European Union and the EMU, G8 Summit in Russia, I want Brian, I might be running out of food and clean clothes, write Valerie, meeting with director, hurry hurry hurry, pay internet bill, get on payroll, make a difference, call Mom, take vitamins, Commitment is everything, do the dishes, econ professor needs help with syllabus editing, dinner with Emily, stress, lunch or dinner with Ashley, Steffany comes into town, Richie comes back from training, Matty's BBQ, Tommy's housewarming party, Attitude not Aptitude, meeting with Gabie for job handover, set up calendar and list system, stress, lunch with parents, more coffee, need a drink or ten, boyfriend, lunch with Mike Le Chevalier, climb climb climb, stress stress stress, read read read, write write write write, count count count give up, hope for the sun to keep shining, blah blah blah, I need hugs, my friends, my family, and a kiss from a boy named Brian.

You don't have to read this, really.

Ok, so I'm stressed out.

I have an accounting midterm due tomorrow, and I have no frick'n idea what I'm doing. Well, I guess I will by the end of the night.

I need to write up notes for my statistics final on Saturday.

I have an econ test due on Monday (but I'm less worried about this as I am with the accounting).

I have work stuff to complete by next Monday.

Hmm. Life. It kinda sucks every once in a while. And I guess whenever I get stressed out and anxious and all that, I push people away. Well, either that, or I just bail out. Boys and girls, take my word for it: don't do what I do. It's not good for you. C'est MAL!!

Ok, come on now, Lainey. Shape up. Now.

She Surprises

I LOVE surprising people.

Today, a couple of my classmates from Taiwan were CAUGHT OFF GUARD by the fact that I can speak Mandarin (the official dialect of China). They were even more surprised that, not only am I also fluent in Cantonese, which is another major dialect of Chinese, I have also read some classics (ones that they haven't read), prefer Song prose and can recite some of them (prose from the Song Dynasty in 960-1280 A.D.), have read popular epic novels that they are familiar with, and have taken a liking to some old Chinese pop music from the 70s.

I guess everyone in my program thought that I was born in the States, whereas I was actually born in Hong Kong, at which I lived for 12 years before moving here. They thought that I look and sound like I am from Southern California. Oh, come on. I'm not high-strung like they are down there. haha!

I guess I'm just full of surprises, eh?

Pouring Out

So here's a series of two creative essays that I wrote during my senior year at LO (the ones that I told you about, Brian). I used these as my college entrance essays, which got me into the UO Honors College, which I eventually quit because they suck, and a scholarship, because the teachers at the high school thought these are good or something.

But at any rate, regardless of where they got me, here I am still. What really matters is that these are things that I wrote from the bottom of my heart, with nothing to hide, with all honesty. I guess the only reason that I haven't posted them on here is that I haven't copyrighted them yet.

So hope you like it! :)

PS. Sorry for any typos. I haven't looked them over since college.
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Grace and Little Bottle

In Hong Kong, where I was born and raised, every family has a gate to guard their homes against the bad people, as my parents would say. But I always thought that the muddy brown gate that guarded our maple-wood-colored door was ugly. Muddy brown. Its the color of waiting, of aging, like the number four, which sounds like the word death in Chinese. To this day, I dont think anyone other than me noticed the sadness in the color of the gate that secured my first home. I have often wondered how my parents could have let sadness guard our apartment.

Even now, I am still unsure if the apartment with the brown gate belonged to us or not. It probably didnt, because we had to be careful not to make too much noise, careful about keeping the walls and the carpets clean. Mummy and Daddy always told me that one day we would move into a bigger apartment but I had to keep in mind that the key words were one day.

Besides, I dont think I ever truly wanted to abandon the apartment for somewhere else. I could not leave because living next door to me behind the silver gate were two sisters, Grace and Little Bottle, who taught me how to giggle and how to nod to sadness.

Grace and Little Bottle werent alike, at least not from the outside.

Grace was like a bamboo stick that had grown shiny black hair at one end. She had eyebrows far apart from each other. Mid-way between her two bushy brows, like valleys between two mountains, were grooves that didnt seem possible to be smoothed. Maybe the grooves were from wondering too much why she couldnt be a fish that lived in the quiet world under the peaceful water, or asking why she couldnt float in the air like a dandelions seed. Or too much pondering over why her sister, Little Bottle, had to cry so loud and so often.

Little Bottle had a reason to be called that name. It was because, in contrast to her sister, she was more like a wide milk bottle than a slim bamboo stick. And this milk bottle didnt leak milk; it leaked tears, along with the tears came sour-tasting screams and dusty-purple-colored sobs hat seeped through the cracks from next door. In between those screams and sobs, I thought I heard a brown leather belt making its way through the air, each scream a crisp, precise landing on fresh, young, pink skin. I thought I heard Little Bottles defiant runts and fighting fists and her desperate, beaten-up body trying to get away. I also thought I heard Graces somber silence and clatter of teeth from a dark private corner.

Maybe gates no matter what color cant always keep the bad out, because much of the sad noises penetrated through the silver gate and into my ears. Every time I heard the noise, I covered my head with a blanket and murmured, Its not what it sounds like, over and over again until my body became numb and fell asleep.

But Grace and Little Bottle were alike in a way that, perhaps, they didnt notice themselves; only I did, just as I noticed the sadness of my brown gate alone. Their laughter was identical. Even though Grace would become silent and form grooves in between her two brows, and Little Bottle would scream and cry and sob, they would still giggle. When they saw flowers, cookies, or crayons, they saw happiness and fun, and they would giggle not the cherry-flavored-lollipop giggles, but like a chandelier crashing down from the ceiling. They would bend over like dandelions tickled by the wind, and their giggles would sail through the air to me, plant their seeds in my mouth and grown in me a special laughter that glows like twinkling stars.

I did not want to leave my sad brown gate and the silver gate that stood next door; I did not want to stop hearing Grace and Little Bottles ear-piercing laughter that taught me how to express happiness and accept sadness. But I had to because, at last, one day came when we had to move as the sun was setting and the wind came alive to dance with the dandelions.

I did not cry, because I promised myself not to forget how to giggle in my own way: like twinkling stars. So I brought with me part of Grace and Little Bottle in the form of twinkling star giggles to another house with a black gate. And then, I brought them across the Pacific Ocean, or what my parents would call in Chinese the Peaceful Water, to this white wooden house without a gate in Lake Oswego, Oregon.

Now I have a little bottle filled up with twinkling star giggles sealed with a cork I call grace enclosed in my heart. Whenever something happy or funny happens, or when sad things remind me of the sound of a whipping brown leather belt, I take off the cork. And from the bottle, my twinkling star giggles burst out in rainbow colors and float like soapy bubbles to fill up the void of sky.

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Father Who Wakes Up Tired

Clouds are mystical things that can transport you from one place to another over night. On top of clouds, you can dream of a new life, a new place where butterflies and trees are not too scarce, and houses are wooden and white with no gates. That was how I came to America with my family, sailing on top of clouds, as cheerful as Christmas and as tipsy as a 12-year-old who drank a little too much of those dreams. But my parents had other dreams, ones that I never understood until I saw strands of silver gleaming in contrast to my fathers black hair, dull from working and earning a living for his family.

We perceive the world differently, said my father, because we are Chinese. There are many things that the American society teaches you wrongly and you shouldnt bend to them. You need to remember that we are Chinese; we are the sons and daughters of the Yellow Dragon.

Th-then can I s-still go to the dance, D-da? I asked. He looked at me like I was crazy, like I was the most irrational and unreasonable person alive. Ah-Lam, ah, Father signed the heaviest, lead-colored sigh, and said, This isnt right. This isnt what I brought you here for. I wanted you to have a good education go to college and learn the Western ways without forgetting the Chinese ways, so that you dont have to work as hard as a buffalo in a post office like me! So, no, you cant go to the dance. In fact, go upstairs and study!

His words stung like thistles against every inch of my skin. My frail bones ached. How could I have let him prevail? I thought. I looked daggers at him while he had his back toward me as he poured himself more tea. How can he not understand that going to dances isnt that big of a deal? Everyone goes to them. This is what people do here! This is not Hong Kong! Thats right; this is not Hong Kong This is not Hong Kong, Da! I waited for him to make a sharp turn with his head and to bite down on his teeth in a menacing way and to breathe in a deep, vengeful breath. But he never did. The only thing he did was to drink his hot tea calmly with his back toward me still, as if my presence marred the sacredness of a vigil.

All that happened when I was fifteen, pink and baby blue, not knowing a thing. I remember storming up to my room. I hid in a corner, held my breath and swallowed my tears cold as ice. I hugged my knees to my chest in attempt to find some solace and comfort from holding something close to my heart. But my back was cold, because the air around me froze like time, and the coldness pierced through my body, creating a black hole in my stomach.

I ceased talking to my father for the rest of the week. But in the end, I was the one to break the ice because I could not stand noticing the wrinkles on his forehead like train tracks and the corners of his mouth turned down. I could not bear seeing him waking up tired after a nights dream about whether he did the right thing by bringing his family to America. But most of all, I could not excuse myself from hurting him and smashing all his good intentions into bits and pieces.

No, I did not go to the dance. I dont think I even went to the next one, or the one after next. I stayed home to keep my father from waking up tired; I stayed home to keep afloat those dreams that shower raindrops of my fathers hopes and dreams.

Ellipsis Talk

You know, I just realized that I am addicted to using the ellipsis, which are the three dots you usually put at the end of a sentence or a clause or simply a fragment because you didn't feel like finishing it or you just want to be quasi-poetic? You know, the ole "..."? Yeah, they come in handy, don't they? hahaha!

Just so you know, if you want to use the ellipsis at the end of a sentence, or if you are trying to indicate that more than a sentence has been left out, you're supposed to use four dots instead of three, according to some authorities.

Ok, I'm done. Elaine rambling about nothingness ... (<-- again, the ellipsis) That means I'm tired. Off to bed, I go.

The Sun is Something Else

Ok, just kidding. There's something else.

I am proud of myself for waking up every morning to see the sun. Through all of the hardships in my life, all the things that made me want to fall asleep and never to wake, it is my greatest achievement to open my eyes everyday.

Even when the sun isn't shining, I have faith that it is shining somewhere. It's just a matter of finding it.

But I know it's there.

Stop Me!

By the way, I think the song I have on my page is pretty cool.

It's a song in German called "Me and Elaine," about how this girl's friend "Elaine" is just so darned cool.

Hehehe!

Ok, I'm really really gonna stop.

Nighty.

31

Stupid bulletins. But I like this one, and I've never smiled so big while filling out these surveys as I have with this one.

Ok here's how it works, the questions below are about the second person on your top 8. Don't even think about changing it before taking this. Lets see if you know them like you think you do...


1. What's their name?
Brian

2. What's their age?
23 in less than a month

3. Is the person younger or older than u?
about the same ... I'm like four months older.

4. Gay, bi, or straight?
Straight

5. Single or taken?
He's mine, so don't even think about it.

6. How long have you known this person?
Since the 8th grade.

7. First impression?
He's wicked funny, and so so blunt.

8. Was theirs the same?
Was their what the same?

9. Are you related?
No. Do we LOOK even remotely like we're related?

10. Where does this person live?
Tigard

11. What's this person's favorite thing to do?
Play music, work on his house, fix things, ride his bike (which he sold), hang out with friends, sushi and drinks, shooting, uh, hang out with me?

12. How often do you hug this person?
Every chance I get.

13. When's the last time you talked to them in person?
Friday.

14. Talked on the phone?
Thursday

15. Last thing you said to this person?
"Have fun on your camping trip!"

16. Last time you saw him/her?
Friday morning

17. How did you meet this person?
Ms. Samuelson's drama class in 8th grade

18. Are you friends?
Notice the "friend" in "boyfriend"? So yes, we're friends and some more.

19. When will you see this person next?
I believe tomorrow?

20. One word description of this person?
AMAZING!

21. Any songs reminds you of him/her?
"Girl, I Wanna Lay You Down" ~ ALO with Jack Johnson
"Crazy" ~ Gnarls Barkeley
"Better Together" (honestly, anything Jack Johnson)

22. Greatest Memory together?
Actually, it's that day he moved my bed in for me, and then sushi after. That's even before we started going out ... more to come in the future, I am sure.

23. Greatest physical feature?
You know, everything about him is great. But his hands ... he may think that they're yucky and beat up, but I like them coz they've got strength and character. I love his smile, too. It shows how genuine he is as a person.

24. Greatest personality feature?
Selfless, honest, receptive, respectful and genuine

25. Have you ever dated this Person?
No, but ... I am NOW!

26. Do you know one of their deep-dark secrets?
I told him mine. If he has any, maybe he'll tell me in time. No hurry.

27. Anything weird about them?
Weird is a good thing, and Brian = weird

28. What kind of relationship do you have with this person?
A wonderful start of a relationship

29. Are they someone you could see yourself marrying?
I can see him as being a GREAT companion, but I'm just gonna wait and see and not think too much into things.

30. Do you love them?
Of course I love my Brian the way he is; he knows that. I love this guy as a whole person. I know I can trust him with my life, and I hope he knows he can trust me with his, too. I know I'd do anything I can for him. Beyond that, I would like to know if we share more than that.

31. Can you see yourself always being friends?
Yes, I'll ALWAYS be there for Brian.

Repost this as :
"31 Questions about the 2nd Person in your top 8"

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Here.

Since THIS is MY blog, I'm going to utilize it to my own benefits:

I am going to vent.

I DON'T LIKE ACCOUNTING. I DON'T LIKE STATS. I DON'T LIKE ALL THE NUTS-AND-BOLTS CRAP THAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH RIGHT NOW. I DON'T LIKE HAVING TEACHERS THAT AREN'T GOOD AT TEACHING. I DON'T LIKE TEACHERS THAT CAN'T INSPIRE ME. I DON'T LIKE DEALING WITH DETAILS, AS OPPOSED TO THE BIG IDEAS. I DON'T LIKE COUNTING NUMBERS AND INTERPRETING GRAPHS (AFTER ALL, THEY JUST LOOK LIKE NOTHING BUT LINES TO ME!). I DON'T LIKE NOT HAVING TIME TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND OR FAMILY AND FRIENDS. I DON'T LIKE NOT HAVING ENOUGH TIME TO GO CLIMBING. I DON'T LIKE BEING POOR. I DON'T LIKE NOT HAVING A CORKSCREW WHEN I NEEDED SOME WINE TO GO WITH THE CHEESE AND FRICK'N HOMEWORK. I DON'T LIKE DOING LAUNDRY WHEN I'VE GOT OTHER THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT. I DON'T LIKE HAVING TO COOK WHEN I HAVE TO BE ON THE RUN CONSTANTLY. I DON'T LIKE NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE THE NEW PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN WHEN I'VE WANTED TO SEE IT FOR SO LONG.

But you know what? I love life anyway.

Ok, fine ... ANNOUNCEMENT, EVERYONE!

I know you all love me and care about me so much, which is why EVERYONE has been asking me WHO I'm in a relationship with, since you have all noticed that change of status on my profile.

Well, to make your life -- and mine -- easier, let me tell you here, once and for all that ...

... yes, Elaine, who once was vehemently against the idea of being in a relationship, citing the "reasons" of 1) being not ready after prior unfortunate events, 2) being incapable of maintaining a relationship/not the relationship type, and 3) having unusual and often violent reactions (ie. ahh! near nervous breakdown! haha!!!) to the thought of trusting and opening up to my male counterparts, has now entered a relationship, which she would describe as 1) wonderful, 2) unexpected, and 3) promising (to be at least non-dysfunctional). Her sudden turn-about can be attributed to Mr. Brian Gjerning, who I respect and adore so much, and his genuine personality, amongst many of his other positive traits.

Some of you might be friends with Brian, or acquaintences, or former classmates from LO. For those of you who know or knew him, my boyfriend is as crazy as you know or remember, but he is also as sweet and amazing as you have always known or imagined him to be (come on now; I know many of you had a crush on him back in those days). For those of you who don't know him, well, rest assured that he isn't a tool, and he isn't a fucking asshole. Moreover, he is an amazing and wonderful person, who I'm lucky to have in my life.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Please contact me via any medium that is most convenient to you.

Thank you.

Secrecy

You know what I don't like? I don't like secrets. What is there that can't be said? What is there that's so dire that need to be kept in the dark forever anyway? Keeping secrets really is just to set yourself up for failure because you're always going to be looking out for flaws and things that could go wrong. What is there that can't be shared with people you care about who care about you?

Secrets are dark things that eat up your insides until you're hollow. And these dark things grow and grow, until you're consumed and taken over, conquered and dominated and controlled.

Mutual Trust.

That is the best thing that can happen to anyone.

Things to know

As I find myself at a start of a relationship (the first one that I consciously made the decision to enter with a CLEAR mind), I think it's time for me to set some ground rules for myself -- expectations, per se. I don't want to screw it up.

I never did that for myself in the past ... mainly because I didn't have the consciousness to do that ... I was young and stupid ... um, or emotional disturbed would be another way of saying it.

I like the fact that I know much more about myself than I used to. I have learned how to make myself happy, built for myself a solid "core" of friends and family for support, understand myself a lot more for the past and the present in order to build a better future. As a whole, I'm a much better person, and way more equipped to go on with life. I think I've written enough about that sappy ole stuff in my older blogs, so I'm just gonna stop right here. haha. Interested in knowing more? Read.

If Brian's reading this, great! You now know me better. But this list is mostly for me to identify for myself what I am and am not in a practical way. Usually, I'd just keep it to myself, but since you asked to be put on my private blog list, here it is.

Anyway ...

Some things to know about me:

1. I'm honest: I'm not going to fuck with anyone's mind and heart. I'm not going to screw anyone over. If there's something to know, you'll hear it from me. I am someone who wears her heart on her sleeves, despite many people's kind advice for me NOT to. If it ends up getting trampled over, then I guess that's the price I have to pay to be upfront. Regardless, I'm standing by what I believe is a good policy.

2. I don't pry: If you want me to know something, I expect you to tell me. If you don't tell me, I will give you the right to privacy. I'd only ask if I'm dying to know. Another thing is that I am not going to go through your stuff just because I'm either curious or I want to find out about your secrets, or whatever. If we trust each other enough, I'd know about it. No point in drilling for it. I've had that done to me many times, and I didn't appreciate it. You will get none of that from me; see, I am ethical.

3. I don't invade: I am not one of those who moves her belongings into her someone else's house to "mark her territory". I would only have stuff there that I really need.

4. I don't hold grudges: If I am pissed about something, I'll make sure you know what's going on in a respectful manner. I don't want to hold it in and then treat you differently, and make you wonder what's going on. It's either I hold it in and NOT treat you differently, or I let you know about it. And after we decide that the situation is over, it's over ... forever.

5. I don't free-load: In short, I don't expect anyone to do absolutely everything for me. It's nice to be treated sometimes, but I like things to be reciprocal. I'd always want to return the favor because I respect you enough to do that.

6. I'm not clingy/needy: I can hold my own. I can do things on my own. I don't always have to be taken care of and see someone EVERY SINGLE DAY. Being in a relationship, I think, isn't about fusing two lives together completely; it's about the commitment to compliment two different lives to make them better. Some girls are phobic about the boyfriend hanging out with his girl friends, and some guys are freaked out when the girlfriend hangs out with her guy friends. Well, I don't usually get like that unless I have a good reason to. When I'm in a relationship, I trust the person I'm with enough to let go.

7. I am "all in": You know, in a relationship, there really is no in-between. You're either in it aiming for the long haul, or you are just wasting your time. If I'm not in it for the long run, then I'd just call it a "hang out," as in, "Yeah, I've just been hanging out with so-and-so. No, nothing dramatic, and definitely no commitment." So when I decide to make a long-term investment, I throw it all in there. One can expect that I will do anything I can to care for and defend this person to the very end. If in the end, I'm wrong, ... well, I guess that's the price I have to pay, isn't it? I guess that's why I don't get into relationships very easily (it's been what? almost 2 years for me?). I don't let guys in so easily. Lately, I would all of a sudden realize that I'm in the position of WANTING to make (and have made) a commitment to be with someone, to trust him and to let him in. Because I have had some pretty bad experiences in the past, and all this is so new to me, I get kinda freaked out. I get scared. I guess I need more reassurance than I thought, but I've been trying hard to help myself through. Yeah, I'm weird like that. Bad experiences. Period.

... Um, if there's more, I'll be sure to add to the list.

Revisit

I actually got to reading some of my older posts. Here's a good one that I wrote back in late March, and I'd like to share with you guys again. I am just so amazed that I have come so far. Many thanks to all those who have helped me through life.

Up That Hill

I read a friend's blog and this is my response to it. Something about reading what she wrote compelled me to write, too. So the following is basically my time here in Hong Kong summed up in 3 paragraphs.
__________________________________________________________________

Half way around the world, moments like this come before work and after work for me when I was at my job in Hong Kong. My mood was strung onto each tune, and the melodies would take me far far away. Sometimes, to places where I have never been, sometimes, to places I am all too familiar, sometimes, to places that I could have gone, but never will, and at other times, to places that I will never return to. I would often look out the train window on the way home, and out of the corner of my eye, I would watch the reflection of my face change to the neon and chrome outside and each song I hear. I would think to myself, "So, is this it? This is life? If it is, then I screwed it up real bad." On the bad days, I would think to myself, I wouldn't care if I fell off the cliff. I wouldn't care if I died.

I would have to walk up a hill to get home each night. I loved walking up that hill at 11pm when no one was around, just me and the orange street lamps, with the road obsured by the midnight mist, the only time I would have to take a look at myself. And I would just stand there, while the silence washed all the memories to my eyes and spill, everything I had tucked away when I escaped by running half way around the world to stand here and be honest with myself: What do I want to do with my life? When am I actually going to start loving myself instead of looking for someone else to love me and make up for what I wouldn't do for myself? (yeah, and all the while, I wonder why I've got all these boy problems, huh?) When am I going to start coming out of the shadow that once was misfortune, but is now just an excuse for being scared?

I think I'm much better now. Turning 23 last week just made me think about moving onward. I have something to look forward to. I have friends, I have my family, I have lots to do in my life ... if I care about myself enough to do it. And I know being around people who are supportive and care about me will help me recover -- us living together will definitely help, not just me, but hopefully you, too. I don't think I ever completely recovered from everything since the beginning of college. I don't think people truly recover; it's just a matter of how we cope after we get so hurt. I think things were just a downward spiral since freshman year (you remember). It's been a long way to fall, and a longer way to climb back up, but ultimately, I'll get there.

Yeah, we've known each other for over 10 years, dear. We're old, and I'm glad we're still friends. It's corny and all, but I look forward to many more years of friendship to come.

Elaine

Great

School is great, friends are great, family is great, goals are great (I just need to work harder), the weather is great, my boyfriend is great (my boy is the most AMAZING guy ever!), ...

There is more to be done (lots more), but so far so good.

Well.

Life is great. THANK GOD, FINALLY!

No More Running

No More Running
Current mood: indescribable
Category: Life

I don't want to run away anymore. What was a reflexive survival skill for all the trials in my life is not going to work for the good things.

I have never felt so at ease because I know I'm being taken care of. It has never felt so good to grin in the morning because I know he's right there next to me. It has never been so much fun to make a fool of myself because I feel like I'm at home. It has never felt so natural to want to take care of someone because I know he deserves it. I have never done anything quite as simple as to see what he's made of -- what he means to other people constantly amazes me.

I don't know what he's thinking, and I have no idea where this is going, but ... I can't stop now.

After all, this could be what they say that's good, and

... what they claim I deserve.

I know that if I don't let go of myself now, I could end up regretting it because this could be different, this could be all I've been waiting for ... because behind all these walls I built, I know I can't stay scared and hide forever and pass up a chance at something good.

Running away might have been what kept me safe, but not anymore.

You know ...
... I wish I could stick around with him for a while.
I wonder what he'd think.