Stories

I hung out with Aya today at the Boston Institute of Contemporary Art because she has never been there before, and it's my favorite art museum in Boston. On the way, we had some pretty good conversations about random things from the fly swatter table number sign at the café, to relationships, to Aya's crazy adventures in Providence last night. This girl is seriously awesome.

The opening piece, pictured above, is amazing as usual at the ICA. It is an installation by Ugo Rondinone that features rainbow-colored mirrors surrounded by Boston Globe newspapers. Here is a height comparison (to me), courtesy of Aya's camera expertise. I mean, check out that tilt, yo, it totally reflects the whole neck-craning to look up at the bodacity of the installation. Unfortunately at the ICA, there is a $10 charge for awesomeness and attractiveness.

The main gallery also had some pretty awesome sculptures made out of everyday objects like pins, toothpicks, and plastic cups by Tara Donovan (check out the slideshow). Aya touched the pin block innocently and was gently rebuked by the hawks that stalk each corner for any sight of a camera and artwork touching. Apparently the pin block is only being held together by gravity, no glue at all. We then raided the gift shop for Christmas gifts. I got something so awesome and powerful...I can't say what it is, but whoever's receiving one is going to have so much fun, x 3. Oh man, can't wait to see it/them in action.

Said pin block.

After the ICA, we went to Downtown Crossing to So Good Jewelry where our eyes were blinded by armies of earrings and necklaces. I found a Verizon store down the street where I sampled the Blackberry Storm. Pretty shiny. The data plan, not so much. We briefly went into Macy's and bathed in second-hand perfume, then parted ways at the T.

Next trip with Aya: New York City!

First bar (non)adventure

I went to a Mexican restaurant with Malissa tonight and it turns out she and her 2 coworkers were just chilling at a bar being completely mellow.  She was having a strawberry banana margarita, which she let me try, and not wanting to just sit at a bar drinking water, I decided to order one for myself.  I got a blueberry margarita (on the rocks, sugared rim) for $7.50, which I thought was pretty expensive, but I had never really bought an alcoholic drink at a bar before so I wouldn't know what to compare it with.  (Now that I think of it, I could get a pad thai for that much from Lemon Thai...that's a whole meal and a half for me!)

I did not finish it.  It tasted okay, but not as good as Malissa's strawberry banana.  I got through about 1/3 of it and ate some of her friend's leftover fries (which were really good) and then started feeling something like tipsy.   Again, I wouldn't know, I've never drunk this much in one night.  Earlier, I had a few sips of Wachusett Blueberry, which was disappointing because it just tasted like 99% beer and 1% blueberry, and I dislike beer a lot (x10).  Bleugh.  I guess I was hoping it would taste like Mike's Hard Lemonade.  I also had about 1/2 shot of Baileys mint chocolate, so altogether that was more alcohol than my body ever had.  I just felt really sleepy and full (but not sleepy enough that I couldn't drive 5 minutes home).

Just now I remembered that I had been to Punch's Alley at my school about a month or so ago with a friend who came to hang out and visit campus.  It's the bar on campus that's completely painted red, and it looks nice and fancy and small.  I ordered an Alley's punch or something, and it turned out to be just grenadine and sprite...essentially, sugar water in a glass.  That was only $4, but it was non-alcoholic.  Too sweet + Don't like soda = Didn't drink the whole thing, either.

I'm now half-snuggled in bed with a sort-of headache wondering what this all amounts to.  Drinks are just as expensive as a meal, and they do nothing but make me sleepy and headachy if I drink a lot (still little by American standards) and taste too much like sugar and alcohol.  I've always known I wouldn't be a beer drinker, but that I'd be willing to try out different mixed drinks and whatnot.  For now though, I'm sticking with my mini bottle of Baileys ($1, will probably last for a few days).

Baileys ftw!

I love cinnamon.

You Are a Cinnamon Latte

Deep down, you are a sensitive soul. You just want to be loved and appreciated. You may have a spicy attitude, but you're all sweetness on the inside. You are dependable and loyal. You have your life together, and you're able to be there for other people. You like nothing more than a warm, cozy house filled with friends and loved ones.

What Flavor Latte Are You?

75 things I appreciate

Inspired by Laurie's blog :)  I'm busy as heck right now but I think I should take a breather and remind myself what I'm grateful for at the moment.  Still too busy to actually count how many, so I'll stop when I feel like it :)

Leading worship, playing piano, playing guitar, strawberries, Faith, friends, shepherd's pie, gravy, knowing what it means to be Chinese-American, my parents, Nick, Malissa, Sonny, this weekend, online Chinese tools, Powerpoint 2007, Yiruma, finding piano sheet music online, free printing at Knapp, movies, mail, my to-read books that are sitting on my shelf, Thanksgiving break, Christmas/Winter break, red apples, my bed, sunlight, mom's cooking, Bluetooth headset, financial security, voting, planes, the T, meeting new people, the CS/MAS department, really good books, getting stuff done, bubble baths, vanilla, cinnamon, awesome t-shirts, hugs, kisses, specialization, bubble umbrella, mature men, baking cookies, lip balm, cooking, water, fresh bananas, watermelon, my talents, honesty, every single moment I have with Nick, spending time with family, Sharpie markers, writing, intimacy, autumn leaves, willow trees, oceans, technology, Tabasco sauce, french toast sticks and maple syrup, vanilla yogurt, comfortable shoes, human-computer interaction, free pens, ergonomics, cats, Google Calendar, post-its, appreciation, chopsticks, hand soap fragrance, free time, prayer, green tech things, culture shows, Twilight saga.

New blog home

I've made the decision to move from LiveJournal to Blogspot mainly because I can't stand having those pesky ads on my blog, and also there were limited layouts at LJ. I don't need the community aspect, and Blogspot is more modern-ish. I've imported all of my old posts, but consider those a me of the past.

I decided not to go to get henna done after all. Diana said she was coming, then said ohnvm last minute because she needed to do homework, and I didn't want to trek all the way in the cold to the campus center, alone, get henna done, walk back with a semi-frost-bitten hand.

Lots of Chinese homework tonight, since I'm going to try to do it all in one day again. 老师 decided not to give us the vocab quiz today because we all looked like it was really painful to do the group exercise she handed out in class. I guess we looked that tired. She gave it to us to practice anyway and I realized that I could have done it just fine. Oh well.

About Blogging

 I just saw a really good TED talk by Mena Trott about the blogosphere.  She makes some really good points about how she thinks the best blogs are the personal ones, because there you read about people that you'll never see in the news, and it's a great way record your daily life and have your future self/kids/whatever look back on it and see what you did and how you were like.

I have to say, it was really tempting for me to jump the gun and create a new Blogspot blog that would just be my personal life. My Weebly blogs would stick to relevant updates for those who know me, but the new Blogspot blog would just be for myself, or at least my closest circle.  I was reminded that I had sort of felt the same way about having multiple email addresses, but now realize that having too many defeats the purpose and makes it hard to keep track of them.  But I still have 3 main ones, and an extra one just in case.

So.  I suppose I should rebaptize this blog and make it officially more of a personal daily-ish blog with reflections and events.  Perhaps I will find time to post every day, or maybe not, and it won't be for the readers out there, it will be for me and those close to me who want to know about some of the mundane things in my life.  But mostly for myself.

I haven't updated this one since June, apparently.  I've been working a lot on my *other* blogs (>_<) and being a senior in college.  And knowing me, I will probably spend a few days diligently blogging, then forget about it for weeks again.  We'll see how this works out.

Love

Too often do I have some tiny epiphany which I mull around in my head, planning how I would write it down and remember it. Too often do I write it late, which results in something like watery eggs, or not at all, which is a disappointment when it happens (or rather, doesn't happen).  But this one may actually be something significant.

I've noticed today that I tend to hit rock bottom before bouncing back up. In these dark couple of hours, my mind clouds up and I become stubborn, with no sense of what's fair, what's right, what's myself.  I feel chaotic, helpless, weak.  Unworthy.  It usually lasts no more than a day, this wallowing in confusion and vulnerability.  I become so sensitive to anything that happens, that I feel like I'd fling a lizard if someone even looks at me.  Today, I isolated myself in a corner of the house.  I despised what I was doing to myself, this cycle of helplessness and disgust.  I didn't know why I did it to myself, only that I was left feeling guilty afterwards, wondering what had come over me.

But something was different.  Somehow, out of all days, today I asked myself, Why do you do this to yourself?  It's like you don't even respect yourself or realize your worth.  It's almost like...like you don't even love yourself.

I must provide some context for these thoughts.  I had just finished reading the fourth Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book today, and loving yourself was something that had come up a few times.  Also, my wonderful boyfriend told me today just how amazing he thought I was, something that I rarely agree with, if ever, and usually attribute to his being in love with me.  I didn't realize until now that he knew me first.

Anyway, that question struck pretty close to home.  I realized that all my life, I've been told that I was loved, and told others that I loved them, but never had anyone asked me if I loved myself, at least not quite so urgently.  It's really not that obvious.  I've suffered low self-esteem since when I was a kid because I have never considered that question and its importance.  And as a Christian, I am constantly told and believe that God loves me, but somehow, that wasn't enough, because how could I believe I deserved all this good love if I didn't love myself?  This whole time through high school and college I've been trying to find my self worth and separate that from grades and expectations and how many people liked me.  This whole time I've looked enviously at models in magazines or catalogues, wishing that I were their size.  This whole time I've coveted other people's talents because mine never seemed impressive enough.  What happened was that I started feeling like I didn't deserve some things, like I was just an average person with nothing special to offer others.  I doubted myself, was hard on myself, put myself down.

I almost panicked, frantically hoping that I'm not usually like this.  When was the last time I did love myself?  My thoughts didn't have to go back too far.  Last summer, at Virginia Tech.  I could clearly tell, and so could the others.  It has probably never manifested so brightly and clearly.  I was carefree, bouncy, always with a smile, social, had no worries, had no doubts about what I deserved, but most importantly, I gave it my all and let others see me for who I could be.  I did not have to think twice about what I was doing.  In the midst of it all, I managed to catch my boyfriend's eye and made some really good friends that I still talk to today.  I must have done something right.

I need to learn to love myself, and then I'll be able to love others I want to.  I wish there was more to say, like a witty ending to this whole ordeal, but reality is that I just got started, and I'm feeling pretty good about it so far.

Who am I?

I feel quite lost, like a little girl being pulled in two different directions in a forest, both paths independent of each other. I wanted to spend the summer at home (while still doing professional stuff) so that I could spend time with my family, catch up on life, and update them on how I was doing. I wanted them to know me and accept me, see what college and friends have molded me into. I was quite proud of it, if anything at all. It was like buying someone a nice sweater, hoping they will like it and that it will keep them sufficiently warm throughout winter.

All I've managed to do so far was stare at the dinner table, pretending to be interested in something that I can't even focus on. All that I hear are seeped through my soul, accepted by my cultural upbringing, but rejected or challenged by my logical, rational side, which understands the values of Chinese culture, but fights for the side of free-thinking, open-minded views. I so desperately want to have a normal conversation, one that is not ridden by criticism, hasty assumptions, the past, or faulty jokes. But in trying to prepare to say something, the atmosphere is broken by spikes and shards that render it impossible for me to zone in, which results in me building glass walls around myself. I answer dully. Scathingly would be too strong of a word. Sometimes, I laugh authentically, but not nearly enough.

My culture isn't the only area that I feel divided. This doesn't get brought up often, but my hearing is another where I don't feel like I belong anywhere. To the normal-hearing, I am hearing-impaired, but to the hearing-impaired and deaf, I am normal. Where does that place me? It's not a big deal now; I've grown up with it my whole life and I'm used to it. I consider myself normal-hearing, for the most part, but it doesn't really matter. However, I am considered to be so "white" in Chinese culture that it's not even funny, but to everyone else, I look like just another Asian face with an Asian upbringing and Asian parents who push you to your limits. What does that make me? Chinese-American? But I wasn't born here. I almost refuse to be Chinese-American. Nevertheless, I am not yet an American citizen (not until next month, anyway). I've tried to put it off. I liked being Chinese. What did that mean? I know I wanted to hold on to that piece of my history and culture, but how can I feel like I deserve the title when I am being told left and right that I have been so Americanized that I cannot possibly understand or appreciate the complexities and hardships of a traditional Chinese upbringing? Why should my ethnicity be determined by how I act and what I believe and not where I was born? I feel like an alien being American. In many ways, I'd rather be a Chinese person with an American upbringing, but still stay Chinese and not American. Is that even possible? It doesn't mean that I dislike Americans, but there should be nothing wrong with wanting to stick to my roots, no matter how different I act culturally. I feel like the Chinese-American title is thrust upon me as the only explanation for my values and beliefs. In that sense, I feel thrown back and forth between the two - not quite Chinese, but not quite American. I also don't want my chosen ethnicity to solely reflect the color of my skin. I sympathize with my American friends when they say Asian parents can be harsh on their kids. I envy them when their parents let them do whatever they like or support ideas and beliefs they hold. I am able to comfort an Asian friend whose parents are too tough on her, but at the same time, I cannot stand it when a proud Asian parent smugly brags about their accomplished child.

I don't feel deserving of being Chinese. I feel like my parents are always sighing that it's too bad I don't do this or think that in Chinese. I know they are proud of me and of what I have become, but I always feel that a part of them are always saying "it's just too bad..." And it's not that I don't want to become an American citizen. When I swear in that oath, I will feel as if I have abandoned my Chinese identity, that I am now a mix of ethnicities called "American," which isn't quite exactly what I want to be. I shouldn't have to feel that the two are mutually exclusive. My American friends will probably never understand this dilemma that I am going through, and my Asian friends and family will always have some of those characteristic beliefs of Asians. I am somewhere in between, not able to reconcile with myself. I suppose I will have the rest of my life to figure out what being Chinese-American, or I guess, more politically correct, what being just plain American means. It is easy for me to be married to an American, to live the American dream and think open-mindedly and be free in all that I do, but I know that every time I go home, I will be met with my cultural background, my roots, something that I am so proud of being, yet can never seem to quite rightfully own or live up to. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe home will remind me that I am human, what I am worth, what I am capable of being, what my potentials are. Maybe becoming an American citizen from an immigrant is all about finding the strengths of who I am, my original identity, and use that to create a whole new "me" that I never thought would be possible had I stayed in my home country. Perhaps, it's about using precisely that to set yourself apart from other Americans, and then collectively working together to create a better place to live, and to bring into this world something to live for. That's what I hope, and that's what I will strive for. As for one day saying that I am proud to be an American? Well, that might take a bit of work and more soul-searching to do, but who's waiting?

Do want encouragements

I have to say, right now, it's not really enough just to talk with a sullen face about how I am stressed out, and this goes for everyone I talk to, online and off, on a daily basis. Do I really have to ask for more, especially when I'm going through so much? Would it take up so much of our time (those of us who do have more time, anyway. Hint: not me) to encourage each other a little bit more? Is it so damn hard for anyone to write a short, sweet email that says "I am thinking of you" or "You'll make it!", or call each other to see how the other is doing? Just because I'll see you tomorrow or sometime within the next few days, doesn't mean we have to just wait until then (by then it will be over anyways, and I'd rather not be left feeling "where were you when I needed someone?"). Are we really that time-constrained and insensitive to the silent cries of others? You can see it so clearly in their eyes. Are mine not shining enough with burdens already? Are we - am I - so selfish to secretly want this kind of pampering?

I give up trying to be right. It's just hard. Maybe it's just me, I don't know anymore, but there's no use fighting when I can't win. But what can I do? Call 3 people today and let them know that at least, I'm thinking of them.

Spontaneous

Technically, I'm at work right now. It's near 70 F, gorgeous day, and I should be outside, listening to the Paprika soundtrack and just zoning off. Even better, lying on the grass with you.

I'm ahead of schedule today, and excited about my class schedule next semester. It turns out that ST is taking a sabbatical next semester, which means she won't be offering Child and Adolescent Pathology. My only other choices are Shyness with JC or Non-Verbal Communication with RA again. Shyness is Thursday mornings, and N-VC is Wednesday nights. Seeing how I did decently well in my Personality class with JC, and also because it's earlier on Thursdays, I have concluded that it's the best option. Given that, I have Tuesdays, Wednesdays (except 9:50am Chinese class) and Fridays completely off! How exciting :D

Tay Zonday has an awesome voice.

*looks around confusedly because the folder she was working on has automatially started making .jpg duplicates of the .tifs o.O*

And all I know is you’ve got to give me everything
and nothing less, cuz you know I give you all of me

I give you everything that I am
I’m handin over everything that I’ve got
Cause I wanna have a really true love
Don’t ever wanna have to go and give you up
Stay up till four in the mornin and the tears are pouring
And I want make it worth the fight
What have we been doing for all this time
Baby if we’re gonna do it come we do it right

Gwen Stefani - 4 in the morning

Small

My eyes are smaller this morning, not because I willed them to be, but you can't help what crying to sleep does to you.  I wish I didn't have to.  I wish a lot of things, but it doesn't make anything better.  I almost feel envious of these other girls here who are happily waiting 39, 51, 112 days to see their other halves.  Still feeling chaotic from last night, thoughts gnawing and trying to push their way out.  I won't hold up for long, but I won't break down, either.  Writing is my only release, but it shouldn't have to be.

But in the end, what leaves you broken
In the end, makes you better, yeah

Plumb - Better

Silent

I want to say it so badly, it's practically already out there.  But no, I won't say it, just wait and see what happens.

Update

I'm sitting in the campus center stirring my too-sweet passionfruit bubble tea, in hopes that the ice will melt faster and dilute my afternoon treat.  I haven't written in a while, and I didn't want to leave the tone of the last post hanging for too long.  Much has happened since then, but I can assure you that I am still in love, more than ever.  Oh, and I joined Twitter (chloester).

Today's just one of those days that are characteristic of a lazy afternoon - cloudless, sunny sky, green grass popping up in random patches, not feeling like you want to do anything, listening to great music on your MP3 player...  I attempted to be productive by locking myself in the Media Lab, intent on reading 30 pages in my S&P textbook after starting on the next Maya project.  Nope.  All I succeeded in doing was fill out a class evaluation form and look tirelessly for instant satisfaction to my sudden urge to play Katamari, which started last night after a small burp of inspiration.

I realized that I felt strangely repressed in some vague way, a feeling which only intensified as I walked to the campus center.  The last few days, I've had some more free time than usual to browse the web and discover new things, and to create.  Sure enough, I got into RSS feeds and subscribed to some of the geekiest things ever.  It made me feel connected to the outside world, away from this Bubble; promises of growth and innovation.  Of course, the taste of freedom and independence was alluring enough for me to put off my work, which, naturally, leads me to become introspective when I am not distracted by shiny Web 2.0 logos.  I felt a sudden urge to write, as if that would liberate my parched soul and give me wings.  Big, green, glittery, translucent, strong wings.  Feeling pretty good so far.  I realized that I would much rather create and learn than operate on deadlines.  I knew it all along, but auto-mode prevented me from minding too much.  I've been able to dream about multiple projects I'd like to do, things I'd like to create, playing the guitar loudly and freely, and writing profusely, but I haven't been able to release myself to do them.  I can't wait until the summer, when extraneous academic binds will no longer hold their grip on me.  My self-worth will no longer be constrained to grades or memorized information, and the whole world will be mine to drink.

I long to be free, or to be set free.  I have to say that aside from my faith, there's only one other person who's been remarkably close to providing me that kind of complete liberation; I can only hope that he is the one.  I'm not sure if I'm ready for that kind of freedom.  I am sure that until then, I will continue striving towards anything and everything that makes me feel alive.

The bubble tea tastes much better now.

Numb

It doesn't feel like I'm part of your life right now. You might as well not be here at all...it feels the same way, so what difference does it really make?

Ugh, why do I feel so chaotic right now?  Why does it never feel like you'd be someone who could find me in the darkness?  I want to be found, all the time...but you give up too easily when I push you away.  It's almost like I'm just another person in your life...you don't act like you need me at all; all you have are your sweet words and busy work.  Maybe you really don't, and are just attached to romantic ideals, or maybe I try too hard, and give too much, making it easy to take me for granted.

I'm sorry for making this so hard.  Maybe I just need to let it out.

::rain::

Minismile

Once upon a clear day, the Girl woke up early in the morning, just like she had since last Sunday. She started off her day by nibbling on a piece of Fruit, running on The Elliptical while reading her Chinese Lessons, then ate more Fruits and Eggs for breakfast. The Sun shone in her hair that day, and she felt especially radiant. This was an Ordinary Girl, except, she was in Love with a Boy. Not just any boy. The Boy. He had saved her from alligators the summer before, bravely swinging on vines to pluck her out of murky waters, then gently laying her down on dry ground. The Two had looked at each other, panting from the excitement, when something in their Eyes sparked Love and Beauty. Since then, they have been Together, adventuring the distant lands of the Orient, having meals in the Wilderness (where The Boy cooked up a delicious meal from fresh wild quail and red wildberries), and spending Dreams in each others' Arms. They did all of this without speaking, as speech was forbidden in their world. To compensate, the Girl would show her Soul to the Boy through her dark Eyes, and it was usually so that if you could see someone's Soul in their Eyes, it meant they Loved you Deeply. This was how they showed each other their Love.

There were times when the Boy had to leave to go on Missions to free speech from the Law. It was an important thing, a Beautiful Thing, one that will bring them Closer in the end. It sometimes made the Girl very Sad, because she could not see or touch the Boy, but because he Loved her, he would send whispers through the Clouds, which was the only way to communicate with her. As long as the Clouds whispered to her every day, she would know that the Boy was thinking of her and that he Loved her, and he made sure he did this whenever he could. On this Ordinary day, the Ordinary Girl minismiled up to the sky and the Sun smiled back. There were no Clouds in the sky, but the Sun promised some later. The Girl happily munched on some banana bread, feeling full of Love. She eagerly awaits the day when the Boy, her 100% Perfect Other, will return to her, the day when she can finally say, "I Love You."