Somewhere Over the Rainbow

2010-05-05T22:09:00.000-07:00

My Life Story

I have divided my life in to chapters where I list all the major points of my life.

I got quite emotional too.

Chapter 1—The Beginning--Ages 0-5
Characters: Mother, sister
Event: I fell down the stairs (Age 3)
Overall affect: Mixed
Brief Description: My dad was away most of the time, so I was left with my sister and my mom. I remembered one day my mom went to work and told my sister to babysit me. My sister went to take a shower and mistakenly forgot to close the safety door on the stairs. I was on my toy bike cycling between the rooms on the second floor. At some point, I decided to bike down the stairs. That was certainly not a good idea as both I and the bike flew down the like a clip from an action movie. I still vividly remember the cold floor and the weight of the bike on top of my body as I laid on the ground. Even though my face was covered with blood, I was still conscious. Upon hearing about the incident, my mom rushed home and thought that I had a very serious head injury. She cried as she carried me in her arms. So I said to her, “Hey mommy, don’t cry, I’m ok.”

Chapter 2—Elemetary School—Ages 5-9
Characters: Mother, father, sister
Event: Father worked at home, entered school
Overall affect: Positive
Description: My dad started working at home when I was about 5 years old; hence, we were able to spend time together as a family. These years were probably of the best years of my life. Every Friday night, my dad would take us out for dinner in a restaurant. Then on every Sunday morning, we would play at the beach. When I turned 6, my parents sent me to a nearby elementary school. I was nervous on the first day of class. I remember the teacher asked me to read one page from “The Rabbit and the Turtle picture book.” I did not know how to read because I did not attend preschool; so I created my own story from looking at the picture. I could feel the teacher and other students’ gazing at me, but I did not care.

Chapter 3—Middle School—Age 9
Characters: Father, mother, sister, and aunt
Event: Dad was diagnosed with cancer (Age 9)
Overall Affect: Mixed
Description: When I was 9, my father was diagnosed with liver cancer. I knew that he was very sick but it did not cross my mind that he might die from it. At that time, my sister was enrolled in college away from home. My parents traveled to another city for better medical treatments, so I lived with my aunt most of the time. Prior to his illness, my father would buy me a lantern during the Mid Autumn Festival so that I could play with other kids in the neighborhood However, in the year of his illness, I was alone and watched the other kids play instead. Just when I thought that my parents forgot about me, my cousin showed up and gave me a lantern. Later I heard from my cousin that even though my father was sick and in pain, he still cared about me and told my cousin to buy me a lantern.

Chapter 4—Father’s Death---Age 10
Characters: Father, mother, and sister
Event: Father passed away
Overall Affect: Negative
Description: My father returned home after the surgery and several cancer treatments, but he lost almost all of his hair and looked like a skeleton. I was afraid to look at him. So I spent most of the time playing outside instead of staying at home to take care of him. During the spring of the following year, my dad’s health was deteriorating. Then on one afternoon when I was playing at the beach, my sister came to me and said, “Come home now, Dad needs you.” I got home and saw my father, as small as a child, was having his last moment. He was trying to cling onto life and waiting for my return. As soon as he saw me, he passed away. I ran outside and looked up to the gray sky and felt the cold raindrops on my face.

Chapter 5—Coming to America--Age 12-13
Characters: Mother, step-father
Event: My mother remarried and we came to America
Overall Affect: Positive
Description: After my father passed away, my mother took care of me and my sister. She later met a Vietnamese American man through her cousin. After a year, they got married and we moved to the United States. At first, I attended a middle school in a small town in Iowa. Because I did not understand English, I had a hard time assimilating to this new environment. One day during PE class, I and a few students were playing football. I was unfamiliar with the rules. When I caught the ball, I kept on running toward the opposite direction instead of the opponent’s end zone.
I remembered my English teachers were very warm and friendly. Even though I was the only Vietnamese in the entire school, I was still happy.

Chapter 6—Boston—Ages (13-17)
Characters: Mother, step-father, friends, and English high school teacher
Event: Moved to Boston (Age 13), entered high school
Overall Affect: Positive
Description: We moved from Iowa to Boston to live with my aunt. Since Boston has a large Vietnamese community, I met many Vietnamese students whom I could relate to. Also in high school, I participated in many school’s activities and community programs. My English improved significantly during this time. In my senior year of high school, I took more challenging classes such as AP English, calculus, and biology. I especially loved my English high school teacher because I was in her class for three consecutive years.

Chapter 7—College—Ages (18-Present (20))
Characters: New friends
Event: began College, major decision
Overall Affect: Positive
Description: This was a drastic transition for me. I went to a small high school where everyone knew each other, so going to college was a completely overwhelming experience. I started out as biology major but struggled with the classes. In my sophomore year, I decided to change my major. Since I have always been fascinated by art and psychology, I decided to be a psychology major and a visual art minor. Additionally, I had a group of close friends in college who always supported me.

2010-02-28T17:10:00.000-08:00

I haven't written anything in such a long time ever since I finished my writing course last semester. It's a good thing though. I don't have to stay up all night to chew on my nails and stare at the screen squeezing every word out of my sleepy head. But sometimes, just sometimes, I do miss writing. I am not a good writer from the beginning, but I like to write stories.
It's just like how I am in art. I love art and drawing but I dislike the painful process of measuring everything and try to transfer it accurately onto a piece of paper. I'm a dreamer and so I don't like to go by the rules. Perhaps this is the reason why I can never follow one thing until the very end.

I love both art and writing but I can neither excel as an artist nor a writer.

2010-01-30T22:22:00.000-08:00

My roommate...who didn't know I have a blog.

If by any chance, you lurk in here,

Hello!

How I wish

2009-09-29T18:55:00.002-07:00

That I can play piano someday
And that I see music in colors...

Les Premiers Sourires De Vanessa

His fingers have magic!!!

Taking a break from my papers >:(

How I wish

2009-09-29T18:55:00.001-07:00

Papers!

2009-09-29T16:50:00.000-07:00

I didn't do anything on weekend as I supposed to...so now I'm sitting here , writing a 5 pages paper that is due tomorrow.
I just don't want to do this!
Now I'm in the study hall and just got back from a bathroom break....I learned my lesson from last year--not to use the men's room carelessly.

Here's a song to get my brain thinking,
Good luck!

OMG ....not again.....

2009-09-26T22:07:00.001-07:00

It happened again, on the green line again, and I wasn't even wearing anything revealing (=..=)m...

Okay, so here's the story...
I got on the crowded green line train to go back home. Since there were many people by the time I got on, I had to stand and hold the steel bar to keep myself from bumping into anyone.
Then I noticed someone's hand moved closer and closer to mine as I tried to moved my hand away.
This very daring guy gradually practically covered my hand with his hand. When I looked up and tried to ask him nicely to remove his hand...and then he just started asking things like...

_ "Are you from China"
_ "Are you a student? How old are you?"
_ What school, what you study..

Because I'm such a nice person (yes I am)...I answered him anyways but appeared uninterested in the conversation..yet this guy kept on pestering me (Seriously, do you ask someone you don't even know with so many questions? =..= )
Where is his commonsense? and he looked like 26+?

I avoided further annoyance by running to the closest train...

After these cases, I think I tend to attract perverted old men...unconsciously and unwillingly.....

Problem with the Short-Shorts

2009-09-21T04:40:00.000-07:00

I am again a victim of sexual harassment on the train...

I hate this.

------------------------------------------------------------------

At 5 feet 1 inch and about 90 pounds, I'm quite short, especially comparing to the height of an average American female which should be around 5 feet 6 inches. I can dress in middle school uniform and have no problem concealing my age. So at this height, my legs are, of course, relatively short in length...I look decent...not ugly and not strikingly pretty either...

Because of these, I never expected that I would be a victim of sexual harassment. I thought this kind of things only happenned to pretty girls, but one particular afternoon proved my preconception of sexual harassment wrong.

It was a nice afternoon in September. The weather was cool so I put on a shorts-shorts to go out and buy some art supplies for my drawing course. As I got on a training heading downtown I felt as if someone was looking at me...maybe a man around 50 years old or so...
But I quickly dismissed that feeling--it was rush hour the train was quite packed, so of course there would be lots of eye contacts.
Though when I reached downtown and changed train, the feeling kept coming back. Even without my glasses, I could tell the intensity of the stare on my body--as though the person was trying to strip me naked.
I tried to moved to a different car, but I noticed the man followed me and sat right in front of me...I tried to avoid his gaze, pretending to look at the pictures in my phone and listening to music.
The tension lasted for about 10 minutes until he finally got off the train--not forget to approach me with a perverse smirk and said loud enough so that everyone could hear,

"You have beautiful legs..."

The victim is left bewildered.

The train's door closed and an automatic voice proceeded, "The destination of this train is ...."

Case # 2

I thought I wouldn't wear that shorts ever again, but I did.
This time it was by a group of young boys..probably high schoolers, who thought I was their age..
until I said, "Hey I'm way older than you guys, I may not look like it, BUT I'm a college student!"

Like that would help anything...and this boy bluffed that he was also a college student who went to Boston University.

How amusing it was that he picked Boston Uni out of all universities in Boston...because it's actually my school...it was an advantage I had over him, but I guessed I might as well move along with the little boy's lie. So I said,
"O wow REAAAALLLY? What school are you in then? I'm in CAS (College of Art & Science)?"

The question had an immediate effect as there was dumbfounded look on the boy's face...He tried another futile attempt,
"Oh yea I'm majoring in business...you know..."

I refrained myself from a LOL, it was a good thing that I got off and got rid of the stupid conversation with those boys...
As I was walking on the streets, I encountered a few other teasing (are the males around here desperate or what?)
All of these, I think, was because I wore that shorts shorts...maybe it unintentionally triggered these perverts' testosterone.

And that was the only time I wished I'd have bucked teeth, crazy hair, hairy legs, and a battlefield of pimples on my face--until I escaped from that place...

When I Dream

2009-09-01T13:10:00.000-07:00

She woke up to see the early morning dew. It was a chilly morning so she made herself a cup of ginger tea.

Just like that, with just a little cup of ginger tea...she watched as the world went by..

When I Dream---Emi Fujita

Play here :D

http://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=5120a2f63f&view=audio&msgs=123769b5478e214a&attid=0.1&zw

I could build the mansion
that is higher than the trees
I could have all the gifts I want
and never ask please
I could fly to Paris.
It's at my beck and call,
Why do I live my life alone
with nothing at all

*
But when I dream, I dream of you,
Maybe someday
you will come true.
When I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday
you will come true
*

I can be the singer
or the clown in any role
I can call up someone
to take me to the moon
I can put my makeup on
and drive the man insane
I can go to bed alone
and never know his name

But when I dream,
I dream of yon in any role
I can call up someone
to take me to the moon
I can put my makeup on
and drive the man insane
I can go to bed alone
and never know his name

The Seed Moth

2009-08-31T08:07:00.000-07:00

The seed moths invaded my kitchen. They came from the dried Chinese apples my mom usually used to make beef noodle soup.
They multiplied so fast! First, there were just a couple of individuals and then the number doubled, even tripled...

What appalled me the most was when they made a nest out of my old cereals! I did not mind feeding the hungry creatures these left-over food. Yet the sight of thousands of seed moth larvae that closely resemble the fat maggots sickened me. It gave me chill everytime!

I burned the nest....

just like I did with other uninvited creatures who invaded my kitchen. Of course, I could squash them--the attack my mom often chose, but I preferred fire as it left no broken wings, no falling- out legs, and smashed guts. Moreover, it killed the insects in one piece, so all you had to do was bringing the unfortunate corpses to the burial place--the trashcan.

May I be condemned to burn in hell for such cruelty! But I would still choose it. I have reasons to excuse my way of killing.
Fire is actually sacred. In most culture, almost all of their rituals involve fire, so you see how important fire is for religious belief.
Some of us even choose fire over burials for our loved ones.

Hence, I had every right to give the insects a sadistic yet respectable death.

And being a sadist, I would of course save a few moths and put them all in a bottle--to quench my thirst for an observable knowledge, my curious mind, and heartless pleasure.

I had placed some crackers inside the dry bottle, so the insects would survive as long as they could.
I put a total of 7 adult moths and 2 cocoons. After almost a week, there were 9 moths and about 4 already died off. I also noticed a miniature larvea (as expected, I saw the female were laying eggs, it amazing how I could observe this life cycle). Did a little research and found that seed moth adults can live for about 14-15 days.

I would still keep the bottle, to look at them whenever I'm bored. Some people actually do this with ants, which I believe, is way more interesting to observe.

Insects are fascinating creatures, in a disgusting way. (especially roaches, good thing I haven't seen any now)

Super funny ads

2009-08-30T15:45:00.000-07:00

Thai ads are the best, I spent hours of watching them
If American ads commercials are like these, I wouldn't mind commercial breaks :D

Smart actor dog!

Brilliant toothpaste ad !

Beer lol

Puppies!

2009-08-29T15:05:00.000-07:00

She suddenly called me one afternoon and said, ''hey I want to buy a pet!''
And so I spent hours and hours searching for the one. (She prefers cute little short-haired chihuahua)
I've contacted 3 potential sellers, none have replied...yet. Anyways, I ''stole'' their puppy's pictures and put them here (can't get enough of them <3) onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.puppyfind.com/member_photos/full/a/av479s8g11a.jpg">

I like the guy in blue best! But I'm ok with anyone actually! (Because I have some great plans for the cutie! -grins-)

They remind me so much of my last puppy Best, 6 years ago. I miss him so much that sometimes I wanted to cry. And it also bought tears to my eyes to see such loving companions are mistreated/killed in the most cruel-some way...

Anyhow, I found a picture of Best and me (still in pajama ;O lol) 6 years ago. (oh wow I looked so innocent back then ;O)

Rest in peace Best, you'll be forever in my heart <3 onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGQn9nMnRBY/Spr_7SCQj-I/AAAAAAAAAFw/n3e8URVEGRo/s1600-h/7thof7th.jpg">

August

2009-08-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

Some random stuffs:
Approximately 2 more weeks till school starts and I can't wait...for the first time I want the summer to end. ;o

It's so hot now, very hot and humid.

Kat said she'll come to Boston around Thanksgiving, yay! I promised to let her play on my laptop (hers sucks xD)....and well, she has to share the twin bed with me, too bad haha ;x.

Thai Pantene advertisement

2009-07-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

A deaf girl loved to play the violin, but she was faced with discrimination because of her handicap.
She ran to an old deaf musician, whom she befriended with since she was little, and asked him through her tears:
- Why am I different from others?
The old musician smiled and motioned his hands:
-Why...do you have to be like others?
Music is a visible thing. Close your eyes and you will see...

Inspirational and touching Pantene advertisement with beautiful music.

The Rabbit and the Monkey

2009-07-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

It has been months since the rabbit last saw her friends. She was having an emotional break-down.
Many things had happened that the rabbit had wished she could disappear from the world.
There were times when everyone was asleep, the rabbit would think of all the methods to end her sufferings.
Which would be the quickest and least painful way to die?, thought the rabbit.
No, she would need to experience the physical pain in order to treat her emotional agony inside her.
Then, should she cut her wrist and let the scarlet stream of blood flowing out?
Perhaps...or or maybe she should jump from somewhere, somewhere high! At the same time she would taste the wind, she would see the ground and how beautiful everything was before she hit the ground...
The rabbit loved the wind!
She once thought the wind was a union of the souls of those who once lived on the earth.
She would love to be the wind--roaming freely from place to place without worries without pain.

But then, she still loved this life, if she were to go, what would happen to her mother and sister, and relatives who had so many hopes in her.

She failed them.
Perhaps it would be better if she wasn't there.

Yet day by day, the rabbit couldn't bring herself to do the deed. Maybe she didn't have the courage to do so--or maybe she still wanted to linger on this life.

But things were changing at the start of the spring, the rabbit met her old friend, the monkey.
This monkey had liked her some years ago, but now the monkey had found a lovely meerkat as his love.
The rabbit was still alone.
Maybe just a little, the rabbit felt jealousy...but then again, the rabbit was the type that tended to keep everything inside, so she suppressed this ugly feeling deep down.

Maybe the monkey had sensed something was wrong with the rabbit.
Yes, only the monkey could notice these things that no one knew, for the monkey and rabbit had so many things in common.
The monkey wanted to ask the rabbit, but she refused to answer...
The monkey sent a song to the rabbit, telling her to smile and smile and to feel happy.

Yes, this is thing that only the monkey would think of to cheer the rabbit.

That day it was raining and a little bit chilly, but the rabbit felt warm inside.
The rabbit knew that it would be wrong to feel love as the monkey already had someone.
Yet the rabbit was still happy.
Yes, this feeling the rabbit would keep inside like she always had.
This feeling was special.
This feeling only the rabbit knew.
No one else, not even the monkey...

for if the monkey ever came after the rabbit again, the rabbit would run away...like she always had...

---------------------
To my friend, thank you ;)

Getting back on track

2009-07-06T14:11:00.000-07:00

I've been gaming too much that I seem to lost tracks of things I need to take care of.

I lost contact with friends and my counselor because of this.

This July I will straighten things up or else I will be in big TROUBLE.

So these are the things I need to do for the next few weeks:

+ Complete appeal letter before Wednesday
+ Call Animal Rescue League and ask for an interview
+ Take written driver license and take driving lesson
+ Make a schedule
+ Look for a job at Target or participate in some kind of programs (relating to art and programming)
+ Learn 10 new vocabs each day (need them for college writing in the fall) and read more books
+ Continue to move stuffs to my new apartment
+ Oh! Remember to buy paints (dark and light pink) for my room ;D

****Goal*******
+ LESS GAMING!
+ BE ORGANIZED!
+ SELF-LEARNED C++!
-------------------------------------------

I've regained my inspiration for art again, time to work and sketch out those ideas

Ideas (titles only)
+ Dream weaver (sketch completed)
+ Tears collector (need more ideas on this)
+ Strangers in Paradise (Andre Re's song to get inspired)
+ Killed (swan, you know the idea)

-----------------------------------------
Siggies! Must keep my words making siggies for

+ Macro/Micheal
+ Zerthyl/ WH
+ Crap/ Meovin ;D
+ Aliyssa/Lily

Many things to doooooo~~~~~~~~~~
T_____________T

In this world of ours

2009-07-01T03:05:00.000-07:00

In this world of ours,
We eat only to cast out,
Sleep only to wake,
And what comes after all that
Is simply to die at last.

— Matsuo Basho

------------------------------------------------------------------
Out of all Matsuo Basho's poems that I've came across, I found this one the most fascinating.

His view of life is interesting: eat, sleep, and finally die and this cycle of life and death continues on, much like Buddha's view.

There are two ways to perceive Basho's thoughts:

1. We came to this world only to die, then what is the point of trying hard, knowing that once we die, we can bring no money, no fame, nothing with us.

2. We came to this world and must be prepared for our deaths. Therefore, we must live such a life full of meanings and righteousness, so that when we go, we shall not leave any regrets behind.
It is true that we can bring no power nor money to the afterlife. Yet our footprints can linger for generations and generations after our death.

It is up to us to view life, either a long, winding, and tiresome road in which death is the final destination, or an unending journey we seek for knowledge and love in which death is a reward.

Da Vinci, Picasso, Van Gogh, Michelangelo and many other great artists might be dead, but their works are still alive today
We can still see what they saw, and feel what they felt through their works of art.

Socrates, Aristotle, Rosseau, John Locke, Whitman, Emerson, Basho and many other great thinkers were no longer here, yet their thoughts and ideals are still appreciated and studied until now.

These men have pursued their passions during their lifetime
And hence they shall live on for centuries and centuries after.

All things are deemed to die eventually: the grass, the ant, the zebras, the lions, and the humans.

Even the sun doesn't last forever.

Death is unexpected. Some of us may be living today. Some of us may be dying tomorrow.

The important is that whether our lives are fulfilled or not when we have to go.

Experience things. Be englighted.
Only then can we say that we have no regrets and no fear upon our deaths.

Taste what you can
Feel what you want to feel
Forgive as many people in your life as you can
Accept love
And don't forget to Give as much as you can

Feel the wind brushes gently over you face as you stand on top of a green hill.
Taste the salt mingled in the ocean's breath
Receive the warmth as you hug another loved ones
Or just feel a little tenderness inside your heart as you smile to a stranger walking down the streets and see her smiles back at you.

And then when you are no longer here, you still live:

As some may remember you for your forgiveness
Some may miss your giving and accepting love

Others may find you in the wind as it brushes through their faces
Someone may seek for you in the ocean's salty scent
Perhaps people feel your warmth as they hug one another
Or a stranger just remember your smile as she walks down the streets

If you die tomorrow, would you have any regrets?

It's not to late to change today.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I just realized I wrote too much. At first I thought I would only share the poem. I often have more thoughts at night~very early morning, when everything is asleep. It's 3am now, and I think I should hop to bed. The last part of the entry is to remind myself all over again...as I reflect the life that I've been living till now. All I can say is, if I were to die tomorrow, I would have lots lots and lots of regrets! (you see, there are many delicious foods I have yet to try, heehee.. xD)

Are you gay?

2009-06-30T00:19:00.000-07:00

There was a time when I was in my dorm and got a phone call from my mom.
She asked me if everything was ok, how was my study, and I must stay healthy and all...
then suddenly...
Mom: ''Hey..''
Me: ''Yes?''
Mom: ''Are you.... gay by any chance?''

(By gay she meant, lesbian)

I know she was joking, but I didn't expect that one...out of all things.
But I still managed to answer her in a half-joking-half-serious tone, "Of course.......No! Why you asked that?!!! o.O"

She laughed and said that she just talked to my older sis, who happened to wonder about my sexuality since I was in college for awhile but never had a boyfriend.

Now, the weird part is that my mom is actually strict when it comes to her daughters' relationships (Ironically, when she was young, she had boyfriend wayyyy earlier than any of us, not too mention many too!) She always urged us to focus more on books than on boys, but now it seemed like she encouraged me to have a boyfriend!

''Sorry to disappoint you and sis, I don't have a boyfriend and I'm not even interested in that... -long pause- yet'', I answered firmly.

''Oh! ok then good! I jut wanted to make sure...You must focus on your study, then boys can come after than! Ok bye bye'' -hands up-

Hah! I knew it...she was only testing me but I was too smart for that (or rather, I just simply said the truth xD)

Yet her question got me thinking for 1 minute....and till now it popped up in my head while I helped myself getting another bowl of rice (hence here I am sitting here and writing these while eating)...

At times, I'm also confused about myself as well...

I meant, when I was a baby my reputation as a Dolls Destroyer was well-known within the family.
You can say that I was a bit tomboyish; and I can say that I was nothing like my older sister
,who kept her toys, especially dolls , so well that they were as new as the day they were bought.
Unfortunately, once my sister's dolls came to me, they had met their demise...

The expensive walking Russian-as-big-as-a-3-years-old-girl-doll?
I poked her eyes out of the sockets to my mom's dismay.

The electric barking red dog?
I threw him down from the 2nd floor and since then he became the Crippled-electric -barking -red dog.

The barbie doll with long silky brunette hair with jointed elbows and legs?
I gave her a new haircut and handicapped her...

I found my interest in toy cars, catching crickets, lizards, climbing...
It was not a wonder when my mom decided to cut my hair short and dressed me up like a boy..
..and I didn't have a hard time to act like one at all.

2nd grade, I found my best friend's smile so cute and pretty that I wanted to protect her and was willing to beat anyone who made her cry.

5th grade I found myself looking at the girls from my class--observing and analyzing their actions as though I wasn't one of them.

9th grade, I started playing an online game. For some funny reasons, I picked the opposite gender for my character. I thought it was fine as long as I kept everything in the virtual world.
Over times, I met a nice girl and still hid my real identity, real gender.
I got quite attached to her...
A part of me yearned to tell her all about me, about my real self; yet the other part wanted to keep everything hidden.

But the thought of deceiving her further agonized me each day.
I could only either tell her the truth or run away.
In the end, I chose the later option.

10th grade, I cut my hair short. Everyone was surprised at this sudden change in appearance.
Some liked it, others did not.
I personally thought it ok to be more boyish.

Also during 10th grade, a boy asked me out. I liked him, but at the same time, I was afraid.
At the end, I rejected him.
Reason?
''Because I'm not interested in boys''

11th grade, that same boy offered to introduce me to a few of his girl friends, who are 'like me' (he really believed I was les)

Sometimes, I did fantasize myself as a boy and strongly felt that I could be a better boyfriend/lover.
But this fantasy could never become real.

Now I believe that this gender confusion was just a part of my growing up process.

Indeed I was a little more boyish than a normal girl.
I might act tough outside, but it doesn't mean the same for my inside.
I could still cry upon seeing a toughing movie
I also liked cute little things like other girls
And my heart could also beat fast as I felt love..

And mom, even if it were true that I'm gay, it still doesn't change the person I am now
I'm still your child and I still need love like other people.

Next time (if there's one) when you ask, "Are you...gay''
I will answer

Yes, I am gay because I'm enjoying every moment of my life.

------------------------
Just finished my bowl of rice, great timing! =D

Those were the days

2009-06-29T08:33:00.000-07:00

While browsing through my email, sent folder, to look for songs, I found this essay that I wrote a long time ago.

It's interesting to relive the experience, the feelings I had as I wrote these.

I shall keep the story here along with my other writings.

Those were the days is a Russian song, which later was adapted to English by Mary Hopkin

Those Were the Days

And I started to walk away from the very land that has nurtured me. I tried to be strong by holding back my tears. As the door was about to close, I caught a glimpse of her-expecting tears to fall down from her eyes, too. But I was wrong. There was not a single tear. Instead, all I saw was my sister’s brilliant smile as she bid me farewell. And then the door closed. She was alone and cold. Did she cry after that? I would never know.

“Attention passengers, the plane is about to take off, please check your seatbelts, and thank you for flying with us. We wish you have a good time.” This was my first time being on a plane, I was both nervous and excited at the same time. At thirteen, I marveled at how we humans created such a machine—that could fly like the birds. As the plane took off, I saw the familiar houses and the streets became smaller and smaller—just like how I would feel being in a foreign country. Mother was already asleep. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Darkness. I thought, “This is for the best, right?”

It took us roughly two and a half days to fly from Vietnam to Los Angeles, United States. And from there we flew again to Sioux City, Iowa. Then we spent two more hours in the car to reach the small town of Storm Lake. My mother and I went to my step father’s place, and he lived together with a Laos’s family. We settled in the basement of the house. It was dark and cool in the summer.

Because of the different time zone, I was too sleepy to venture around the house at that time. Once I saw the bed, I threw myself on it. And soon, I drifted to sleep. All of the memories suddenly flooded back and entwined into a long dream—from those days I spent with my sister on the beach and I remembered the salty smell that mingled in my black hair, to the day that mother and father went to the big hospital in the Sai Gon City, I sensed something bad was going to happen to our little family. In the dream, I also saw myself looking up to the gray sky and felt the cold raindrops on my face as my sister came and said, “Go home quickly now, father needs you”. Then, I saw my father, as small as a child, had his final breath. Our eyes met and that was it. With that he left a wife and two daughters behind. I also saw myself looking out the window--the sky became dark and started to rain, “Did it cry because it pities me? Because that I became an orphan from now on? Did it feel my pain?” Then I saw myself on that day at the airport, I remembered my sister warm smile as she waved goodbye—she was in college at that time, so she would not come with us. I would cry for her because from now on, she would be alone and on her own. “Did she? Did she cry for me?” I would never know.

I woke up to my mother’s voice. I had slept for a whole day without eating anything. I lost the sense of time, the sense of night and day. It was then I had my first American hamburger. Since I was too hungry, everything was delicious. Of course I did not know back then fast food was unhealthy. As my energy renewed, my curiosity also awaked. Soon, I began to explore the house, the place I would live from now on.

It was an old small house with white paint. Just like other houses in the neighborhood, the house is made up of wood. It’s different because in Vietnam, most of the houses in the city were made with bricks and cement. I found it hard to believe that a wooden house could be so strong and stable. On the left, there was another small house—they said that people would put the car in there at night and it is called “Garage”

The owner was an old Lao’s couple. I remembered the wife was warm and friendly. She spoke broken English and often called me “Baby” every time she gave me food. The husband was quiet and I did not talk to him much since he worked for the whole day. Therefore, I felt comfortable to venture around the house.

There was big garden at the back and it was poorly tended— wild grass was left freely to grow up to my knee. Then, there was another part of the garden where the Lao lady planted her lettuce, spices, tomatoes, and corns. Since it was summer time, I did not start school yet. Thus, I spent most of the time wandering in the garden. I often imagined myself as an explorer and the garden was the mysterious and dangerous Amazon forest. I would saw different bizarre and sometimes, scary creatures like this enormous black spider and her whole net of thousands of small little spiders. I also encountered the gray lizards and occasionally, squirrels. I would play until noon when my mother called for dinner. At night I would venture out the garden again for another mission—to catch fireflies. After I caught a decent number of these amazing creatures, I would turn off the light in my room and lay on the bed. Then I released the fireflies to roam freely in my room. As I lay in complete darkness, little yellow lights from these bugs would blink on and off just like the stars on the sky back home. On and off. On and off. And soon,I drifted to sleep.

Just like that, my summer soon passed and my parents registered me for the local middle school, Storm Lake. On the first day, I woke up very early and took a short walk around the garden. I was excited to see my new school, yet at the same time, I was nervous. I knew basic English phrases such as “Hello, how are you, my name is Trang”, “I’m fine” “Thank you”, so how would I communicate with other kids, let alone making friends with them? Would they laugh at me because of my accent? These questions overwhelmed my mind as I was sitting on the big yellow school bus. The bus stopped at a building somewhat far away from the town’s central, and on top of the building there was a big sign “Storm Lake Middle School.” I followed the other kids through the glass doors into the school. Right before my eyes were wooden chairs and table, neatly aligned in rows, I guessed this where I would eat. As I walked through the long corridor to my homeroom, on the left side I saw a glass cabinet with trophies and pictures of people. On the right side there were posters with strange words. I saw one yellow poster with big green letters arranged into one word, “Future”-- I whispered “Fuu-tro, fuu-tro”

I was introduced to Mr. Brown, a tall, peppered-hair teacher with horn-rimmed glasses. He told me he was in Sai Gon a couple of years ago and that he loved Vietnamese food. I nodded and smiled often because I was unable to create complete sentences to tell him how I miss Vietnam, how nervous and alone I felt in a foreign country, and how I wanted to learn English faster to tell him these things.

In the class, there are other students as well and they knew little English just like me. There were about six Mexican students—all boys, and another one from Cuba. There were two Lao girls, too. I was the only Vietnamese in the class.

American school is different from Vietnamese school a lot. You see, in Vietnam, we just sit in one classroom for the whole day. Every period different teachers would come to the classroom but not the other way around. Here in America, after Mr. Brown’s class, he took me to another classroom, Ms. Z’s. She was a small woman with curly short hair and thin lips. Her eyes were filled with warmth as she welcomed me into the class. We would learn new vocabulary words and Ms. Z would give candies to anyone that can get it right. I also liked her as much as I liked Mr. Brown. I felt more confident as the day passed and I even joked with the teachers. Just when I thought I was alone and no one cared for me, I met these teachers who filled me with new light and hopes. Did I tell you that I knew the meaning of the word “Future” now? I would improve my English so I would be able to make more friends and thus, a better future.

Even though the whole Storm Lake town had only twenty Vietnamese and I was the only Vietnamese in the entire school, the teachers’ warmth and love made me feel welcomed here. Yet soon, I had to leave this place in order to go to a bigger city, Boston to live with my relatives. I heard from mother that there would a lot more Vietnamese there, so I would feel more comfortable. On the last day, I told Mr. Brown and Ms. Z that we had to move to Boston. They gave me a big hug and helped me to get the paper works done. How much I would miss these lovely people, who guided me when I first came to America. How I would miss the garden where I spent the entire summer. And how I would miss the Lao couple and how the Lao lady would call me “Baby” every time she wanted to give me something.

Those were the days I remembered as I first came here. Those were the days that I missed and kept forever in my heart.

Why Blogging?

2009-05-30T22:56:00.000-07:00

Back to the days when the internet wasn't around, the diary was our friend.
Now thanks to our advanced technology, we can now write anything, anywhere, anytime we want.
And the best part? We can share our diary entries with others too.

I wasn't a big fan of writing out my feelings and thoughts. In fact, I've never had a diary before.
Partly because I feel insecure if I express my inner most thoughts. What if someone reads it by accident? Then
I would feel completely transparent as though standing naked in front of a crowd...

...waiting for judgment...

Thus, I've always kept everything inside...
Now Freud may say that isn't the best way to do. Since whatever I've suppressed deep in my unconsciousness may come
back and haunt me every now and then (Perhaps it did)
Yet I still chose it.

My sister was the one introduced me to blogging a few years ago.
I remembered asking her---Why blogging? Why you want other people to know what you're thinking?
Her answer was--So that years later, when I read these things I've written I can feel what I felt at that moment...

Once I entered the blogging world, I noticed different kind of blogs: Some record what they did that day, some put pictures, some put news and stories they like, while others write reviews about certain products and items, some other write what's in their minds...

After a while, I got used to blogging. It feels good--being able to express my thoughts. It's like talking about yourself to another person without restriction, without the fear that you may be judged or misunderstood.
And the 'other person' only listens =).

Of course, I will still keep certain feelings to myself.

But the rest? I'm willing to share with you

Sometimes....

2009-05-20T01:52:00.000-07:00

....You wish that you can disappear from this world.
....You wish that you can turn back time and start everything all over again.
(But only to find that you repeat the same mistakes)
....You wish that you can disappear but you feel that life is too precious,
too important to waste...
...so that you wish you can give years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds of your life away to those who really need and can really treasure it.
...You wish that you can return to yesterday to be a child, no more worries, pains, and sufferings.
You know that this is selfish and isn't the best way to solve everything, but your shoulders and legs are just too tired to move on.
...You wish one never compares you to others, so that your self-esteem doesn't hurt.
...You wish you can be stronger, so that you would not sit here and write all these.
...You wish you don't think much, don't keep everything inside, so the feelings would not be as hard.
...You wish that you have many lives, so that you can experience ways to escape.

You want to feel the wind, you want taste the saltiness of the blood mingled with tears, you want to slowly drift to sleep...

You walk away.

Sometimes you're just tired and disappointed.
. Please.
.Rest.

Tomorrow is a new day, and you will probably forget these feelings now.

Sleep Derivation + No contact lenses = Wrong Restroom. =='

2009-04-23T15:09:00.000-07:00

Most embarrassing moment ever!!! I ran out of contact lenses for the past 3 days and couldn't get enough sleep for the past 2 days. The result? I went straight into Men room as though it was Women territory. Worse yet, there was actually A GUY in the toilet and I bet he knew that I went in the wrong room (yea, what guy would wear shoes that make high-heel sound. '_')
Well, good thing that he decided to stay in the toilet until I went out, save me from the all embarrassment and awkwardness.
My, I didn't realize I was in the wrong room until I came out from the toilet and washed my hands and suddenly noticed the men --um-- 'peeing-bowl'. (I felt like I got electrocuted at that moment)
My roommate would laugh at me A LOT if I tell her this. >.<~

Lesson learn for next time: sleep derivation + no glasses = look closely wherever I go
=.=

As Tears Go By..

2009-04-17T00:47:00.000-07:00

It's 2 am in the morning, and I have to do my biology lab report. Class starts at 8:30 so I have to finish everything by 7:30!!!!
Listen to music while writing the report kind of helps. This song is quite old but I still like it.

''It is the evening of the day, I sit and watch the children play..."
A contrast between 2 different generations. As narrator is from the 'old generation' , it is the 'evening' of his life (he has reach the last stages of life). As for the children, whose lives are still long and promising, they have 'smiling faces'.

Imagine 50 years later, I will also be an old lady...sits and watches as life goes by. LOL.
[ 3 am and scary thoughts]

Ok! back to lab! aja aja fighting!

As Tears Go By

Rolling Stones

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

My riches cant buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Easter Dinner!!~~

2009-04-12T18:47:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I had a pretty good time at my mom's friend's house.
I'm not a big fan of American-American food, but in the end, mom made some yummy fried noodles and sushi rolls (yes! there was flying-fish roe!!)
Unfortunately I forgot to take pictures of the food there, but I managed to get a few photos of the two big Siberian Huskies [which was my main point of going anyways =p]

Here are some photos!

Here is the 6 years old male, Tobi. He loves everything that makes sound in his mouth.

Tobi with the owner's daughter, Stephani

Tobi's older sister, 7 years old Kyla. Looking a bit sad huh?

''Kyla give me your hand/paw!''

-Unwillingly gave hand- It's like she's thinking ''I give you my paw, go away already'' xD

Barking at neighbor's dog =x

Kyla chewing on a piece of wood. o.o

Kyla- closed-up

Since it's still cold, the owner hasn't wash them for months. They are a bit smelly =x

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!

2009-03-30T19:13:00.000-07:00

Image source: http://www.ninjavspenguin.com

First Date?First Kiss?

This time I wrote through a young man's point of view, it was quite fun doing it though the writing was a little simple =x. And I took 1 line from a movie I saw a long time ago -coughs-. Good thing the teacher didn't notice !

A Young Man’s Confession of His First Date

People always say that the first date is always the best experience (of course, we exclude those unfortunate individuals who have worst first date experiences), and then people also say that the first kiss is the sweetest and most wonderful thing. My first kiss and first date happened on the same er, day. To tell you the truth, it was somewhat blurry--all I can remember is this salty taste mingled in the wind and nothing more.

As the only son of a family full of females, I always felt somewhat oppressed by the presence of my five older sisters. So as a result, I was a shy boy; I was a shy teenager, and maybe a shy man. But I decided things should change when I got a girlfriend—finally, I could show the world my tough side and my manliness. How true it is when people say opposites attract to each other! I, “the shy boy”, surprisingly captured N’s heart—well-known around the school for her intimidated personality and her black belt rank in Karate. We were an odd couple since N was strong-built with tanned skin and I was pale and thin; she was tough and I was timid. Most people thought that our relationship didn’t last long, but N ignored them anyways and planned our first date together.

On that day, she looked elegant and feminine in a white dress with her silky, black hair down; her normally masculine side suddenly disappeared in place for a tender, angelic look. At first, I was struck by this sudden change: was love finally able to turn her into a sweet, little maiden whom I could prove my manliness? But this question was quickly shoved away as she got on the back seat of my bicycle and demanded, “Let’s go to the amusement part. I want to try the new roller-coaster there!” Though the idea of being twisted and turned and fallen and dropped and tumbled from a sixty-five degree angle seemed scary (in fact, I never had enough courage to try these!), it was less fearsome than that of my girlfriend’s anger. Thus, I reluctantly cycled over the amusement park, silently praying for it to be closed. We arrived at the park anyways and the first thing we tried was the Superman roller coaster, more fearful than I thought: a near ninety degree drop from the sky. I swallowed hard and followed her to get in line. I wanted to tell her to go to the Ferris wheel instead of this, but words couldn’t form inside my mouth, so I remained silent. When it was our turns, I got in a seat next to her. The scarlet roller coaster, like a caterpillar, moved slowly up to the top of the ninety degree hill at first. It stopped once it reached the top of the hill; I held my breath and told myself not to scream(after all, I was the man), then I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth--bracing myself for the law of gravity to act upon my vulnerable body. It suddenly dropped. I screamed and my girlfriend laughed. After the Superman, we went to other roller coasters—Mind Eraser, Tycoon, Inside the Tornado, Batman, Spiderman, each of which drained the very last drop of my energy. I felt nauseated, but she seemed to have fun. I wanted to rest, but she wanted to move on...

My tormentor was finally over when she decided that we should go to the beach. Afraid that she might change her mind, I immediately got on my bicycle and took the queen to the beach. And so we walked together on white the sand and looked over the horizon. The sun was setting down now and was casting its golden rays on the surface of the sea, which in turn, became a vast bed of moving, glistening gold. For some reasons, sunset often made me feel a sense of solitude and regret: the sun always set at the fall of an empire, the sun set at the end of a celebration, and the sun also set at the end of our date. She was walking beside me now but her eyes wandered toward the sea. We did not say anything. We just walked. Silence was peaceful but it was also fearsome. Thus, I attempted to break the silence, “So, what do you think of our first date together?” Silent. She was still in her own world. It felt like a century until she suddenly said, “Do you…feel like the wind?” before I could speak, she continued, “It feels nice. Even though you can’t see it but you can feel it, just like love.” Then she suddenly stopped and looked at me as the wind sent waves of her hair dancing—like silk; her eyes were glistering--like two strange yet pretty jewels. She was beautiful and I wanted to hold her, and if she let me, I might even kiss her lovely eyes. Then, I thought I saw a glimpse of mischief in her eyes and a hint of her smile seconds before her lips toughed mine. It was sudden; it was a surprise—I had wanted to be the first to take the initiative…but then I didn’t care anymore.

Time stopped. Everything stopped…but the wind continued to blow.

--------------------
March 4, 08

The Village of Flowers

2009-02-15T20:35:00.000-08:00

Found an interesting story I wrote a year ago, decided to test the blogging system here.

The Village of Flowers

Duy’s sudden return to Lang Hoa was a hot topic to be discussed all around the neighborhood. After all, wasn’t it ten, no, fifteen years since Duy had gone to find his success? He left the village as a young and ambitious teenager, and he came back as a mature and dignified man—the boy of fifteen years ago had long disappeared; now all people saw was this respectable gentleman in a respectable black suit, returning to his old neighborhood, the place he was born and nurtured.

As Duy was treading on the dirty road, he felt an indescribable sensation-- a well-blended mixture of some bliss and solitude. He was delighted when he visited the old village because nothing had changed much since his childhood. But he was also sad because of old neighborhood’s failure to change: Lang Hoa was still a poor place. Everyone still submerged in the pool of poverty: people still lived in shack-like houses, children were still playing in dirty, muddy water, and there was still this sad atmosphere roaming around. Because Duy was wearing a black suit and carrying a black case—'a fancy outfit' as they said, which was greatly contrasting to the surrounding, he felt, for the first time, like a stranger in his own neighborhood--But that feeling should change once Duy came back to his home.

The house looked the same as before: the iron gate was still there just like years ago, the containers of waters were still placed in the yard. Nothing had changed much. But then, Duy realized, there were more rose bushes than before! And each of which bloomed beautiful and fanciful scarlet roses—so contrasting against the neighborhood’s poverty, just like Duy. When he was young, he often saw his mother, no matter how busy and tired she was, still spent time caring for the rose bushes as though they were her children. The roses, in turn, after receiving her love, decided to produce full blossoms every year. Now, since there were even more roses than ever, Duy wondered if his mother, with her son went away, had turned all her love for these plants?

After filling his eyes with the scenes around the house, Duy started to knock on the gate. He felt his heart beating fast in anticipation just like he always did , as a boy, when Tet was about to come.

No sound. Another knock.

Then, from the door, Duy could see a gray figure of an old woman. It was his mother. She also saw him and started walking in a faster pace toward the gate. Looking at her, Duy could see how much his mother had aged. The wrinkles on her face marked the years of endless hardship and suffering. Her eyes were no longer sharp like before, but Duy could still detect a glimpse of happiness and love for him. They neither hugged nor spoke to each other; they just stood there, looking and recalling. It was a century until Duy heard her saying, “So you finally come home.” She said in such a stoic and obvious tone that Duy felt like he had not gone for long. He had suddenly became little boy before her—he was no longer a mature man but rather a young boy who would always come to his mother’s arms for protection and love. Thus, Duy began bursting all the experiences of his escape in the war, of his living in a foreign country, of his strength to overcome obstacles and achieve success, and of himself as a man today…As Duy was telling his story, his mother began placing the freshly cut roses into a crystal vase half-filled with water. Duy looked at the roses and then at his mother’s wrinkled hands, a question suddenly popped up in his mind, “Mom,” Duy began, “why do you always plant flowers in front of our houses? I never see our neighbors planting flowers but only things they can eat.” His mother smiled at him, “Lang Hoa was a village of flowers just like its name. When I was a young girl, there were flowers everywhere—cherry blossoms, lilies, roses and many more. The whole village planted flowers and sold them. Everyone was happy…” Her voice suddenly changed to a softer tone-- almost like a whisper; her eyes started to glisten, and Duy thought he saw tears welling up in her eyes, “But then…the war came. We couldn’t sell flowers. Everyone was starving but we couldn’t eat flowers. The soldiers came and burned everything, we had to start from scratch again, but there were no more flowers. So now, I plant those roses just to remind me of the past how Lang Hoa really was.” Duy remained silent, but his hand slowly touched hers and held it tight. Then he moved closer and hugged his old mother, wanting to share half of her agony, her burdens, and her sadness. She seemed to melt in his loving embrace. Then, another idea occurred in Duy’s mind, “Mom,” he said, “I want to rebuild Lang Hoa, I want to make it into a village of flowers again.” She smiled; her face beamed and she seemed much younger. The roses were beautiful, Duy thought, but his mother, though through years of struggling in poverty, was the most beautiful flower in his heart...

-----------------------------------------

A cold March 7, 2008

2008-12-06T14:16:00.000-08:00

Who Can Catch Happiness?

One day, a puppy runs to his mom and asks, “Mom, where is happiness?” The puppy’s mother smiles and answers, “Happiness lies on your little cute tail.” The puppy is excited, so he looks at his tail every day. He also runs here and there, proudly wiggling his tail. But then the puppy runs toward his mom again, “Mom, how come I can never grasp happiness?” The mother caresses his hair, “You just have to go forward, and happiness will follow.”