mike's google status

I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming who ever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day, I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat m- or enjoy warm, delicious, cookie me, then that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done.

he says it's advice i should pay particular attention to..

happy february, celebrating loves and dreams

it's been a while since i've written a personal post, and i'm feeling a little inspired so here it goes..*deep breathe*

well, for starters, i had a wonderful winter holiday back home in san gabriel and (i suppose, the surrounding LA area.) every time i revisit, home has become more meaningful, and because i'm unsure of where i'll be post graduation-- in sf, across the states or in a foreign country, i'm cherishing each moment i have with my fam and friends. i'm learning to live in those moments and not take them for granted. the highlight: talking to my little sisters, britt and tiff about their first kisses, frequenting buddha bar, magnolia and bodega wine bar in pas with jen, the eldest sis, the yummy food my mom makes, my favorite noodle house kim ky, deep convos about life&college with cat, drinks @ the standard's rooftop bar w/rei, and seeing the rose parade live for the first time with natalie, my beautiful friend from Cal, ( she's from pasadena; it was like having a little piece of berkeley back home with me.) oh, and also being able to talk back to papa, in a polite, respectful, yes, i know i'm your daughter, but you're wrong, kind of way. :)

the weather in berkeley has been gorgeous. a few weekends ago i rode my bike down to the marina, and it was ahhhh, so serene and spectacular, just like it should be in this chaotic mess we call life. stumbled upon vik's, indian restaurant that makes delcious savory crepes and creamy mango lassis; i almost want to say it's the best in berkeley, but i always have cravings for naan n' curry's veggie tiki masala and garlic naan so there will be no debate.

i love living a life centered around food.

and good health. went to yoga to the people last night. operated by donations and with a mission to make yoga accessible for everyone, (indeed making it a a snug fit in berkeley), i LOVED it. i introduced myself to one of the volunteers and said it was my first time, and that it had been a long time since i practiced yoga. she was so sweet and friendly, she even instructed me on the basics before class, and thankfully, she did because i probably would have been lost in the class! sunday nights the class is candlelit, but don't let that fool you, that was one of the most sweaty and intense yoga experiences i've had, and it was so rewarding. after that one hour session, i felt so energized and ready to take on anything.

over dinner last night, my dearest friend tammy inspired me to create a "fantasy-make-reality to-do list" and the first to be added to that list, might i share (brace yourselves), is to be drawn nude. yup, that means naked. another, which i've added today is to move to london and/or paris and work for a pastry chef, inspired by these goddesses who make divine treats at chocolate & zucchini and coco and me.

yummy-ness of the day : roasted peppers and goat cheese on a toasted rustic baguette. my friend kelly made it for one of her parties last year. it was so delicious i recently had the craving, scrambled for memory and so the story goes.


other news, i didn't get either luce scholars program or the fulbright fellowship. suprisingly, i'm not as bummed as i had expected, that's probably becuase i never planned for the reaction post-acceptance/rejection. i'm actually really looking forward to the future, and thinking about what it is that i really want to do, what kind of life/style i want to create for myself. there are so many opportunities. i'm excited to choose "the one," or the many. like usual, i'm pretty optimistic.

good day, lovelies.

mourning death and celebrating life

my great-grandmother passed away friday at the age of 95. a strong, wise and kind woman she was. my last memory of her is at the gym where she exercised on a daily basis. although she spoke no english, she befriended the women who worked there, and as she grew older and weaker, they helped escort her in and out of the gym. she bought them christmas presents every year as a little thank you. i remember this as i'd go to same gym whenever home from break. i also remember that she wore the cutest knitted hat my big sister got her. on appearance you'd think she was old and fragile, but really she was one tough woman. she emigrated as a refugee from vietnam long ago, and has since lived many american generations. i know very little about her personal life. her husband, my great-grandfather passed away almost ten years ago. i know that she was deeply loved and will be remembered. she is in a good place. to my great-grandmother.

PPIA at Princeton

i've just been given the the woodrow wilson school's graduate alumni directory. this is unbelievable.

other thoughts. i've fallen in love with DC all over again.
i'm thinking about moving to vietnam after i graduate.
i can't stop thinking about life after graduation.
i'm exhausted. two weeks of jsi left.
econ quiz tomorrow. i want sleep. and coffee.
horseback riding this weekend.
i'm going to miss this when it's over.

blessed is life

recently there's been a growing number of shootings, accidents and deaths in the berkeley area. and in this hype of final exams and papers and graduation and getting ahead, yesterday's anthropology commencement speaker brings up something all too timely, the fact that we are human beings, and not human doings. how easily we can forget that.

in celebration of being, here's brett dennen's "blessed." dennen along with mason jennings and missy higgins gave a SPECTACULAR show at zellerbach this past thursday. nothing like beautiful music about life, love and happiness in an intimate venue with the best of friends..

I welcome the sun,
the clouds and rain,
the wind that sweeps the sky clean
and lets the sun shine again.
this is the most magnificent life has ever been.
here is heaven and earth
and the brilliant sky in between.
blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive.
blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive
I dwell in the darkness
I live in the light
I sleep in the afternoon
and become the noise in the night
I trespass in temptation
suffered in sacrifice
but I awake each day with a new sunrise
blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive
blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

"happiness only real when shared"

i forget how powerful films can be, the stories they tell, the lives they move. and then i watched into the wild and am reminded all over again.

"When you want something in life, you just gotta reach out and grab it." - christopher's farewell words.
YES OH YES!
(edited on tues, april 29th)

friday night rambles

i'm a bit exhausted, ready for school to finish. listening to elliot smith's a fond farewell and feeling reminiscent.
what a semester, what a year..what an experience but before i get into that..
i need to finish my papers for eng1c and polisci and ace spanish and soc exams. i'm just rambling..proof of exhaustion.
i want summer to be here. this weekend is going to be fun, lots of writing and coffee.
this friday is commencement, i'll be speaking.. very excited. i'll be able to share my thoughts on my two years at pcc, a place i've come to love. pcc's been great, i can't wait to see what's in store at berkeley. i need some motivation for my papers. and sleep. gnite.

A Mother's Day Tribute

A big reason why I enjoy holidays is because it gives my family a reason to get together. Otherwise, we're all too busy living our separate lives. These special occasions almost force us to put our bickering and private lives aside and act like a somewhat functional family, if those exist these days.

This Mother's Day was no exception. The big eight got together for lunch and surprisingly, didn't argue (unless you count Jesse's showdown with the hostess who seated us forty minutes after our reserved time). Then again, we were late like usual, but that's no excuse for poor service. I used to be a host so I take these things personal.

Anyhow, it's a gloomy May morning and I digress. What I wanted to articulate was the fact that this past Mother's Day was especially important for me.

These past couple weeks have been, to say the least, frustrating. And what's almost confusing and irritating is that with all these college acceptances, I would have expected it to be joyful. This is the time where I'm supposed to breathe a sigh of relief and jump for joy. I just thought all of this hard work would have surrmounted to a big horrah especially from the woman I love the most in this world. I suppose I also wanted her to read my mind. The point is I wasn't getting it. And yet I should know this, coming from a family that doesn't express itself in either healthy or effective manners. (We're a very demanding and impatient family for the most part.)

So instead I took to pen and paper and wrote my mother a five-page letter, expressing to her all the emotions I've withheld in the past couple years. Everything I've wanted to say but was too afraid to came out. There were parts were I was so angry and bitter that my words came out so hurtful, I then rewrote them and resolved some issues on my own. I certainly would not have been able to find such clarity without the lunch talks and support of professors and friends.

When I struggled to understand why my parents didn't seem happy for me. My history professor, Susie Ling put it to perspective, "Don't you see. They're afraid of losing you." I immediately thought of my mom who left her family and college to marry my father and mother six kids.

In reference, the LA Times published a poignant op-piece this Sunday titled "Moms are People Too." Deborah Tannen, a Georgetown professor writes, We want our mothers to see us and love us for who we are, but we are often disappointed in them for falling short of who we think they should be. Mother's Day is a good time to try to see our mothers and love them for who they are: creations of their lives and their worlds, which doubtless are different from our own.

To my mom and mothers around the world, we can never say it enough, thank you. Love you, Mommy.

this is really for ma and pa

update: i just got my financial-aid award package, and it looks like Berkeley is giving me a full ride. this is tough because it's everything i've wanted and worked so hard for. i've waited for such good news for six years, and for some reason, i'm not as excited as i thought i'd be.

when i told my mom i got into berkeley her initial reaction prompted to ask why i wasted all that money and applied to so many schools if i wanted to go to DC. i was so shocked and hurt i didn't know how to respond.

i know my parents are happy for me, but i wish they would show it more, or even at all. everything is just expected. it's expected that i'll do well in school if i work hard. and it's expected that i'll work hard because my parents have just to put me in school.

i have to say that this makes me bitter. although it's ironic because i just came back from my sociology of the asian american class and i know where my parents are coming from, which i think sometimes makes this situation worse. the fact that i know there's so much struggle between immigrant parents like mine and first-generation children like me, yet can't seem to confront it with my own family. i always fall weak. you wouldn't believe it but i was struggling to keep my composure as i told my mom a "congrats" would have been much more appreciated. immediately after i stormed out of her room so that she wouldn't see my watering eyes.

maybe i'm selfish for wanting to hear my parents say, "connie, we're proud of you." i feel like if i push myself harder and farther i'll get some recognition or that simple approval. then i'd tell myself, "connie, you don't have to keep proving yourself."

i think that's why i'm hoping for that georgetown acceptance. because my parents have never heard of american university and all of their friends' kids have gotten into ucla and usc. so no biggie. but maybe, just maybe an acceptance into an ivy league will make them see different.

who am i kidding? at the same time i just want to shove all of these letters into my dad's face and say HERE. are you happy?! he already expected i'd get in to all of these schools. that wasn't his concern. his concern is that i stay close to home. umm. NO.

never did i think i'd write so negatively but i really had to get some of this out.

the abortion right

right to choose centered on equality, not privacy.

..In this week's case, Ginsburg, now the only woman on the court, attempted to re-conceive the foundations of the abortion right, basing it on well-established constitutional principles of equality. Borrowing from her 1985 argument, she said that legal challenges to restrictions on abortion procedures "do not seek to vindicate some generalized notion of privacy; rather, they center on a woman's autonomy to determine her life's course, and thus to enjoy equal citizenship stature."

For Ginsburg, this alternative understanding of the right to choose has concrete implications. It means that any restrictions on the abortion right must, at a minimum, protect a woman's health. It also means that no such restriction can be justified on the paternalistic ground that women might turn out to regret their choices or are too fragile to receive all relevant information about medical possibilities. In her view, such paternalistic arguments run afoul of the guarantee of sex equality because they reflect "ancient notions about women's place in the family and under the Constitution — ideas that have long since been discredited."

read more.

sunday tidbits (my diversion from studying for midterms)

i've been thinking..

the only upside to this gloomy weather is drinking warm soy chai (for free, thanks tim).

a nervous habit of mine: using like a bajillion times in every other sentence.

last weekend i went out to dinner with old h.s. friends. one had just broken up with her bf and in spite of all the uplifting words that attempted to come out of my mouth, nothing seemed to boost her spirits. it only worsened when her steak was served. on the verge of tears she said it was difficult to eat because her (now ex-)bf used to cut her meat for her. i laughed and passed on the most confused look to the party of 15. i assume that's better than telling her how pathetic i thought she was acting and how she managed to survive cutting her own meat for the past 19 years she's lived without him. i also thought about presenting her with the good ol' option of vegetarianism, but figured i could wait till dessert.

my analysis of The Log from the Sea of Cortez is lagging.

and i'm about thirty terms short of memory for my political theory exam.

i find it discouraging when talking to my parents about my future. makes me want to cry every time. they want me to go one way; i can't help but want the other. and what's tough is explaining that or more realistically, them accepting it.

i'm ready for spring break. looking forward to lying on the shores of san diego.

i wish it was june 1st. judgment day for gu and my life for the following two years. also, twenty-nine days closer to my bday.

i've been running on pcc's track these days. great remedy for stress and good exercise (something you don't hear too often).

alright, i should stop trying to run from studying.

happy easter, folks.

"for girls, it's be yourself, and be perfect, too"

I receive daily digests from the N.Y. Times and Washington Post. At the time of subscribing it seemed like a good idea. My editor and poli-sci professor like to send me links to stories I should check out, and then I figured, why not just hear and read about them on my own. But having done so my inbox is inundated with daily headlines and it's sad to say that it's not uncommon for me to just click delete.

Sometimes it's different, like this morning. My friend Amber called to tell me class would be starting an hour late. So with plenty of time on hand and cheerios to devour I came across this article about high school girls striving as all-around over-achievers to obtain admission into America's top colleges while also battling pressure and insecurities.

For Girls, It's Be Yourself, And Be Perfect: read article here.

"If you are free to be everything, you are also expected to be everything. What it comes down to, in this place and time, is that the eternal adolescent search for self is going on at the same time as the quest for the perfect résumé."

Now a sophomore in college I can say that not much has changed.

dick cheney delusional?

When I was in high school I wrote for L.A. Youth, a newspaper written by teens and for teens. It was amazing--issues covered a wide range of topics from the typical teenage stresses of the SATs and college apps to the wonders of live rock music, horrors of being locked up in county jail, and randomness of visiting a nudist residence. L.A. Youth covered everything, and writing for the newspaper served as a stepping stone into my years of adolescence.

As a fourteen year-old I was timid and shy (believe it or not, I think I still am), and when something so grand or furious came to my mind, I was too afriad to open my mouth and share it. Instead, I took to pen and paper. That sort of writing allowed me to collect my thoughts and organize them in a way that I found to be just as effective as oral communication. It gave me the support to use writing as an outlet for social activism and the confidence to publicly express my emotions even in the toughest situations dealing with personal matters. There was nothing more empowering than receiving letters from peers who were so motivated by my articles to write back. In the bigger picture, writing for L.A. Youth stressed the importance of communication, whether oral or written, to reach people and converse. Might I also note that my writing escapes led me to find the most amazing cookie recipe and produce this short commentary--link here.

I thought of all of this after my former editor, Mike Fricano (awesome awesome man and friend--who, to this day, still edits my work!) sent me this NY Op-ed column by Maureen Dowd, a columnist I love for her worldly knowledge and razor-sharp wit. I thought I'd share the article here because otherwise you'd have to have pay the Times. Please read with me in laughter and awe.

Daffy Does Doom

By MAUREEN DOWD

January 27, 2007

Op-Ed Columnist

WASHINGTON

Dick Durbin went to the floor of the Senate on Thursday night to denounce the vice president as "delusional."

It was shocking, and Senator Durbin should be ashamed of himself.

Delusional is far too mild a word to describe Dick Cheney. Delusional doesn't begin to capture the profound, transcendental one-flew-over daftness of the man.

Has anyone in the history of the United States ever been so singularly wrong and misguided about such phenomenally important events and continued to insist he's right in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary?

It requires an exquisite kind of lunacy to spend hundreds of billions destroying America's reputation in the world, exhausting the U.S. military, failing to catch Osama, enhancing Iran's power in the Middle East and sending American kids to train and arm Iraqi forces so they can work against American interests.

Only someone with an inspired alienation from reality could, under the guise of exorcising the trauma of Vietnam, replicate the trauma of Vietnam.

You must have a real talent for derangement to stay wrong every step of the way, to remain in complete denial about Iraq's civil war, to have a total misunderstanding of Arab culture, to be completely oblivious to the American mood and to be absolutely blind to how democracy works.

In a democracy, when you run a campaign that panders to homophobia by attacking gay marriage and then your lesbian daughter writes a book about politics and decides to have a baby with her partner, you cannot tell Wolf Blitzer he's "out of line" when he gingerly raises the hypocrisy of your position.

Mr. Cheney acts more like a member of the James gang than the Jefferson gang. Asked by Wolf what would happen if the Senate passed a resolution critical of The Surge, Scary Cheney rumbled, "It won't stop us."

Such an exercise in democracy, he noted, would be "detrimental from the standpoint of the troops."

Americans learned an important lesson from Vietnam about supporting the troops even when they did not support the war. From media organizations to Hollywood celebrities and lawmakers on both sides, everyone backs our troops.

It is W. and Vice who learned no lessons from Vietnam, probably because they worked so hard to avoid going. They rush into a war halfway around the world for no reason and with no foresight about the culture or the inevitable insurgency, and then assert that any criticism of their fumbling management of Iraq and Afghanistan is tantamount to criticizing the troops. Quel demagoguery.

"Bottom line," Vice told Wolf, "is that we've had enormous successes, and we will continue to have enormous successes." The biggest threat, he said, is that Americans may not "have the stomach for the fight."

He should stop casting aspersions on the American stomach. We've had the stomach for more than 3,000 American deaths in a war sold as a cakewalk.

If W. were not so obsessed with being seen as tough, Mr. Cheney could not influence him with such tripe.

They are perpetually guided by the wrong part of the body. They are consumed by the fear of looking as if they don't have guts, when they should be compelled by the desire to look as if they have brains.

After offering Congress an olive branch in the State of the Union, the president resumed mindless swaggering. Asked yesterday why he was ratcheting up despite the resolutions, W. replied, "In that I'm the decision maker, I had to come up with a way forward that precluded disaster." (Or preordained it.)

The reality of Iraq, as The Times's brilliant John Burns described it to Charlie Rose this week, is that a messy endgame could be far worse than Vietnam, leading to "a civil war on a scale with bloodshed that will absolutely dwarf what we're seeing now," and a "wider conflagration, with all kinds of implications for the world's flow of oil, for the state of Israel. What happens to King Abdullah in Jordan if there's complete chaos in the region?"

Mr. Cheney has turned his perversity into foreign policy.

He assumes that the more people think he's crazy, the saner he must be. In Dr. No's nutty world-view, anti-Americanism is a compliment. The proof that America is right is that everyone thinks it isn't.

He sees himself as a prophet in the wilderness because he thinks anyone in the wilderness must be a prophet.

To borrow one of his many dismissive words, it's hogwash.

my love-hate relationship with debate

Most of this weekend was spent judging at the Cal State Fullerton High School Speech and Debate Tournament. In high school I competed in a number of events (mainly original advocacy, foreign extemp and policy) but my coaches and friends in forensics could easily tell that my passion lied in debate. Unless you're a cx debater, it's difficult to explain because debate in itself is its own world. The activity changed my life. It opened doors to countless perspectives of politics and academia, philosophers like Michel Foucalt and theorists like Cynthia Enloe, life--everything I learned blew my mind. I took so much from debate if only I could describe the feeling here.

It's difficult to talk about debate to non-debaters. People don't believe me when I tell them that there are debate camps. It's a scary thought, actually. High school students should be enjoying their summers in the woods, running around, hiking, swimming, doing frivilous nonsense, not stuck in a classroom researching, writing, and debating. But debate was in my blood and so I did. And I was hooked. The summer of my junior year was spent at three different camps in Austin, Flagstaff and San Marino. I remember after I came home from UTNIF my friends and family threw me a surprise party to celebrate my sweet 16, and that same day I had to leave to catch the train for CDE in Arizona. It was hectic and I was so consumed, and not even that good (I can't even begin to talk about my infatuation for such great debaters). The work was rigorous and sometimes I fell behind, but the intellectual stimulation that I got from debate was out of this world and that's what I loved.

At the same time I hate debate because of its elitism. Only those debaters with money can afford to attend camp (the really good ones, for that matter) and travel and attend tournaments because fees are ridiculously expensive and not always a short bus ride away. So much paper gets wasted for evidence that rarely even gets read, and it's tough to find a coach, most of whom are starving college students who hate to commute unless they're getting paid big bucks for their time. At tournaments you wake up early and stay up late, go to rounds, "spread" (debate jargon for reading aloud so fast it's uncomprehensible) and claim to solve for nuclear proliferation. It makes you feel good, like you're saving the world. Very realistic, not.

Having spent your entire summer at some elite college prepping for the coming year's resolution, you're overwhelmed with knowledge and unfortunately, conceit. There are those debaters --the ones with their tubs stacked high atop a skateboard, donned in birkenstocks and their hair, uncombed. You sense they know everything about the world and only they have the solution to solve it. They easily clear prelims with a 6-0 record and have their bids to the TOC. Yup, and you love and hate 'em, or at least I did.

One round that stands out in particualr from this tournament was between two teams who were more or less JV level. The aff plan advocated extending the number of coast guards in the US; the neg countered with a militarism kritik. The need to analyze the construction of the military, its heirarchy, creation of the "enemy," and system of perpetual violence. This made me think, why is it that names like "sissies" get thrown at male soldiers, so as to put their"manhood" on the line so that they can "toughen" up, and yet demean women at the same time. Why is it that we have a don't ask-don't tell policy of military personal's sexual orientation, or why women serving in the military are threatened to be reported of being lesbian and thrown out of service if they don't consent to sexual intercourse by a male counterpart. Gay/lesbian-baiting, it's called. This sort of violence and domination transcends the military to every day society. I was watching Wedding Crashers this morning and as much as I laughed, it bugged me that Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn were calling each other "pussies." I don't find that sort of stuff funny.

I don't agree with war or the use of violence. Some call that being a pacificist, but to me, appeasing isn't my ideal either. I want peace but I'm unsure of what that's supposed to be like, and I don't think it's the opposite of war. Inbetween needs to be some sort of communication, dialogue. Too easily we resort to violence or the thought of it. And I'm just as guilty as a bit earlier my little sister, Brittney, was rushing me to drive her to cheer practice. I was fustrated with it all and said under my breath in the midst of wanting to do three things at the same time that I was going to slap her in the face, even though I would never lay a hand on her. That fustrated me even more.

Reflecting on debate, what captivated me was not the point of arguing against your opponent, but rather it's being able to exchange varying viewpoints, conversing in the real world. Debate opens a space to talk about why things are the way they are, and come up with solutions. Oh, the power of discourse!

The car ride with Britt was a silent one for the most part. I wanted to apologize for my uncalled-for behavior, instead, I asked her if she was excited for school to start again. Poor sort of communication on my part.

Hmm, I think I know what to do when I pick her up. Maybe it'll be easier if I take her to get some frozen yogurt at 21 Choices.

And that sort of explains my love-hate relationship with debate. I never said it was easy.

reflections on this semester

it's my last night in washington, d.c. holy shit. i don't believe it. sure my bags are packed, my room is empty and there's no food in the kitchen cabinets, but still i feellikei'll wake up in a couple days and head for work at the greenpeace office. a bunch GOTers have left for home.. for good. to me, it's only as if they've left for a short vacation sort of like thanksgiving. michelle just packed her car and is heading back to new hampshire. now it's hit me. no more cruising on our bikes or in her car with the plastic bag-window shield which read "have a nice day." funny story was that someone broke one of her back windows all to take her adapter and dance shoes. they didn't even take the printer/scanner/photo-copier chilling in the trunk! oh well, no more.. no more sightseeing and me takingabajillion photos like a happy go-crazy tourist. no more waiting for each other to get out of work late at night at jaleo or austin grill. no more salsa dancing or getting into clubs with "our" IDs. no more hanging out with our friends, aaron and edgar. no more thrift shopping for one-dollar dresses. no more indulging chili and chocolate shakes. no more lemon grass tofu! what am i going to do with myself? it's a sad and scary thought to think of not hanging out with my sidekick, mitch. there's no doubt we had the time of our lives, and for that i'm so very thankful. she better be reading this while planning for our summer excursion in south america.

so many people and adventures have impacted my life these past several months. ah, amazing. thank you, thank you! the people at GP--especially my coordinators, amy and jon. two of the most patient people who are understanding and insightful in every way. my mentors and friends. my fellow GOTers--acclamations all around. i've learned that when--"damn, that shit's fucked up" to do something. oh, the go-arounds, the travels, the campaigns, the damn petitions and simulations. good times. my friends at jaleo-- always made me smile and really enjoy doing what i do. thanks for welcoming with warm hugs and kisses and good spanish food. friends outside of gp and jaleo --because of you, i was much cooler in the two workplace realms. thanks for good company and conversations and even at the much needed times, clean laundry. thinking about leaving dc is making me nostalgic--i'm sad about it all. at the same time, i couldn't be more happy. living in dc for the semester has brought so much light to my life--the wealth of knowledge and all-around experiences in the travels of just being in our nation's capitol, driving along the coast, topennsylvania, campaigning in florida, more campaigning in amsterdam and much more fun, the trainings and speakers, the last-minute trip and big event in new york city, the interactions with all different people at so many different locations, the established relationships and friendships, the hard work ethics, the extensive online pcc courses, the museums and monuments, the bars and dance clubs, the good food, books and music. everything. my time and enjoyment here has come full circle and i can satisfyingly saythati'm ready to go. i'm excited for home and all that lies ahead.

sitting in on a saturday

Mornin' folks. These past couple days have been rainy. Considering my past with seasonal mood disorder where I feel really down with gloomy weather, I'm trying to counter that and appreciate the rain, wind and cold. It's tough I tell ya. I'm just a sunny southern California girl at heart. Maybe that's why we have so many happy people in LA. Ha! Anyway I'm looking forward to the clear skies and smoke-free air tomorrow. Weather report says it's going to be a beautiful day.

Currently listening to the Counting Crows and lounging in the living room of my messy 10 person-occuppied house, I'm attempting to inspire myself to start on the ton of reading, homework, late-test and college apps. But it's Saturday and I'm exhaused from this past overwhelming week. Thursday and Friday I had my non-violent direct action trainings with Greenpeace. It was amazing even though I think I left the workshop with more questions than answers. Watching the civil rights documentaries and past Greenpeace actions gone-wrong videos made me reflect on a lot of personal issues. Part of it was depressing. Like the Greenpeace gone-wrong actions. Some were so pointless and unorganized that it made sense to me why people dislike Greenpeace. Sure a lot of it outrageous. And it's unfortunate that one bad act can hinder the greater scheme of things. What I liked about the workshop was discussing how far we'd go as an activist in terms of property destruction, self-defense, symbolism, etc. I, myself, would never make an attempt to destruct property or put any living being in harm's way. It's just not in my nature. I don't see it as being effective but rather isolating and antagonistic, even hypocrtical. I don't believe in countering violence with violence, rather compassion and communication. Others may disagree, even those within Greenpeace. And that's OK. I learned that you don't have to be in line 100% with one particular organization or ideology or anything.

I adamantly believe that one person can make a difference. It's the type of difference I'm trying to grasp. I'd like to see something revolutionary like world peace. Is that too much to ask for? Possibley. But I think it's important for each person to take personal responsibility and maybe not expect to see something grand in the moment but understand that their good actions as part of the grand solution.

I believe in goodness and having hope. I'm an optimist and gladly so. So I'm going to be continue doing good and having hope.

On a side note, I've realized I'm a work-a-holic. I feel like time is too precious to wste and so I'm always doing something. I think it's kind of good that it's raining outside because it's almost forcing me to sit at home and just relax, and more importantly, breathe. Sometimes I forget to do that and so cramps ache up in my stomach. I love to work and I love to work well. In addition to my Greenpeace Organizing Term, a semester-long program dedicated to training student environmental activists, which I really don't even consider work but more like school because of how much I'm learning from it, I work as a hostess at Jaleo, known famously for its classical and contemporary Spanish cuisine serving traditional small and savory dishes of Spain, known as tapas. Jaleo's one of the best in DC. It's hilarious how much pride I take in my work but I enjoy it so much. I love Jaleo and it's because of the people I work with. They're the most beautiful, loving and kind-hearted people I've met in DC. I hope every job that holds in my future is with an amazing team like the one at Jaleo. Ah, I'm so sentimental.

And I'm really excited because tonight I'm going to celebrate the sweet 26th birthday of my co-host, Gaston. That means lots of good music, company and dancing!

I love life. Good day, friends. Good day.

a constant struggle

i hate the fact that i feel powerless when it comes to my relationship with my dad. of course, he's always going to be right because he doesn't give me the chance to speak. if i bother, he just yells and makes me feel stupid. worse, he goes psycho and brings down the entire family. i can't risk that. and so i stay quiet. the entire time. he lectures with his harsh pounding voice that drags on and on. i can barely take it but i love and respect him so i do because i've been taught to be the obedient daughter who goes to school, completes her homework, and studies for tests. i get good grades they don't complain about that because of course, it's expected, not praised. i'm happy that they have high expectations but that doesn't allow me to do what i want to do. it makes me feel selfish so i keep my passions to myself. they don't understand life in terms of happiness and doing what you love. life, to my dad, is what benefits you, what pays your rent. i can't blame him because he learned the hard way. after emigrating from vietnam as a teenage war refugee, he dropped out of high school in the states to build a business with his brother. he met my mom, began a family and flourished from the success of his company. throughout the nineteen years of my life my parents have given me everything i could ever ask for--and i am so very thankful beyond words. and that's why i want to do as they say to make them happy, to give them the bragging rights i know they so crave and deserve. to prove to the world that i have terrific parents. in doing so i would fall into the path of my dad's ambitions--graduate from med school, make big bucks, buy a house so he can retire. i want to give my dad what he wants because it kills me to know the stress he endures working fourteen-hour days. i see it in the the coarseness of his hard-labored hands, the grays of his withering hairs, and the wrinkles in his sullen face; it speaks--this is all for my family. and here i am crying, tired and tied between being loved by my father and loving myself for taking the risk to do what i love.