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talking of michelangelo...
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moi moi moi
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2.02.2005
hi! not to state the obvious, but i've stopped updating here for now
xanga.com/cqinpi
=)
. . .
11.04.2003
"Your calling is the place where your deepest joy and the world's greatest needs cross." Frederick Buechner
. . .
11.03.2003
when i was younger murray perahia was my authority on mozart concertos. soon i also learned (after listening to a serkin recording that left me a bit disappointed) that i also preferred his style for beethoven. and still later, as i prepared the chopin ballad no 1 for a scholarship, his was the cd that i constantly referred to over and over again. and i do mean constantly, for perahia was like a secondary teacher to me. in the week (or two weeks, if i were feeling especially motivated ;P) prior to the competition i would play his cd measure by measure, and record my own playing of that measure on tape. then i would compare cd and tape, measure by measure until they matched, and only when they did would i move on to the next measure. and thus i went through the whole piece. it was a painstaking process, but through those hours of practice i would learn via emulation perahia's amazing phrasing, shaping, and imaginative coloring of tones.
yesterday, for the first time ever i was able to listen to and appreciate the warmth, sensitivity, and lyric of perahia live! his rendition of beethoven's 1st concerto brought the audience to its feet, the performance hall thundering with applause and vocal appreciation. after the performance i was able to talk my way backstage where i had the opportunity to tell him face to face how he had helped me in my growth as a pianist when i was younger- i recounted the way i used his cd's, to which he exclaimed, 'oh my god!...' (i think there was an unspoken 'you are crazy!' in there somewhere)
but it was an honor nevertheless. it was so exciting!
. . .
so this morning i decided to take the law into my own hands. if they weren't going to provide me with an adequate glare screen i would buy one myself!!...until i just did a search and they are $350!!! the heck! that's alot!!! i guess this world of office supplies is really more complex than i ever could have imagined...
. . .
10.31.2003
from sam ericsson's advocates international:
When Things Go Wrong: Five Questions to Ask:
True or False?
1. Romans 8:28
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
True or False?
2. 1 Thessalonians 5:18
Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
True or False?
3. Matthew 6:33
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
True or False?
4. 1 John 4:4
You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.
True or False?
5 Philippians 4:13
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
True or False?
Indeed.
. . .
10.29.2003
so then what implications does that hold for my future? if i can't be a detective what can i be? a blogger? hm. i haven't blogged consistently- or at all- in past past several months. a do-gooder? i don't know. a god-glorifyer? now that might work; because then at least it will be god working and not me!!
god is good and works for the good of those who love him.
. . .
so it is official: i would be a terrible detective. if i were in a cartoon i would be like dr. gadget or something-one of those endearing (;P) detectives who solves the cases thanks to the team of helpfuls around him. or like the yodelling veterinarian of the alps who needs his nurse to help diagnose the cats. you get the idea.
recently i've been trying to get one of those glare screens for my monitor that doesn't allow anyone to see what is on your screen unless you're at a certain angle. i really need one of those. mostly because i'm lacking the 6th sense and usually don't realize people are behind me until they snort or say my name or something. anyway yes. in dire need of one of those i am.
so i called the facilities department to request one. i guess they only have lame-o glare screens that resemble those gucci aviator sunglasses where you can still see the eyes of the beholder. or jason's front seat tints where people can still see you even though you think they can't. anyway, i was sitting here all morning kinda wondering when they would drop my lame-o glare screen by. then as i peeled my orange i noticed a cord running from my monitor...the heck?! the lame-o screen was already on my monitor!! for how long, i have no idear!! maybe when i went on a hot water break..? either way, it was kinda creepy. that's how lame it is sigh. that even though it is on my monitor i can't tell. gah. i guess i'll have to further develop that 6th sense of mine. without watching the movie of course.
. . .
10.23.2003
can i just say, rich mullins was an incredible man. in the past two days that i've been researching him i have been challenged, inspired, and redirected.
BB: Speaking of your music, one of my favorite songs is "Damascus Road," and I do understand that that came out of a painful time in your life. Give us an idea of that time as you wrote that song.
RM: Yeah, I wrote that right after my ex-fiance called off our engagement, and I just sort of did it as an act of obedience. Because I was going, you know you're supposed to.. The hebrew people were required to say, "The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord" when a tragedy happened. So I thought, well, you know I need to do something along those lines. So I decided to just thank God. It was sort of a writing exercise. But by the time I was over, what I realized was once again so often we think how our life is gonna go and what the Lord owes us and how it's supposed to be. And sometimes God has better things in mind or something different in mind for us than what we have in mind for ourselves.
And the job of the Christian, which is why writing is so much like praying, and why praying is so vital to a real Christian spiritual life. The job of a Christian is to keep themselves open to God and always recognize that God is greater than we are. And that nothing happens outside of His will. Some things He causes, some things He permits, and there's a whole lot of theology behind that that people love to argue about. I kinda go, the long and short of all of it is that if I believe that God is good, then I need to accept whatever happens to me in life as being a gift. And allow Him to take some of the things that hurt, allow Him to take some of the things that sting, some of the things that I think are going to kill me - allow Him to take those things and make of me the person He wants me to be. It may not be the person I want to be, but it'll be the person He would want me to be.
And I think when we realize who we are in Christ - when we mature in our identity as being His creature that we find that we're much more at home with ourselves in Him than we are in that false idea of who we thought we were.
(where RM is Rich Mullins)
. . .
4.16.2003
today for breakfast...
m&m's and a honey tangerine!...
yummy!
. . .
4.11.2003
"This is the beginning of a new day. You have been given this day to use as you will. You can waste it or use it for good. What you do today is important because you are exchanging a day of your life for it. When
tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever, in its place is something that you have left behind...let it be something good."
. . .
4.09.2003
so i saw the man i referenced in the below entry today, and guess what? he's saved! he was opening an envelope this morning that had stickers and such on it that read, 'You are precious to God'.
i asked him if he was christian and he replied yes. inside the envelope he was opening was a bunch of prayer/encouragement cards, and if my eyes did not mistake me, $52! but i'm not sure. i guess this church in san leandro puts them together and hands them out to people if they feel led. anyway, he asked where i worked and i told him by the water, and he remarked that sometimes he goes there to pray. how cool is that!? it's always encouraging to see believers, especially people who attribute their very existence and survival to the lord. i asked him if he had ever heard of cityTeam and he replied that he didn't, so i gave him one of those fliers that you can get from cityTeam (or me!) that tells of their hours of service, etc and he sounded pretty excited about it. so this is reminder to all ya'll out there- even if the homeless person is christian, that doesn't mean that they know about cityTeam. tell all those you encounter on the street about it- you never know how the lord may use that ministry to bless them! =)
sometimes even though homeless people are believers it's hard for them to find other believers and accountability. hopefully god will use cityTeam to help his children build fellowship and grow.
. . .
3.05.2003
in an effort to balance the frivolity of more recent entries:
i'm feeling horrible today. everything's mixed up and there is no order. i woke up like this. woke up to the phone ringing with a sweet voice on the other end, woke up charmed. but it wasn't enough. after wrenching myself from sleep/bed/security, i stood in front of my closet and pondered the way i can be, pondered the way friends disappoint, but unknowingly because they, too, are flawed. i was searching for grace, but exhibited none. and so i went forth, mechanically engaging in the morning routine, mechanically walking to the stop i daily frequent to catch the f-train to work, the gears of my mind working so that i was pulled along by my thoughts and not by my sense of direction.
sitting on the wooden benches of the f-train, i thought about how my heart can be selfish and cold, even during times when i realize that it is and i need to change. i thought about how different people bring out different aspects of me and pondered the way i was so far away from being a radiant child of god. and then i wondered at how i am stuck in this state of nebulous underachievement, all the while lamenting that god recognizes our predilection toward sin, and equips us with the means to throw off these shackles, even pours upon us grace so that we may begin to break free of this swampy, quicksand-like existence to move toward lush, verdant lives, and how i, in my me-centered world, although aware in my mind of these truths of the freedom god showers upon us, still wallow in this state of desperate, but stagnant, dissatisfaction.
in the background, through the reflection of the window, i see a street person i often run into step up to board the train. he's a friendly guy with a large heart- older, skinny, and active to the point where he may have an air of one with ADD. he has bright eyes. i met him first when he saw me board the train and offered advice to me about transportation options. the last time i saw him was when he boarded the train that i take when i'm late to work. he offered the conductor some of his apples he had in a bag.
although we never speak, he cheers me with his cheerfulness, and today is not different.
so i'm sitting, pondering my myriad of thoughts, but at the same time lessen the intensity of them as i distractedly watch him board the train. 'do you have a transfer?' i hear the conductor say, after which a period of silence lingers. and then, finally- 'i must have left it at home.' i recognize his mumble, but don't listen carefully as i focus on my personal ruminations. the train resumes its pace and i turn my head to watch him walk away, and only then do i notice: he is limping, his head lowered. i watch until it hurts to strain my neck any further.
it hits me all at once, the realization. if i hadn't been mired in my selfish, self-centered world it would have occurred to me to just get up and sponsor his trip. a trip that would have set me back one dollar. and what is a dollar? i have one dollar in coins, even one dollar in dollars, lying around my house, lost and insignificant. contrast this with a person's physical pain exacerbated by discouragement. today the man is limping. to get to places he will limp, and he will limp painfully and slowly. one dollar goes a long way. you can get a transfer with one dollar, and a transfer allows you to take as many rides as you need within the span of a couple hours. something quite helpful when you're limping and your foot is in pain, something i would have thought of doing had i not been so stuck on my self lamentation.
i become angry with myself, angry that i had been so entrenched in my thoughts that i had missed an opportunity to look past myself to catalyze those initial steps to step out of my selfishness and into the heart of god.
. . .
2.14.2003
i think this verse is so cute! :
'love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other'
-psalm 85:10
teehee
happy valentine's day, all!! =)
. . .
1.24.2003
so i never remembered what the third interesting thing was, but today i brought my costco daily multi vitamins and minerals to work...i feel overwhelmed just looking at it, so heavy and ponderous, all 500 tablets waiting to be consumed, one by one, meal by meal. gross, i just thought about this. if there are 500 tablets, and i'm only supposed to eat one per day, then if i'm obedient, 1.370 years from now this bottle should still be sitting here next to my computer here in my cubicle...ew!
i wonder if they'll be dusty...
. . .
1.22.2003
i did three interesting things today:
a. for the first time in many, many years, i used an eraser. i took a pencil (another utencil i've not touched for a while), flipped it upside down and rubbed. i was liberated from the chicken scratch my co-worker inflicted on my lines of copious, neat notes.
b. i finished my vitamins. once upon a time there were 120 tablets in the bottle (2 capsules per serving size, 60 servings per container), and now there are 0.
i am so healthy.
c. i cannot for the life of me remember. (um...ahhlll beebahk...?)
. . .
12.19.2002
gripe
i hate how christmas in america has become a reason to push and shove, to yell and whine, to snatch and grab...
now just imagine: preparing for the holidays in the rain- a storm thundering relentless streaming hurling droplets of minature cannonballs toward the ground as the roar of thunder reverberates between the buildings of the financial district...
a one hour lunch break so as to avoid the fury of the crowds the weekend before christmas
we present to you san francisco holiday season 2003:
a businessman (mid 50's perhaps?) dressed in a suit STEALS a wonderful, innocent young girl's umbrella, leaving her to walk, fighting against the rain back to her office 10 minutes away as she struggles to carry her lunch packed in a brown PAPER bag...
did i mention?? her pants are DOLCE & GABBANA?!
YES.
NOT cool.
well, it was a crap umbrella anyway. i have two more waiting for me at home....now i just have to find a way to get there...
. . .
11.19.2002
there's nothing as nostalgic as heated milk with the perfect amount of bite in the morning.
mmmmmMmmMMmmMmm...
. . .
this morning i/woke up to absolute sweetness swimming in crimson tide/dragged myself and/smeared porcelin white/carried my burden two blocks and then some,/
in the guise of small middle school children/something wicked this way comes/
my handle broke./
entered in and sorted out colors and whites/i rode the 15 down down down
/town sullied at 9:30 in the morning
. . .
11.14.2002
o blah. forget it. it's too much trouble to link stuff so it works, it seems.
makes me tired just thunking about it. well, that's only because i'm tired in the first place. my ear hurts. maybe i have an ear infection.
blah.
. . .
here's an informal poll; tell me which one you like the most:
aka known as a cheap ploy to get people to respond- i bet i can't get more than, like, two people to respond. prove me wrong!
please?
=)
. . .
11.13.2002
mumble jumble...
. . .
for the past couple days i've been thinking how all the rights in the world can equate to an egregious wrong. how people with the best intentions may rub against each other, how static emerges from static- when capsules of desires with maturity and understanding at its core, surrounded by quirks and a paradigm of the world as it ought be...everything that makes up a personality, and how these personalities, if taken as discrete entities, operate within a logical, pragmatic sphere, but when in the field of another, collides...sigh
. . .
10.23.2002
everyone, i'm MOVING!! i am *SO* excited. god really orchestrated EVERYTHING in this process, praise Him.
pre-housewarming brunch sunday- let me know if you would like to attend =)
we want to pray over our home that god would really use it for His glory and His kingdom. we had wanted the place with the vision that it would be an extension of our church, set apart for fellowship and gatherings, used as an extra facility when there is one that is needed. it is our hope that the holy spirit would really bless and permeate the space, i mean, he already has! the whole process as to how we obtained it is really quite incredible, praise god =)
come if you can!!!!!
. . .
10.10.2002
so i was thinking earlier today how sad it is to pay $0.60-$0.75 for a candy bar (not king size). I still remember when snickers, kit kats, m&ms were all $0.50. is it that this is the most subtle form of inflation? or is it more of a function of buying noonday snacks from financial district mom and pop stores? no, at target they were about $0.60...
i wonder if this is how older people feel when they reminisce about a time when candy was only $0.05. imagine that!...
. . .
9.27.2002
"The way to woo a woman is to give her what she needs before she knows she needs it, or to give her what she needs before she asks....[Love]'s still the honey to end all honeys. It is not for sale, this strange, rare happiness, but if it is, the coin of the realm is imagination"
ellen gilchrist.
yes.
. . .
9.24.2002
likewise, the slam poet lemon once observed:
God may not
always come exactly when you call Him...
but He is always on time.
powerful.
. . .
9.20.2002
i love this verse:
he has made everything beautiful in its time
ecclesiastes 3:11a
. . .
the cords of my discman lay entangled on the keypad, and i have pulled my hood over my head.
sitting underneath a very cold vent sucks =(
. . .
my cup filled two days ago; the drink? sweet, bitter, grey. it permeates me, like college co-eds singing acapella on a starry night. i can't wash it off, what i feel, but i can lay in bed with luxurious 300 count egyptian woven cotton sheets and rub my cheeks and eyelashes in pillowy softness. it's hard to move. the light is streaming in, despite my plastic blinds which i wish were covered with curtains. thick, grandiose curtains, colored deep red perhaps- the dark iron taste of metal, strong and authoritative, framing halo-ed light glowing as hope penetrates the room and warms me to my core.
. . .
9.18.2002
surrounded (a story told using schematic diagrams):
act 1. lunch
1:45 pm
water with nice view
---------------BIRD--------------- (wall)
walkway for pedestrians
------BIRD---me---BIRD--------- (concrete which i sit on)
1:50 pm
water with nice view
-BIRD-----------------------------
pedestrian walking
----------------me---------BIRD
1:55 pm
water with not so nice view (i am distracted)
---------BIRD-------------------------
BIRD BIRD BIRD
----------------me----BIRD--BIRD-
2:00 pm
water with a somewhat view but it's really hot and my freckles hurt
-----BIRD--------------------------
pedestrian walking
----------------me--shameless BIRD----------BIRD
2:15 pm
what view?
----------------BIRD----------------
BIRD BIRD
-----BIRD---me----2 shameless BIRDS
2:30 pm
enough with this ish
----------------------------------------
walkway for pedestrians
----------------------------------------
me walking back to work...
the end.
i guess that teaches me to think twice about sitting outside when taking a late lunch (thus being the lone victim available to birds to torture...)
. . .
9.11.2002
words that never fail to lift me:
When we've been there ten thousand years,
bright shining as the sun,
we've no less days to sing God's praise
than when we'd first begun.
the soaring "bright shining as the sun" warms and excites me every time, it is the perfect way to end such a wondrous song =)
. . .
9.04.2002
is this page dead? nay sayest i; i shall update upon my return to the land of the free =)
. . .
8.15.2002
turning around to discover my manager leisurely sitting in the extra chair in my cube
'whoa! where did you come from?'
'earth. i am an earthling'
lol. random. i really need to work on my hearing.
. . .
8.09.2002
cyn fong came to speak last night about her role at an agency that promotes abstinence and life for unborn children. the primary part of the talk consisted of her testimony. with a tremulous voice but a gaze that exuded strength, cyn spoke of her past, of her shame, with a conviction that comes from one who finds freedom in christ. she exemplified to me someone who is not ruled by fear, one who does not conform to the world, and understands that her identity is not found in the eyes of other people, but in that of the lord- the only one who will ultimately hold us accountable; someone who has already forgiven us, whose grandeur, softened by the gaze of agape love soaks us all in his compassion and hope.
last night i was inspired by cyn's courage, by her faith, and by her heart- that from raw pulp lying alone cold at rock bottom, she was able to rise, made strong in god's healing: a warrior for christ. people like that amaze me. people who are real and unafraid to speak the truth. and i do not just refer to matters of faith and spirituality, but to their conduence of everyday life; that what you see is what you get, and reality is recognized for what it is. there is a hope in that- that it does not end there, knowing what is is not the end all and the be all to life; there is always growth and wisdom and maturity.
...there is no need to conform to standards set by superficial perfections because in the end, that's all it is: superficial.
my dear, once upon a time it was oft repeated to me: there is no fear when you know the lord =)
. . .
8.07.2002
my sister is so cute =)
i think i'll indulge you with some snippets of her latest email:
today it is not too hot
i came to work late - not on the dot
but my boss is out of town so i was not caught
although, arrive at work on time, i ought
and i have no snot
in my nose.
and gasp!!! i am merely 19. 1-9. one nine. i have over 2 years until i
turn 21. c'mon keep up with the changing times! or in my case, i remain 19. like
stagnant water i am 19, and like stagnant water i sit, waiting for my
sister to send me her id.
doesn't that sound poetic?
awww how can you *not* love her? =)
my sister, she's so cool ^_^
. . .
7.31.2002
the break room smells like indian food...
thanks to me! puahahahaha
i have been feeling quite uninspired as of late, but at the same time am craving a change to the page (plus, i don't want to tempt a certain someone with the last posting.... =P)
as a compromise, i think i'll post something i wrote last year...inextricably linked to the last one
take two
I.
cross-step waltzing, partner-less,
arms straight
extending expectant hands,
palming hope
blackness obstructs like soot
mixed with tar, but less grainy,
obstructs, obfuscates
eyes
ears
from which originate
veins to heart-
shaped wire whitewashed garden-
seat of the soul
ends of each vein,
desperately, despondently dilated,
they swell, quenched symphonic
by slight tinkles of laughter
drizzling down windowpanes:
it is a rhythmic security,
a friend in the dark.
II.
warmth of sunlight
causes
remains of Kant, printed immortal
to be exposed to 20 minutes of dust
warmthlessness in dark,
a baton signifying north and south,
changes directions
each time the cadet twirls.
even so,
light grazes shadowed cheeks,
magnetized and drawn
transforming harsh desk lamps
and searing light
into fireworks barely diffused into the night
like Jupiter
in a coffee cup.
gaseous planet emits
bean steam every morning at 6 o’clock
wafting from choo choo train engines from the 1860’s
brushes against forehead,
eyes,
ears
until,
unkissable cheeks kissed.
a lesson:
earmuffs, like
thick plastic
covering rumbling windowless vehicle windows
protect body heat
lost through
ears, much like
the exiting warmth from my soul-
british toy soldiers, marching in warm, yellow light shining forty- five degrees upwards,
away from my heart
the hypotenuse of a right triangle
cascading heat emitted from the desk lamp
southerly deadlocks
toy soldier pomp and circumstance
stops
Returns.
. . .
7.22.2002
it's so weird how honey nut cheerios are so much less sweet without milk. and milk is so bland, it's surprising how it really brings out the taste. i did this experiment where i used water instead of milk and voila, absolute nastiness! i wonder why. i guess it really is something intrinsic to milk, rather than just any liquid. milkmilkmilkmilkmilk. yummers.
now i want some ice cream.
. . .
7.19.2002
blah. i take that back. it keeps telling me i have new mail, and i get all excited, but when i finally check it, sorry, nope, there's nothing there =(
. . .
yay =) i'm so excited about the new yahoo mail format. it's so cute! =)
. . .
It is Well With My Soul
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Refrain
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Refrain
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
Refrain
But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!
Refrain
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Refrain
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/i/t/itiswell.htm
. . .
7.17.2002
somewhere on sacramento street is a room, cozy and happy, warmed by the purples and yellows of freshly cut irises. these breaths of life, hand delivered by a bonbon that encapsulates sunshine, joyously adorn the desk of a very blessed girl.
thanks woman, you're the best! =)
. . .
he: Can I buy you a drink?
she: Actually I'd rather have the money.
lol
. . .
7.16.2002
scary: in what the bible is all about, henrietta mears observes "Often God allows us to go through life denied the one thing we wish more than anything else. But we should be comforted in this that whom God loves, He chastens. If He grinds down the surface of our lives, it is that the stone may shine the more brilliantly. The many facets of the diamond are what make it dazzling. Know that the greater the suffering in this world, the greater the glory in heaven..." (pg 624)
i don't know that i'm there yet...
. . .
ok i am such a sucker for good packaging...i just bought a bag because it's cute...
. . .
sometimes i feel as if i can be so melodramatic, and i question why...is there something inherently beautiful in the idea of loss, in the ideal of the irreplacable? that stories such as those give a hope that there is something out there that is whole, pure, and so singular to each person that upon discovering it they cannot help but to become enrapturously entwined in passion?
eeks. maybe being confined in this cube has made me looney.
. . .
feeling especially blessed right now... =)
. . .
7.15.2002
walking home from the restaurant today, i passed by a little girl who squeaked just like a rubber toy! it was so cute...kids can be so cute =)
. . .
7.12.2002
BOY oh boy am i excited...i think i may be able to leave at FIVE today!!!! how great is that?! MAN. =)
i started consuming a roll of lifesavers yesterday, yummy! i haven't eaten lifesavers in like years. i was kinda sad though, they gypped me out of an orange one, which makes me sad. i don't like the white or green ones, so i savor all the red, orange, and yellow ones i can get, in that order =)
man. the profundity of this entry is just killing me =P
. . .
7.08.2002
from a meeting this morning:
manager: the reason a cannot be used for b is because a and b are different, and you cannot compare apples to oranges.
me: o. how are they different?
manager: well one is an apple and the other is like an orange.
me speaking to him silently: oh brilliant then, that just made everything crystal clear
. . .
7.05.2002
trea·cle
n.
1. Cloying speech or sentiment.
2. Chiefly British. Molasses.
3. A medicinal compound formerly used as an antidote for poison.
finally! i've been trying to figure out what this word means for the past four days =)
. . .
7.02.2002
sigh the Corporation has sunk to an all time low. i went to the kitchen to heat up my rice filled gyro thing, only to see that gasp! there were no paper plates to put in the microwave!! so i had to use a piece of coffee filter paper instead sigh
that and they discontinued providing us with free milk =(
. . .
dug this out and am posting this in the hope it'll help:
Life is not a rose. It is a pair of Levis long-lasting, enduring through falls, storms and sunny days. And yet, even after 10, 20, 30 years, they are still appreciated and sought after, and sometimes much more valuable than they once were. Witness the 300 dollar Levis sold in trendy thrift stores nationwide...
To give this metaphor stretch-marks, I will now conclude that my four years here have been like a pair of Levis. Perhaps this is true, and perhaps it is not. What is truth, however, is this: Out of all the falls, storms, and sunny days I have had over these past four years, emerges a different person than the one who came a stuck eyed freshman four years ago. Am I the better for it? I do not know. What I do know is that I am reformed inside and out. Why? I discovered here that God is not a God who resides in Jupiter, making his own crumpets and tea, stirring up philosophies to ponder in his isolated state.
God is real, here, and demands our attention. And when I fall/fail, God`s beautiful love and grace lift me back up so that I may try again.
And that is why I am more valuable for it. For in weakness I have been made strong.
Joshua 13:33 states that God did not give the tribe of Levi any wordly inheritances because "the Lord, the God of Israel, [was] their inheritance".
The above is a difficult concept for me to reconcile: There exists an immeasurable gap between what my mind believes, and what my heart desires. Hopefully with time, the size of this crevice will diminish.
Three years ago I ended an intense friendship, convicted that the move was God`s will. As a result, I found myself beginning a new year heartbroken in a dorm where I felt uncomfortable and isolated. I took on 21 unit schudules, a TA position, and leadership positions to keep my mind and time occupied.
The problem was, even though I had ended the relationship, it lived on in my heart. That, coupled with my living circumstances and difficult workload just about killed me. There were so many nights when I laid wrestling with God, bitterly asking why my act for his sake resulted in heartbreak and frustration. Many times, I believed he was silent.
But it was during the times where my sanity just about gave in that I felt strength channeling in me. Strength from God, as is only possible through him. The verse I breathed and lived by that year was Second Corinthians 4:16-18:
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Through my experiences, I gained perspective and found the meaning of life. To vocalize it is deceptively simple: Glorify God.
I had lost what I loved the most, but magnified exponentially my relationship with God. For the first time, I saw him speaking to me through Bible verses, and for a while, it blew me away. My junior year ended tremendously- my grades were great, I met my closest friends, and I was on a spiritual high.
I cannot say that from then on my life was roses. Summer blustered through, and with senior year, resulted in a new set of challenges.
There are still nights when I ask myself- was it worth it? And that, I do not know. My mind says yes, but my heart? My heart does not know. But one thing I am sure of- until I find the answer, I will press on in faith, putting my trust in Him.
6/2001
Stanford University
. . .
7.01.2002
i get to go home soon! YAY! =)
. . .
one engineer's way of describing singleness:
i am in binary mode and can never hit the number 2.
hey! i have three m&m's left- blue, yellow, and green where
blue+yellow=green!!
oops. i ate it in the wrong order...oh well.
. . .
6.28.2002
for "drew barrymore", today's deep thought:
why does the hamburger helper only have four fingers? =P
. . .
OH my gosh! how completely depressing! i TOTALLY didn't know that i'd lost everything from before i switched over to this template. ugh, SUCKS =(
. . .
i'm soaked in martha agerich's electrifying rendition of the rach III and the selfish part of me cannot fully focus on all that's going on. it's because i'm focused on me, and i feel wistful. with her every singing note, her every impassioned cascade, i feel the pressure of the ivory against my fingers, cool and responsive as the keys sink in, singing out my story, expressing my feelings. and a sadness sinks in, because it's not true. in reality i'm in my cube at work, and my fingers are now clumsy from two years of non-practice. what's more, as i'm feeling all this, i'm typing on a plastic ergonomic keyboard. blah.
i miss being on stage, auditorium blackened, the soft light of the spotlight. i miss the feeling of the excitement as the keys fully respond to my every whim, as i barely breathe for fear of ruining it all.
i miss playing with the orchestra behind me, and the exuberance of the implicit call and response, and the resulting euphony of a perfect synergy.
and most of all i miss my solace, as i focus on bach, beethoven, chopin... who always understand.
. . .
blah. blahblahblahblahblah. BLAH. =)
. . .
6.27.2002
on the cable car this morning i found sweetness. i step on at the second stop so there's usually a seat for me. not this morning though. so i stood and inwardly grumbled about carrying my bulging purse. there were two people sitting in front of me, a large heavyset woman, and a middle sized man. without even looking up, the man scooted over, and the woman followed suit and scrunched to the other side. the space was tiny. i contemplated just sticking my purse there, but then the woman smiled at me. had i choice? so i sat, gingerly on the edge of the seat. no, the woman said with a smile, lean back, room'll be made. so i scooted back and sat, sardine smooshed for the remainder of the ride, heartwarmed by this display of early morning kindness. life is all about these little moments =)
. . .
when i was waiting for my bud to drop by, my bed exuded an inexorable magnetism that i could not resist but for the name of friendship. she's leaving for la tomorrow, and the big apple after that- so sleepy or no, my attention was all hers. she just left, and i am free, but i cannot sleep.
i believe a small dose of sleep equals about four shots of vodka- everything spills out. and tonight, she shared with me her story for the past two weeks. the pure, unadulterated version of it, brought on by a full day and only two hours of sleep from the previous night. and it's the way she is, the way she speaks that made me think; her thoughts broken down, simple, honest, yet pregnant with connotation, eerily reminiscent of my own in the wee hours of countless mornings long ago. and it struck a chord in me, a chord that hasn't been strung in a long while.
so i'm sitting here with sadness, trying not to listen to this music of remembrance that may bring on regrets that have long been buried
. . .
6.25.2002
1. LIVING ARRANGEMENT: me and four other broads (well currently three)
2. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING NOW: books? what are those? bible. ulysses.
3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME: i don't do board games
4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE: Vogue, The New Yorker
5. FAVORITE SMELL: light and airy
6. LEAST FAVORITE SMELL: stagnant water
7. FAVORITE SOUND: trance dance
8. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD: despondancy
9. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING:
i think i'm going to set my alarm for 20 minutes later
10. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE: however long it takes me to check the id
11. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME: bismark and chloe
12. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN LIFE: relationships
13. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA: chocolate
14. DO YOU DRIVE FAST: depends whether i'm alone or not (when i'm with others i'm like a turtle)
15. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL: sometimes with winnie da pooh
16. STORMS - COOL OR SCARY: cool
17. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR: subaru loyale
18. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK: i don't drink
19. YOUR ZODIAC SIGN: virgo
20. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI: yup
21. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE: wouldn't dye my hair
22. GLASS - HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL: a glass is a glass (right jimmy? =P)
23. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS: yes
24. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER: no favorite numbers for me
25. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH: soccer. basketball is too stressful
26. WHAT IS UNDER YOUR BED: carpet. my 'bed' consists of two mattresses on top of each other...
27. TOILET PAPER/PAPER TOWELS - OVER OR UNDER: over
29. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN IN LOVE? once
30. IF YOU COULD BE AN ANIMAL WHAT WOULD YOU BE? hippop...i mean a bird
31. DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME? steiners, c-dawg, tina, chris, christina, xina, x., her highness...
32. WHAT WOULD BE YOUR IDEAL VACATION? a trip around the world
. . .
she's at the edge of a wintry precipice and dives in, only to swoop up soaring with a freedom that comes only from god.
. . .
excited. life is good =)
. . .
6.23.2002
10:15 am: running down polk street in shoes i can barely walk in, trying to catch a bus to church
10:15 am 20 seconds: ignoring all the stares i'm garnering with my wobbly attempt to sprint
10:16 am: sadly watching as the mean bus driver drives away
10:25 am: on the van ness bus on my way to the n-judah. there's a girl with an incredible voice singing softly to herself behind me
11:15 am: sitting in the pews at scbc
11:20 am: calling lyd about the giants game
11:30 am: walking toward the muni again to go back to work so i can make the game
1:00 pm: sitting relaxed in the dark setting of my cube, lit by a hint of sunlight, my stomach warmed by strawberries and cream oatmeal. sarah vaughn's soothing 'misty' in the background.
*contented sigh*
will leave for the game in about 15 =)
. . .
6.22.2002
nicotine stains yellow
ralph lauren 300 count egyptian linen
damask exposed
fog smog rolls in at 6:30 in the evening
curls around brick buildings grey
smothering blue skies and windexed windows
. . .
6.21.2002
awwww my little brother is growing up to be quite the fine man. i am so proud of him =)
. . .
6.20.2002
draft.
in the symphonic hall
warm euphony spreads,
hovers golden
as rich timbre'd cellos sing, soar
brim empathy shining
heightened wavelengths extend toward
soaring glassplanes above-
diffuse
into soft light, misty
and grainy- a photograph circa 1960.
upper orchestra d101: a woman
empire waisted, her hair in perfect curls
and lips
red and moist
like her eyes, sits
as words bring to pass
a man
her star
glimmering in the sky
his earnestness on bended knee and
the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled...
bright light pierces ink oceans deep
as telescopes with heartbreaking clarity
reveal implosion
millions
and millions of years ago.
. . .
i just got back from lunch- imagine my surprise when i looked in my inbox and found a message to me from jeff bezos! sadly it twasn't specifically to me, cqli. but man oh man. what a great marketing tactic =)
. . .
so on the cable car, sometimes the conductors get frustrated, and for good reason. many drivers don't realize that you can't just smash on the brakes and stop at the last minute on these pure iron ton weighing vehicles. thus, (sometimes to their own detriment) drivers often suddenly swerve in front of the cable car in a desperate attempt to pass the 10 mph vehicle (muahahaha). anyway, ok this is totally mean, but it cracks me up how the conductors try to pound on their 'horn' to scream at the drivers, but on the cable car there are no horns. there's only the friendly sounding bell. thus, instead of laying a fat, extended BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP on the steering wheel that conveys ()#$*@*($)! YOU #$&*@)_@#*(%#()*!!!!! what you get instead is a conductor vigorously shaking and pulling the bell rope in anger and frustration, which unfortunately conveys something to the effect of clang! =) CLANG! =) clang! =) CLANG! =) [have a nice day]
anyway. yeah. something that cracks me up.
oh. something else that makes me laugh. so there was this guy who was frustrated that i wouldn't date him because he wasn't asian. well like i never told him that outright, but he knows i prefer asian people. anyway. so a bunch of us were in the car and he's in shot cuz he was too drunk to drive, so all he was capable of was controlling the cd player. christina, he goes, you'll really like this song, and he sticks in michael jackson's 'it don't matter if you're black or white' song. i didn't know whether to feel bad or laugh, it was so cute. he's so funny, i love him to death, but just not in that way...
. . .
6.19.2002
oh how i have fallen.
this has been a weird year for me. i'm looking in the mirror everyday, and although the physical features remain the same, the carriage and perspective of the face staring at me are unrecognizable.
when i was home two weeks ago, it was the first time in a looooong time that i felt like myself. and this brought to the forefront of my consciousness how far i am from my goals, and the true extent to which my past has quagmired me.
looking through some old emails i am reminded: the highest compliment i've ever received was from this guy i interned with two summers ago. one of the most passionate, empathetic, and driven people i've ever known, it's because the words came from him that they meant so much to me.
one evening he had been walking along dupont circle and come upon a homeless looking man staggering on the street- ghastly pale, wide eyed, and gasping for breath. the pedestrians who passed him averted their eyes and quickened their pace. he wanted to help, but didn't know what to do. '...i tried calling you, but you weren't home', he told me later, 'so i tried to think of what you would do in that situation.'
i've not thought of this in a long while, but it gives me hope. something i needed today. to excavate the remnants of my former attributes trapped beneath memories, fears, and circumstance. here's to a year of regaining my momentum, to rebuilding myself to who i used to be.
. . .
it's going to be rough today, i can feel it...
. . .
6.17.2002
fyi: invertedly squirting apple juice through the straw opening in a minute maid box is alot more complicated, messy, and time consuming than finding a straw to suck it up.
. . .
i had the most quinessential of sundays yesterday- the perfect epitome of a lazy sunday afternoon:
woke up at 10 am with no alarm clock just in time for church, despite hitting the sack around 5 the night before; i had prayed that if i was meant to go to morning service then i would get up in time by myself, yay =) i called my dad to wish him a happy father's day and muni'ed over to sunset.
after service went to ocean beach to just sit with god for a while. it was the first time that week where i had more than an hour to myself, and the time of just sitting and waiting on the lord was refreshing.
then was off to irving street to kick it with my cousin- we spent 3.5 hours at one of the bbq places, just chatting, eating and sipping tea: the most perfect way to spend a lazy sunday afternoon. the cantonese are onto something with the concept of 'yum cha', it's kinda sad that it's modernized into a hectic point and eat affair, although old schoolers in hong kong still get up at 7 am to relish in the delicacies and company.
we went to pick up some boba afterward and went back to his apartment, where we viewed deuce bigalow, male gigolo (not the perfect way to end a quinessential sunday afternoon =) ) but never fear. after taking a break to read by the window, we watched the hong kong film fulltime killer- cool movie, the ending clinches it.
it really was a sunday to be savored.
. . .
rembrandt's the prodigal son
. . .
6.14.2002
oh man, i just chewed the most pungent of onions (they were in my pungent sandwich). blech!!
maybe i should ask my co-workers: hhhhow are you doing? heh heh heh =P
. . .
laziness is bliss. there is a cable conductor who i happen upon at times and he and i are completely on the same wavelength. i bring my eight pack minute-maid drinks to work to store alongside my other non-perishables in my cube (so i don't have to travel far for my meals); he prepares a metal coat hanger so he doesn't have to stand up to ring the cable car bell. i have a cd collection in my drawer alongside my electronics for my listening pleasure during work, he's stored a portable radio that belts out jazz in the corner of the cable car ceiling. sitting facing one another on the cable car, we make an odd couple. a girl with drinks and bread sticking out of her oversized purse sits across from a conductor, legs up on the seat, relaxed, holding a hanger to pull down on the rope that tells the trolley that all passengers have boarded. while billie holiday croons in the background.
we the lazy know how to enjoy life.
. . .
6.11.2002
yay, i am smart =)
. . .
o poopy. i changed my template but can't figure out how to stick comments back on. plus i lost all the old ones =(
. . .
back in the day, one of my favorite poems
One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing further, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
- Elizabeth Bishop
. . .
6.10.2002
he always calls during periods of transition- when he quit salomon, when he tired of consulting...and now, he's moving to new york. there is a quiet finality to this one
pablo neruda: love is so short, forgetting is so long
. . .
the answer, my friends, is yes. stand by, watch, and proactively love, trust, and pray.
by the way, do i dare to each a peach? absoeffinglutely =)
. . .
6.01.2002
the night my grandmother died i had a dream. she was dead, but refused to go to hell. well, more accurately, she was petrified, desperate, and really didn't want to be there. she kept gripping me, so tightly, and i couldn't do anything but pray that god would do all he could to bring her to heaven with him. i don't remember how the dream ended. several times i woke up because she was gripping me so tightly it hurt. it was strange, because when i had initially recieved the news earlier that day i had been somewhat at peace with her passing: more specifically, i had felt loved. so the dream completely took me by surprise. i didn't know whether it signified something. but i was determined that i would put more of an effort to speak to my grandfather about the faith.
so fast-forward a couple weeks later. i'm talking to my mom, who doesn't want to talk to him about christianity because he gets annoyed with her and it pushes him more away from the faith. but on the other hand, he has steeped himself in buddhism to deal with his grief. he doesn't watch tv, he doesn't go out, he hasn't even shaved since her death. he just sits at his desk, reading buddhist papers, writing essays. her christian friends say that he's too old, and to let him be, that god 'understands' and will make himself known if it is part of his plan. but i feel so weird about it. am i just to stand by, watching, and just trust?
this is so annoying.
. . .
5.31.2002
you know, upon deeper reflection, i don't know whether i would do the same thing as mr. bass, or those kajillionaires...like if i had $100 million and had already given like $40 million away, why not indulge myself with a $20 million opportunity to experience space? that would be so awesome...
sigh too bad i'll probably never get to test out the senario...
. . .
conversations shooting across 123 mission, 19th floor:
i. how my co-worker's going to st louis to meet up for the first time with her aol luhwer
ii. how lance bass should use his $20 million to a. feed people in starving countries b. buy pakistan tons of crystal geyser so india and pakistan won't blow up the world should they go to war, etc rather than using it to orbit space. but then again, how could we live without such cnn headlines as '''N sync Singer Fit to be N'space", of course strategically placed next to the "US Warns of Massive Deaths if Nuke Launched" story/picture of a nuclear warhead.
iii. i don't know, something, but it involves the voice of that woman who sounds like the slut character on 'just shoot me'
geez, how's anyone supposed to get any work around here?!?!?!?!
=)
. . .
5.30.2002
happy birthday, woman =)
. . .
5.29.2002
for all you bloggers out there, something interesting:
http://slate.msn.com/?id=2066308
. . .
5.25.2002
i crave
crashing waves: monolithic structures,
violent combustions, ever reaching toward stable shores.
they are creations of the god most high
and my reminder that he controls all
. . .
5.22.2002
so the question remains:
do i dare to eat a peach?
. . .
yay! i have two comments each for the previous three posts. how exciting is that?! =)
of course one of them in each is from me, but that's besides the point...
=)
. . .
5.21.2002
i realized that yesterday's post wasn't entirely appropriate, and that my expressiveness ought to go to the offending party- in love- rather than angrily, to a random population.
sorry about that.
as christians, we ought to love one another, and help each other grow. none of us are perfect, that's why we need christ so badly. my reaction yesterday was a failure on my part, and i apologize for that. thank goodness for His infinite patience and grace =)
. . .
5.20.2002
ugh. if you're reading this, would you please help me by taking a moment to pray for my grandfather's salvation?
thanks =)
. . .
5.17.2002
blah. i am so bored!
. . .
can i just say? jacqueline du pre's initial slide in the elgar cello concerto never fails to send shivers down my spine...
. . .
5.16.2002
sometimes the most pivotal moments happen during the most mundane activities. like today, while walking across the hall to the restroom, i had an epiphany that has refreshed me more than i can describe. i guess life is just funny like that.
. . .
5.09.2002
i.
we're sitting on the ikea couch my parents bought ten years ago. the tv is on, but as usual i am in control of the channels. you're staring ahead, eyes uncomprehending into space. moments later, you look at me without recognition of a deeper relationship, and take my hand.
ii.
your hair is black, and i imagine that your eyes are bright, focused. we're in the foyer of the gaithersburg house with a porch, by the carpeted family room. don't hit her, you interject, even though i probably deserve it
this is my one memory.
iii.
there is a red headband in the drawer, lacy, with a huge puffy flower on the right hand side, also red. i slide on a black headband. no, you motion, and lift up the red one. it is prettier. i shake my head and place it back. it is still there
iv.
i called kaiwen last night. we're coming home, using the southwest discount tickets. we will see you soon.
. . .
5.08.2002
Sestina
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
--Elizabeth Bishop
to read more about the sestina form:
http://www.english.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/sestina.html
. . .
5.02.2002
in my cd player: mozart's requiem
one of the most glorious choral works ever written. my friends accuse me of being morbid, citing that the piece is heavy, dark, and laden with doom. oh, but au contraire! interlaced with voices and themes of judgement efferescent cadences of brilliance inject, modulate major in an overtone of minor- here cascading sopranos triumphantly rise out of the fiery arpeggiated violins; there, soft, loving voices dissipate the relentless drive of militant baritones - it is a piece of contrasts, two forces ever at tension with one another- compassion and judgement, darkness and hope, and throughout the piece, the ever reconciling of the two. there is no other piece that reminds me more of the glory and majesty of heaven, and of the awesomeness and ableness of our god.
. . .
4.30.2002
my favorite four lines of verse- an elegy. tightly controlled language wrings out with intensity that which is not controllable-
relish in the words of t.s. eliot:
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
onward ho, then- may approaches!
. . .
4.25.2002
if i were to write a screenplay that was so ridiculous that "stupid" was too simplistic a word to describe it, perhaps it would be about jason voorhees, the hockey mask wearing murderer, wreaking havoc in outer space.
oh, WAIT. that movie's already come out...
unbelievable.
speaking of outer space, i read somewhere that scientists have determined the color of the galaxy to be "salmon". interesting...
. . .
4.19.2002
the hand of god is present in my life. during this past week, i've begun noticing/thinking about how so many disparate threads of my life may be related in preparing me for what god has in store for me for the future. what his plan is, i don't know. i have postulated several theories, but current disinterest toward the unknown, of something less comfortable than i would like- hinders me from exploring those possibilities. in the meantime, i recently found the essay that i wrote for college admissions and was reminded again of a trip i once took- there's so much that i've forgotten:
The Navajo Reservation is a tract of flat and expressionless land, with whirling sand stinging the eyes, and drawn to the mouth and hair like magnets when the wind blows. There is an overtone of dryness and stillness, and many of the Navajo children there are like the landscape that they live on- thirsty for flowing rivers of love.
Immediately after I arrived, I was bombarded by requests for piggy back rides and hugs. On our backs rode young laughing sprites, who balanced to stay on our backs while our arms were occupied with smaller children. After a run around the room, complete with jumps and twirls, we sat the excited children down, while new groups of children clambered aboard our bodies. Kids, ages three, four, five, even ten, asked me repeatedly for these signs of affection that I have always taken for granted.
I remember one little boy in my Sunday school class who wouldn't respond to anything that I said. He was dressed in a worn, black Raiders shirt with the writing cracked, like cheap tees get when they've been overworn, and black faded jeans. His dirty little face carried on it a look of great solemnity. He's why I'm here, I remember thinking to myself. For the rest of the day, I tried to get him interested in what we were doing. At first, all my attempts were in vain, but as the class progressed he s l o w l y opened up. By the end of the class, he was teasing me with shy "hide and seek" antics (I was trying to photograph him). Although he had given me permission to do it, he made a game of trying to hide every time I pressed the shutter release button. I never got the tricky rascal, but his image will be imprinted on my mind forever.
I was fooling around on the piano after vacation Bible school one day when my mindless twiddling was interrupted by a small piping voice, asking me to teach her how to play something. I turned and was met by- nothing! Acutally, the voice that asked me belonged to a little girl who didn't quite reach the level of my eyes. Delighted, I set her on the piano bench and began teaching her how to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb". Pretty soon, I noticed that the youngster wasn't the only one who was listening to my instruction. I was surrounded by a group of Navajo kids, all looking eager to play. Among these, I sought out a young man who had earlier intimidated me with his expressionless stare and Snoop Doggy Dog-style of clothing. I patted the piano bench and he hesitantly joined me.
These children learn so quickly. It was impossible for me to teach them every aspect of music, so they learned by imitating what I played. It took them only a couple of tries, too. I worked with many of the kids in this way. Then, after they went home, I wrote the notes of the songs on top of a messily drawn keyboard, so that they could still practice and experiment after I left them.
On the two day trip returning home after the two weeks in Arizona, I had plenty of time to reflect about my experience with the Navajo children. In the wee hours of the morning, when only the driver and I were still awake, I pondered over my pampered lifestyle. Even the cramped (there were ten of us in there), rickety old Dodge Ram that I sat in, with its cracked seats and air conditionless interior, was a luxury to those kids on the reservation. The paved highway that we rode on was lavish. On the reservation the roads were muddy ditches that were prone to quagmire cars.
From the children (who didn't once complain about their living conditions), I also learned to appreciate my life. I learned the most from the sullen kids. I learned that even though their exterior was one of a brick, cold wall, inside they are still human. They have hopes and dreams and will share them if someone makes an effort to reach out and care for them.
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4.08.2002
a joke:
overheard from a pear of fruits:
orange: honeydew you want to get married?
pineapple: oh lettuce!...but we cantalope!
orange: why not? do you not love me?! i artichoke you!
the end.
thank you, thank you. i know...i am talented.
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4.05.2002
the mcdonald's by union square cracks me up- it is one of the most ghetto mcdonald's i've been to, with stains and smells proclaiming their presence in every glorified floor tile. the cashiers manning the registers defy the passage of time, taking 10 minutes or more per customer. usually there will be one or more leering men as they lean against the columns, smiling their sketchily indulgent smiles, while a woman makes her way within inches of you, asking you to 'help her out' by sponsoring a chicken mcnugget. the security guard stands comatosely alert next to the registers, seemingly oblivious to (or decidedly ignorant toward) the sights and smells. and yet in this place- the music of vivaldi, mozart, beethoven flows forth with crystalline clarity: a wash of culture in the midst of this city subculture.
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4.03.2002
why do they call her the 'queen mother'? it sounds like some alien character from a sci-fi novel
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4.02.2002
yay! it finally worked!!!
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one day i'm going to be able to figure out how to link stuff on my page...
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3.26.2002
on the bus friday i saw a woman, completely covered minus her hands. she was a roundish figure, reminiscent of tweedle-dee or tweedle-dum, dressed in soft cloth colored pink and purple, capped off by a pair of small white sneakers. a black hankerchief covered her entire face so that even her eyes were hidden from view. i wondered what she could possibly be hiding- a burn? bruises? a facial deformity? or perhaps nothing at all.
she carried about 10 bags full of possessions such that the knots tied on the plastic ones were coaxed from one or two centimeters of handle, barely freed from her bursting belongings. she also had a brown bag or two, reinforced with plastic, also just about to overflow, evoking in me that nervous feeling of a toilet at that brink of will it go over? the woman's plastic bags were tied at the bottom where they had previously burst- tied together after falling apart, precariously holding things together.
covering the surface area of virtually everything the woman carried were words: phrases, sentences, paragraphs- her thoughts. the paragraphs adorned her paper bags, perhaps due to the more conducive nature of the medium, while random phrases and words covered the plastic ones, scattered in every direction, forced out from an unwilling ballpoint pen.
i wanted so badly to give her a journal so she wouldn't have to walk around, vulnerable to the world reading her mind (was that why she covered her face?). and the desperation of not having enough surface area to communicate her thoughts- was that why she kept each of her bags? that even though they were at the brink of falling apart, in the attempt to salvage her treatises she tied her already tattered bag pieces back together? i have never seen plastic bags so precious.
but was her communicatory means only exacerbating her situation? the more she wrote, the more ragged she became?
i hope it was not a lack of human connection that forced her to speak to paper and plastic.
either that or she was schizophrenic.
from my vantage point, sitting across from her in the disability section of the bus, i could only make out one phrase framed by the many plastic bags crowded onto her lap: very painful
i wonder if that is something she may have written during a time of transcendent salience- that in the moment when there was too much felt, too much to be said, that all her different emotions and thoughts whirled to an inexpressable mush and like a precious drop of pure perfume, concentrated into these two words that expressed it all...
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3.20.2002
highlight of my day:
lee's is this chinese operated sandwich chain in the financial district. today the lady only charged me 33 cents (!) for my sandwich. 33 cents, charge the pretty girl only 33 cents she trilled in cantonese to the cashier (if it's possible to 'trill' in cantonese).
needless to say, i was beaming.
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3.19.2002
on my mind:
a blast from the past, a
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
what happens to a dream deferred? what happens to my dreams deferred? as a person of faith ought i say
nothing: i believe in god.
?
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3.18.2002
blogspot is so confuzzling. i guess i am one of those products of american society, demanding instant availability, simplified and ready to serve, tailored to my individual wants, minimizing utilization of brain cells and creative thought.
buttons, settings, postings, templates....i have a craving to be spoon fed.
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