I am sick this Christmas: sore throat, stuffy nose... the works. This is also the year I missed snow in Houston. It's been more than a decade since I've seen real snow (dating back to ChongQing in the early 90s) - the kind that settles and carpets the ground.

Current favorite movie -- You've Got Mail
I've fallen in love with it all over again. Some movies get better with time. I'm just in a Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan kind of mood.

I have been a Word Twist addict for two days and counting.

I am not one to skip on my blog… usually I eat and type and publish new entries at the same time. One little event that I desperately want to chronicle, because God willing, it won’t happen too often, or ever again… But I can’t, not even under pseudo-names or places, because as keen as I am on uninhibited verbal expression, some things are just… not nice.

That should be enough to jolt up memories… if ever I should want to remember.

It is a little strange to be home with no immediate plans of leaving… to actually fold and hang up my clothes in the closet. My days are pungent with a guilt-free laziness that is nearly impossible to have at Rice… Here at home, unproductiveness is to be expected. I picked up a wonderful book two days ago, and between Hollywood videos, Chinese miniseries, and shopping, I managed to read exactly one chapter. I came down stairs at 11:11 am today; that’s half of the day gone!

A spontaneous Dallas trip with my mom! I was sitting by the kitchen table writing Christmas cards when my mom suddenly said – let’s go to Dallas! We only had one destination – the Galleria! Maria, I didn’t call b/c we were there for all of three hours. But I thought of you! I wish I could move the whole block, Valley View and all, to Shreveport. I think then, my little city would be perfect.

One last note, I have stopped waking up like clockwork in the middle of the night. I still don’t know what that was all about.

It's is 12:12 pm... :)

I bought a beautiful brown fur throw for my parents today! It was expensive, but not impossibly so. Never did I think I would push that credit card limit so close; it literally screamed when the sales person at Pottery Barn swiped it across the machine … I just couldn’t pass it up, knowing my mom’s love for fur. All the money I waste, this is definitely something worth purchasing for the two MOST important people in my life. I’m becoming too old to buy them slippers, lotion, jewelry… I want my present this year to say not only “I love you”, but also “please don’t worry whether I can take care of myself because I can even take care of you!"

Did you get your Fresca, Linda? Thank you thank you for your company!

My friend just left for home, and I feel sad. She has always been here, physically close, and just the possibility of picking up the phone to say "what are you doing" (a.k.a. do something with me!) is a comfort I don't want to part with... just yet.

This is, I believe, a preview of May ...

What I did...

I took out my contacts, put them into the two-colored container filled with contact wash, then promptly rinsed the whole thing with running water, down the drain, contacts and all... I even put the empty case back onto the shelf to dry, and didn't realize anything was wrong until my roommate noticed one contact in the sink. mmm... finals need to end!

The kindest Chinese teacher I ever had took my whole class out to dinner at 南北和。The "whole class" consists of three people, and I ordered BeiJing Fish because it looked thickly sweet on the picture. Is it surprising that I met my favorite Chinese teacher in America? Well, if you know anything about schools or teachers in China, you wouldn't be. One exception -- my math tutor in Chongqing who lived a million miles away, and I had to travel for a million hours every Sunday to see him. He thought I was gifted... just not in math. :)

The Yo Yo Ma and Emanuel Ax Concert was phenomenal. I sat so far away that I could only see Yo Yo Ma's expressions through a binocular, which is unfortunate because he played with a passion that is palpable. All the years I have played the violin, I have heard that name, most times followed with an "are-you-related-to-him" question that makes me lower my head in shame... Then last Thursday night, I actually saw him. I think I would have sold my soul to meet him, and shake his hand, and hope perhaps some of that passion and talent would rub off. Can you imagine talking to him? Yes, I know, he is only human... or is he? :)

Last week was bad on so many levels - the hair, the skin, the food, and the cell bio. final. Today was the first day that I feel a bit more like myself, after a three hour final followed by a three hour work shift. I have been going to the gym and doing high impact stuff every single day... Mostly because with no classes, the gym is the most tangibly productive thing I can do. Sitting by my desk and studying may or maynot yield good results. But the gym, that's definitely good... Well, until my left hip started hurting. I have weak hips and weak ankles... mmm...

Now it is late and truth be told, I just want to go home.

I saw Closer last night, and it's important that I blog down my distaste while it is fresh. It is a glamorized version of Jerry Springer -- the same dysfunctional people, except with beautiful faces. After spending thirty minutes nodding my head and trying to find a deep acceptance in the imperfections of human beings and the impossibilities of lasting love, it occurred to me that no one should have to! Cheating and lying may be apart of human nature, but that does not mean we should jazz it up and call it art.

This holiday, I love Love Actually. :)

I miss blogging. How can I make you understand that a stack of cell bio. packets plus two days of unfocused studying leaves no room for blog-constrution. Except to say that I miss blogging... and hope you do too. :)

My last sociology paper is turned in and my mind is utterly empty... The kind of emptiness that echoes in the dark. Even now, with my hands clicking away on the keyboard, hoping for things/words/inspirations, I hear nothing.

The presentation tomorrow is under control; the modern dance is choreographed and ready to go!

For the fear of working alone, I'm going with Maria tonight. If I didn't fear working alone, I would also work tomorrow. The guilt of looking at my dad until he bought me the beautiful coat means thinking twice before asking my parents for other extravagances. Thus... my own little visa... thus money... thus work.

How could I ever hope to be a writer if I can't make trivialness magnificent? That's what great writers do, they make air irresistible, while I can only dramatize drama. I should tell you about the crack in my Christmas mug that mysteriously appeared three weeks ago after I begin to rely on it for drinking everything above room temperature, and how it extends halfway down the middle and halfway through the side. It is permanently stained with what could be coffee, tea, or chocolate... but mostly likely none of the above since it can't be scraped or licked off. Also three weeks ago, I realized that who I thought had given it to me didn't give it to me; and thus it no longer is what it was because what it was was the heart of a person, not a slanted crack on the side of a cup.

That's the end. Promise. :)

Minutes before what could be my last departure from Houston for Thanksgiving break, definitely my last departure from Rice. Xiao Yu A Yi’s whole family is going home with me. It’s about time. After four years of intruding upon their family and shamelessly leaching on their generosity, it is time that I play the host and pay a little back… with my mom’s fabulous cooking. I don’t know how I would have survived that second year without them… in fact, I’m convinced I wouldn’t have.

When in Vogue, one must read between the pictures. Untrue to popular belief, the words are not there as filler to texturize the clothes. No, the clothes stand on their own, and the words moved me to tears one Saturday morning.

"She doesn’t know yet that clothes don’t make the woman, that contentment doesn’t arrive from the outside, a special sweater to put on that will change the way you feel in the world. She doesn’t know that she’ll get there a different way, to contentment: by following a long path she can’t imagine right now. In fact, she doesn’t know much at all. It’s a good thing she’s going to college."

There is a moment in Sex and the City that gets to me EVERY time… when Carrie says to her friends – what if I had never met you?

What if I had never met you?

It is laziness on my part that I would rather click a link and read a blog, rather than pick up the phone and dial a number. I just hate playing catch up. There are blog moments everyday that couldn't possibly be recounted elsewhere -- when listening to Enya and cramming Pilates journal, when giggling at corny jokes on the back of taffy (or am I giggling at the look on Maria’s face when I read these corny jokes), and when economically squeezing in shopping/studying/making money into the next 48 hours…

My biggest charge on my credit card – Carnival Cruise, here I come! Oh I can’t wait till March… So many things could happen in three months… such as my six-pack abs and Madonna arms. Hehehe

My last cell test ended today. As I was signing the honor code, in between scrambling through my brain for the effects of M-Cdk on mitotic spindles, I stole a second to remember my first biology test at Rice. The sunny day four years ago, walking out of Keck reassured that I would survive Rice, and buying a purple mechanical pencil from the bookstore to treat myself for a week of... if I remember correctly... chemistry test, calculus test, then biology test.

The act of remembrances is important. It proves both the brevity and the permanence of time, does it not?

Remember the two smiley faces drawn so carelessly, yet imprinted so deeply. They have one thing in common - me. mmm... Such silliness. :)

Second haircut this semester! I love short hair, I must say. I think I have looked at myself a total of 5 times in a real mirror (glass reflections don't count) after the cut and before I clipped it back, and I liked it 50% of the time. That's not bad for new hair... Note to self, no more layers! I'm so much happier without. I have picture of two adorable hair styles with heavy bangs. Oh how I miss my bangs! They were such a source of security, something I could hide behind. Maybe when I'm feeling brave, and have no more interviews...

Thursday passes me by, along with the chance to do laundry and going to the gym. I make peace, and might spend some quality time with the TV instead. The weekend awaits, after all...

It seems that my favorite color has been diluted... to pink. Have I also been diluted? Perhpas it is just the trend of the season, the mood of the year, and as red condenses back, so will the rest of me...

Sigh ...

A deep deep sigh at the end of a long long long week. The ups and downs that come and go, without warnings or predictions, leaving no traces except in my cursed memories. I wonder what Tara is doing. I have been thinking about Tara a lot lately, wondering what wise words she would offer me. I think I would argue less with her now, and understand more, my stubborn convictions thinning with age.

Certain flows of words should not be untapped, because once the cork is popped open, they take on a momentum and truth they don't deserve.

Thank you Michelle for the cute card and beautiful words. How could you worry it might be too mushy... Don't you know me at all?! :)

Even a walk through the cold, dark night can be enjoyable when the company is right. :) I seem to be all about company these days. I think I'm getting to that age now when the possibility of loneliness is distinct and frightening. Not to be depressing, what I mean is to say is that the older I get, the more I try not to take my companies for granted. Just the other day, Maria and I decided that we are too old to lose good friends...

Almost 11:00 pm... Cell Biology seems not possible. Yet, I have my pink ipod on one side, my thick book on the other, both trying to convince me otherwise...

My misplaced heart, please come back...

I washed my hair in the sink after dinner, with a little towel. That, of course, elicited memories of my grandmother washing my hair in the basin, before I was tall enough to reach the sink. She would sit in a little chair, with a metal basin of water on the ground. Then me, draped backwards over her knees... At least that's how I remembered it. If you're thinking... what the hell? Yeah... sounds tortuous to me as well. I remember I threw a fit every time she washed my hair, and couldn't wait for the day when I would be tall enough to reach the sink.

Linda came over for dinner and we ate at Wiess. She confirmed that the lights in Hanszen commons are extra bright. I think I'm light-sensitive... it must be the exact caliber of light to either excite me or calm me... and the ones at Hanszen is just too high (or too low).

I'm looking forward to this weekend, although I have two more papers to write and one big test to take. Bridget Jone's Diary comes out Friday night... There is something reassuring about imperfect people falling in love. :)

Why do I eat dinner at Jones?

Because the company is lovely, why else.

Because there is nothing better than sharing food with people that makes the food secondary. Because there are fewer people in the commons and I can actually hear myself talk. Because the light is softer and not so fluorescently bright. Because there aren't huge glass windows all around me so that when it's dark outside, I can't see out and feel like a bird inside a cage.

Nonetheless, for my peeps at Hanszen - you are also cool, but fortunately, I see you a lot anyways... :)

mmm... Anonymous 2 - can't say what I can't have... apologies.

Random update -

Can't write because can't get started on my two papers. Even now, I think -- thirty minutes of Sex and the City won't hurt. But it will Tian! It will!

Weird, weird things happened with my pretty friend. I think I'm being punished... for what?! I think life (or whoever puppets life) is flaunting what I can't have in my face... or was I suppose to take a closer view and then step away? I'm doing the latter, thank you very much.

Seeing Liu Hong A Yi again made me miss China, and miss Xu Zhou. I miss Yanzi too, but Yanzi seems to be so busy with her life... a life that, try as I might, I can't seem to imagine...

T-spot in the village has real soy-milk. Why three bucks?! Doesn't they know soy is good for the heart and they should make it as cheap as possible because heart-diseases is the number one health problem in America?

I really really really like the bird sequence in modern dance, but it is so so so hard.

Re-reading my blog, there is a sense of heartache for myself, past pains remembered all too well. But there is also the clarity offered with the distance of time, the recognition that those anguish, though unnecessary, were inevitable.

Parting thought - thirty minutes of sex and the city won't hurt!

I love wheeling my suitcase through a crowded airport, with my head held high and my eyes searching for the gate number, listening for the names of places I have never been. It's a feeling of freedom and independence, at least until my arm gets sore from lugging my suitcase and my tummy starts to ache from one too many cups of frappuccino. Still, I don't mind waiting around in airports; I love the over-priced stores and restaurants...

My destination was fabulous. MARTA at night can be a little scary, but all is well that ends well. Let this not be the end...

Airport Vignette #1 -
Prada I could forgo, along with Oscar de la Renta. But the Starbucks around the corner, the Vogue in the bookstore, and that beige and yellow long coat from Banana Republic - I demand of myself. I don't need things to make me happy, nor would I allow the desire for things to make me unhappy. Neither they nor the lack of their likes would define who I am. They will be fringed around my life, trimmed to perfection.

Airport Vignette #2 -
Let me not doubt your presence
Its grandeur, vibrance, closeness
Doubt not my distance
Starting here, there, anywhere.

#2 at the beginning of doubt, as my heart catches on despite all verbal denial. Time is hard to ignore, along with the happiness of others. So when, if not now?

p.s. I just read Maria's latest entry, and grasped the full scope of how selfish I can be. Damn...

Friday night spent watching Something's Gotta Give with Maria... and fighting the urge to eat oodles of Halloween candy. She was unhappy with the ending... and who could blame her, anyone as hot as Keanu Reeves should not depart with a broken heart. But the movie could only end the way it ended - with love at the end of the day, however old, wrinkled, and imperfect. The same reason Carrie could not have ended up with Alexander Petrovsky, Diane Keaton had to share that final scene with Jack Nicholson.

Saturday morning spent reading Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World and then hitting the gym... once again fighting the urge to eat oodles of Halloween candy.

An ode to "pumpkin smash" from Jumba Juice, and thoughts of it at the beginning of every holiday season. I never really appreciated Christmas until my first Christmas at Rice, and that rainy Sunday I spend with Renee studying for bio final in the Village - the epiphany of 先苦后甜。 Ever since then, the beginning of October till the end of Christmas became my favorite time of the year (except maybe the first week of the summer). For someone perpetually home sick, it has a distinct aura of home that makes me light-hearted with hope and happiness.

No, anonymous 2, I have no idea about the Melville quote. So anonymous 1, if you’re reading, care to explain?

Since last week was all about taking tests, naturally, this week is all about getting them back. Cell bio test went better than expected, all the motivation to do better. My happy news last Saturday couldn’t have come at a better time, just when next semester promises to crush me with math and genetics.

I tell my over-achieving friends (when they get what they think is a bad grade), that grades aren’t everything. But are they? I think hard work matters, persistence matters, attitude matters… in that sense, grade matters. But if a bad grade was to diminish all the hard work and persistence, and make you doubt your very competence and intelligence, then perhaps it is better to think otherwise.

Madame Butterfly was wonderful (thanks Maria)! Butterfly had the most amazing voice, so piercingly bright my eardrums hurt (in a good way). Her vocal cords cannot possibly be made of the same muscles/nerves as mine. Truth be told, parts of my 21st century, semi-feminist mind wanted to scream at her to plunge that knife not into herself, but into he who abandoned her for three years, married another woman, and then came back to claim the son he never knew he had! I believe in love, in waiting, in suffering, in agony, in mourning, but what I cannot accept is resignation. It was a beautiful ending for the opera, but a tragic ending for women-kind.

I poured over my last Rice course newspaper, and there sprung feelings of nostalgia I never thought would emerge. The end of an era in my life is well under way; I can no longer delete all emails starting with “graduating seniors”. There are pages and pages of classes with contents I would never divulge, marking lives I would never lead.

Last Saturday was beautiful, yet I was troubled. This Saturday is rainy and dreary, yet I feel surprisingly alive and inspired. Another hour on the phone with my beloved little swallow. I now realize that my Chinese, though adequate, is still only functional at best. Hers is so eloquent, so concise, so expressive... her words like little firecrackers, crisp and clear. They are so wise, why?! Is she not only one year older than me? Is my own naiveness a product of my life, or my personality?

Tonight is Linda2's birthday bash! She is turning 22! Xiao ming wanted the party simple and sleek...

October 23, 2004 is a big big day. Today, I realized that my dream of becoming a doctor will come true. The last four years of Rice, with all its ups and downs, have all been leading to this moment. What follows will perhaps waver my happiness, but the reassurance and importance of today cannot (canNOT) be discounted!

I wish I could express my thoughts as strongly as I feel them. This has been an empowering experience, and I want to share it with the world… Or, just my friend, who although so innocent and untainted, has trouble believing in the good of the male sex. I’m not worried though, because I still believe that good things happen to good people. When it happens to her, it will be extra pleasant precisely because she never expected. As for me, I need to take on a bit of that shield, even if it is just a soft shell forming…

p.s. "Orchestra shoes" are a pair of black shoes I wore to my first orchestra concert in the 7th grade. I remember going after school with my mom and her friend, looking through a discount store with shelves of shoes. I wish I remembered the price, but they have no heels and three little peacock shaped holes in the front. The most amazing thing is they have remained shiny after all these years, without having ever been polished. They make my feet look very small, which isn't necessarily good because a). my feet are already painfully small and b). I need to wear them with suits that I feel should be balanced with more weighty shoes. Why did I make my mom send them to me? Well, my next medical school interview recommended that we bring tennis shoes due of the amount of walking involved. I figured, better flat shoes than Nikes... don't you think? Yes, I know you don't care.

It is 1:00 am and I'm not tired... why? Could it be the eight pieces of dessert I had at the Camacho study break? Could it be nerves regarding the cell bio test tomorrow morning? Could it be... that? (no to that one). Whatever it is, I need to climb up my new wooden stairs and put in my beloved ear plugs, because tomorrow, I hope to get up at 6:00 am one more time.

I received a package from my mom today containing my old black orchestra shoes. They're so adorable, no heels and somehow shiny after... has it been almost nine years? wow! She also send me a pumpkin baby in the spirit of Halloween and a card. It said "Love is like music, some high notes, some low notes..." What she wrote inside of the card is too beautiful to be translated. It made me think "let me never complain about the unfairness of life again!"

I'm yawning...at last... good night!

Hallmark did the trick. Thank you!

Of all the bad things I think I don't deserve, there are plenty of good that generously comes my way. Thus, life is fair once more.

Coherence comes hand in hand with hindsight, along with experience and acceptance. I have kind friends who push me towards bravery, and I have brave friends who examplify that actions often resonate louder than thoughts/words.

The first time I took public transportation in Houston was Freshman year. On the way back from the galleria with two friends, sitting on a deserted bus at night (clutching my Abercrombie bag with the red shorts... ), I distinctly remembered a poignant commercial (for coke? MasterCard?). It was a group of friends, sprawled on a New York subway in the middle of the night, too tired to talk, with expressions of happiness and contentment on their faces. At the time I was in high school, and I wished it to be a glimpse of my own life in college -- precious youth dotted by fleeting moments shared with friends.

I mentioned it at the time and received only blank stares.

Such scenes have repeated themselves over the years, but rarely do I consciously feel the pluck of the moment. But last Saturday night, waiting for the metro-rail in downtown Houston with Maria and Linda, brought the commercial to mind once more. In between our law-school/medical-school/grad-school and doctor/lawyer/corporate banker talk, I realized that this is my youth flashing before me. How many more years can we talk about our life in future tense? Am I fortunate to have settled on a path, or unfortunate because all the other paths I will never know? I don't have a subway full of people I can sit happily in silence with, but I'm thankful for the few I do have.

The night ended with Maria and I walking around the inner loop 1.5 times... that's what happens when we have hunka hunka chocolate cake at Hard Rock. :) The conclusion of the night -- we're too old to lose friends...

I feel drained because of all the studying. Is it because I have been so purposely lazy for the past two weeks that my brain has not warmed up? Or because... well... too much studying is too much studying. Half hour before my modern dance test. Yes, I know...

For the past two days, Houston has been so beautiful that it seems almost inappropriate for the usual stress that precedes a week of tests. So I spend a Friday night in the library, contently studying with no anxiety attacks. It's really not that bad, especially when one has good friends close by.

The pre-med office made a mistake that's quite too late to correct. They apologized, and I accepted. I mean, what is there to be done. How much damage it did, if any, I will never know. Thus, to not drive myself crazy, it's best to just categorize this into the "fated" bucket and move on.

Other things are fated too... and I must MUST MUST accept! I will bite my lips and chug through this process. Thank God I have tolerant friends who try so hard not to roll their eyes at me... thanks... I appreciate so much!

Oh! How could I forget! New Orleans was fabulous. I had a sense of ... anticipation... like I belonged there. Not THERE as in the location exactly, but there as in medical school. At this point, I just want to go anywhere that can mold me into a good good doctor. I can't wait... really.

It's true, I can't spell. I know sooner or later I would forget to push the spell-check key and expose my little flaw.

There is no milk at home, but there are more sugar and candy than I’ve had all year. I'm addicted to these mini-eclairs! At 241 calories per serving, how many do I really need. Now my mom is grinding up all kinds of stuff to make moon cakes, the beautiful kind that requires a mold.

She said she is happy every time I come home, and I wondered at how many more "homecomings" I will have. I look a few paces into the future and sure enough, they're more dispersed, more rare, and more complicated… Shopping with her till way past lunchtime, then "food" at Barnes and Noble. If I were to write a memoir one day, yesterday would be front and central.

Is it okay to blog things that I should have put past me days before? I hope so, and this clicking sound on my keyboard is just another healing remedy on my way to recovery.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why not? I have been here and there, on both sides of the equation. And I know, better than anyone else, that there are no logics and no reasons in such matter. No explanation necessary. All that could be said, I can tell myself.

The next blog promises to be more cheerful! Don't give up on me yet...

A wake up call came in the most unexpected form. I called a (fill in the blank) for some information, and the response I received in return was unexpected. I think I counted on kindness and support, if only residual smidges of it left over from the two weeks of freshman year when we were good friends, when I listened to his "similar" problems. Yes, it's true, I didn't help him. But I listened, didn't I? I thought perhaps he also shared a similar regret at a friendship slipped away and also wondered, sometimes, at where that trust went?

I was wrong then; I am wrong now. His (fill in the blank) made me realize my own silliness and stupidity for the past week. I think what I really needed was for someone to scream at me, to snap me out of this deep/blind/suffocating hole I have been digging for myself. To lift my head for just one second and realize that all is not dark, all is not lost.

To see things for what they are -- I have to take deep breaths before every such action. It still stings, the piece of hope it denies me, the piece of pride it robs me. But I woke up today with a more peaceful feeling than I had in days. Yesterday I wanted to escape home almost as much as I wanted to escape from myself, but today, I can wait for home, I can wait for anything.

I change my mind, I take back what I said, someone will measure up... stunningly.... subtly... effortlessly... but not today.

Today, the world is just as it should be.

A sense of loss, at what might never be. Same time, same place, same weather, yet all that was is no longer. Strange, how time takes us away from happiness and sadness with the same adamant speediness, leaving behind an inconsolable emptiness. Or is this peace?

Confusion at end of a Sunday…

I have dialogues, I have scenes; I have backdrops, I have props; I have all the right words, all the right lines, all the right expressions, all the right gestures. I can make myself cry, laugh, laugh and cry, in a hundred different ways. Who can measure up to such fabricated illusions?

No one has.

I talked to a beautiful friend yesterday... she came over in the prettiest skirt (my roommate said it looks like the one Reese wore on Sweet Home Alabama). The only class I have ever had with this friend was cardio-kickboxing freshman year, but somehow, over the years, sporadic phone calls and get togethers are enough. She told me when she gets overwhelmed in life, she surrenders to God. I'm envious of such faith. I sat in bed this morning, after once again being attacked by my thoughts, and decided that I too, wish to surrender.

And so I have, and three non-interrupted hours on a Saturday morning were spent on my Chun Tao paper; I am rather proud of myself. I haven’t even taken a shower yet! My roomie is off to take her LSAT, I’m debating whether yogart and chocolate milk are enough to bring for her from lunch… maybe something salty is a good idea.

I’m happily bored, can’t you tell?

If there were no music, would I daydream? If there were no songs, would my heart break? If there were no lyric, would it be easier to settle?

I can't always do this, adding imaginary actions to real people, then becoming disappointed when they don't live up to my expectations. Little Swallow is right, in such matters, it is better to just let things be. I have to focus on reality, and not get carried away...

October 13th. Let this be the beginning...

Sleeping early almost always means getting up early, and sure enough, I was up at 6:30 this morning. I have noticed that writing is the one thing I cannot do when my brain is fried. So I revised Chun Tao at 7:00 am and believe progress was made. I truly want to do her justice.

I did Amazing Grace justice! yeah!

The pressure is ON!

I've always had trouble compartmentalizing portions of my life, one area spills into another and before I know it, everything is gooey and mushy... I think I've never made enough of an effort, always surrendering before building any momentum of resistance.

I'm building an illusion as we speak, a shaky construction based on nothing but mid-night hallucinations. I indulge them out of boredom? weakness? Stupidity? There is only one way to collapse and that is down. Yet... knowing this...

I regret not wanting to put solid events and real names into my blog; there is a distinct possibility of looking back and not knowing what I'm talking about.

2004 年中秋--

水调歌头

明月幾時有，把酒問青天。
不知天上宮闕，今夕是何年。
我欲乘風歸去，又恐瓊樓玉宇，高處不胜寒。
起舞弄清影，何似在人間。
轉朱閣，低綺戶，照無眠。
不應有恨，何事長向別時圓。
人有悲歡離合，月有陰晴圓缺，此事古難全。
但願人長久，千里共嬋娟。

-- 苏轼 （1076）

2004 Mid Autumn Festival --

Tune: Prelude to Water Music

The bright moon, when will she appear?
Wine in hand, I ask the blue sky.
I may not know the gates of heaven,
Or what time of the year it is tonight.
But how I wish to ride there on the wind,
If not for fear that heaven's crystalline palaces and towers
So high, would be too cold for me.
Instead, I dance and cacort here with my shadow,
Such is knowing what it is to be on earth.

Circling the red-trimmed chamber,
Peering down through doors of silk,
The moon shines on the sleepless.
No cause for her to be spiteful--
Then, why, when we part, does she shine so round and full?
As man has both sorrow and joy, being apart and being together,
So too the moon has her waxing and waning, increase and diminution:
Such things have never been perfect.
So, let us hope for old age,
And be together, though a thousand miles apart, but always sharing her beauty.

-- Su Shi (Mid-Autumn Festival, 1076)

[I　changed the wording of the translation a little. It's not plagiarism because I don't pretend it to be my own].

Sigh...
There is no other way to start this blog then with a sigh and a smile and perhaps a few tears. Perhaps in its ever-destructive path, time has let this one go. I resolve to stop this shoe-madness and save money. Next summer!!!

I miss you YZ !!!!!!!!

What a week!

The two faces of a coin -- Hurricane Ivan didn’t come and ruin my Galleria plans with Nastassja, but we waited almost a whole hour for the metro! I bought beautiful shoes, but with money I shouldn't really spend. I worked out super early on Saturday morning, but now I feel like doing NO work! Sigh…

Happy news! I published my first poem! In a real book! Of course the book was hell expensive, but my mom convinced me that certain things are worth spending money on. What is wrong with me! I splurge on clothes but hesitate to buy a book with my own poem?! Sigh…

Two papers to come, and then home again! The plan for the rest of the day is to ignore the Foley sale and concentrate on paper till 4:00 pm ish…

I love Wei Ta Nai! =)

Update... Maria was almost-sick for a whole day, which gave me an awful feeling of being an infectious germ since I'm just now getting over my cold. Oh the guilt. I think 老四川 was the cure she needed, or maybe it was just an extra protein-boost (or extra calorie boost?) from too big of a meal, because she feels all better. I　bought mooncakes I'm trying to resist and not eat them... let's see how long this lasts.

Saturday night concluded with "春桃", which I watched for class. It was a movie about the complexities of life and the depth of love between people seemingly too busy and beaten by life to have time for such complex feelings. The story, though uncomplicated by elaborate settings and complex plots, reverberated with a feeling both genuine and true. Theirs was a love unrefined, unadorned, unfulfilled; it was raw and pure.

I contemplated my love for old-fashioned Chinese films that many consider to be "老掉牙"。　Could it be that I have been in America for so long now that I long for a glance into the poverty-stricken side of Chinese society? I hope not. I appreciate "活着"，＂我的父亲母亲" and such because in them, humanity is unshielded by make-up, special effects, or even too-eloquent dialogues. That is my conclusion.

I worked back my mini-ipod! yeah! Today was marathon calling day, and I worked from 10 am to 10 pm... It actually looks more tiring on paper, for I walked out there tonight feeling less drained than a regular 3hr shift day! Maria said I'm simply high on my bonus hours, and she is fabulously right. I won't say how many hours I earned total, because I might jinx it and it won't come true. =)

I'm proud of myself for sorting through "dirty laundry." I think the response was positive, all in all... and I went to sleep last night with a clear head... having wrote and communicated all that I wished to say... amicably and more clearly than verbal exchange could have ever been.

Churrascos a lovely restaurant Saturday night, but not as lovely as the birthday girls -- Maria in her new white top withe the "swooshy" skirt and Cielo with the leather purse from Spain... I wore my black dress with the plunging neckline (which I elegantly made up for with the black tank). For first time in my life, I hesitated wearing something new in the fear that it may not be "new" anymore... What is happening? That's really not my style.

I think my earning may have covered the dress as well! Does that mean I can stop feeling guilty?

So the weekend swooshed by (I love that word!), and next Tuesday someone is turning 22... again! Haven't we celebrated your birthday at least twice since last week?? I swear we have! Well, why stop now?! =)

The 80's party was a blast. I could have lived without the airlessly suffocating commons, the smelly sweaty people that pushed past me, and the humid Houston night that straightened my painstakingly crimpled hair... but certainly the fabulous outfit Nastassja bought for 2.50, complete with red tights and multicolored jacket made up for it. I really wanted to run around in black shoes with colored bows... and who knew pseudo-dancing could be so fun. :)

The things I learn 10 o'clock at night... I can't have it all (who knew?!), and it's pointless to be mad about it. I can't be apart of everything everywhere, and how dare I feel left out when I was just apart of something so fabulous. Is it not fair and logical that people I don't like also don't like me? mmm... I can take that.

Where did I hear "you look tired" ? Geez that's annoying!

My friend is crushed because a worthless guy broke her heart; and the worst part is, I think she wants him back. Why do we do this to ourselves? Seeing the red light and speeding through anyways. Self-preservation, I said it tonight, and it rang true. I hope to always withhold this contentment at being single, and always remember the lessons hard-learned and walk the other way when shitty people decide I'm an easy target. I wish to be brave without taking unnecessary risks, kind without taking unnecessary crap, and wise without the unnecessary bitterness.

Maybe too late for the bitterness...

This is truly what novels are made of; would you believe it? She found me again, after all these years. Her letter was overwhelming and surreal, calling back a time and place that haven’t existed in my present for so long. Thinking of her in the past tense for the past few years has been awful, but now, facing her, wondering if she is still the person that I encapsulated and preserved, is terrifying no less. If ever there was a moment when a look needs to transverse all that words cannot, this would be it. But, as life would have it, we are miles away, worlds apart. We can pick up the phone, pick up the letter, pick up the conversation, but the lives we led in-between, the moments of transition that came and went...how do I chase them back, sieve them through. Knowing all that she is today, I wish for a glimpse of her yesterday, and the days before. There are disconnected memories of that summer long ago, images and sounds I cannot string together, only her laugh and our happiness stands true. Oh… we have done it once, we will do it again!

It's official; I have my first cold of the year. I have been coming up with explainations for all this sneezing, coughing, throat-aching... when finally, I give up and admit that I am sick.

I go home tomorrow! I look forward to a night of sleeping without interruptions and the loud/cold/annoying air conditioner blowing in my ear all night. I look forward to sitting in the car and chatting with my mom for four hours while she takes me home. I look forward to the big mafia-styled couches that I can sink into. Maybe I will come back with this cold behind me.

I am not looking forward to the next two/three weeks of tests and papers. I am not looking forward to doing laundry that might have to get done tonight. I am not looking forward to debating whether to take my books/computer home... Sigh... the complications of life.

mmm... Hero was beautiful. Zhang Yi Mou was beautiful. Even Zhang Man Yu was beautiful. Seeing it at 11:00 pm on a Monday night was less than beautiful, but riding the metro with friends and speed walking through downtown Houston made it okay. I wish I were wearing heels though... Maria cried, I cried, and this guy sitting behind us either cried or had a cold. I really want to see it again. Come think of it, it has been ten years since I saw a Chinese movie on big screen in America, dating back to To Live in '94.

I did a silly thing last night. I read out loud from the Chinese novel Family for a full 45 minutes. I was so happy that I could still read Chinese with a decent amount of native flair. I went to bed with my throat really dry. Due to a weak bladder, I didn't drink any water. I woke up this morning with the WORST throat ache ever! I have been eating cough drops and drinking water/soy milk/orange juice all day. All I can think of is the phrase from my favorite movie Wit when the doctors told Emma Thompson to "push fluids." This is no cancer, but I'm pushing fluids like my life depended on it.

A five minute heart-attack when I thought I lost my library book... whew... found it.

Reliant is pretty awesome! I wish I had gotten cheap beer and cotton candy! But I couldn't really hold that and my inflatable Rice Owls sticks. Rice vs UH, we won... of course. Football is not my kind of game, I could barely locate the ball 90 percent of the time. No one could possibly look cute in a football uniform, unless you're a butt person, which I'm not. Maria patiently explained, and once in awhile, I would put some spirit into my yelling and waving.

The first two weeks of school came and went... and next weekend, I go home. I miss my parents; yes I do. I have not been myself as far as productivity is concerned, or is this really more like myself. I mean, I read and I wrote, but there is no urgency and there is no breathlessness that accompany my Rice cramming routine. True, the first papers/tests are still weeks away... But so is Maria/Cielo's birthday party! hehe...

In Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, a really cute guy went for a not-at-all pretty girl. I know I know this, but every time, it surprises me that you don't have to be perfect to nail the seemingly-perfect-guy. This should take the pressure off of me, but it doesn't... why?! If we're our own worst critiques, then this tortuous reach for perfection is for myself alone. That's just god-awful.

One difference between American and Chinese youth is how widely read Americans are. My first year here, and I read more novels and literature than all the years I spend in China. There are reasons, of course, mostly because the Chinese textbook consists of stories assembled specifically for the purpse of education; they are not taken from classics (except for poems). My point is that I wish I could have read more Chinese literature. All the books I have only heard of, never perused.

I am compensating for this short-coming by taking a Modern Chinese Literature and Films class. Yes, all the novels I read are English translations. And yes, no matter how well done, they are simply not the same. But as I told my dad, this is better than not knowing at all. I just finished Family. I didn't think of how much the translation must have taken away from the original until I realized that I have shed approximately three and a half drops of tears through the whole book. I, who balled over Lurlene McDaniel, failed to lament over one of the most well-known tragedies in Chinese modern literature. Maybe one day, I will sit down to the true version, with a dictionary in one hand, and tissue in the other.

The little things in life can be hard to bear, and waking up in the middle of the night, my temper boils over. But in the light of the day, I realize that as everything else in life, this particular arrangement simply demands compromise and 忍. It's not so bad, it could be much much worse. I can only imagine if I weren't myself and have to live myself... the particularities of a single child can be deep rooted. It is true something is lost. Fortunately, I am beginning to accept the many things we must lose in exchange for the few things we gain.

Today I had a major scare! I was halfway done with my last piece of tofu when this sharp pain shot through my stomach. My right side remained hurting for the next two hours, during which my parents furiously tried to calm me down in their worried-to-death sort of way. I feared appendicitis, my old friend, and another trip to the emergency room. Thank you Linda! Thank you for not only bringing me cold and hot water (in case I wanted warm), but also walking me back to Hanszen. And Nastassja, for sharing your hospital story. :)

I’m going through yet another dress rehearsal with my suit. The final one! To go one size up or not… the dilemma of my life.

People say to dress for the job you want; I think I will dress for the size I want to remain. Thus, I’m sticking with the suit. No returns; no dramas! I spread my gratitude to all who listened to my non-stop suit talk/obsession!

There are no holes deeper or darker than that of self-pity, thus I am over it. This is a tense time; I have to constantly monitor my uneven thoughts to stay sane. At night, when overwhelmed, it helps to open my eyes and trace the dispersed bands of dark and light, the blind reflected on the ceiling. The identity crisis subsides; all the thoughts I would rather not think about clatter against my fingertips… especially now.

Friday night, I went to the village with Maria and Linda. Beautiful things everywhere, but I resisted and asked myself (again and again) the all-important question – could I not live without it five/ten years from now? I conquered myself; I spend no money. This trick worked less well the next day when I tempted my bank account once more in the Galleria. Six hours of shopping, Maria and I didn’t even cover half of that maze. About two hours into our suit-hunting experience, Maria kicked up our pace a notch by looking furiously for the perfect suit. She found it, and she looks wonderful. Me, on the other hand, somehow forgot the all-important-question and ended up with two suits, two shells, a shirt, and a pair of shoes that’s all-too-expensive and all-too-high for all except the part of me that wants to be Sarah Jessica Parker on Sex and the City. I have been touching/thinking about my suits and shoes all day. I want to put them all on and walk around my dorm, but I’m afraid they will get dirty and I can’t return them if my parents were to HATE them… for it would truly take HATE.

Lead poisoning. Even though NY banned the use of lead in paint, it is still used in classrooms until 1980. Studies have shown that the mental damage done is irreversible--
“In the light of all these socially created injuries to intellect, most of which could be corrected by a fair-minded society, it may seem surprising that scarce research funds should be diverted to investigations of “genetic links” between the IQ deficits of certain children and their racial origins. There is something wrong with a society where money is available to do this kind of research but not to remove lead poison from homes and schools of children in the Bronx.” -- Amazing Grace by Kozol, wow. Read it.

I heard a song today. It put me heart to heart with this deep deep voice. It reminded me of good things long ended, long passed, as if they still have the sweetest possibility of remerging, replaying.

Thank you for visiting me, Linda and Maria! Five flights of stairs are more than I could ask of any friend – but you guys are more than friends. =) I apologize for the Olympics Maria; according to my dad, it was wonderful (hint hint)!

This semester is what life would have been like had I taken a different turn in college. Decided on the English major, on the life of a writer, instead of pursuing medicine. Who would I have been without surviving orgo and physics? Who will I become after surviving (assuming I do) the-class-that-should-not-be-named?! How soon can I recover if I don't get into the class I really want to take. It's hard not to take it personally, but I will try. I checked my emailed till 12:00 last night; only to realize this morning that the teacher may not post results till today. Aiiiiii…..

I talked so fast in class today I thought I would faint from short of breath. Why?! I had good things to say. I wish they didn't race out of mouth senselessly into the void.

I saw the sweetest movie, Fifty First Dates. It’s amazing what kindness could do to a guy – Adam Sandler was positively irresistible by the end of the movie. Must see it again.

To put things into perspective, I should do this by the hour.

Yesterday was a particularly bad day, when I tried and tried and can't achieve what I hoped to obtain. For ten solid minutes, I hated that place. I wish reality would take smaller strides away from the illusion I personally fabricated. Yesterday was the last straw. Life is telling me something. I hear it, but continue to argue. Would I do it again? The crossroad promises to re-emerge. Would I take the prudent and safer road, or the more daring and possibly miserable one. It's happiness I'm after, don't you know? Not fame, not money, not even success, but happiness, and love... always love. Can happiness exist in the absence of all four? Probably not, not for me.

The worst thing, ever, happened to the divers. This will be the end of my Olympic reporting; I think I'm jinxing them...

Last night I talked to a dear dear friend. The teddy bear she gave me in the eighth grade is still sitting on my bed, still wearing the American Flag wool sweater. I know the turtle slippers I gave her two Christmases later is also within sight, or within the packed boxes. We went to different colleges, and despite the letters and cards that we painstakingly sent each other, I believe we have morphed into different people. There are things that words cannot say, envelopes cannot hold, and there are gaps in our understanding of each other that can only be filled upon second thought. We filled some last night, didn't we?

That was for the sake of my sanity.

Now, for the sake of humanity, I quote my dear dear friend --

Does Bush really think that visiting the Underground Railroad Museum is going to garner him the African-American vote? Please give us a little more credit...are we cattle, because it seems as if he really wants to herd our votes...

Boom! It's on.....

Contradictory, that I should love the unnoticed passing of the day and loath the swift passage of time, as if the two were disconnected. I glanced up to see 2:05 pm on the clock when I thought it was only 12 :05 pm. The days are rushing together now, today felt just like yesterday. Soon enough, I will no longer be able to comfort myself with the idea that Saturday is still four days away. This is the time to take in home in slow motion, to not push my dad's nerves, to wash the dishes for my mom...

The Games is not kind to the older population. The girls in the women's gymnastics team will always be 16 because year after year, their replacements have the same physique, the same smile, the same ponytail, and the same yellow and red uniform. It is only me who is getting older. I still remember the gold medalist from Atlanta and her floor exercise. I saw her again last night, the same jump, the same spin, the same glow, the same spirit. Only the name is different. But then again, what is in a name...

There is nothing to do sometimes when you're having a bad day except to look onto tomorrow, but even "tomorrow" can be permeated by the day before. My happy blurb about the cute, cute diver I discovered with my first name will have to be put on hold. Instead, I look for words to describe an era, if short-lived, yet still monumental to me who cared.

It is true I didn't even know about Sidney until a week ago (where was I?!), it is true that the world championships also slipped my radar, but you mustn't think of me unqualified to be ever-so-proud of our men. Yes, I see the irony, people like me who laid on the pressure that perhaps collapsed their dreams in the first place now lament their loss. Their loss. It is just a game, no capitalization, no exclamation mark. It matters so to me because it matters even more to them. Theirs is a story of sweat and blood that will continue, if not here, then at Home.

I hope for redemption, missing the point once more. The age-old question of contentment and its elusiveness. It is hard to come by because we belive that the end justifies the means. We look for the end-product, anxious for the outcome, and erase the process, which is where true happiness lies... Maybe?

My boss asked me whether I will work till Friday. What a perfect opportunity to say, No sir, I will stop on Wednesday. Instead, I said I will work till Thursday. Is one day really enough to pack? Why was the first thing that popped out of my mouth not the truth? Guilt, I think, knowing my experiments should have been better. I take everything too personally.

I have wonderful friends who leave nice comments on my blog. Krystle, I will do better. I also have "friends" who don't care enough to register in order to leave me a note. =)

August is almost over, where is my secondary application?! I ask this after having ascertained that the schools in waiting mail out their applications to all applicants. I'm impatient, afraid I might have deleted one as SPAM. I want to put my hands on fate and push it along.

Reunion scenes. I always react as if I'm in a movie, and the climax depends on the degree of my shock. Last time I saw a friend from high school, a regular, same-class-same-grade friend, I stopped in my tracks, opened my eyes wide, gushed her name, and my hands instinctively covered my mouth just for the extra effect. If you are reading this and I have done the same thing upon seeing you, this is not to say that my reaction wasn't genuine. I am sincere, 99.9% of the time, promise. My elegant friend smiled without showing any teeth, and calmed said Hi. This is why I like spasmic and slightly neurotic people, it's no fun to spasm alone.

Just when I thought I'm approaching the boundaries of scientific competence, if only in the narrow but deep field of initiation factor 4E, I go to a weekly journal club meeting and come crashing down to face my ignorance. The ritual is too often repeated. I pour forth all my attention to the presenter, complaisantly following him for five minutes. But as is inevitable at such degree of concentration, my mind escapes from my hold, and I daze. Two seconds of missed words, and I never regain comprehension. I give myself the option to daze or die of boredom. I snap back every five minutes to find the same picture on the overhead. How?!
There are only five words!

Moments like these, I have such respect for the professors sitting around the table. The years of hard work that proceeded their knowledge. But it's more than work, it's faith and hope and passion. All will come with age; they better.

Last night was the opening ceremony of the 2004 Olympics in Greece. I dare say that there are few more devoted Olympic aficionados than me. I drink in the words and take in the competitions, all the while on the verge of tears, moved by the beauty and strength of so many athletes and nations coming together. There is a string that links my heart to every Chinese athelet. The quality of their day, I take personally. The marathon runner from Kenya with the face of endurance, he must win, if only to bring a rare and hard-earned moment of pride and happiness to a country that so rarely enters the spotlight, to a people so rarely celebrated for who they are. The satellite in my house causes the local channel to become blurry. But I will deal, this is the Olympics after all.

I talked to a good friend last night till midnight. We talked about medical school and life; the two are so closely intertwined at the moment in both our lives. I'm going to shake off this nervous worrying; it's out of my hands. Despite of everything, I have given college my best. At 1AM in the morning, I wondered how good friends become good friends. How did she, the girl who is in many of my classes and worries unnecessarily about her grades and life, when deep down, we both know that she will succeed in both, become the person that I trust to understand, tolerate, accept, and forgive me. So this is my gratitude to you for all that you are and all that you are to me. :)

Talking about good friends, this is so I don't forget to drag it up next time we're in an argument, how could you not call me just because there is a new man in your life?! =) There are two girls here dying to get to the bottom of this, so call!

After three weeks of vacation, my boss will be back today. Is it my imagination or is everyone in the lab extra tense? He cut his vacation short by a whole weekend, drove the entire day yesterday, and scheduled himself to be back at work today, a Friday! That is the kind of boss he is, perhaps why he is the boss in the first place.

This has been the most ambitious working summer to date. Not a single day of vacation. There were times when I cared so much about the experiment that I cringed at every deviation from the protocol, and asked my mentor for advice at every turn. That, unfortunately, is not me, as anyone who was my lab partner will distastefully remember. Should I take a day or two off to pack? Me, the eternally fast packer, who when impulsively decided to go home two days early for the summer, packed up my whole dorm room in one day, plus studying and taking a three hour final! I'm not bragging. I worry abot my impulsiveness to get things done. In everything I do, there seems to be a drummer that fastens the tempo way ahead of time, and my heartbeat skips to follow. Is this anxiety, my dire need to be everywhere 10 minutes early? Sometimes I force myself to slow down, especially when doing an experiment, I stop to realize that the quickened steps trotting across the lab is my own.

A funny thought - working in the same hospital as my future husband, as I have no doubt that I will have one. Not in the same confined space, but the same general area. Not to see his face at every turn, but to harbor the hope of seeing his face at every turn. In my lab alone, there are three married couples. I see them come off the elevator together, eat lunch together, and wait for each other to get off work. If seeing each other everyday would lead me to feelings of claustrophobia or repulsion, then perhaps I should reassess the significance of this significant other. I have always, always been opposed to the idea of marrying someone in the same profession. It is like fencing myself into this defined corner of society, when there are so many other professions and corners to uncover. Two doctors... What if all we ever talk about is work? What if I become blinded by his professional brilliance and mistake stubbornness for discipline, selfishness for intelligence, intelligence for kindness, admiration for love?

Diet Coke. It started with college, will it end with college? I wonder...

Not a book review

1185 Park Avenue is a beautiful book, the telling of lives made extraordinary because it happened only to the people on the pages and no one else. I avoided Bill Clinton's "life", and opted for memoirs of people not in the spotlight. I think they redefine what is "ordinary", especially when I don't approve of that particular word at all. Is it possible to see glimpses of myself in a book about upperclass Jews in New York City? In my own life, I have no memories of going to a Park Avenue psychoanalyst, but there were distinct moments of craving help beyond my own consoling voice. Someone with a degree, a hourly payment I can't afford, seems so much more reassuring. There is no screened silence between my parents and I, ours is not affection held in balance by polite conversations and avoided taboos. But surely, there were screamed words that scratched and clawed and threatened to permanently shatter all hopes of reconciliation. Anyways, this is not a book review, I probably shouldn't have included the title.

The summer has come and (almost) gone, and I find myself at exactly where I imagined I would be three months ago -- shocked by the flight of time (yet again!), haunted by the uncertainties of next year, and all the while dimly reassured by the consistency of time, trusting it to take me away from future moments of hell as abruptly as it will bring me there. I will miss my friend, who was always more than a friend. You are my pick for the island, yes you are!

Last year of college awaits, really?! It seems like only yesterday I clutched my acceptance letter from Rice and refrained from jumping up and down my drive way. Did it not, at the time, validate all that I was and guarantee all that I wished to be? So why is it, one prolonged blink later, arrives today, and me, nauseous in my fear that medical school should find me wanting.

Have I ever faced rejection? The kind that would shake me to the core and launch me into a temporary depression, only to wake up latter stronger and wiser but exquisitely scarred? Maybe only from myself... That silly boy in the eleventh grade doesn't count. Remembering him is like remembering falling on concrete, a shell of memory persisting without pain. What would medical school rejection do to my fragile self-esteem, rebuild each day as it is? A part me (big big part) hopes to never find out...

Expecting Flight is the name of a little store that borders Louisiana and Texas. I see it everytime my mom drives me home from Rice. It has a rooster outside above the door and this beautiful name below. I smile every time. There is a fear that what's inside wouldn't live up to the name, or worse, other people agree and tare it down. It is the title of my blog, this way, it is immortal!