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.