more than steak and potatoes

Last night my friend told me he wanted to buy a house in Uruguay for retirement.

Interestingly, my first response was how I would miss my food. By that I meant access to it – granted it’s not easy now, but I still have some kind of access…living in DC, my mom mails me thousand year old eggs and various Taiwanese seasonings, I buy tofu from Harris Teeters, soy sauce from Trader Joes, and veggies from the Korean market down the street.

He scoffed at my response and said, “That’s so lame, I would never say, ‘oh I’m not ever going to live here because I can’t have my steak and potatoes’!”

It’s different, I said. You can get steak and potatoes practically anywhere. Food is everything for me – it is my culture, grounded by the environment, symbolic in traditions and a solid reminder of who I am. Birthdays we eat noodles, to symbolize long life. New Years we eat whole fish and sticky rice flour because 'sticky' in Mandarin also means year. Food is...language, gifts, celebrations, fears, medicine, longevity, pride, humility, hospitality, burden, abundance!!

So much of it is also place-based, certain veggies only grow in certain climates – I gave him an example of bamboo, I LOVE and miss eating bamboo! He laughed and said, “What are you, a panda?”

How would he ever know?

That my parents sneak back an abundance of shoots in their suitcase from a visit in Tawian.

That in the sweltering summer it’s delightful chilled and dipped in sweet mayonnaise.

That the smell, taste, and first bite brings me back to my grandma’s house in Taipei.

That the leaves are used to wrap rice, the stems are used to treat infections.

That my kick-ass knitting needles (which I used to make him a scarf) are made out of bamboo.

He will never know, because it’s only now that I am just beginning to know...

Damn, I am becoming soooo Taiwanese!

37 and 38 and everythin in between

While waiting for my flight, I always sneak a peak at the other gates and their destinations. Where are all these people going?

Today I passed by gate 37 and 38. Bermuda and Hartford. It struck me how these people, sitting side by side, maybe even with some overlap and spillage onto each other’s gates were heading to two entirely different locations. They will be having two entirely different experiences. They must be thinking two entirely different things at this moment.

Sometimes I sit at another gate just to pretend. A place I’ve never been. To pretend I’m going there, preparing my state of mind for that place, for…Sarasota. I have no idea where that is. What would someone going there look like? What would I be thinking?

Sometimes I go and sit where I stand out. Then I can ask myself what others ask when they see me – what would someone like me be doing there?

Place defines me. And I always try to define it. No doubt. This entire blog is situated on who I am when I am where, there and here. But for the first time in a long time it doesn’t matter so much. I surrender. I give up the fight. I am letting the place, the experiences, choose me. I surrender my angst, my expectations and even a bit of my curiosity. I have no idea what will happen, what this place will truly bring me. How this place will transform me. But for the first time in a long time, yes, I know exactly what I am doing here.

People are asking, why DC? So you like DC? No more or less than one likes Bermuda or Hartford. Who knows? This is a place that welcomes me and challenges me. That inspires me and irks me. That provides just the right amount of fear and comfort. That is enough. I am here to live – this time in consecutive years. But who knows, just like the man sitting in Gate 38, Hartford may be a layover on the way to his Bermuda. Does he hate Hartford? Is he expecting Bermuda? Will he fall in love with it? Who knows?

Or maybe he’s like me, just sitting in Harford’s gate but really waiting for Sarasota…

Dear God.

Thank you for teaching me humility and patience.

Thank you for stripping me down and building me back up.

Thank you for fear, loneliness, and uncertainty so I can trust in you and others.

Thank you for always providing assurance and a place to sleep - even when I worry and doubt.

Thank you for mom and dad and their unconditional love.

Thank you for reminding me what I am good at.

Thank you for reminding me what I am not good at.

Thank you for closing doors, even when I really really want walk through.

Thank you for the generosity of others.

Thank you for allowing me to be uncomfortable and embarrassed so I will keep learning.

Thank you for teaching me empathy.

Thank you for taking care of me.

and thank you for always being down to be my +1

Whose team are you on?

“It is quite easy to be on the winning team and not ask how it is that you’re winning. Most White Americans are comfortable in their dominant roles and are not really concerned about whether or not the scales of justice were tilted.” – Daivid Ruiz

Although I am not a White American, I am fully aware that I too, am on the winning team – and even better, when the other side is winning, I can switch teams. Yes, just like that.

I am a child of an illegal immigrant from the rural rural motherland (was an illegal…, SB 1070 supporters, don’t come and try to deport our ass), I am the first in my immediate family to graduate from a University, I am a woman of color, and I qualify for all kinds of minority funding.

BUT, I am a child of a middle-class family, in May I will join the 7% of Americans and 1% of the world pop. with grad degrees, I am a “model minority,” and although I call cops prejudice for hounding me for all kinds of bicycle violations, I doubt I’ll ever be questioned for “reasonable suspicion," and I get $120 facials.

I live in both worlds, I play for both teams, I empathize, categorize, fight, avoid, ridicule, generalize, reject, embrace, socialize, identify with…the other team.

Confused? Welcome to my team.

I am a hyphenated contradicting concoction who has yellow, brown, orange, white, tan, pale, dark skin – depending on who’s team I am on and who’s team I am playing against.

I am Taiwanese-American.

I am always playing for my team - whether winning or losing, I tan gold.

dos' and don'ts' of how to survive...

...the unexpected state of depression that smacks you from all sides while in the ____ week of graduate school and leaves you upright when all you want is to be horizontal under a cushy duvet with the heat from the MacBook Pro warming your cold cold chest as you cry from an episode of Ugly Betty.

I am a survivor of the unexpected...

Here's what I learned.

1. Do not join Okcupid
2. Don't talk too much, actually don't talk at all.
3. Dial friends before the "unexpected state of depression that smacks..." don't wait until you're :( to talk to someone, talk to them when you're ;) this way you don't shrink-a-fy them and they see a holistic perspective of your life! - as you do as well!!!
4. Do try to spend as much time outdoors
5. Don't use defensive language: "I hate how they don't have city-wide composting here, but at least I am composting on my own outside." Instead, simply say, "YAY!! I'm stoked, I'm composting in my backyard."
6. Do not meet new people (This ain't the right time - just being smacked is not your high point)
7. Do engage and shamelessly glorify in simple tasks such as grocery shopping. It will lift your spirits more than you know.
8. Don't expect anything from anyone. If you don't have expectations, no one will let you down and everything will be a pleasant surprise.
9. Do put your futon in couch-mode right when you wake up. This prevents OD-ing on the 14-hour-netflix horizontal position.
10. Do not call your mom. She can tell from the tone of your voice and will start asking questions which could sink you deeper into the state of depression that smacks...
10. Hang out with safe/hilarious 18-24 year old boys (or men that act that way) they provide healthy doses of simple yet necessary laughter! (warning: any age older may lead to fatal attractions)
11. Do not party. Don't even try.
12. Do limit your nacho and Diet Sprite intake to every other day (at least try)
13. SUCK IT UP, it ain't all that bad, you're not living in Fresno
14. Do NOT go to Target.
15. Do not surround yourself with perky/overly outwardly happy people.
16. Do surround yourself with neutral or mellow happy people
17. Do pet as many dogs as you can
18. DO NOT visit airline websites. DO NOT buy airline tickets.
19. Do not do things you "think will make me feel better."
20. Just Do things. Period.
21 and 1/2 pray out loud. You'll sound ridiculous or legit. Either way you're voicing your fears, wants, etc. and saying/hearing it releases ownership, creates self-empathy, transfers the burden, and ultimately lowers the severity!

crock-of-shit, settling down, and soil types...

Once upon a time, I was an impulsive, carefree, down-to-earth nomad. A wild n'crazy one, I should add. People often asked me where I was headed to next or when I planned on settling down. The questions never fazed me. I always explained that my definition of ‘settle’ only meant I was needed in a place where I could be the most effective in utilizing my strengths, and once I was not needed, would un-aimlessly prepare for my next opportunity and purpose to ‘settle.’

I would proudly respond, “I just have a different definition of ‘settling down,’ it’s most important to be grounded in mind and spirit.”

OH, what a crock of shit I was. Or am.

Recently more than one person has either mentioned or inquired about my aura of eagerness to settle down. My immediate response is a defensive “pssh, yah right!” and then a lengthy repetitive rant justifying the “no!” with a bunch of contradictions.

“Well it’s because I’ve seen and done so much, I’m ready to settle down, but it’s because I’ve seen and done so much I just want to see the same faces every day, you know, have a tight community…I’m tired of meeting new people all the time…”

“Not really, I’m planning on doing a Fulbright in Taiwan, but it would be nice to settle down with someone, well only if they travel with me…I’m tired of traveling alone…”

“I’m thinking of getting a Phd at Berkeley, that way I can live in the bay and be close to my friends and family. I’m tired of starting over all over again…”

Then I realize, is it only when we’re tired that we want to ‘settle down’?

Before I would say: I am tired of depending on REI amenities, I prefer white cushy towels and down duvets. I am tired of communicating with hand signals and diagnosing strange bowel sounds. I prefer to crack jokes effortlessly and eat thoughtlessly. I am tired of attending funerals and attempting new strategies for successful hitch-hiking. I am tired of meeting/making out with strangers from multiple continents in different time-zones and then wishing we were in the same continent with the same time-zone.

But that was before. What am I tired of now? Am I still recovering? Have I not adequately rested?

I am tired. I am still tired of all those things and much much more. I don’t know how to rest or get away from this plague-of-tiredness. While abroad I thought - rather, foolishly ignorantly assumed - that once I reached U.S. soil I would not be experiencing any of those things. That the soil was ready (or could easily be prepped) for maximum growth. Thus, I would not be tired anymore. It’s dark, moist, nutrient-rich, English-speaking with yummy burritos and air-conditioned universities damnit.

I was wrong. I am still tired. I am exhausted. So to answer those questions that are flooding and/or projected towards the single, ambitious woman approaching 30:

Yes, because I am tired, I would love to ‘settle down.’

...or maybe it’s simply because Tucson isn’t the right soil type for me…I will do some more composting and wait…

or just start planting to see what grows...I guess I'm not too tired to plant and not all that tired to wait...and try new things!!! ;)

a different kind of whiteness

It's snowboarding season. I long for the white fluffy stuff.
The kind that makes you endure long nauseating rides at 4am.
The kind that makes you wait for the perfect storm.
Ultimately, the kind that fosters patience.

And the kind that helps you appreciate your surroundings, even if it is...different.

Today, amidst an infinite stretch of sand dunes, I waited 2 hours for my friend to dig a hole.

falling in and out of love.

“You can’t compare your past relationships – they are in entirely different contexts, you are very different now.”

- Damara, graduate student, age 27

“In past relationships, when you say goodbye to the bad memories, you also have to say goodbye to the good.”

- Shanasue’s mom, RN, age 56

“You’ve learned from it. You take what you get and you move on. Now you know what to do in your next relationship.”

- Deb, graduate student, age 27

I fell in love with San Francisco when I realized that there was an incredible, supported, and experimental space for possibility and potential. When I was in love, I moved freely, the BART, muni, and my red Univega carried me to the many different spaces that held my imaginative and metaphysical desires, as well as my commitment to civic obligation and cultural agency. My access to diverse populations, cultural institutions, public spaces, and community organizations was as broad and expansive as the possibilities of my ideas. I could hang out with the girls in the projects of Sunnydale, encourage the boys at the Juvie in Twin Peaks, discuss my video art with my neighbor in the Excelsior, and listen to old records and intimate stories at a CJM exhibit.

Not only did the city foster my personal and social interest, political concerns, and professional goals, it helped me see them in practice, strengthening and defining the foundation of my values. For the first time (in a domestic city), community-based initiatives, anti-capitalism, environmental sustainability and social justice had more meaning and relevance than ever before. For the first time words with hypens became active, engaging and effective. I was deeply in love.

But like all my past relationships – both with people and places, I changed; discovered limitations, and fell out of love. The peninsula to me had both geographic and psychological limitations. I fell out of love with San Francisco when I realized that the spaces that I moved so freely in and with, that I admired and gleaned from, were very much contained. Not the ‘contained’ that implies restraint and boundaries, but the ‘contained’ that defines ownership, having, holding, and compartmentalizing. The city’s characteristics, methodologies and social responsibilities could be translated and transformative – elsewhere and anywhere.

My definition of potentiality and possibility in their previous context began to undergo tremendous change. When I moved to the southwest, I saw, felt, and tasted the unexpected remaking, interpretation, and metamorphosis of the issues, assets, resources, practices, and systems I had only experienced and explored in San Francisco. Collaboration, diversity, social change, and sustainability had a completely different history and rhetoric here in the desert. So while applying my inherent values, I ceased all comparisons, ended my relationship with San Francisco, and *joyously discovered – OF COURSE I COULD FALL IN LOVE AGAIN!

Furthermore, taking the roots of my foundation and replanting them somewhere else – anywhere else was more empowering, challenging, and progressive than I could ever imagined. Very similar to when I was in love with the city, when possibilities and potentialities were always in motion, when transportation supported physical momentum, I too, could move and redefine and reinterpret the current city I inhabit -Tucson. And thus be very much prepared to fall in love again.

perfect for now.

Sorry everyone! It's been nuts. I'm back in tuckson, I will write more about all the inbetween. it's been a whirl and lots of wind.

But briefly: Semester II is starting tomorrow. I have 4 classes, and two jobs, and a weekly volunteering gig. I am both scared and stoked. More scared than stoked. I'm finally learning how to stop valuing decisions and wants based on longevity and dire need. Regardless of this or that being "temporal" or "unnecessary," I'm just doing, living, going for it.

So, with that being said, I finally sucked it up and bought a kitchen table. No more eating in bed, splattering salad dressing all over my blanket and laptop. the table is actually a $34 outdoor patio table. it is yellow. it is perfect for now. I also got another job. it is at the asian pacific student association on campus. I was hesitant because i know both table and job I could live without and may be temporary, but both are perfect for now.

Oh and regardless of my new found insight - I am still not buying any large objects that don't fold for easy moving, so still no mattress. I refuse.