Christy's Blog

A summary of winter break

2012-01-17T00:20:00.000-08:00

I finished packing my suitcase of sweaters and jeans and unmentionables, a big brown paper bag of books that I've either purchased from used bookstores during this break or swiped off my dad's bookshelf, and my backpack with odds and ends like my cell phone charger and new pair of green ear buds.

So ends my last winter break of college.

It was a really good one, too--though it was the first one spent completely in the US without the nightly mugs of champurrado, which is this delicious hot chocolate made with masa that has an edgier flavor than its American counterpart. Truth be told, there were these random slivers of nostalgia that interrupted the general cheeriness of the holidays, because eating cups of buttered, chili-sprinkled corn while admiring the nativity scene at the Cathedral of Chihuahua as sweet and crispy gorditas are cooking on outdoor griddles really can't compare to any other Christmas tradition, at least for me.

But as much as I pretend that it's super cheesy whenever my dad insists that home to him is wherever my mom is, it's true: family is home. Playing Monopoly with my brothers and remembering once again to never, ever think that the green properties will yield more profit than the light blue ones; exploring windy streets lined with quaint shops before my mom and I decide to order random things from a Chinese take-out menu for dinner; chuckling over how fatherly my littlest brother looks as he dresses his dog in fleece baby clothes because of the frosty-cold weather; all of us bundling up in multiple layers in order to satisfy a 9 PM craving for McDonald's soft-serve ice cream cones--these all made for some good memories that I will cherish for a very long time. This isn't to say that winter break was perfect. There was some angsty teenage tension in the air, which I briefly alluded to in this post. And Sadie the dog was captured by the pound one afternoon; my mom freaked out and made us all bunch up in the back seat while she frantically zoomed all over the neighborhood before realizing that that coy little dog ditched us for what was planned to be a bold, daring adventure. Two phone calls and forty-five dollars later, Sadie was given a warm bath, dressed in her fleece things, and once again claimed her spot as my parents' "favorite daughter." I bet she's soooo happy that I'm leaving tomorrow.

A pop-tart kinda day

2012-01-09T21:35:00.000-08:00

I've been home for a couple of days, feeling a little under the weather, but still managing to enjoy morning runs with my parents, yummy salads for breakfast, little grocery trips here and there, a nice Sunday service in Philly, another visit to that pho place I mentioned the other day, reading six or seven books at once, washing dishes with my mom, making cheesy spice cornbread muffins and lentil soup, and other small things that I'll surely miss when school starts again, like eating a pop-tart for lunch.

I rang in my birthday at the Hillsong United concert with my friends and 40,000 other people as we sang worship songs together. Since it's during winter break and usually celebrated with family in Mexico, I kinda wondered what it would be like to be with tons of people on my birthday, but it never really went past a mild curiosity because I knew that all the attention would make me feel really uncomfy. So this was perfect.

Hello, 2012

2012-01-01T17:21:00.000-08:00

Between Christmas and New Years Day,

1) I got to spend some time with eighth grade girls at a middle school retreat. During small group time, the girls were chatty enough, but it was during the really unstructured moments of the day-- like when we were watching people play volleyball or when we had some time to brush our tangled hair--that they seemed to be the most willing to share their lives with me. At first, I assumed that these middle schoolers from NOVA came from relatively privileged environments (and that's the case for many of them), but there is definitely some very real and inescapable hurt that some of these girls experience, masked by light chitter-chatter about boys and pillow pets and being a Bielieber.

2) I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain. I didn't expect a story narrated by a dog to be life-changing...but I did find myself at a dog park the next day (and petted some pugs with my shoe), so maybe the book did something for me in a teensy little way.

3) My aunt saw the haircut I got and said something about my head resembling a mushroom. Which is how haircut #2 happened.

4) Considering how the next four days will be spent with fifteen other people in a fifteen passenger van, then with forty thousand people in a really big dome, I thought I'd spend New Year's Eve with my grandma. I helped her with random tasks in the kitchen, and we sampled the dduk gook she was preparing for today. She told me stories about when she was a little girl and gave her opinion on lots of things. I then decided to watch this really interesting documentary on ballet:

I was kinda curious what it would be like to spend New Year's Eve in a low-key way, without the roar of crowds or going to a church service, but I guess I'll find out another year, because I ended up spending my first American NYE in ten years with lots of good people and hot soup and interesting conversations about how changes can realistically be made in this world, ones that I can imagine us remembering ten years from now, and thinking, "that was when we were young and hopeful and burdened by things that matter." And after thinking that thought, I hope we can trace how conversations like these shaped selfless conviction throughout our twenties and thirties instead of wondering where it all went. I really hope that.

My aunt is beckoning me to come downstairs

2011-12-25T12:17:00.000-08:00

Me and me

2011-12-24T23:00:00.000-08:00

Kelsey and I found a stash of Berenstain Bear books underneath my brother's bed, so we read one of them instead of going to sleep.

Me (reading to her): "Humph!" said Papa grumpily. "Farmer Ben's not such a much." " 'Not such a much' ?" said Mama. "Why, Ben is the finest farmer in Bear country--and besides, he's one of your best friends." Best friends! Just like me and--

Kelsey: me

me and me : ]

Day in the city of Philly

2011-12-24T00:05:00.000-08:00

1. Today, we strolled around the Penn campus. Tidbit: I applied to this school early decision and got rejected which prompted me to bawl my eyes out and dramatically tell my dad that I was never getting into college. My dad laughed at me and then offered me Kleenex.

2. I have a very short attention span when it comes to watching most movies. I've fallen asleep during lots of the good ones: Wall-E, The Princess Bride, X-Men: First Class etc.
But I really like movie trailers. I like how all these random scenes come together to more or less present the main storyline in a couple of minutes. Today I saw ones for Martha Marcy May Marlene and Melancholia.

3. We ate at this realllllllly good pho place. I think it was called Pho Ha. Best pho I've tasted in the East Coast. I liked this place better than the pho restaurant I tried in Vietnam. I accidentally ordered raw skirt steak on the side, but I quickly put it in my soup and it cooked perfectly.

4. Then we stopped by a nearby shop to buy some banh mi and it was the worst banh mi in the world. Haha. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me woozy.

5. I just realized...this winter break is full of city-hopping: NY, Philly, Atlanta, DC ...I'm definitely gonna be ready for small town life when Jan. 18th rolls around. I miss Bodos.

6. My brother made sugar cookies tonight, and upon tasting them, we realized that something wasn't right. After re-reading the recipe, it was revealed that he used baking soda instead of baking powder...which definitely explains the breadiness and slightly bitter aftertaste. But we agreed to keep this a secret and let the others be tricked into thinking these are the best cookies ever. And this will happen by slathering a bunch of butter cream frosting on top of them tomorrow morning.

Hobbit bfast

2011-12-23T08:52:00.000-08:00

I get to see this little girl in one day!

These posts are getting toooo random

2011-12-22T23:55:00.000-08:00

It may be difficult for me to be lured away from after-chapel conversations, late night chats, and just talking in general, but I'm definitely an introvert because I get recharged by being alone. Today was just one of those days where I wanted to do something by myself; so, after making an egg over easy for breakfast, I drove over to Swarthmore and first picked up some books that Josh had ordered from the library. [side note: these days, we don't know why--but Josh is playing computer games and checking basketball stats instead of being in his usual 24/7 intense scholar mode! I bet my dad is the only dad in the world who excitedly encourages his son to keep on playing video games, hahah.] Then I ran around the retro indoor track for a bit while listening to Florence and the Machine.

Last night I scribbled down the address of a local coffee shop because I thought that maybe a cozy little scene would help me tackle some winter reading. So this evening, my dad and I checked out Hobbs. On a scale of one to ten--it was probably a 6.5, but only because the chai tea was nice and spicy. The place wasn't exactly cozy-cozy, but who am I kidding--in high school, I'd sometimes even go to Mickey D's to read, so I really shouldn't pretend like I have fancy cafe standards.

Tonight I ate a churro and "helped" my mom check off her grocery list at Genuardi's (kinda like Safeway) by finding the waffle mix. Then I went to the cheese section and poked my finger into all the squishy cheeses and briefly considered making baked brie for Christmas Eve. My mom bought a bunch of jalapeno peppers, though, so I might just make crispy poppers instead.

Hoppy birthday, Doddy

2011-12-21T23:12:00.000-08:00

Today was my dad's 51st birthday. I cannot believe he is a half century old! Being the cute little wife my mom is, she invited some people over for lunch. It was especially sweet of her, since cooking isn't her favorite activity.

Brief interlude to prove my point:
Her observation this morning: "You know what? I think you like the idea of cooking, but I don't think you actually like to cook." And then she gave me this "that's a bummmmmer" look.
When I told her about some of the books I'm planning to read during break: "You should read this book!" It was a cookbook.
The last thing she said to me tonight before going to sleep: "Christy, I have an idea! Why doncha pick a really good recipe tomorrow, then go to the grocery store and then make it for us? yeah!"

So yeah, super sweet of her. She initially planned on making Mexican food, but then I reminded her that the key to a delicious Mexican meal is fresh tortillas, something we have not been able find here in Philly yet. So she seasoned pounds and pounds of fajita meat with a Korean marinade and also made fried mandoo, jap-cheh, California rolls, and some random veggie banchans.

Seeing my parents interact with the community of people that they are surrounded by here made me realize how blessed they are. My mom has found friends to giggle and share and pray with, and my dad, being more of a "love me" kinda guy, has a bromance with a neighbor and pastor friend of his--they grill together, bowl together, and take their sons on camping trips. Lolz.

On an unrelated note--yesterday, my mom and I unsuccessfully tried to buy a Christmas tree (my mom gave away our tree and most of the ornaments to a friend in Mexico before the move). I could go the dramatic route and make it sound like we went to a bunch of different stores, but we actually just went to Target and Macys (both were sold-out) before deciding to go home and eat chips instead. Then today, my mom suggested that we check Goodwill--and to our great glee, we found a brand new little four-footer that is just unobtrusive enough for the monk/grinch. Hooray!

friends

a sneaky little hand

I bought my dad a Dunkin' Donuts ice cream cake in lieu of a present because I think
communally benefiting gifts are cool >: ]

gurlz

little Emmet [St. <--totally how I remember his name] staring at Sadie the dog

my mom excitedly woke my dad up [clearly] from his nap to open his presents

driving with a mission

yes! we love you, Goodwill

how can Josh have existential/ontological problems with this little guy?

I hope he never finds this blog post, ha ha ha

Pictures with captions

2011-12-20T23:51:00.000-08:00

stuff from today

got my hair cut by a lady who asked if I was Thai, said she was Chinese, but hummed Vietnamese folk songs the entire time.

a spontaneous trip to my mom's favorite kind of restaurant--a Chinese buffet. we are very messy eaters, and I just noticed that.

the most festive house in the neighborhood at 8 pm, but by 10 pm everything was dark. my mom called this a "mental case." lols

Correlation between growing up and blogging

2011-12-20T00:30:00.000-08:00

There are exactly fifteen days until I turn twenty-two, and for some reason, knowing that my days as a twenty-one year old are numbered makes me want to write more (because I feel like whatever I say as an older-than-21-year-old will be held to a higher standard of maturity? haha, I know that's silly but I can't help thinking that way).

The picture on the left is of my mom when she was eight or nine. The picture on the right is of me pretending to be eight, when strawberry shortcake ice cream bars were my favorite; the crunchy cake coating was the best part.

Okay, so I know turning twenty-two isn't exactly a big deal. But sometimes, when I'm having late night conversations with my housemates about the future (you know, typical things like where we'll live as post-grads, what career paths we'll pursue, what kind of people we'll marry etc.), everything's fine and dandy until I'm reminded that these things we talk about should no longer carry the novelty and curious wonder that laced these same conversations when we held them as eighteen-year-olds. The future that we speak of will start its course in just a semester (upon which we'll have to measure time like adults instead of using silly scholastic markers). It's funny; I used to have such a clear idea of what my future would look like when I was younger. But as life after college is no longer a fluffy little cloud that I can play with and has become something that can be marked in next year's planner, the future has become nebulous. The closer it gets, the foggier it becomes. And there are days when this farsightedness makes me feel anxious and days when I realize what a gift it is to be in a moment that is best captured by E.E. Milne: "Although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were."

There are so many possibilities, especially when you realize that prestige and wealth don't have to influence the decisions you make. At this point in my life, I'm trying to figure out the balance between being realistic about life and daring to set goals that will help me be true to the convictions and needs and issues that grip my heart.

And I realize that writing this post is a bit of a formality--one of the many "growing-up" posts that finds its way into this blog given the fact that I'm still awkwardly trying to transition into adulthood. But my predictable thoughts are comforting in a way because I know that I'm aware of change and not resisting it. At least today anyway... looks like I'm clutching my ice cream bar pretty hard in that picture, haha.

NY minute

2011-12-19T01:05:00.000-08:00

Made a trip to New York today to visit some friends. We attended the Redeemer service at Hunter College, ate brunch at a cozy diner, visited the frick'n amazing Frick (sorry I've been wanting to say that ever since this afternoon), waited for more than an hour to gain foodie cred by nibbling on French macarons, window-shopped at Eataly, and finally ate dinner at a place that best fit our unfancy selves--Shake Shack. The group changed towards the end as people had trains to catch and exams to study for, while other people joined us after dinner. Then, the group dispersed altogether and there was just liitle ole me, since my bus was the last to arrive. So I walked around Midtown and ended up buying a scarf and a sweater because it was cold and buying such things made me feel snug and warm.

Maunching at Swarthmore

2011-12-17T23:01:00.000-08:00

Dear Swarthmore,

Besides the fact that I've eaten at your dining hall more times this semester than I've eaten at O-hill or Newcomb or Runk, it is so not cool how much you've influenced my brother with your hipster ways. So hipster in fact that he no longer uses Facebook and reads books on philosophy for fun. Oh yeah, and let's not forget how he wants to leave school and volunteer at an orphanage in the boonies of South Carolina next semester. You can imagine what kinds of conversations are being held between him and my parents these days.

~~~

All I can say is, home is never uninteresting or boring and always a little on the crazy side.

It's the last college winter break

2011-12-16T22:25:00.000-08:00

My used book purchase of the day

Out of every person in the whole wide world, I think I get along the best with my mom. And while I can list all the big reasons, I think it boils down to the fact that, when we're in the middle of a mini road trip from Charlottesville to Philly, she's just as willing as I am to stop at a random thrift shop to stock up on winter reading. And then we listen to Ingrid while stuck in traffic on I-95--me drifting off to sleep and my mom waking me once in a while to fish for a couple dollars from her wallet when we hit a toll--until I'm no longer sleepy and we talk about whatever pops into our heads. And when we finally get to Philly, since the boys are on a camping trip, it's still just us: my mom makes two cups of peach and mango tea while I catch up on e-mails and stress out about school-related stuff and ask her how she stays so relaxed all the time. My mom chuckles and says something about how I'm just like my dad, then goes back to reading the copy of Augustine's Confessions that she got from my bookshelf back at school. I love that my mom loves books.

Speaking of which, I hope this book is good. I picked it up because I wanted something light to balance out the dense reading material that must be tackled this break in order for me to survive next semester. But then I read the back cover and realized that the story's told from the perspective of a dog...sketchy. Maybe I should just send it to Joyce, lol. I'll probably end up reading it, loving it, and retracting my skepticism in a future blog post. Or not. We'll see---

Essays and more essays

2011-12-05T20:18:00.001-08:00

It's one of those nights where I'm marking articles with barely functioning highlighters and wondering what to write for another essay that is due tomorrow at twelve-thirty.

I might have mono. I certainly hope that's not the case; but eh, disregarding this week of presentations/papers/projects/and one exam, sleeping and doing nothing for the next couple weeks sounds pretty appealing to me right now.

You know when you're reading something that's pretty content-specific (feminist practices of biblical interpretation, in this case), and the author inserts a quote out of nowhere, and whereas reading it in a different, more expected context would have generated a less appreciative response, reading it amidst all this talk about historical revisionist schtuff makes you blink twice and re-read the quote and smile because you agree with what it says and you're reminded that at the end of the day, it's about the people (and not about grades or personal fulfillment or making your point). You know when that happens?

Well this just happened to me.

Our art does not arise from the academy, and neither publication nor critical praise may define the motivating substance of our ambition. Our terms for creation, our artistic goals exist indissoluble from the living conditions and the political objectives of those whom we hope to serve well. We are the poets of our people...A distinctively Black Poem will consciously seek to qualify as an instrument of survival for the poet, for her people

June Jordan

Each in its own way

2011-12-03T10:52:00.000-08:00

[college spread ]

[home spread]

a Pilot G2 .38, to be exact

2011-12-03T01:03:00.001-08:00

Tonight I read Divinity and Diversity, a book on religious pluralism for a paper that's due on Tuesday. It's been a while since I've read an entire book in one sitting, and despite it being for class, it was oddly such an enjoyable way to spend a Friday night. There are so many ways to describe college, but scratching notes in margins with a black gel pen while sitting in a vinyl library chair and sipping on seltzer water, all while forgetting that reading this book was actually for a class because of how interesting and relevant it was to me --this certainly embodied what college meant for today.

Hey Lucy!

2011-11-30T23:46:00.000-08:00

Dear Lucy,

You probably thought that, since your birthday is over, there would be no more birthday surprises, but BAM! Well, it's more like a little bam because a blog post isn't really anything fancy. But, anywho. I cannot believe that we're fourth years now, and that we have been roomies for all four years of college. I guess we need to give A. A. Milne a lot more credit than the average pair of fwends, since that cute little Winnie-the-Pooh quote that we both happened to love is what really sealed the deal to our Maupin 315 destiny and beyond.

I know that people think, "Oh, Lucy andChristy. Christy and Lucy. They're basically besties because they'velived together for all these years and they're always together and they're bothweird." And in a way, I guess these things are true. We know each other's little quirks, big quirks, the way we each like oureggs prepared, the silly things we do when we're happy, and the way our noseslook after having a good cry on a bad day. But in away, I think there's more to our friendship than that. It's like thatillustration you showed me the other day, that basically captured the idea ofhow there's a clear beginning and a clear end, but the in-between is like a bigbowl of spaghetti, with the path going in all sorts of loops and swirls andcurly Qs. Not that our relationship's exactly complicated, but during these four years of college, we've developed ourpersonalities a little more, met lots of different people, experienced seasonsof faith and doubt, and, in the process, now share a friendship that has survived change. I think that's something worth noting. And with even more changes andexperiences looming before us (especially after a certain tassel moves fromright to left), I hope that we continue to place our friendship in God's hands, since that's the only place where trust and honesty and faithfulness and other friend-y qualities can truly develop and flourish. I am very thankful for you : ]

Love,

Your roomie

Thanksgiving : ]

2011-11-24T14:51:00.001-08:00

This semester

2011-11-09T22:31:00.001-08:00

This semester is about string cheese and orange juice. It's about waking up early, sleeping late, and making my bed in the afternoon. It's about realizing more and more what beautiful people my parents are. It's about sneaking some time away to visit my favorite used bookstore and reading a short story or two on its creaky wooden floors. It's about loving when it's convenient and loving when it's inconvenient. It's about my Words With Friends addiction. This semester is about tea: chai, citrus, and spice. Chicken curry. My pink-lit room. Jack Jouett Middle School. Libraries. It's about having loving housemates. It's about cookie parties and s'more parties and hot chocolate. Omelets and apple pie. This semester is about Jesus. It's about having perspective on bad days and even more perspective when I'm tempted to be carefree. It's about my shortcomings as a friend. But it's also about what compassionate people my friends are. The semester that I started to journal. The busiest semester. It's a semester where people have gone through a lot, so there was lots of prayer. (Lots and lots of prayer.) This semester is about my home group girls, and the love God gives me to give them. It's not the semester where I will come out with a sparkly GPA (but that's okay). This semester is about buying little white mugs and nostalgic cds at thrift stores.

What a semester.

Wednesday's dinner

2011-11-06T07:29:00.000-08:00

I feel like I should blog more about college.

This picture kinda describes it though--I eat, look at my calendar a lot, occasionally send snail mail, and ask my home group girls lots of questions.

Fall break at Swarthmore

2011-10-16T08:52:00.000-07:00

These days I've been especially thankful for my mom. She's leading a girl's Bible study at Bryn Mawr this year, so I'm always asking her for advice and prayer and guidance on how to lead my dear first years.

This semester has been really good. I'm learning lots of lessons and being rebuked and molded and challenged and blessed.

First video of the semester

2011-09-28T00:36:00.000-07:00

Musing

2011-09-25T23:28:00.000-07:00

I'm not even gonna try to mask this entry as anything short of an existential-who-am-I type of post.

These days I'm learning a lot about myself. This is hard for me to admit, but I realized that what I thought were my strengths have the potential of being my greatest flaws. For example, I thought it was a good thing that I don't get attached very easily; that I'm not clingy; that I'm not a needy person; that because I like doing things on my own, I wouldn't ever have to depend on others for my general well-being and happiness. But these things keep me from being vulnerable, from being dependent when that's a good thing. Sometimes this aspect of who I am keeps me questioning again and again whether I truly care about people. And honestly, I think people question me, too. I have this feeling that before I figure anything else out, I need to learn how to cling--to my faith; the cross; to Jesus. I hope that if anything comes out of this semester, it will be this.

Isaiah 30:15

2011-09-23T06:58:00.000-07:00

Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved.
In quietness and confidence is your strength.

***

As much as I hope this verse encourages whoever reads this blog, you know what I realized? I think it would bless people even more if I also took verses and put them into practice, so that my daily life would be a testament to the power and truth of Scripture.

Have a good Friday, everyone :)

2 Cor. 9:6-8

2011-09-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

Remember this--a farmer who plants only a few seeds will get a small crop. But the one who plants generously will get a generous crop.
You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don't give reluctantly or in response to pressure. "For God loves a person who gives cheerfully." And God will generously provide all you need and plenty left over to share w/ others.

Hump day

2011-09-07T14:18:00.000-07:00

Fifteen days into my fourth year: I took my GREs, ate a big cozy bowl of Lynchburg pho to celebrate, used my desk for a bunch of impromptu dinners since we don't have a dining set right now (know of anyone selling one?), drove for the first time by myself, visited Liz at JMU, bought a grandpa sweater at the JCrew warehouse sale, went to my first college football game, cooked at least five spaghetti dinners, became addicted to Words with Friends (and consequently made a rule that I wouldn't play Mon-Wed), bought some train tickets to see my famjam, told my religion TA that he looks exactly like Rob Bell before I could stop myself, spent a handful of nights at Clemons, and took a couple naps.

College food

2011-09-02T10:25:00.000-07:00

Joyce, Alice, and I shared a cart, haha...I don't love spinach thaaat much.

I miss these guys

2011-08-30T07:09:00.000-07:00

Last first day of schooo

2011-08-24T15:29:00.000-07:00

Jules and I are taking this English grad seminar called "Film Aesthetics." Most pretentious class ever...but at least the professor's a nice cheery elderly fellow. His name is Walter Korte...okay everything about this class is pretentious, haha.

We have food carts on Grounds now, whuuuut. I will have to investigate these attractions with my taste buds and report back to this blog.

Lucy and I finally might be taking a class together! Here is the Ebay businesswoman herself, about to send off another package.

Lucy and I combined ingredients to make and share a big yummy omelet for lunch.


Texting people who volunteered to help out at the bbq/being bossy, as Lucy watched from my bed.

Lucy wanted to take Flan Man pictures.

Madison! She coo.

Lucy's ooookay.

Ended last semester with a bbq, started off this semester with one, too.

Some icebreaker having to do with birthdays.

An afternoon spent alone

2011-08-22T23:50:00.000-07:00

...studying vocab words at Alderman

ordering Chinese for a late lunch at this good old haunt

and having the effrontery (GRE word oh ohhh) to eat it at the outside patio area of Dunkin' Donuts

then I spent a little more than an hour at Starbucks, treating myself to this little green drink afterward.

clutching my frappe, I walked to the hospital bus stop and listened to my summer playlist in its entirety one last time before school starts.

Betwixt and between these activities, I started to think up a list of things I'd like to do this semester. Here's a sampling:

Eat lunch with the lady I met on the trolley last May. We agreed on finishing our conversation over a meal when I got back. And now I'm back : )
Bake some apple pies and deliver them to people.
Invite people over for dinner on Friday evenings.
Study as much as I can at different libraries and random cozy niches.
Compile a nice fall playlist of songs that will always remind me of this second to last college semester. It would be kinda sad if the song that most triggered feelings of collegiate nostalgia was one that I didn't even like, yaknow?
Go to a music show by myself.
Make lotsa videos documenting, wait for it---my last year of college.
Get to know some of the neighbors.
Ask people [not too nosy] questions about their lives and get to know them better.
Do some things without putting them on a list or documenting them.

I hope to blog about my fourth year frequently

2011-08-21T23:44:00.000-07:00

I was looking up GPS devices on Amazon and while scrolling down the list of departments, realized for the first time that Amazon sells grocery food. So I spent ten minutes browsing the different boxes of crackers and cookies and instant noodle bowls I could order. Everyone loves receiving packages, but imagine having the mailman deliver a daily box of food that you'll eat for that day. It's such a novel idea to me for some reason.

Some notes on being back in Cville so far:

I wish we could have chapel at the UVA chapel every Sunday. Having the entire sanctuary packed with people singing worship songs as the stained glass windows glistened with sunlight was the perfect way to start this week.
I had Zazus Fresh Grille for lunch today and did not like it. I ordered the Thai bowl, which came with undercooked rice topped with dry chicken, pasty peanut sauce, and sparsely sprinkled greens.
Since my parents moved from Mexico to Philly this summer, Charlottesville has become the closet thing I have to call as home.
I think I want to eat lunch by myself tomorrow.

You know when

2011-07-24T04:33:00.000-07:00

the blog post you're reading resonates with you, shakes you, and convicts you-- when it's six thirty in the morning, and you feel like the whole day has already gone by because a day's worth of thoughts are already in your head.

To be honest, I usually glaze over posts that contain dense spiritual content. But there is something in his writing that goes beyond an impersonal explanation about why a certain verse is so powerful or how God reminded someone of His love through a rainbow. (I'm not trying to downplay these things, but I'm not sure if the blogosphere is the best platform to share these kind of insights...yaknow?)

I don't know what it is about this kid who is my little brother's age, but I would bet my money on the fact that he understands life a lot better than most of us young adults do.

On my mind

2011-07-18T22:14:00.000-07:00

I'm not the most well-read person. If I have an hour to spare, I usually spend it online more than in a book. But I do read, and ever since I was ten or so, I've been collecting books and stocking them on my bookshelf, envisioning the day I could pass them on to my future kids and schtuff.

Somehow reading this while listening to this really made me feel that, even if my daughter gets my favorite copy of The Little Prince, the society in which she will most likely be raised will make it hard for her to appreciate the story, the wrinkly, worn pages that contain it, and that unsettled feeling you get when you read something really simple but profound.

Vietnam: a small town

2011-07-13T05:33:00.000-07:00

1) I have developed a very odd sleeping pattern that must be fixed by next week. Basically, I sleep from 7 PM to 11 PM and 5 AM to 8 AM. So I get my usual seven, but in two very awkward sections. I can only blame jet lag for so long--
2) I sorta tweaked my blog because I felt like it.
3) Beirut came out with a new song called "East Harlem," and its lyrics are so intwesting.
4) I'm in this museum phase, and I really want to take advantage of my relative proximity to DC and check some more out.
5) And I also need to get my license/buy a car/ grow uppppp for goodness' sake.

Vietnam: fruits in the kitchen

2011-07-12T01:30:00.000-07:00

Bye, Lan : (

2011-07-08T14:54:00.000-07:00

I dunno if you're reading this, but thank you so much for showing me around, helping me haggle at the marketplace, letting me use your room while you were away, teaching me a little bit of Vietnamese, and chitter-chattering with me : )

Vietnam: Tuesday

2011-07-08T13:08:00.000-07:00

[ the last day I saw my dad until Friday because I went over to Jane and Lan's house ]

I never used a dry napkin during this entire trip; instead, they hand out these packaged wipes.

Vietnam: Monday

2011-07-08T12:40:00.000-07:00

[ breakfast class lunch class snack dinner ]

breakfast: banh mi in the taxi

lunch: hot pot at the mall

snack: fetal duck egg (balut) from a street vendor

dinner: noodles and grilled pork, outside by a hotel pool

Monday was the first and last day that I attended my dad's class: six hours of English to Vietnamese on how to write an expository sermon. In between the sessions, a nice old man took us to the mall for a hotpot lunch. I don't think I'm really a hotpot kinda person. I'm more of the let's wrap everything in lettuce and then dip it in some really tangy, peppery, sweet sauce kind.

After class, Lan took me to a little street sizzling with yummy Vietnamese snack food. I had told her that I wanted to try balut, so that is what we did.

According to Wikipedia:

The age of the egg before it can be cooked is a matter of local preference. In the Philippines, the ideal balut is 17 days old, at which point it is said to be balut sa putibones that will be firm but tender when cooked. ("wrapped in white"). The chick inside is not old enough to show its beak, feathers or claws, and the bones are undeveloped. The Vietnamese often prefer their balut mature from 19 days up to 21 days, when the chick is old enough to be recognizable as a baby duck and has

We ate ours with a pinch of salt, lemon juice, and coriander leaves.

For dinner, my dad got his way, and we ate safely and blandly at the hotel.

Theeeen, I dragged him to a buzzing street full of nighttime vendors, and we shared a rice stick. And then I got a stomachache. But it was worth it.

Vietnam: my playlist

2011-07-08T03:23:00.000-07:00

Misread Kings of Convenience

Orphans, Kingdoms Brooke Fraser

Coney Island Good Old War

Location Freelance Whales

First Day of My Life Bright Eyes

I Was a Kaleidoscope Ben Gibbard

Train Feist and Ben Gibbard

Home Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros

Postcards from Italy Beirut

City With No Children Arcade Fire

Vietnam: Wednesday

2011-07-08T03:09:00.000-07:00

[ mekong delta snakes meeting foreigners a hot bun ]

I'm sitting on the floor in a hand-me-down dress, having just eaten a tropical banana, oreos, and mangosteens for breakfast.

Yesterday, I took a trip by myself to the Mekong Delta. I met some guys from Spain, some girls from Ireland (who had quit their jobs to travel Asia), and a mother and daughter from Malaysia. We did lots of touristy things: rowed boats, rode on horse carts, held snakes.. schtuff like that.

After getting back to HCMC, it was raining, so I quickly purchased a hot bun (banh bao) from a street cart, then took shelter in a little shop that sold scarves and animals made of yarn.

I still don't have access to my laptop, but I'm borrowing Lan's, so I was able to post some pictures.

Vietnam: just thinking out loud

2011-07-05T18:05:00.000-07:00

I don't have Monday or Tuesday pictures to share yet, because I don't have my laptop with me, but here's a short video I made right before leaving for breakfast yesterday.

I'm actually staying with my friend Jane right now--she lives in a very spacious house that would probably be considered a mansion, though there are other houses in this neighborhood that are twice as big as this one. While Vietnam reminds me of Mexico when it comes to the colorful food carts and emphasis on family bonding time, the economic disparity is what they have most in common.

I've been hopping up and down the endless flights of stairs, tip-toeing to the kitchen to eat a petite tropical banana (which has a moist, almost slimy consistency, but all is forgiven because the taste is ten times sweeter), and washing some clothes by hand, since I kind of underpacked for this trip. Yesterday, I went to Saigon Square, where I met friendly shopkeepers selling an assortment of clothing and shoes. I ended up purchasing two floral dresses and a flowy lavender blouse, all for less than twenty dollars.

As we were riding her scooter over a bridge that crosses the Saigon river, I couldn't help but tell Jane for the seventeenth time how content I felt being here. But this time, she asked me why. I thought about it, and it's this: ever since I was little, I always loved reading the books that took the time to mention what the characters ate for dinner or what their morning rituals were like. Though not essential to a plot line, a careful sprinkling of extra details was what convinced me to keep reading, because they rendered more plausibility in a story; the characters became real people to me when they ate oatmeal with blueberries for breakfast and decided not to do the dishes until later because they just didn't feel like it.

And this is why I love Vietnam. The people here choose to live much of their daily lives in the open--on the streets where they eat bun bo hue for lunch on tiny red stools; in the marketplace, where the ladies chitchat about their mother-in-laws and a grandfather's lap is occupied by his sweet little granddaughter; and on the roads, where the ubiquitous scooter has made the act of traveling to and fro a shared experience. Oh, what we miss by being encased by automobiles instead of these eager little things. A baby sandwiched between his mommy and daddy, picking eye boogers with his cute dumpling fist. A man sneaking a kiss on the cheek of the woman he loves, while waiting for the light to turn green. A lady primly sitting on the back of her husband's scooter, her legs crossed to the side as she smoothes out her crinkly rose-patterned dress. Whether it's intentional or not, these people have been sharing the little things with me, and this, this is why I love Vietnam.

The bus is leaving for Mekong. Bye!

Vietnam: Sunday Evening

2011-07-04T23:17:00.000-07:00

[ scooter ride market again saigon river dinner night market ]

I've been using a scrap sheet of paper that I found in my Bible to write down some of the details of my day. I just noticed that I've been scribbling in tiny cursive, which isn't my usual handwriting at all. Straaange. Shortly put, I am fascinated by this country. I love how the tea that's served here has a scent of honey when the teacup reaches your nose, but actually tastes like a delicately swirled combination of oolong and jasmine when it touches your tongue. (I haven't thoroughly enjoyed tea like this, ever.) Yesterday, I saw a man driving a scooter, with around thirty clear plastic pouches of fierce jewel-colored fish tied to a wooden frame connected to his seat. I wish I took a picture, but he seriously looked like he came right out of some whimsical fairy tale, and my eyes kinda just followed him until he zoomed off into the horizon.

Vietnam: Sunday Morning

2011-07-02T23:36:00.000-07:00

[ church fruit cows vietnamese villas ]

Today we took a taxi to a more suburban area of HCMC, where there were silky copper cows and villas painted in different pastels. The church service was simple and to-the-point--my favorite kind. The pastor of the church is a woman, Pastor Tao. There's something about her that's very elegant, especially when she prays. We had communion, and a delicate little baby got dedicated at the end of the service. Afterwards, some people passed around chilled plates of fruit, and I tried learning people's names. It's interesting, because as plain and common as my name is in the States, the people here think "Christy" is a very strange combination of sounds.

Vietnam: Saturday

2011-07-01T23:41:00.000-07:00

[ breakfast market parks lunch independence palace ]

today's notes:

1. This is my dad's third time in Vietnam, so he took me to the breakfast place he's been eating at for the past two trips. It was yummy, but not yummmay, probably because hotel food's gotta be on the safe side for cautious tourists and no nonsense businessmen. I asked him if we could try street food tomorrow. I dunno, maybe we could try this? (I went to this market today!)

2. Complimentary iced green tea with a hint of lavender was served at lunch today--quite the thirst quencher.

3. Out of all the markets I've been to (Spain, Italy, Belgium, Mexico), the Vietnamese market is definitely my favorite. It's warm and spicy inside. The haggling can get very intense. And I ended up purchasing a very cute stuffed elephant for Kelsey.

4. Two ladies showed us around today. Jane, a super approachable East Coaster who's been living here for seven months, and Lan, who was born and raised here. Lan and I spent a lot of time together today. She learned English from her friends and has the sweetest disposition, patiently answering all my questions about life here and showing me the prettiest parks I ever did see.

5. We ate lunch in the patio area of a beefsteak restaurant, until it started to pour. So we grabbed our food and drinks and moved indoors, where my dad decided to learn some Vietnamese.

Lan: There are different tones. Mah, ma-ah, maa--

Dad: MA MA MA, like that?

6. Facebook is banned here.

7. My mom and dad are constantly Skyping each other. Tooo mushy.

8. "Train Song," covered by Feist and Ben Gibbard is the perfect traveling song.

9. Virginia is a parched arid desert compared to Vietnam.

10. But not gonna lie, I am loving this place.

Breakfast--they use flatter noodles for the pho.

Vietnamese Posh Spice

Right outside the hotel

I love how they eat lunch in real bowls instead of disposable ones

rambutan and mangosteen and mangoes

arabian nights

this market is supposed to be the center of HCMC

I risked my life in order to take this picture.

bros

opera house

haha, my dad insisted on taking this picture

HCM

we do not support Communism, nosiree

Lan is so cute. And she's single! ; )

beefsteak, pate, pickled veggies, thick-cut fries, french baguettes, and a fried egg

pret-ty good

learning Vietnamese

on the palace balcony. not sweaty at all!

an enchanted tree in the palace garden

independence palace, or now known as the reunification palace

family scooter bonding time

the last picture I took today, before I collapsed on my bed and took a very long nap

Travel day

2011-07-01T13:33:00.000-07:00

[ people i met hong kong airport noodles welcome to vietnam fruit ]

I met the most interesting people on the way here.

On the ride from Philly to Chicago, I sat next to a woman named Jayne Howard, a Wharton grad who is now the CFO of the Trenton, NJ school district. Her husband is the superintendent of the Harlem district. She was on her way to Arkansas for a girl-cousin reunion (one cousin's a judge, another is a doctor, some are homemakers, and one is the VP of some Wachovia division). They pick a new place each year, and this year, they decided to meet up in their hometown to reminisce about the good old days while getting spa treatments. We talked about her district and how much work it needs. She told me about a seventeen-year old senior in high school who has a son in third grade. She told me about an eighth-grader who already has two kids. She then talked about her own son Addison, who is twelve and likes to shop for clothes on his own, preferably at Abercrombie and Fitch. I told Jayne about my tentative career goals, and she gave me extremely helpful advice and her number, saying I could call her "whenever you want, dear." This was by far the most practical conversation I have had about my professional future. I guess Curry professors are more geared towards the research and ideological aspects of education, because they don't seem to know much about actually finding a job and where to go from there. After she wrote down her information on the back of my airplane ticket (it was the only piece of paper I had), we started talking about religion, then about her brother, who died in a car accident and remained unidentified for three days. They used to talk on the phone every day, so when he didn't call her for two days straight, she drove to his house and listened to a voice message from the Albert Einstein Medical Center. When she got to the hospital, they told her that she wouldn't want to see the body, but she did anyway. Even though it's been a decade since her brother's death, describing the moment when she identified her brother's body doesn't bring tears, but a glazed look of shock. Even after ten years.

I also met a Korean-British woman named Suki, who was on her way to a little town by the sea to finalize her arrangements to leave Vietnam. She married a British man who now has dementia and lives in an assisted care facility in London. Before the dementia fully kicked in, he told her to move to Vietnam where she could live comfortably. Besides the sea food, she hated living here and wants to move to either London or even Korea and oh, how she misses her husband and his beautiful mind. She told me that he was a military official in Korea when she first met him at a dinner party. The fact that her father opposed the union, but finally relented when the British ambassador himself intervened, made her marriage quite a famous one, and I could tell that exciting moments such as this one are what she holds onto most fiercely these days to spice up her current existence.

Finally, I met a guy named Jeroen while waiting for our visas to get stamped. He's Belgium by birth, but has lived in Hong Kong all his life. He wore a turquoise shirt made of coarse fibers and a pair of mustard cords. I asked him what brought him to Vietnam, and he told me about being the drummer for a neo-folk band called Milkteeth (he's wearing the same turquoise shirt in that video). He invited me to see the show, but I forgot what the venue was called, oh well.

The airport in Hong Kong smells like the meat section of a Korean supermarket. I roamed around for an hour by myself (while my dad caught up on e-mails), remembering how fun it can be to be alone sometimes.

Taiwanese noodles are now very highly ranked in my savory foods list. The broth wasn't greasy at all, and the flavor was ten times more complicated and amazing than the beef noodle soup they serve at Ni Hao.

The moment I stepped out of the Ho Chi Minh airport, greeted by a sticky but sweet tropical air and the buzzing city noise composed by a motley of Asian languages being spoken at once along with the honking of a million scooters and colorful taxis, will be one of those moments I will remember when I'm wrinkly and wistfully think: oh, to be twenty-one again.

The fruit here is extremely funky but tasty.

Dad: Do you like the fruit?

Me: Yup, it's really good. Do you?

Dad: I CANNOT STOP [EATING IT]

Tomorrow's the first real day in Vietnam. Hope jetlag isn't too harsh with me!

Oh hey Hong Kong!

2011-07-01T02:49:00.000-07:00

Right after a 15 hour flight. I saw 75 percent of Jane Eyre and read half of Love Wins, spent the rest of the time schleeping.

Vietnam

2011-06-30T00:48:00.000-07:00

I'll be flying to Vietnam tomorrow (Philly--> Chicago --> Hong Kong --> HCM)! I know I haven't been doing a very good job with updating this blog lately, but I hope to at least be a little consistent during the coming week. I'm bringing an umbrella, since it's supposed to rain most of the days. Flannery O' Connor and Jhumpa Lahiri will forever be associated with this trip since they are the authors of the books I'll be reading on the plane ride there and back. I'll probably also read Rob Bell's new book, because my dad insists. I almost thought I'd be traveling alone when my dad couldn't find his passport today. "I've been to hell and back," was the way he described this stressful experience, haha. I asked him if he was gonna give Don Piper a run for his money. (He found the passport in the car, hallelujah.) I've been watching No Reservations to better acquaint myself with Vietnamese cuisine. Anthony Bourdain is the man.

Notes on parenting

2011-06-30T00:28:00.000-07:00

Spending so much time with Allen and Kelsey has given me a small idea of what kinda mom I'll be. The kind that lures her kids to yummy places in a ploy to get them to read their books for an hour or two.

And two practical things I'll note here and maybe come back to in the future:
1) Only say no if you really mean it. I noticed that moms like to immediately say no in response to a child's request, because doing so buys them time to think it through without being further pestered. If they change their mind and decide that the request can indeed be plausibly met, then they retract their no, which brings glee to the unsuspecting child and leaves the mom feeling a little more lenient and generous. But when you retract your answer, you lose credibility, and kids will be even more persistent in the future. Just spend an extra couple seconds to make your decision and let your yes be yes, and your no, no.

2) My dad had this idea that in order for us kids to get the fullest museum experience, we had to explore every last crevice of every exhibit and press our noses to every single glass display. When I took Allen and Kelsey to the Postal Museum last week in DC, they just roamed around wherever they wanted, and we actually ended up staying there for less than an hour. But because they weren't forced to look at anything, they saw the museum as a place of discovery rather than a two-hour obligation. Allen called it "the best museum ever," which counts for a lot, coming from a kid who's been exposed to Smithsonian museums ever since he was a baby.

Oh hey

2011-06-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

Listening to this song while living in NOVA gives me the most uneasy feeling ever.

I met a man named Vicente yesterday on my evening run; he's visiting from El Salvador, says he bottles soda for a living. We got to talk about our respective views on faith and works. It'd probably be sketchy if I ran into him again (he definitely started the conversation by asking me where I was from and how old I was...haha), but encounters like these remind me that this summer shouldn't just be about marshmallow shakes and reading books by the pool.

More Dad Quotes

2011-05-21T23:27:00.000-07:00

[while discussing when we were having family devotions]

Me: Is Josh okay with five?

Dad: OKAY or NOKAY, we have to have it then.

[when I couldn't find any white heels for a wedding that I'll be in next month]

Dad: I mean, if I were you, I would take regular shoes and paint them white.

Me: And how would you do that?

Dad: Just use white-out. Or dip the shoes in white paint. That's what I would do.

Me: Sorry I've been napping all day. These allergies are killing me.

Dad: [while scooting his chair] Is this contagious?

Two more weeks

2011-05-20T22:08:00.000-07:00

Summer 2011

Summer 2009

Winter 2005

Twenty-one starts to feel old when I realize that I've known this girl for eight years. As I was looking through the pictures that I've taken of Anahei over the years, I couldn't help but notice that her smile becomes less prominent, and her hairstyles get neater; she is more guarded and has learned to take care of herself. With my parents leaving Mexico in exactly a month, I'm not really sure when I'll be able to see this little lady again.

Today was the first time I saw Anahei in over five months, and she quickly greeted me so that she could make sure that her little niece and nephew got seats in the schoolhouse. Then she pulled me aside and, in her husky little voice, asked me how I was doing. "Are you doing well in school? How long are you here for? Two weeks? So I'll see you again?" Her sweetness and maturity captivate me. What a kid.

Grades

2011-05-19T21:21:00.000-07:00

I know this is a touchy subject, but it's one that has been on my mind this semester in a way that's distinct from the mentality that one ought to always strive for As. So I will tread carefully and with the acknowledgment that I have not yet fully overcome my human desire to prove myself within the pretentious boundaries of a polished GPA.

To provide context to this post, I think it's notable to mention that my Asian American parents have never pressured me about grades. I'm sure they emphasized the importance of academic effort at one point in my life, but I have never, ever had a conversation with them where they coaxed, threatened, or nagged me about trying harder or bringing home a stunning report card. All the way through high school, I did well enough that they never had to be concerned, but I was never the student who smoothly sailed through every subject. I asked my teachers many questions, reviewed my notes for hours on the nights before exam days, and definitely dealt with little grains of stress whenever tests were gingerly passed out. And let me slightly go off tangent and dedicate this sentence to how much I loathed Trig.

Anyways, regardless of the "we'll love you no matter what xoxoxox" vibes that I continually got from my parents, I (and this is the part where you can totally roll your eyes) had a very difficult time accepting grades that were not As, settling for an occasional A minus if it came from a science or math class, since those were my most challenging subject areas.

Although I had to slightly adjust the parameters of my snooty standards in college, taking mostly humanities classes kept me from having to face significant academic challenges that my brave e-school and pre-med peers occasionally encountered, and I nurtured a complex that culminated in a visit to a professor's office hours that I'm still pretty embarrassed about in retrospect. I had just received a mediocre grade for an assignment, one that lessened my chances of getting an A for the semester, so I paid a visit to my professor on the grounds that my TA had not graded my project properly. Regardless of whether that was the case or not, she immediately saw through my facade of righteous reasoning and knew that I was sitting on her plump pleather office chair because I wanted a good grade in her class. And instead of convincing her otherwise by playing the cool "this isn't really about the grade, I just want to learn" card, I rather shamelessly admitted that I did not want this class to negatively impact my GPA. And then my eyes got watery. And in that moment, there was nothing that distinguished me from the next biggest jerk in the world.

And then, she said something along these lines:

Christy, I'm not sure you have what it takes to be a good teacher, and here's why. When you look at students, you won't see their potential unless it is measured by grades, because that is how you measure your own worth. Students deserve teachers who can look beyond grades.

She then handed me a box of tissues and watched me sniffle and mechanically nod with a silly apology or two.

Her words had pricked my ego, but they also brought me to my first genuine realization that I should not, could not place so much value in my GPA. By associating my perfectionism to the unlikelihood of becoming an effective teacher, my professor really inserted an element of urgency to why I should change my mentality on grades. Not only was I using them to determine my self-worth, but doing so ultimately meant that I had been measuring the self-worth of others with this standard as well. BAM. All of a sudden, this became a much more serious problem.

My professor actually ended up giving me most of the points back, but fortunately, this didn't stop me from remembering our conversation from the fall semester and allowing it to impact the course of this semester. Sure, there were a couple weak moments, but in general, I stressed less, involved myself in a well-rounded assortment of extracurriculars, enjoyed the company of people more, and paid not a single visit to a professor for the purpose of discussing grades. I studied, but not in excess.

And academically, though not egregiously so, this has been my worst semester out of the six that I have gone through so far...haha. Although, depending on which lens I use, it was also my best, because I think I enjoyed life a little more by putting a practical lesson into good use.

2011-05-12T00:40:00.000-07:00

The view from my English professor's house. Girls always say they want to marry doctors, but I don't think marrying a professor sounds like sucha bad deal at all, hahah. And you could always dress your hubby in cute corduroy blazers.

Man, third year's over.
Ever since spring break, I have felt like such a busy bee. I can't wait to go back to Chihuahua and eat tacos and sleep in and lick fruit chunk popsicles and blog more often and spend time with my parents and squeeze my brickyard kids and get a hair cut and pull pranks on my brothers and make huge breakfasts with my mom and read magazines and really relish my last three weeks in Mexico as home.

Dad, quoted

2011-04-10T23:05:00.000-07:00

I realized that my dad's a gentleman; he holds the door for me, carries my backpack when we walk around, and walks on the side where there's traffic.

That said, he can sometimes seriously demonstrate that he knows nothing about womankind. Three examples--

Me: Dad, does my dress match my sweater?

Dad: You're askin me?

Me: Well, I have no one eh-else to ask.

Dad: Hm, well, you won't look like a boy if that's what you're wondering.

[during his sermon today]

"So one time I took my wife to an Angels game and told her she could ask ten dumb questions about baseball. Then she asked, 'um, what's an inning?' And I was like, 'Honeeeey...' then we went home."

[while walking to Times Square tonight]

Me: So this weekend my house is gonna go see tulips and--

Dad: Wait, tulips as in the flower? Because when you say tulips, I'm thinkin' you guys are gonna go see some commemoration of Calvin's five-point TULIP theory, or something. Like a religious shrine."

Another day in NY

2011-04-09T22:15:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get really comfy with these bullet posts.
Today I hung out with my dad and his friends. They were all pastors of churches in New York and Philly. Even pastors from the east coast are different from their west coast counterparts: their jokes are sharper, they order their food almost immediately after being seated, coffee is always taken black, and they have super tight schedules. They're all used to interacting with college students, so it wasn't awkward conversing with them, and I found it amusing that they call my dad the Mexican, just like what my friends call me. Like father, like daughter, I suppose.
After a pretty busy day, I settled down at Starbucks with my books on Islam and typed a page or two of my paper. There was a man sitting at the counter next to me, and we took turns watching each other's stuff when we had to use the restroom. As the shop was closing up, I ventured to ask him what he was studying, and he explained how he was completing his dissertation on Chinese herbal medicine. How he's from Morocco, and the people walk barefoot, so the cold gives them a rare type of osteoporosis that Western medicine can't cure. We shook hands and I found out that his name was Maurice. Since the conversation was headed in that direction anyway, I asked him if he was religious, and he said yes, that he was a Muslim. I mentioned that I was writing a paper on Muhammad, and Maurice expressed how sad he was that 9/11 completely changed our perception of Islam, when it really is such a great religion. Oh yeah, I ordered an iced Tazo passion tea, and the combination between it and cocoa powdered almonds was yummy.
Afterwards, I walked to a hot dog stand and bought a cup of papaya juice. It was frothy and subtle but sweet.
Third time's the charm: I think I really like New York.

NYC with my dad

2011-04-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Today, I used four modes of transportation to get to New York: train, car, metro, and the bus. I really like traveling by myself.
After my dad picked me up from the bus stop, we went to a 24-hour Korean restaurant, where I ordered my favorite Korean dish: soondooboo.
We talked about Tim Keller's interpretation of the prodigal son parable, and I learned a couple things about reformed theology.
I just realized that this short trip with my dad is the first exclusively father-daughter trip we've been on since 1996.

Ridícula

2011-04-04T01:48:00.000-07:00

I spent the past several hours reading a chunky postmodern novel about the chaos of Los Angeles, and now my mind's buzzing so much that I can't go to sleep. This insomnia might also have something to do with allergies.

On Friday, I got a call from my dad, asking me if I could meet up with him in NY this weekend. He's giving some talks on stuff related to the upheaval caused by Rob Bell's new book, among other things. So being the father who assumes that his daughter would rather learn schtuff than go on a J. Crew warehouse sale road trip with her friends, he definitely gave me no choice but to look up train and bus tickets when he dismissed my excuse for not going as frivolous, shallow, and [when I told him that my friends were listening to our Google Voice conversation] una razón ridícula. I mean, I guess he's right (although I was looking forward to acquiring some buttery, sleek blazers that I'll probably find handy when I start working). Fortunately, at this point in our relationship, I don't have much of a problem just doing what he asks me to do, especially because my parents normally give me quite a bit of freedom and rarely nag.

So I'm going to NY this weekend. I'm kind of excited about it now--I think it'll be nice to spend some quality time with my dad, as well as eat some roasted corn deliciousness at Cafe Habana.
This trip also means I need to get a lot of work done beforehand, including a ten page Spanish paper comparing a Christian bishop's account of Muhammad's life with Ibn Ishaq's biography.

'elp.

Yeap

2011-04-03T07:41:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning breakfast (I'll pretentiously name this dish...potpourri eggs)

Since I'm kind of an adult and all, I guess I assumed that my character flaws at this point in my life would reside on more abstract ground, but I'm not finding this to be the case. They're pretty easy to identify, just as they were when I was seven or fifteen.

Lately, I have noticed that I say whatever I want, regardless of how it might affect others. I guess I'm naturally a bit blunt, but I don't think this personality disclaimer automatically gives me license to speak without a filter or ignore my dwindling conscience.

If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless. [James 1: 26]

Whip your hair

2011-04-02T23:48:00.001-07:00

Eh, I think this picture was actually taken by Biwwy

Happy April

2011-04-01T22:14:00.000-07:00

Some random things that I've been wanting to do:

Go hiking
Sneak Chinese food into a movie theater
Buy a red skirt with buttons

College

2011-03-23T00:13:00.000-07:00

I wrote most of this post on Sunday night.

Saturday was spent handing out sandwiches, eating dumplings and frozen yogurt for lunch, going to a lacrosse game, and watching Casablanca with some friends while chomping on deep-fried hot dogs to end the night on a classy note.

And then tonight we randomly invited people over for dinner after SLC. But this time, instead of preparing everything beforehand, we all cooked together in our cozy creaky kitchen. Billy and John wore dainty little aprons as they chopped and stirred. Angela made some potstickers, Eunice took lots of pictures, and Lucy peeled many potatoes. The kitchen was toasty from the oven, which we used to bake a gooey dish of caramel and pecan brownies. We ended up with two simmering pots of the Monty equivalent of stone soup, golden curry. Gathered around a retro table with mismatched chairs, we talked about Disney movies, quirky party ideas, and what we wore in fifth grade. I think these kinds of suppers are rapidly claiming a spot in my collection of cherished college memories.

2011-03-17T14:52:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling pretty lethargic this week.
But I'm here at Clarke, re-reading the first couple chapters of The Prodigal God by Tim Keller
And this book--man, it's so good.

What I ate, saw, did

2011-03-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

Today was the last day of our spring break trip to Paterson, New Jersey. Lynn and I got up at 7: 05 AM to join the homeless men for breakfast, which consisted of soup, hard boiled eggs, bananas, and pastries. As they started to leave, one of the men I had met the day before, Máximo, ripped out a couple pages from his spiral notebook, on which he had written a poem for me to read on days when I feel blue. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever received.
Then we heard our new friend Rich read the Psalm of the day, which happened to be the thirtieth one (one of my all-time favorites). This week has really made me appreciate the book of Psalms, especially Psalm 30.
After taking one last awkward shower in the men's bathroom (the ladies' room did not have any), I gathered my things and said goodbye to everyone we had met this week. I miss everyone so much already.
On the car ride back to NOVA, I alternated between taking little naps and chitter-chattering with Lynn and Billy. They amusingly tried to guess what kind of qualities that I would prefer in a guy. Billy thinks that I will marry a shy guy who has a super boring tech-y day job, but who's actually really interesting and will like to explore little restaurants with me, as well as enjoy traveling. Lynn thinks that I will marry a witty journalist. [Hahah, all these traits/descriptions sound so pretentious. I hope I don't marry a snooty guy. ]
We ate lunch at Eden, where most of us ordered a dish that was served with a fried egg on top. I was dared to eat a toothpick, so I did. Joe promised me forty bucks, but instead he gave me forty chicken bocks. He bought me some Vietnamese beer dduk though, a gesture that somewhat alleviated my boiling hot righteous anger for having been tricked. Danny the Girl and I went to Shilla afterwards, where we came across Grace's family and Junko.
And I spent the evening with my cousins, aunt, and grandma. We munched on Momofuku cookies and played this fancy new version of Monopoly where they use credit cards instead of cash. It was such a warm fun time as we exchanged deals and made purchases around the kitchen table while Grandma made kimbap in the kitchen for tomorrow's lunch. Then David Changsta took me to Walmart. I ended up taking longer than expected, but David waited patiently without once hurrying me, even though he very well could have. He's a coo cuz.

More time at the library

2011-02-28T05:39:00.000-08:00

B: Hashbrowns, pancakes, and a cheddar cheese omelette @ The Tavern
L: Chicken w/ tortillas; Chinese bread; a chicken wing
D:

Chris Liu bought us all this food; he's perdy generous

Yup...

(I ate chips/salsa, veggies/dip, a tortilla w/ hummus, strawberries, two clementines, and rice cake crackers)

I ate a fortune cookie today

2011-02-23T22:46:00.000-08:00

This is really random, but last Saturday I surprisingly went to the AFC at around 9 am or so and ran a couple miles. While cooling off, I noticed some little kids having basketball practice on the court. There was this little Asian boy with his pants hiked up and a pair of little glasses perched on his nose, and no matter how hard he tried to make a shot, he could not. His parents probably dragged him out of bed, as suggested by the way his hair was fluffed up on the top. There isn't really a point to this story, but if I ever have a son, I wouldn't mind if he was a little nerdy bookworm as opposed to being a kid who's sporty.

Also, I don't think I'm actually a kid person; I'm particular with the ones I get attached to--
They need to be chubby, spunky, or nerdy.

Today's weather deserves this kind of song

2011-02-22T09:21:00.001-08:00

Listen

Lullaby
[One Republic]

Thoughts gathered

2011-02-21T01:13:00.000-08:00

While I love Mexico, it's not exactly a place that's conducive to my relationship with God. Mexico is where I'm most aware of the suffering that goes on in this world, and I cannot reconcile certain hellish situations with a God who is good. I remember last summer, I would spend so much time reading different theologians' views on the subject of theodicy. But in the end, they only presented a more philosophical and sophisticated way of pondering the same thing that I was pondering, which made me a little smarter but no wiser.

But evil is just an absence of God's goodness.

We can't possibly understand God completely.

God will somehow use the bad for good.

We must think of the bigger picture.

These phrases all make sense in my head when they're said to me in some cute little coffee shop with Ray Lamontagne playing in the background, but they mean absolutely nothing when I see one of the most faithful girls I know dressed in black for her father's funeral. When I see my cousins grow up without a dad b/c lung cancer couldn't lay off on a guy who never smoked and never got to take his son to a Red Skins game. When things like this happen.

I don't think I can fully trust in God's goodness and also have a burden for those that are suffering. It's one or the other, and I find myself choosing the latter these days. I know that some people don't have to choose, but those people possess a faith that is stronger than mine. I wish my faith in God was simple and pure; instead, it's complicated and barely there.

There are times when I feel like an arrogant coward for questioning God's love for the hurting, and there are other times when I wonder why he would let me care so much when I can't handle it.
Someday I hope I can genuinely acknowledge that God is good, all the time. But I don't think it's gonna happen through one sermon or conversation or verse. I might struggle with these doubts for a very long time. Yet at some point, I hope to find my faith still there, weak-- but there, and maybe its mere survival will be a testament to God's faithfulness and give me peace, a kind that doesn't have to ignore the suffering in order for it to be felt.

Where I'm at right now:

¹⁴ The Spirit then lifted me up and took me away, and I went in bitterness and in the anger of my spirit, with the strong hand of the LORD on me. ¹⁵ I came to the exiles who lived at Tel Aviv near the Kebar River. And there, where they were living, I sat among them for seven days—deeply distressed. (Ezekiel 3)

Where I hope to be:
Tim Keller's The Prodigal God

When a newspaper posed the question, "What's Wrong with the World?" the Catholic thinker G.K. Chesterton reputedly wrote a brief letter in response: "Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely Yours, G.K. Chesterton." This is the attitude of someone who has grasped the message of Jesus.

This is so pretty

2011-02-19T07:32:00.001-08:00

Happy Sunday

2011-02-12T21:30:00.000-08:00

Awake

2011-02-11T00:51:00.000-08:00

So on Tuesdays I get to help lead a girl's club for 5th and 6th graders living in Prospect.
We usually eat dinner first, then settle down to talk about our week and learn a cute little Bible lesson.
I love these girls. I love how excited they get about pepperoni pizzas and making lemonade with a wooden spoon. From our dinner conversation, I concluded that there are two things I can do to earn me some cool points w/ them: Watch Madea's Big Happy Family (so I can impersonate the characters, too) and start using Twitter. But when I asked one of the girls if she would add me, she told me that she wasn't allowed to add anyone over the age of fourteen. So I guess no Twitter for me--don't wanna set myself up for rejection upon which I'd probably stuff my cheeks with dumplings and eat the rest of my feelings with Sriracha.

Anyways, after dinner, we took our seats, and the girls couldn't stop giggling about this and that. Once they calmed down a bit, I asked them a question. "What is one thing that you wish for that would make your life perfect?" I told them about how I wished that my brother and I weren't so distant these days. Giggle. Then one of the other leaders told us about how she sometimes wishes that she was prettier and funnier so that her ex-boyfriend wouldn't have cheated on her. Giggle giggle.

But after a little while, one of the gigglers tells us that she has something to share but "ya'll's gonna laugh at me." We asked her to trust us and asked the rest of the girls to act in such a way that would make them worthy of this trust.

So finally Alexis said what she wanted to say : I wish my dad cared about me. Please don't laugh, guys; he's going to jail.

...giggle.

When I heard that first giggle, I wanted to spank them all. But instead I just stared at them while trying to fight a nasty little lump in my throat.

As I continued on with the point I was trying to make, the giggles were getting louder. And then I noticed that Alexis was giggling the loudest. At that point I realized why they were giggling. They giggle because talking about their lives is too much for their little girl hearts. Alexis did something brave by being honest, but the other girls giggled because their dads aren't around either. They know better than us, that sometimes no sweet words of comfort could remedy the hurt of an abandoned daughter.

It was a bizarre moment; they were giggling about nothing because everything else was too much to handle. I stopped the lesson and let them giggle. I giggled along with them with tears in my eyes.

Who in the world do I think I am to ask these girls such questions when I wouldn't even understand the heaviness of their answers.
I came home and cried. But they giggle because their pain is deeper than that.

Oops

2011-02-07T23:06:00.001-08:00

I was working on a project for my dad and accidentally posted on here instead, eeps.

Food and drink

2011-02-07T15:25:00.000-08:00

I made this for dinner.

Walking home from work today, I bought some pie slices from the fried chicken shop, and they wrapped them up in a crispy white bag; this made me happy.

There is a new coffee shop being constructed around the block.

How cute is she?

2011-02-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

My cousins are making such cute babies these days.

Postcard

2011-02-01T22:58:00.000-08:00

Besides the fact that I was loopy ("silent for a moment--for the unwanted books"is a strange thing to say) and pretentious (who spells shop, shoppe?), I miss how spontaneously I spent my days as a first year.

2011-02-01T05:03:00.000-08:00

Hello to anyone who is reading,
Do you think you could pray for me? I thought this flu would have calmed down by now, but I still have a fever, chills--pretty much all the regular symptoms. I have a twelve-hour day, and I'm hoping I can do all the things that are scheduled, especially IG club since it's my turn to lead. So yes, I would appreciate your prayers very much, even if it's a five-second one.

Thanks guyeez : )

Pawned

2011-01-31T12:27:00.000-08:00

Picture taken by Ongel this afternoon during a conversation where I was being pawned.

This past weekend I :

1. got mistaken for a first year (my mini's) mom.
2. slipped and fell on my back on the Lawn (precisely at the time when everybody's walking to class)
3. lost my phone
4. and got sick for the third time this month.

Silver linings:

#1 amused me (and gave me an excuse to be super dramatic all day), #2 briefly felt like I was on some slip-n-slide #3 didn't really frustrate me since I don't really like phones, and #4 is the reason why I got to eat some yummy noodles for lunch, prepared by my housemates.

Snowy afternoon

2011-01-26T23:23:00.000-08:00

This week had been going by so busily but slowly, until today. Classes were cancelled, and I rejoiced along with the others. After coming home, I opened my package from Amazon (which contained a book I plan to use for an after school club and a copy of the Koran for one of my classes). I chit-chatted some, took a shower, and put on some flannel jammies. I got tricked by a pretend survey on Facebook and caught up on some blogs. Then we decided to have an impromptu dinner party with Chris Liu and the darling Steph Lee.

If you asked me which meal of the day was my favorite, I would probably say breakfast. But it may have something to do how classy and healthy it sounds as opposed to an actual adoration for toast and orange juice. Probably b/c I'm not a morning person, I notice that I tend to talk about very general things like future career plans or who I'm gonna be living with next year during breakfast dates. Dinners, though, are cozy and the food is savory. Everyone's had a full day, and there are so many anecdotes to share. The slight drowsiness from the day's events removes enough inhibition for us to put our guard down and be more open about our lives. Like today, we had such an honest conversation about our little brothers and why at times we feel like lousy older siblings. And maybe because of the drowsiness, there are hilarious opportunities to miscommunicate ("My brother thought he was 10 percent barren till he was twelve. What?), as well as moments of trivial but nonetheless impressive discovery. (Did you know that Chris Liu can name at least eight characters from the PBS show Arthur?) Anyway, thanks to the snow, today was one of the best days of this semester so far.

Mama Yuan

2011-01-24T07:34:00.000-08:00

On my way to school this morning, I passed by a woman trying to start the ignition of her husband's truck so he wouldn't have to wait for it to warm up. It was a sweet gesture, but the engine wouldn't start. I came across Jackie, who was headed to the gym. Yes, the same Jackie who's majoring in BME and still managing to rank in the top 20th percentile of our class. (She is obviously a different breed of discipline.)

And then I sat on that bench they recently installed at the trolley stop right in front of Yuan Ho. I haven't ordered from Yuan Ho in a while, but when I lived at Clarke Ct., I would get General Tso's chicken (extra spicy), a side of white rice, and a can of ginger ale, which gave the greasy meal a bit of crisp. Sometimes they would give me fried rice instead, and they almost never made the chicken spicy enough. I always loved the fortune cookie though--dunno if it's the little message inside that makes them so cute and yummy or whether I just prefer my cookies to be three-dimensional. Probably both.

Anyway, the trolley was late by at least six or seven minutes today. I wasn't pressed for time, but sitting on that popsicle bench definitely gave me no reason to be chipper.

A little red car parked horizontally across two parking spaces, and a petite Chinese lady with a big puffy coat got out and opened the lock of Yuan Ho's front door with the engine still running. She had on some high-heeled mules with socks that scrunched up around her ankles. After ten seconds or so, she emerged with a little pink backpack, which was when I noticed her two children inside the car. With a soft smile she handed the backpack to her daughter, whose little hand reached out from the backseat, and they drove away to school. For some reason this exchange really made me miss being little. This lady might not give me the lunch price when it's just a minute past four, but she sure loves her daughter. I wonder when her little girl grows up, whether she'll be bitter about having had to spend so many afternoons at the store instead of doing normal things like soccer practice and going to birthday parties. I hope that she instead remembers moments like these. Yo Amy Chua, Imma let you finish, but Mama Yuan's a tad snazzier than you.

Christ[he]

2011-01-23T23:03:00.000-08:00

These days I've been arm wrestling people and going to basketball games.

Meat

2011-01-16T22:54:00.000-08:00

Some thoughts about my city

2011-01-13T23:33:00.000-08:00

While I was uploading pictures on Facebook, I heard a gun shot off in the distance, which isn't out of the ordinary in this city. I started mindlessly reading all the different drug violence-related news on El Blog Del Narco and definitely saw pictures of crime scenes that are a five minute walk from my house. This blog is supposedly the only media source that will actually tell us what's going on (and ironically I found out about it through Newsweek) ; the newspapers would rather focus on the latest local auto show or celebrity visit. Because if the nitty-gritty got published, editors and reporters would probably get murdered by the folks who don't want their cartels in the headlines.

All this is mind-numbing to me except for two things:
1) God, but what about the children.
2) Every night when my family is safe and sound in their beds, I am a very grateful girl. To anyone who doesn't get along with their parents or siblings, I recommend moving here.

2011-01-12T12:24:00.000-08:00

Chillin with the padres

2011-01-12T01:19:00.000-08:00

My mom and I were lounging around in the living room reading our books, when she randomly suggested that we make a bunch of burritos and pass them out downtown. My dad was soon on board, and we had the loveliest time chatting with strangers and eating street pastries and elotes. I love how my parents are almost always willing to do something out of the ordinary. Winter break has had its ups and downs, but spending time with these peepz ultimately makes me feel very grateful.

This will bore you

2011-01-11T03:33:00.000-08:00

So ever since the beginning of break, I've been determined to write a short story in order to get into a fifteen-person fiction-writing class that's being offered next semester. Then tonight, after a couple hours of trying to come up with a decent plot line, I started wondering why I had ever wanted to take this class in the first place. Besides the very attractive meeting time (Mondays, once a week), I don't really have a good reason. I've never actually written fiction before, nor do I have even a novice passion for it. There are other classes that would meet this particular Curry requirement, ones that I actually find more interesting. Whenever I have time to leisurely read, I usually find myself picking out a work of nonfiction (magazine articles, memoirs, biographies etc.), so I have concluded that taking a class that focuses on nonfiction writing would be more suitable for me. I wish I had figured this out earlier though and not prioritized a pretty schedule over rational course selections.

I'm sure I just crossed a threshold of some sort that relates to inexcusably boring blog topics. But since I'm on a roll--

These days I have been snacking on corn tortillas, warmed up by the flames of the gas range, slathering them with this crazy spicy salsa from Alsuper. I'm practically panting afterwards.

I'm also [slowly] reading a book on Islam and am starting to understand why Muslims have such an aversion to the symbol of the cross and the doctrine of the triune God. It's very understandable, actually.

I have pulled two successful pranks on respective family members. Now I am very careful with what I drink and eat, because food is the obvious instrument of their revenge.

Piglet-tails

2011-01-09T21:26:00.000-08:00

2011-01-06T16:33:00.001-08:00

3 X 5, whee

2011-01-06T15:20:00.000-08:00

2011-01-06T00:52:00.000-08:00

The Blind Men and the Elephant

by John Godfrey Saxe

It was six men of Indostan

To learning much inclined,

Who went to see the Elephant

(Though all of them were blind),

That each by observation

Might satisfy his mind.

The First approach'd the Elephant,

And happening to fall

Against his broad and sturdy side,

At once began to bawl:

"God bless me! but the Elephant

Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk,

Cried, -"Ho! what have we here

So very round and smooth and sharp?

To me 'tis mighty clear

This wonder of an Elephant

Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,

And happening to take

The squirming trunk within his hands,

Thus boldly up and spake:

"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant

Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,

And felt about the knee.

"What most this wondrous beast is like

Is mighty plain," quoth he,

"'Tis clear enough the Elephant

Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,

Said: "E'en the blindest man

Can tell what this resembles most;

Deny the fact who can,

This marvel of an Elephant

Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun

About the beast to grope,

Then, seizing on the swinging tail

That fell within his scope,

"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant

Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan

Disputed loud and long,

Each in his own opinion

Exceeding stiff and strong,

Though each was partly in the right,

And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.

So oft in theologic wars,

The disputants, I ween,

Rail on in utter ignorance

Of what each other mean,

And prate about an Elephant

Not one of them has seen!

But there's a little hole in this logic [that all roads lead to the same god], because there had to have been someone, a spectator, to realize what was going on and thus tell this story. Yes, the blind men might have all been interpreting differently to reach the same conclusion, but who's to say this conclusion establishes the conglomerate authority of these men? I'd say the narrator trumps them all.

Last day of being 20

2011-01-03T22:41:00.000-08:00

Today I ate a bowl each of oatmeal and cream of wheat, went grocery shopping w/ my mom, bought a little apple empanada and a six-pack of flan, read a little, and spent most of the afternoon and evening working on a project for my dad, which consisted of putting together a brochure and setting up a website. It was a very normal day.

2011-01-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

First conversation of the morning:

Me: Why is the dog here [in the kitchen].

Mom: She got a butt-cut today! Her fur was getting really long. Look, can you tell?

Edit: Apparently this was my dad's idea.

Recap of 2010

2011-01-01T01:21:00.000-08:00

This is what I did while we saw The Blind Side tonight, since I had already seen it.

January

Got together w/ girls from home <3

Said goodbye to parents and flew to Spain

First Spanish meal w/ my host family

February

Explored the markets and discovered accordion music

Went to an Arctic Monkeys concert and got caught in the moshpit

Became friends w/ these lovely German girls

March

Went to Belgium

Decided that Venice is like a raw Disneyland

Experienced Las Fallas in Valencia (where each neighborhood makes a huge, beautiful float; then at the end of the week, they burn them all in vibrant ceremonious flames)

April

Went on a picnic w/ friends in the Spanish countryside

Mumzie visited me! And we visited palaces, museums, and pretty park benches

Climbed to the tippy-top of a castle on the ocean in Peniscola

May

Ate the best paella I've ever tasted, made by Claudia's madre

Spent the last night in Valencia at the city of arts and sciences in the rose garden

Left Spain and came home

June

Played lots and lots of Scrabble w/ the family

Jumped in puddles w/ Justin

Went on a family road trip to Santa Fe and Albuquerque, where we ate lots and found the quaintest little used bookstores

July

Visited the town of Villa Ahumada w/ my dad (and later found out that the drug cartel had gotten ride of the police/law enforcement)

Spent lovely afternoons at the brickyard

Received a skirt like this one from a dear friend

August

Hid tears and said goodbye w/ a smile

Like, totally hung out w/ these girls who are best friends forever

Moved into Monty

September

Had many Panera dinner dates w/ Lynn

Took pictures for Caitlin and Sev

TWOB dinner date

October

Had the best sleepover ever w/ Lucy and Jules

Traveled to NYC for the first time

Celebrated Trish's birthday/helped put together a dinner party for the first time

Studied at 10+ places w/ Ongel

November

Gave a tour to the family

Ate lots and lots of Grandma's cooking

Spent so much time w/ these girls

December

Came home for Christmas

And to see little America in Mexico.

And had the best time catching up w/ Ktibbs (12.31.10)

happy new year!

2010-12-31T19:10:00.000-08:00

I miss this sweatshirt; I left it in a hotel room in El Paso a few weeks ago : (
But I miss J'wang more. (picture credit goes to the 'bean, who I also miss!)

New Years Eve Eve

2010-12-30T13:06:00.000-08:00

Eating chicken soup while preparing for class

Gloomy day

2010-12-29T23:39:00.000-08:00

2010-12-28T23:37:00.000-08:00

Came across this article today and read it to Josh so that his essays maintain some level of rationality. I felt a little strange for agreeing so much, since I'm an English major and all.

Yabroff, Jennie. "The Meaning of No Meaning." Newsweek 25 Jan 2010: 50

When we talk about the difference between "high" and "pop" culture, we often mean that one requires the work of interpretation, while the other is a ready source of easy pleasure.

Anyone who has taken an introductory course in literary theory can play this game [to draw out abstract meaning from a given work of literature or film], and feel all the smarter for it. But that doesn't necessarily mean it deepens our appreciation of the work.

When we evaluate a work first and foremost for its subtext, we can overlook the power of the text itself. "To interpret is to impoverish," Susan Sontag wrote 50 years ago, arguing that the best way to engage with a work of art is not to analyze or unpack it, but to take it at face value.

But to say the message is [that there ] is no message is still an act of interpretation.

Sorry if these are obnoxious

2010-12-28T23:15:00.000-08:00

...but posting my to-do lists has so far proven to keep me pretty productive throughout the day. I guess I care a lot about what the Internet thinks about me, meehee.

It was raining

2010-12-28T21:10:00.000-08:00

all day, and I just woke up from a nap on the living room couch. It was such a cozy one, and when I woke up, the first thing I saw was the Christmas tree, still blinking brightly not caring whether it has outworn its stay or not. I just glanced to the side and realized that my little brother Justin is reclined on the loveseat, reading, and stuffing his tummy with chocolate truffles although I remember my mom telling him earlier today that he could only eat two. Now I'm eating one, and we're debating whether he has had four or five. Because it's very unpredictable when Josh will finish an essay and thus need help with its revision, I have been stranded at home for a while, and have used this opportunity to develop a very comfortable habit of wearing jammies all the live long day. The night before I flew home, I shared w/ my mom my dilemma of having too little space in my suitcase for clothes (since my aunt was sending down Christmas presents and I refused to pay an extra twenty dollars to have it sent separately), and she quite excitedly shared about how she had found all the comfy clothes I used to lounge about in during my high school years, and how she had washed and dried and folded them, ready for my arrival. I thought I loved jammies now, but apparently I loved them oodles more in high school. And apparently I loved the color pink. Fleece, plaid, striped--I've been wearing them all. It's quite the wonderful feeling to take a long hot shower in the morning only to slip into a fresh set of flannel pajamas, ready to conquer the day. It's probably the one indulgence I will surely miss when I return to college.

Justin's truffle-eating is clearly an issue because upon my mom's interrogation and consequent threat to hide them just now (right after she herself had just run two miles and had come downstairs only to grab two grapefruits to eat while watching Columbo--this is why a ration of sugar exists in this house), he grabbed the jar of truffles, stuffed it in his robe (yes, a robe; he's the oldest young kid I know), and mysteriously ran off to hide them himself. He has been hiding so much candy lately; the other day while running to bed b/c it was past his bedtime, a stash of Sweet Tarts dribbled out from the deep pocket of his robe. He pretended that nothing was the matter and nonchalantly picked them up before heading to bed. No wonder his morning breath smells like raspberry these days.

On another note, it's ironic that high schoolers have to stretch every ounce of creativity and force themselves to wonder about wispy object lessons and the meaning of life, when it seems that college bloggers write about such things so willingly. Well, off to read some more about who my brother is, was, and will be and other existential stuff that colleges are curious about.
I guess I better take out the eyelash in my eye first though.

An uninteresting day

2010-12-28T13:09:00.000-08:00

Monday's to-do list

2010-12-27T12:02:00.000-08:00

After one week full week of relaxing at home, I'm starting to feel the need to be productive (especially b/c I have a two hour English class to teach tomorrow, 'elp). I also have to complete an internship application and write a short story for a writing class that I'm trying to get into this coming semester, as well as help Josh with his college essays. But I'm sprinkling in some leisurely things since it is winter break after all : ) I might picture-document some things so that I can be somewhat accountable to the www.

oh yeah, and I'm gonna do all these things...in my JAMMIES, WOOO.

Mission accomplished :