what dustin thinks of my blog

not so high fashion on an not so high budget (otherwise known as the ramblings of a starving college student in love, with some nice clothes on the side)

Wish List

I've been trying to control what I buy this year, but when I do finally relapse into my shopaholic ways, these will be my first purchases:

Keds

blazer

sewing machine

bgirl/hip hop clothes

camera

nude heels

red heels

blue shoes

cute, warm winter hat

holga camera

fisheye camera

Fall 2010 Plan

goals, dreams, things that need to get done, things i hope to get done.

()get healthy

()healthier skin

()healthier hair

()eat healthy

()exercise

()do well in school (4.0, here i come! maybe...no...probably not. :P)

()figure out my major/minors/career/general direction in life, hahaha

()get involved with more extracurriculars

()Put God first

()pray every day

()read the Bible every day

()go to church every week

()become a neat/clean/organized person, starting with my room

()make new friends

()deepen old relationships

()sustain my LDR

(X) learn how to read/write Chinese (traditional)

() improve my Taiwanese
() blog/write

() post on lookbook

() learn how to fix cars

() learn how to do flower arrangements

() learn how to rap

() self-reflect

(X) sew

() bgirl/hip hop

(Impossible Dreams-ish

()sing

()model

()act

a sigh of relief

there is something horribly uncomfortable about being bored. it is not quite the lack of things to do, but the things i do do while i am bored. the mindless hours of tv, internet, and phone, the sleeping, the napping, the snacking. that isn't the worst of it. the worst is when you are left with nothing but your own thoughts. i'm not saying the thoughts themselves are terrible, but the fact that you have nothing but your own thoughts is. why, you ask? well, there is no one to give you feedback, i suppose, no one to bounce ideas off of or to challenge your thinking. i have nothing against self-reflection, don't get me wrong, i think it's a very beneficial exercise that everyone should engage in at least once a year. but how beneficial can that self-reflection be unless you truly take a critical eye to yourself, and how much easier would it be for those closest to you to point out to you what they see? you may not agree with what others say, but they must have a reason for perceiving you the way they do. whether or not their perception is correct is irrelevant, the only matter is that such a perception exists and what you will do to change it.

Summer 2010 Plan

() learn how to read/write Chinese (traditional)

() improve my Taiwanese

() blog/write

(X)read the Bible

(X) post on lookbook

() learn how to fix cars

() self-reflect

(X) figure out classes/major

(X) sew

() bgirl/hip hop

() travel narrative

(X) learn how to cook from my Dad

() create a fashion style for my bff

Impossible Dreams-ish

()sing

()model

()act

Taiwan Summer 2010

() clubbing

(X)Spark

(X)Luxy

()Primo

(X)Room 18

()eating(this list is not even close to exhaustive)

() Korean BBQ

(X) Roasted Corn

(X) sushi

(X) mango (chua bing, bing sha, fresh...)

(X) Ding Tai Fong

() moo gua niu nai

() spa day with Jessi

() massages

(X) sticker pictures

(X) KTV

(X) hair cut

(X) lots of shopping....lots.

And things I didn't plan on doing, but ended up doing

getting stung by a bee

getting burned by a girl's cigarette

falling in love

harvesting rice

meeting Amy

losing weight

eating tons of froyo

almost performing for the Vice President of Taiwan

kissing on stage in front of 400 people

watching Inception and Despicable Me and a whole bunch of other movies (i'm not a movie person)

setting off fireworks in Taoyuan and the police coming to see what the commotion was about

living in the (relatively) rural Jhongli and surviving

impossible dreams

you know those careers that your Asian parents don't really consider careers but you've always secretly wanted to try? if this life weren't so focused on money, on the needs of life than living life, there are a few careers I'd want to try out: acting, modeling, singing, dancing, and fashion design.

Acting-when I was a freshman, we had to present a scene from Romeo and Juliet. I was still breaking out of my shell, still introverted, yet I somehow managed to get the "Best Actress" award while playing a man, Lord Capulet. I had the weirdest costume...I'm sure it involved ballet slippers and a Mexican bean vest. Sadly, I haven't really done much acting since unless it's for class.

Modeling-I actually got my parents agree to let me try out for America's Next Top Model Petite Cycle, but I wasn't 18 in time for the auditions :(. I also made it through one round of Miss Teen New Hampshire, but didn't pursue it further. I simply think modeling would be fun, but then again, it probably is a lot more pressure-intensive than I dream it up to be. The obvious problem, though, is my 5'1'' stature, something that I cannot alter.

Singing-I have a tumultuous relationship with singing. While I enjoy singing, I cannot sightsing or harmonize or really even follow a piano. One of the several regrets in my life is not learning how to play piano properly. I say properly because my mother was my piano teacher, and as a result, I despised the piano and purposefully never learned it correctly. Now I can't ever really sing beyond serenading people on the MRT in Taipei or in the shower.

Dancing-So this is probably the most impossible of the four, simply because the last time I had real dance training was when I was eight and did ballet when every little second-grade girl did ballet. Add to that my clumsy body, and that makes for one impossible dream, but a dream, nonetheless.

Fashion Design-This is probably the most possible of the impossible (possibly impossible? impossibly possible?) I've always been into clothing, shopping, shoes, handbags at one point...I've liked going through closets and helping people put outfits together. None of this, I realized this semester, can really help me to become a fashion designer. I can't draw for my life, nor do I have enough creativity to design. Also, if I learned nothing else from my Fashion Design class this semester, I realized that sewing machines and I are not friends.

What are your impossible dreams?

childhood dreams

so a recent gchat conversation with Alex reminded me of this thought: as a child, whenever I'd travel with my dad, we would rent a car and just drive by all these homes, and when i was little, i wondered what it would be like to live the life of the people inside. like what if i lived a sort of "day in the life" of every person? i must have been such a strange child to have thoughts like this. my mother always said i had a unique way of thinking. or did she say i didn't think like anyone else? i forget....hmmmm. new creative non-fiction piece? i think so........

Origin/Taiwanese Part 2

Origin

When people ask me where I’m from, I hesitate. I also sometimes forget what I answer, and I tell different things to different people. It’s not that I’m trying to lie or hide that I live in a blue-collar, working class town that is proud of its Wal-mart, Target, BJ’s, Barnes and Noble, and shopping mall. It’s not that I’m trying to purport myself as a privileged person if I say Andover, MA, or as a sophisticated, urban person by answering Boston.

Typically, I say New Hampshire for the sake of simplicity, because it is my permanent home address (which must give it some sort of legitimacy as claim to where I’m from) and, because, well, how many people do you know from New Hampshire? It just makes it easier for you to remember me, for me to stand out in your mind. Then there is the complicated question of how I’m also from Andover, MA, because that’s where I went to high school and that’s where my dad lives. So, sometimes, I say Boston, because that is the largest city closest to me.

At one point or another, the inconsistency is exposed and I have to explain that my parents are divorced. This is usually followed with an “Oh, I’m sorry,” or “That sucks,” or my personal favorite, “So do you get twice the stuff?” Then there are the people, which I for some reason frequently encounter when I visit different churches in New England, that ask where I’m from as though I should answer some exotic land or some Asian country because clearly, if you’re not Caucasian, you can’t actually be from America, right? So that conversation goes as follows:

“Hi, where are you from?”

“Oh, I’m from Salem, New Hampshire.”

“No, I mean, what nationality are you?”

“Well, my passport says I’m American.”

At this point the other party is significantly embarrassed enough to phrase their question properly, only to find that I say, perhaps out of my inherited, sassy nature, “Guess.” Then the conversation continues:

“Chinese.”

“No, the Chinese are our enemy.”

“Oh. Japanese? Korean? Cambodian? Vietnamese? Thai? Filipino?”

Then it really becomes more of a Guess-whatever-Asian-nationality-you-can-think-of-and-have-heard-of game.

“No.”

“Well, then, what are you?”

This is when my mother adores entering the conversation to explain how Taiwan and China have been separated since the Qing Dynasty, how our family was on the island for seven generations before Chiang Kai-shek (whom we fondly call Chiang Kai-shi, with “Kai-shi” translating as “should die”) invaded, how we speak two separate languages, that she actually can’t understand Chinese people speak Chinese (she understands most of it but their accent gives her goosebumps) but yes, we do speak Mandarin (with a different accent), but also speak Taiwanese, and that our characters are different, and how our culture is closer to the Japanese (only in some regards, my grandparents grew up during the Japanese occupation of Taiwan, speak Japanese fluently in addition to three other languages, and essentially admire Japanese culture), that our mannerisms and etiquette are different from the Chinese (we have it, they don’t), that Taiwan is de facto independent, that China has 1800 missiles pointed at us, that we have our own President, aboriginal tribes, that she’s part Dutch ( I am 1/32 Dutch) because my great-great-great-great-great grandfather was half Dutch and had a pointy nose and was six feet tall (which did me no good since I am 5’1”), how the Portuguese and Dutch colonized Taiwan.

But I won’t bore you with the details.

Rain

today was absolutely gorgeous, but a little cloudy as I was walking towards Sofoho to grab some food. I ended up taking just some water and as I was about to head back to my room, I noticed that the boy walking in front of me towards the door stopped outside the door. It wasn't until I opened the door did i realize that it was pouring outside. i decided to stay at sofoho for a little bit, thinking it would pass quickly. i stood under the archway to sofoho outside and watched the rain. everytime it rains, i look for rainbow, because it has always been a sign from God that everything would be okay, and I really needed some reassurance, especially after Saturday. I thought about her words, her outbursts of anger. they were like rain on a partly cloudy. sometimes you could see the rain coming, sometimes the rain was light, sometimes it poured. eventually, the rain dries up, but as i walked back, it was still lightly sprinkling. the sand and dirt near the construction area was now mud, the grass was mushy to walk through, and I had to be extra careful as to where i stepped. The cement walkway under beau turned to a dark gray. eventually the rain dries up as though it were never there, but the effects of it last forever. eventually, i will heal, but the scars stay. right after it rains, that's when the effects are the most apparent. maybe it was time for some rain, maybe i'd had too much sun. but i hate getting wet. sometimes there is no warning. sometimes ignore the weather forecast. next time, i'm wearing a raincoat, rainboots, and carrying an umbrella. i'll protect myself as best as I can, but if the rain is torrential, the kind that doesn't just fall down, but hits you from the sides, then i don't want to go outside. not for now, anyways.

Taiwanese

Chinese and Taiwanese. Some say we are one in the same. Some say we are separated by a strait. Some say we have been separated since the Qing Dynasty. Some say we only consist of 1949 rebels from China. First the Dutch, then the Portuguese, then the Japanese, then the Chinese. We have never belonged to ourselves, why should we now? Aren’t we just the race of the most recent trespassers? Don’t we all look the same? Don’t we speak the same language? Then clearly we must be the same race. Except Taiwanese don’t forget. They don’t forget White Terror, living under martial law, the 2/28 massacre, Chiang Kai-shek, the KMT snipers. They don’t forget being forbidden to speak Taiwanese in school and the difficulty of never remembering it. They don’t forget the grandma selling cigarettes on the side of the road because there were no legal, decent-paying jobs left for natives, yet was bullied by police for working, for trying to survive. They don’t forget being jailed for being economically successful or for having an education or having books burned or having children, women, and men disappear as Chiang Kai-shek and Madame Chiang relaxed in their daily baths in milk and mysteriously misplaced foreign direct investment and tax dollars into offshore Swiss bank accounts. They don’t forget the eldest of nine who studied eight hours a day in order to earn a full scholarship to the best college in the nation and then worked his way up the corporate ladder as his bank’s Chief Financial Officer was jailed. They don’t forget hearing gunshots and soldiers ransack the house while hiding beneath the kitchen sink cabinet, or watching their uncles get shot.

Fine, we’re the same. Just one question: Would you aim 1500 missiles at yourself?

Nothing Lasts Forever

My point of view is physically exactly the same as last semester. I sit beneath her silk, golden yellow, and flower patterned comforter. In the corner hangs a five dollar black-edged Target mirror, indicative of her bargain-hunting instincts. Next to it is her hanging shoe organizer. If you count down to the fifth cubby hole, you’ll see a pair of purple satin square peep-toe stilettos. The black heel is no more than 2.69 inches high and a centimeter wide, a killer shoe to both the wearer and any victim of the wearer’s kick.

We bought those in Taiwan together. She had needed a pair of formal dress shoes and of course asked me to come along. These took my breath away, but they were just a tad too big, leaving just enough space in the back of the right shoe (since my feet were different sizes) for my right heel to slip out every other step I took. I adored those shoes, but she needed them more and they actually fit her, so I let her buy them.

I was always doing stupid things like that, making these little “sacrifices” like never eating my raspberries or blackberries in my fruit bowl because she loves them, or taking care to remember silly little things like how Diane by Guster is her favorite song, or keeping the plastic cup she shaped into a flower on my windowsill to give her at graduation to prove I didn’t forget.

The shoes are still brand-new. The only wear they ever got was when I pranced around in them in her room, looking at my elongated body and arched ankle in the Target mirror, admiring my new silhouette. But that was when she loved me in the way friends love you and was my best friend, my first call when something new and exciting happened, when my world was falling apart, when I aced my calc test, when I failed my calc test, when E friendship “broke up” with her, when N hooked up with nine girls the day of WILD. But today, now, it is different. I see her once in a while instead of once a day, and I’m only hearing about this a week later.

“Do you even like him?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I’m confused.” She fiddled with the ends of her red jersey and polyester lined bath robe, not the one I bought her after searching three malls for the perfect one, which hung off her tall lamp in the corner.

“I thought you were a man-hater. And I still can’t believe you told EK first!” Increasingly, I had been demoted to second to EK. I had predicted the shift, saw it coming, and hoped it would end. I honestly thought it was another one of EK’s weeklong attachments to one friend and then she’d quickly move on to her next tissue friend---use once and throw away. But I didn’t realize she had bought the Kleenex for keeps until they decided to room together, conveniently forgetting me.

“Now I’m starting to wish I hadn’t told you.”

“E, you can’t date him out of pity.”

“But he was so happy when I said yes.”

I remember when she used to make me happy. The day after my calc exam, she handed me a box of muffins. The lid said, “Good Luck J!” The inside of the lid said “You’re a star!” The folds of the sides said “Shoot for the moon if you miss you will land among the stars.” (As an editor of her past Writing 1 papers, I can say with extreme authority that she never used commas) The flaps of the sides of the box said “I love you” in traditional characters. I have always loved her and told her so, but rarely did she ever say it back. I had grown accustomed to this and lived with the unrequited love. I got out of her bed, put on my shoes, grabbed my backpack, ready to leave.

“I love you.”

“Bye, J.”

“Bye, E.” I walked out, wanting her to say it back before the door’s latch clicked shut, hoping on the off chance that this would be one of those days where she would magically say those three words out of nowhere.

Silence.

Bgirl

so you know those crazy things that you've always wanted to try, but because you have to fit some silly stereotype or something, like if i wear floral print, i can't actually break dance or hip hop dance or want to fix cars? today, i tried bgirling, and as stupid as i probably looked, and besides the fact i probably re-sprained my ankle, i find it incredibly fun. maybe this, like lacrosse, ballet, ice-skating, gymnastics, crew, will last for a season. i think i'm either too ADHD or maybe i just haven't found that one thing in life i'm passionate about. I know i ought to pray to God about it, and i have, but it seems just odd to leave it up to God. I know i need to trust him with everything, but it's hard to just let it go, let go of the control. one day i will have a ramble on majors/minors up, but for now it is time for me to talk/sleep.