Category Archives: Holiday

Happy Independence Day!!

Fireworks start in two hours. TWO HOURS! I get to see the fantastic works and genius of Boston engineers and pyro-freaks (I use that word with all the affection in my heart). Yesterday some of the people in the camp went to the Boston Pops rehearsal concert, and it was amazing. The music was incredible on the whole, even though some of the arranging was rather questionable… Still, it was definitely worth waiting around in giant lines stretching down the Charles River and buying ridiculously overpriced food to eat.

This year will be the most patriotic year of mine in the celebration of the United States’ birthday. I’ll fight for a front-balcony spot so I can take fabulous long-exposure pictures of the fireworks. Or just to have a steady place because we all know that flash won’t work when there’s nothing for the light to bounce off of. I’m thrilled to be here in Massachusetts once again for one of the nation’s greatest celebrations. And the celebration that I usually watch on TV from the warmth of my Southwestern home.


Happy Chinese New Year

Welcome to the Year of the Tiger! It’s that time again when the Lions and Dragons come out again for dancing festivities in the street, when firecrackers hang from rooftops, when fai chun are taped to doors and walls, when lai see are given from the married people to the younger generation. Basically, I’m saying that this is the best time of the year. It’s a fresh start, a new leaf.

I wish I could be where everything is traditional. I wish I could see the calligraphy seeping through the red pages. There are so many incredible things about Chinese New Year celebrations, but because China is quickly becoming Westernized and materialistic, they are risking their culture and traditions. For those of you who have never seen even a picture of dragon dances, you are missing something. I’ve never seen one in person, but just the thought of two dragons undulating elegantly through the streets… Or a lion dance where the pants on the performers actually look like the legs of the lion, and the performers have no fear.

China should keep what she has. It’s beautiful. It’s breathtaking. And when I go during this magical time, I want to soak myself in the traditions that I’ve only barely been able to keep alive in my first-generation Chinese American heart.

Gong hai faht choy!


…and a Happy New Year (and Decade)

Emerging on the other side of the year comes a teenage girl with a new set of goals on her mind. But first, a rundown of this decade’s greatest moments.

2000: Awesome family reunion in Hong Kong where we gathered for a family photo. Er… multiple family photos. This was the year that I began wondering why in hell people would want to wear make-up. It makes a mess, and it’s so annoying. It still kind of puzzles me…. just not as much.

2001: A light almost hit me on the head and killed me with noxious gases, fumes, and broken shards. Luckily, I was only sitting two inches from the breaking point. Scary stuff. Real scary stuff.

2002: I don’t think anything really exciting happened in this year… I can’t seem to remember much from it.

2003: My first serious talking to with my best friend. Well, as serious as a fifth grader can be.

2004: Middle school and new boys to oggle at. And I sooo did just that. Hello mysterious person named after a writing utensil.

2005: I yelled at my friend, switched groups, threw a fit, estranged myself from my family as best as I could while living under the same roof. Felt quite… er… emo.

2006: Introducing my newest friend Brie! And making fun of Tibbs.

2007: Making fun of Tibbs (seems I like doing this a lot :-P). Bidding farewell to the crazy people who decided to go to the private high school that harbors more drugs and more alcoholism than my public high school. Introducing newest friend: Chloe! CJ whatever.

2008: CJ becomes my little sister and Tibbs is made my mother by a curious chain of improbable events involving a slightly gay man, a very gay man, and a very hot swimmer in a broom closet. And the family tree of friends begins. My sister graduates. I volunteer at a local hospital. (Wow that year was full). P.S. Sophomore year sucks way more than Freshman and Junior years. Oh! That reminds me, first boyfriend. That lasted about five weeks.

2009: No lovers at all. None to speak of and none that will be spoken of. Falcon Steel was epic. TPYO was epic. I did have a crush on a candy that isn’t actually from where the name suggests. I went to SSEP which was the most amazing thing of my life. JUNIOR YEAR ROCKS!!!! I closed out this past semester with the highest grade I’ve gotten in an English class since third quarter of eighth grade!!! And it’s supposed to be harder than the other classes.

There you have it. A brief, semi-emotional overview of the past decade. And incomes the new decade with new opportunities and new memories to make. New mistakes and new loves. New lives and new… well, I think I’ll stop there. The point is, we all face forward and we all must plod on forwards (unless you happen to be Merlin, in which case, sorry). Put one foot in front of the other and embrace the new stuff, because really, that’s all we can do.


And A Perfect Score to Round Out the Season

A picture perfect 120/120. 105/100. Stuff like that makes me happy. Just ridiculously, self-satisfyingly giddy. Apart from the occasional unfriendly, nasty, snarling, fang-baring day, this semester has been just that picture perfect. They say that Junior year of high school is the hardest. Either I’m not trying hard enough, or everyone’s lying to me. It’s not any more difficult than last year.

This year, I have a history teacher that I want to work for, who makes the history interesting and tells a story while he’s at it. This year, I have so much more fun in Chem than I did even last year. This year, I’ve gone on all the gigs, and managed to keep up when forced to sight-read new songs.

And I still compete. I still have friends (thought they’d drop off somewhere in the middle of doing homework and thinking about sleep). I still love life.

I tried to stick to my mid-August Belated New Year’s Resolution, and I don’t think I did such a hot job, but I still have to come up with a 2010 New Year’s Resolution List, and perhaps even one to welcome the new decade. I’m in a happy mood (the normal mood), and I want to say:

Happy Christ-nu-zaa. Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa. And any other religious celebration that is being celebrated right around now. I’ll see you all on the other side of the year.


Happy 4th!

Guess what?!

What.

It’s July Fourth!

No shit.

Well, let’s celebrate!

Eh.

YAY!

yay.

What the fuck’s wrong with you?

Excuse me?

You’re such a downer.

That’s cuz my life sucks more than a leech.

Oh. Sorry. But, did you hear? IT’S JULY FOURTH!

No shit.

Well. Suck it up cuz IT’S JULY FOURTH!

So… whatever man.

FREIHEIT!

Uh, what?

FREEDOM!

Thank God almighty, we are free at last!

That’s MLK. He lived two hundred years after the actual liberation of the States.

So? It captures the idea. BE HAPPY FOR ONCE! Forget your troubles and let alone your worries!

Fine.

*FIREWORKS!!*

HAVE A HAPPY JULY FOURTH!


Excitement with a Dash of Nerves

I’m camp-bound in a few days. And I can’t help but feel a slight twinge of nervousness. Me pongo nerviosa. You see, I’ve never been away for a month surrounded by unknown, as-of-yet faceless people. But I guess it’ll be good to get my social skills up to par. Really, I suck at talking to people. I’m too cautious about reading expressions and emotions to realize what a stuck up git I make myself out to be. Whatever though, it’s all in good humor. At least it is for me, anyway.

I don’t know how often I will be posting, probably not at all. I presume I will be utterly consumed (sorry, couldn’t avoid the rhyme… I just had to poke it with the ten-foot pole) with fun and chatter and drama and everything else that is inevitable when you stuff one hundred teens into dormitories for four weeks. All I can hope for is that I can find time for myself to maintain a clear head and to practice piano for The Competition.

It’s the one I need to win. This year is my year to claim it. I don’t care who wanders in my path; I’ll mow them down because I want to win. I need it. It’s the rush, the high I’ve been seeking that hasn’t nearly been satiated by performing on a nine-foot Hamburg handmade Steinway glossy black well-kept beautifully in tact flawless piano. That was beyond, but I didn’t get to feel the whole power of a piano hum under the subtle manipulations I have yet to master. I didn’t get to go wild with orgasmic delight as the keys responded to the every whim of my heart. I didn’t get to know that piano.

But this Competition. “The Big One,” as my best friend calls it. It’s the one. The one I will succeed beyond my wildest dreams. The One I will finally get to play at the last of the last of the last performances. The One where I get to command not only a magnificent instrument, but a whole orchestra full of them. The One where I do my piano teacher proud. The One where I get to look back and say, “yep, I was good.” The One that will tell me that when people say I am a, “fantastic pianist,” I’ll finally believe them. The One that I am going to cherish in my heart for longer than my heart will survive.

Enough of that. As of now, I am completely focused on this camp I’m going to. I’m almost completely packed (I know, I plan ahead… I’ve had my packing list going for at least two weeks; the only thing stopping me was the fact that I couldn’t locate which suitcases I was going to use). And I’m jetting out soon.

Toodles to you all devoted fans (of which I am only aware of about three or four)! I’ll be back sooner than you think. Hopefully… think slower. Please?

I less-than-three all of you! MUAH!


Chinatown, S.F.

Random stores line the streets selling knock-off designer bags, plastic wares of everything you could possibly imagine. In fact, you can find just about everything and its plastic counterpart in Chinatown. Incense plugs my nose as I descend the steep steps down into the fabrics store. The steps are red. Not dull red, the bright, festive red associated with the cloth my grandfather hung in his house when my aunt got married… well, not really associated with that cloth, seeing as it was for a whore-house, but you get the deepness and brightness of the red, right? Maybe?

It’s exactly like being in Hong Kong again, except it’s marginally cleaner. It doesn’t smell of putrid sweat. Instead, it smells of dried medicines, fresh vegetables, and an assortment of odd items. Such as (mind you, this is a direct translation from Cantonese, so if you went there and asked for it, you’d probably get a whole bunch of confused faces… though that may be a result of limited understanding of English) Salty Fish. “It smells like… … It smells.” I don’t remember what TV show that’s from, but I remember it and it describes with incredible accuracy. Then there’s the distinct scent of dried oysters. I must admit, it smells okay in small, dispersed quantities. Have you ever passed a giant bucket of the stuff? You might as well shove a few up your nose while you’re at it.

I experienced one of my favorite Chinese vegetables. It’s called Oong Choy and it has a hole in the middle of the stalk/trunk. Apparently it got banned in Arizona because there’s bugs and dirt in the hole and supposedly no one washes or cooks their veggies before they eat them. Plus, it’s usually just Asians who eat Oong Choy… and we wash and clean and cook our veggies.

But the best thing is the parking garage across the street from the black box, aka the Police Station (I know this because I made the fantastic comment, “Wow, there are a lot of police cars here.” Well, duh, that’s a Police Station). At every parking spot, there is a fortune printed. And as far as I could tell from the five I read, they’re all different!

The best one (again of the five I read on Level 3B):
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Summer

At first, I was sad that it would be Summer and no one to hang out with for three months. I was sad because I would miss being around all the people I love. No more fun memories of studying for Chemistry tests in Steel. No more teaching my lab partner math in Chemistry, and no more teaching him Chemistry in Chemistry. No more marathon math review sessions that turn into venting time that turn into making personal quizzes on Facebook.

Be happy because I am no longer sad. I am relieved. There’s a giant weight that has been sitting on my shoulders for the last three months. It no longer exists. It’s gone. I don’t have to deal with stupid people anymore (many of which happen to be friends). I don’t have to deal with nonsensical angrifiers. I don’t live day to day wondering what’s due. All I have left is a stupid Pre-Calc test tomorrow morning for four fucking hours. That’s the last of school I’ll be seeing until August rolls around.

I get to focus on piano for a competition on Saturday then one in September. I get to leave Tucson for a month. I get to be away from the shit that has been piling up. I know it’ll still be here like an unsightly wart when I get back, but a solid month away from it all will be such a relief. It’s already disappearing in the aftermath of a… party (insert whatever adjective you want) and a good many realizations from over the past three months I haven’t had time to acknowledge yet.

I can honestly say that this is the first Summer I have been so excited for. The first. Even more so than I was after Eighth Grade.

It’s left me to ponder a question about drama. Why is it that people who tend to denounce drama seem to stir it up all the time?

I’ve been running in circles faster than I have about that one probability problem. I’d say the answer to that problem has 0 probability of being right. But that’s just me.


Miami-Globe

I have never been so depressed by a downtown in my life. The buildings stood, once-proud, now peeling. Beauty had not graced its face as the mining industry fell and the economy slumped in the seventies. Boarded up windows and doors on the second floor whispered a quiet desperation as we walked on the sidewalk breathing in the silent air of a warm Saturday afternoon. I’ve never seen a town so tired and worn-out.

Bisbee and Tombstone don’t compare at all. Bisbee is a tourist attraction, it’s built to please the eye and hide the end of the mining age. Tombstone just doesn’t have anything in it.

But Miami-Globe. The history shoves its face at you, unashamed of what has become of a once-booming city of seventeen thousand. The antique shops that line the Main Street are virtually the only attraction there with catchy phrases printed on plain white printer paper and posted in the window.

I can’t quite place my finger on what this city made me feel. It reminded me of the town in Big Fish with the “softest grass you’ll never need your shoes again.” The silence was deafening as a few people walked the streets and still fewer drove by.

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Greer, AZ

Rodeo Break hasn’t been this much fun in a really long time. I can’t even remember what I did last year. Probably sat around at home waiting for someone to decide to come back home so he or she could make me happy.

But this year. I went with Tibbs’ and Tibbs’ brother’s friend’s family to Greer, AZ, about an hour out of Pinetop and thirty minutes from Sunrise Ski Resort. And yes, I did ski. But we’ll get to that later. I have to tell you the story from the beginning.

Thursday morning, we were going to start at about seven in the morning, except seven got pushed to seven thirty which got pushed to eight which ended up at eight thirty once Tibbs’ & Co. got their McDonald’s coffees. The first bit was spent alternating between talking, listening to music, and sleeping. That is, until we came upon a little tourist scenic sight where the river rushed and the wind blew (exactly like it’s supposed to. I know, radical these things of nature eh?). I took the first amazing picture of Tibbs that anyone has ever taken of her since the beginning of time as she walked towards my spot on the rock hanging over the edge of the murky brown water. If the parentals had been there, I probably would have been airlifted away from the “danger.” Apparently, they still live under the strange illusion that I don’t know how to keep from falling a cliff.

The momentary thrill ended to be greeted by another epic two hours in the car. I played Tetris (in vain attempt at beating level 4). And looked out the window at the wonderful, never-changing scenery of trees. At least the trees were actual trees versus the stick things that try to pass for trees here. Then, we got a flat tire. It was a good thing though, Tibbs and I played in the snow like little children who had finally set foot in that toy store they had been eyeing. I took another epic, prize-winning picture of her. And she promptly stole my camera to take about twenty pictures of the trees.

Friday, we went skiing…if you can count getting down a mountain that would take a normal person about thirty minutes tops to get down and managing to complete it in one hour “skiing.” As expected, I spent a wild amount of time on my ass, and trying my best not to cuss out the seventh graders (who have yet to realize that virtually everything they said at dinner would make the best “that’s what she said” jokes).

It was difficult to slide slowly down a mountain when the snow is not snow and the right glut is sore. I know, you’re supposed to switch weight from leg to leg, but it’s awfully difficult when you don’t trust your left leg at all. I swear, I’m going to end up with a big fat right quad and a wimpy little left quad (not to mention the uneven buttocks). But totally worth it.

That night, we ate dinner over at Tibbs’ brother’s friend’s family’s massive cabin (who poorly used the space provided with sticking a hallway in a bathroom… who needs a hallway inside the bathroom?). We played Cranium. Which sort of failed except that I successfully spelled “statistics” backwards on the first try.

Tibbs and I stayed up until one watching 27 Dresses and talking. People do that sometimes… talk. It’s a strange, foreign thing.

This morning, we went hiking/snow-shoeing on the faux trail at the end of the road. Someone had stolen the cow and put it by the river/creek/crick. We had a massive snowball fight in which I successfully hit someone twice (and was successfully hit at least four times, sure, hit the person trying to document the good times why don’t you?). I took fantabulous pictures of the icicles forming on the underside of logs.

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