She was tempted to saturate her thoughts with pointless truisms and clichés lest she become unable to justify the underlying current and motif behind her current mood. A mood seeming all too consubstantial with the gray clouds lingering outside her bedroom window. As a result of back/forth messaging and e-mails, she took a moment to browse through the perused pages of her outdated photo albums, and immediately felt a profound sense of loss while staring at the faces of these people who, at one point, she thought she could never live without.
Looking out into the distance, she softly whispered, “Where had our friendship gone? It simply couldn’t have evaporated into insignificance, could it?”
These faces were that of friends with whom she enveloped a full-on drowning commitment. Faces that were there in moments where she chose to abandon rationale and live strictly on her adolescent 14-15-16-17 year old impulse. Faces that smiled at her when she fell unsteady and played on a deadly edge of heightened emotion. Her best friends saw all of her faces; all of her idiosyncrasies, insecurities, daydreams, and inconsistencies.
Richard, Justin, IJ, Diana, Araceli, Wanda (Big Girl): Even if today we roam streets with new best friends, there will always be space for all of you in my heart. So please mind that while our friendships often dwell in limbo for far too long before we all find time in our schedules to reunite, real friendships outlive all clocks. We were closest when material things meant little to us. We were just glad to be alive, healthy, and popular.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Autumn
I can sense a turning tide in the rusting of bright leaves. The sober satisfaction spread across my face upon the sound of my foot snapping them in halves. Does this mark an end? Or a beginning?
Many insist on eking summer days & nights. They feel as though with coming breeze, comes dullness of color and staleness of air. I disagree. I say embrace the coming seasons akin to the ways in which we embrace the idea of a coming day. How can the color of crackling leaves be dull? The orange and browns that remind us of the setting sun. How can the color of fresh fallen snow be dull? A white so luminous, vibrant, innocent, and untainted. How can the air be stale when it’s the same breeze that sweeps your lover’s hair across her face. The same wind the blows afar your doubts about yesteryear and the mistakes of five minutes ago. Embrace change. Embrace the seasons to come, and the colors that make it stand out so. It’s one of God’s greatest majesties.
And with this warm embrace, so too you grasp the seasons of your life. God’s greatest majesty of all.
Many insist on eking summer days & nights. They feel as though with coming breeze, comes dullness of color and staleness of air. I disagree. I say embrace the coming seasons akin to the ways in which we embrace the idea of a coming day. How can the color of crackling leaves be dull? The orange and browns that remind us of the setting sun. How can the color of fresh fallen snow be dull? A white so luminous, vibrant, innocent, and untainted. How can the air be stale when it’s the same breeze that sweeps your lover’s hair across her face. The same wind the blows afar your doubts about yesteryear and the mistakes of five minutes ago. Embrace change. Embrace the seasons to come, and the colors that make it stand out so. It’s one of God’s greatest majesties.
And with this warm embrace, so too you grasp the seasons of your life. God’s greatest majesty of all.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Moved
I am moved by many things. At the risk of sounding corny (and psychotic), I find it almost soothing to admit that I often catch myself in tears. Not the kind of cry that leaves you breathless and dehydrated, but the cry that induces blurry vision for a few seconds ~ before you tilt your head back and blink away any proof of being moved. Sometimes I am moved in a good way, but not always.
Helen once told me how strong she thought I was. How I am able to put into words exactly how I feel (and sometimes how she feels), accept it, and move on. Such strength has come with growth. With maturation, I have allowed myself to shed insecurities inherited from a youthful version of myself. I have imbibed a loving gaze upon the scars of my mistakes, and have allowed myself to turn the page. I am always eager to give myself peace of mind lest I be one to hurt.
But I cannot always be so strong (though I dared not remind her of this, and all of the times she has seen me in tears, face buried in pillow, body covered by sheets). Sometimes I cannot put into words what I feel, sometimes I am speechless, and sometimes I refuse to accept what is real. I am fragile, impatient, stubborn, and vulnerable (not only to my own passing whims, but those of others as well), characteristics inherent to my own individual composition.
And during these moments when I do not consider myself to be as strong as I can be, I am moved. My body physically refuses to hold back, and becomes willing to divulge the blended emotions that run through my mind in the form of translucent liquid ~ seeping through the corners of my eyes. You’d never know it. I hide it well.
Helen once told me how strong she thought I was. How I am able to put into words exactly how I feel (and sometimes how she feels), accept it, and move on. Such strength has come with growth. With maturation, I have allowed myself to shed insecurities inherited from a youthful version of myself. I have imbibed a loving gaze upon the scars of my mistakes, and have allowed myself to turn the page. I am always eager to give myself peace of mind lest I be one to hurt.
But I cannot always be so strong (though I dared not remind her of this, and all of the times she has seen me in tears, face buried in pillow, body covered by sheets). Sometimes I cannot put into words what I feel, sometimes I am speechless, and sometimes I refuse to accept what is real. I am fragile, impatient, stubborn, and vulnerable (not only to my own passing whims, but those of others as well), characteristics inherent to my own individual composition.
And during these moments when I do not consider myself to be as strong as I can be, I am moved. My body physically refuses to hold back, and becomes willing to divulge the blended emotions that run through my mind in the form of translucent liquid ~ seeping through the corners of my eyes. You’d never know it. I hide it well.
Friday, October 7, 2005
Happy Birthday Mommy!
Happy Birthday Mum! My mother is my rock & is the kindest person I'll ever come to know. I am so blessed to have lived inside her stomach once upon a time. Haha. I love you.
Photo: Mom, Me, Paul
Photo: Mom, Me, Paul
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
LACMA
For months now, I've been itching to visit the King Tut exhibit at LACMA. After countless, "no thanks Rowena, not my thing," replies from friends I've invited to share this experience, I finally said 'screw it' and made the 1+ hour drive out to Wilshire yesterday morn'.
I paid $22 and wasn't very impressed. While the thought of "wow he held that staff" entertained me for a few seconds, I've seen Egyptian relics that have tickled my fancy on a much greater level. The exhibit itself wasn't very big. There were way too many people pushing, smacking their lips, and begging their children to 'please stop crying'! While the structure of the exhibit meant to force the flow of paying visitors through the rooms swiftly, I found the placement of certain artifacts to be quite haphazard. It was way too crowded.
I probably would have been more impressed had I not seen Mummy: The Inside Story just last year. Now THAT was a good exhibit. For £4 (??), I watched a 3D film, saw more than one royal coffin, and was able to view a plethora of Egyptian relics. Sure, viewing King Tut's bling was a cool and new experience, but overall, the exhibit was so-so.
I spent the next three hours walking around LACMA east, visiting permanent exhibits and other temporary ones like Japan goes to the World's Fairs (boooring) and Renzo Piano and Building Workshop: Selected Projects (super impressive! highly recommend. Ends in 5 days!). The European portraits, nostalgia! The Korean gallery, nostalgia!
Photo: Contemporary art gallery.
Photo: Freakin awesome 3D model.
I paid $22 and wasn't very impressed. While the thought of "wow he held that staff" entertained me for a few seconds, I've seen Egyptian relics that have tickled my fancy on a much greater level. The exhibit itself wasn't very big. There were way too many people pushing, smacking their lips, and begging their children to 'please stop crying'! While the structure of the exhibit meant to force the flow of paying visitors through the rooms swiftly, I found the placement of certain artifacts to be quite haphazard. It was way too crowded.
I probably would have been more impressed had I not seen Mummy: The Inside Story just last year. Now THAT was a good exhibit. For £4 (??), I watched a 3D film, saw more than one royal coffin, and was able to view a plethora of Egyptian relics. Sure, viewing King Tut's bling was a cool and new experience, but overall, the exhibit was so-so.
I spent the next three hours walking around LACMA east, visiting permanent exhibits and other temporary ones like Japan goes to the World's Fairs (boooring) and Renzo Piano and Building Workshop: Selected Projects (super impressive! highly recommend. Ends in 5 days!). The European portraits, nostalgia! The Korean gallery, nostalgia!
Photo: Contemporary art gallery.
Photo: Freakin awesome 3D model.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Sleepless in San Bernardino
True to form on a sleepless night, I’ve been dissecting every fine detail of my life ~ and I’ve come to conclude that as I am nearing the ripe old age of 23 (sarcasm), I have been so fortunate that my proverbial-world-crashing experiences do not extend beyond things that I can overcome with passing time. I am extremely fortunate. Upon these epiphanies emerging in the wake of recent events, I find myself humbled (and a bit weathered) ~ knocked off of my high horse and brought down to earth a bit wiser. I am a better person in spite of it all.
Tree of Life
Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. (Proverbs 13:12)
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Imperfect
People are too ashamed to deal with the fact that during their stay here on earth, they’ve fkd up a few times. We screw. We get screwed over. We lie, cheat, and get our asses kicked by karma; but to discredit our past by not appreciating it, bullocks!
1-2 Step
Step 1: Fall into a genuine-shake-you-to-the-core kind of love.
Step 2: Love like you’ve never been hurt before.
Step 2: Love like you’ve never been hurt before.
Turning Tides
Society frowns upon the idea of compromising who we are in order to please our [potential] partners, and simultaneously applauds the phrase “she makes me strive to be a better man”? Is it not the same thing? Is not “wanting to be better” a form of change, of self-negotiation? We are a public filled with hypocritical cynics.
Who’s to say that the tide you’ve turned isn’t what’s best for you?
Who’s to say that the tide you’ve turned isn’t what’s best for you?
Thursday, September 8, 2005
Look Back
Society is wickedly bent out of shape with its hyped up ideals about ‘letting go’! While I concede that it’s quite irrelevant to dwell on an entity that cannot be changed, it’s perfectly okay to think/talk/laugh about it! Why must we be so eager to ‘let go’ and ‘not look back’?
And how does this pertain to me? Because I haven’t been able to make peace with my [borderline mentally unhealthy] emotions ~ resulting in a guilt that has already begun to fester within me. I can only be thankful that I have enough willpower and common sense not to let said emotions drive me insane.
What I feel today, right now ~ I cannot change. These emotions are the vehicle which will move me into the person that I will be tomorrow.
And how does this pertain to me? Because I haven’t been able to make peace with my [borderline mentally unhealthy] emotions ~ resulting in a guilt that has already begun to fester within me. I can only be thankful that I have enough willpower and common sense not to let said emotions drive me insane.
What I feel today, right now ~ I cannot change. These emotions are the vehicle which will move me into the person that I will be tomorrow.
Friday, September 2, 2005
"So you left your job?"
“What’s next for you?”
*CUE DEFENING SILENCE NOW*
Soul searching is my natural modus operandi. I’m never afraid to analyze or admit to anything. I never pretend to reflect the state of the average 22 year old woman, and have enough self security to state that I am not the mirror image of a contemporary alpha female.
So when faced with the above-question (on more than one occasion within the recent days might I add), how is it that I still can’t bring myself to say “I’m not exactly sure” without feeling as though my self worth is in a steep decline and downward trajectory?
I’m doing it all with gusto – moving forward and trying to have fun in the process. But still, there’s a vast and black-hole infested gap between spending my time wisely and spending my time wisely and getting paid ish-loads of greenbacks!
I remain optimistic. All I can do is send out a gajillion copies of my resume in hopes that a great company is in need of a sleep deprived college grad who speaks broken Tagalog. I found a great listing in the Times the other day ~ unfortunately, I do not speak fluent Hebrew. Damn.
In terms of job-seeking, I am committing the equivalent of The Full Monty starting tomorrow. I mean, I’m gonna be no-holds-barred man. So to the club of early-twenty-sum Asian American professionals, pull a chair out for Rowena ~ because here the ---- I come.
*CUE DEFENING SILENCE NOW*
Soul searching is my natural modus operandi. I’m never afraid to analyze or admit to anything. I never pretend to reflect the state of the average 22 year old woman, and have enough self security to state that I am not the mirror image of a contemporary alpha female.
So when faced with the above-question (on more than one occasion within the recent days might I add), how is it that I still can’t bring myself to say “I’m not exactly sure” without feeling as though my self worth is in a steep decline and downward trajectory?
I’m doing it all with gusto – moving forward and trying to have fun in the process. But still, there’s a vast and black-hole infested gap between spending my time wisely and spending my time wisely and getting paid ish-loads of greenbacks!
I remain optimistic. All I can do is send out a gajillion copies of my resume in hopes that a great company is in need of a sleep deprived college grad who speaks broken Tagalog. I found a great listing in the Times the other day ~ unfortunately, I do not speak fluent Hebrew. Damn.
In terms of job-seeking, I am committing the equivalent of The Full Monty starting tomorrow. I mean, I’m gonna be no-holds-barred man. So to the club of early-twenty-sum Asian American professionals, pull a chair out for Rowena ~ because here the ---- I come.
Monday, August 29, 2005
I Didn't Wanna Have To
With a slue of worldly experiences, it’s quite peculiar that I still haven’t mastered the art of moving beyond my physical attachments.
I’ve been sitting here for minutes mentally debating on whether or not I was going to write about London ~ and how it’s been one year. Even now, as I start to write about my thoughts on the experience, I feel a bit guilty that I’m making you read about it all over again.
In typical Rowena fashion, I’d make a top 10 list of my favorite Euro-memories, accompanied by my top 10 favorite Euro-photos. But since my experience there was frickin lovely without say, I’m going to write about Will instead.
London was straddling a cold October night, and the three of us piled on layers of clothing and winter accessories to make the five minute walk to the children’s hospital behind our flat. We washed our hands, took a deep breath, and there he was ~ Will Shin ~ so tiny and half asleep. As small as he was, he intimidated me ~ so fragile, so untouchable. So I lightly brushed his face and arm, and even sang to him a bit. Yeah, I cried. How could I not? He was premature and fighting for his life. It was then I realized the strong soul in Will, because even though all he did was lie there in his bed, he had the power to make me forget that my heart had been shamed just days before.
The story has a happy ending. Will and company are moving to America on Wednesday. I owe this post to him because I just finished reading Phil’s (Sandy’s brother and Will’s dad) post about saying goodbye to London ~ and well, what can I say, it struck a cord.
The #1 thing I learned was… to take way too many pictures.
Photo: Norma, Helen, and I leaving Cambridge.
I’ve been sitting here for minutes mentally debating on whether or not I was going to write about London ~ and how it’s been one year. Even now, as I start to write about my thoughts on the experience, I feel a bit guilty that I’m making you read about it all over again.
In typical Rowena fashion, I’d make a top 10 list of my favorite Euro-memories, accompanied by my top 10 favorite Euro-photos. But since my experience there was frickin lovely without say, I’m going to write about Will instead.
London was straddling a cold October night, and the three of us piled on layers of clothing and winter accessories to make the five minute walk to the children’s hospital behind our flat. We washed our hands, took a deep breath, and there he was ~ Will Shin ~ so tiny and half asleep. As small as he was, he intimidated me ~ so fragile, so untouchable. So I lightly brushed his face and arm, and even sang to him a bit. Yeah, I cried. How could I not? He was premature and fighting for his life. It was then I realized the strong soul in Will, because even though all he did was lie there in his bed, he had the power to make me forget that my heart had been shamed just days before.
The story has a happy ending. Will and company are moving to America on Wednesday. I owe this post to him because I just finished reading Phil’s (Sandy’s brother and Will’s dad) post about saying goodbye to London ~ and well, what can I say, it struck a cord.
The #1 thing I learned was… to take way too many pictures.
Photo: Norma, Helen, and I leaving Cambridge.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Coldplay Owns Me
Photo: If you squint one eye and widen the other...
As expected, Chris Martin was bloody genius. Being in the same venue with the bloke was surreal! Irvine Meadows isn’t a big venue to begin with, so regardless of our boondawg lawn seats, I could still make out the cute, adorable, want-to-put-him-in-my-pocket lead singer.
They were unbelievable live! And when the first several notes of 'In My Place' (my favorite Coldplay song) projected through those loud speakers, a slue of unforgettable memories came bellowing back.
Twas great to hear a British accent again! Best birthday present. Thanks Darryl.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Intercultural Programming
Not to delve into my personal life (again), but recent events forced the wheels in my head to burn rubber all day. I met someone last night. No one special, just someone who’s eyes caught mine across the room. Although we hit it off right away, a more sober version of myself had different thoughts on the entire night come this morning. Overhearing him chatting with my girlfriend about their cultural commonalities (they are both the same ethnicity) made me wonder ~ can two people who are mildly attracted to one another really look past the ethnic differences that are a common encouragement for other people to date within their own race (when both individuals are extremely passionate about their own cultures)?
The idea of interracial coupling is becoming extremely paradoxical. Granted, the idea of one person who is willing to look past everything he doesn’t understand about you is quite enchanting. On the other hand, it would be so much easier to date someone who doesn't think eating rice for breakfast is weird.
I’ve never dated a Filipino before. I’m naturally accepting of the hybrid of two cultures (I love me them white boys). Isn’t it beautiful? In fact, interracial relationships are not at all the issue here. A more appropriate term to label this quandary would be intercultural relationships. It’s hard to compromise with someone who is super-dooper pro “his culture”. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this. But it gets to the point where you cross your heart and hope to bjeezus that his pride doesn’t make you cringe. Pride is good, but too much is just that ~ too much.
It’s a really scary thought isn’t it? All our lives we are taught to be proud of who we are, and accepting of others at the same time. Sounds easy, right? I used to talk to someone who is the same race as this guy and it was so much easier because he didn’t always talk about “his culture”. It's an unfair comparison (I know) because one night with this bloke really didn't give me a chance to learn a lot about him. But still...
For egotistical purposes (and peace of mind), I’m really glad I’m the one whose number he wanted. My decision on whether or not I want this great looking guy to actually call me is still pending. The whole ‘cultural’ mumbo-jumbo was a bit of a turn-off. (UPDATE* he ended up being totally lame.) Anyway, here’s to hoping that the next few years go by relatively slowly. I’m going to soak in every last drop of my fertile youth before it is stolen by a future relationship.
UPDATE* I'm reminded of my Korean guy friend in Riverside who, while madly head over heals for his Filipino girlfriend, says that at the end of the day, he'll end up with a Korean girl. I guess I understand, but am very perplexed... what happened to love conquers all?
The idea of interracial coupling is becoming extremely paradoxical. Granted, the idea of one person who is willing to look past everything he doesn’t understand about you is quite enchanting. On the other hand, it would be so much easier to date someone who doesn't think eating rice for breakfast is weird.
I’ve never dated a Filipino before. I’m naturally accepting of the hybrid of two cultures (I love me them white boys). Isn’t it beautiful? In fact, interracial relationships are not at all the issue here. A more appropriate term to label this quandary would be intercultural relationships. It’s hard to compromise with someone who is super-dooper pro “his culture”. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this. But it gets to the point where you cross your heart and hope to bjeezus that his pride doesn’t make you cringe. Pride is good, but too much is just that ~ too much.
It’s a really scary thought isn’t it? All our lives we are taught to be proud of who we are, and accepting of others at the same time. Sounds easy, right? I used to talk to someone who is the same race as this guy and it was so much easier because he didn’t always talk about “his culture”. It's an unfair comparison (I know) because one night with this bloke really didn't give me a chance to learn a lot about him. But still...
For egotistical purposes (and peace of mind), I’m really glad I’m the one whose number he wanted. My decision on whether or not I want this great looking guy to actually call me is still pending. The whole ‘cultural’ mumbo-jumbo was a bit of a turn-off. (UPDATE* he ended up being totally lame.) Anyway, here’s to hoping that the next few years go by relatively slowly. I’m going to soak in every last drop of my fertile youth before it is stolen by a future relationship.
UPDATE* I'm reminded of my Korean guy friend in Riverside who, while madly head over heals for his Filipino girlfriend, says that at the end of the day, he'll end up with a Korean girl. I guess I understand, but am very perplexed... what happened to love conquers all?
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Happy Birthday Daddy!
Photo: My dad and I, this time last year.
Mom, Paul, and I drove out to Glendale to surprise dad at his office. The look on his face was priceless! He was so proud to have the entire family unit present, and he made this evident by walking us past each office/cubicle in the building, & introducing/re-introducing us to his coworkers. I haven't been back to Glendale in nearly 16 years (and I'm amazed that dad makes that journey to and fro each day), so you can only imagine how elated and nostalgic the experience must have been for me. We drove past our old elementary school and condo. I started to tear at the thought of micro Ro running up and down that long hall and penetrating that grass! Micro Paul got his used-to-be-fatass stuck between the concrete floor and metal gate that led into the parking structure whilst in an 'all fours' position. Oh my brother. It was an amazing trip down memory lane.
I love you dad.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
DHT – Listen to Your Heart
I am embarrassed that I allowed my high expectations to lead to such a high degree of widespread confusion and disappointment, turning an otherwise cool and collected young woman into an insecure and unsure little girl. How can one who seemed so perfect to me not so long ago, quickly transform into a coward seeking refuge in the miles that separate us? While I hate to admit it, I’ve been warily negotiating my feelings within the recent weeks, and have tried hard to look at this situation with understanding and acceptance. At the end of the day, I long for something to be angry at ~ to make this already prolonged process pass by a bit more smoothly. I can’t find a reason to be angry, for with the exception of this one thing, I have a harmonious and satisfying blend of family, social life, and the excitement of starting a career.
It takes more than playful messages that become widespread in timing with each passing month. Inconsistent intervals of thoughtful e-mails that feed a dying a hope for a hopeful woman aren’t cutting it anymore. Making plans and bailing out are cowardly. It’s just so difficult to look back and recall how kind and tender you’ve been ~ even if at times I made horrible decisions that may have knocked things off center. You are so giving, willing, unbelievably smart, and so very kind, so very kind. That’s what kills me.
It takes more than playful messages that become widespread in timing with each passing month. Inconsistent intervals of thoughtful e-mails that feed a dying a hope for a hopeful woman aren’t cutting it anymore. Making plans and bailing out are cowardly. It’s just so difficult to look back and recall how kind and tender you’ve been ~ even if at times I made horrible decisions that may have knocked things off center. You are so giving, willing, unbelievably smart, and so very kind, so very kind. That’s what kills me.
Sunday, August 7, 2005
Napa 29
We b'dazzled ourselves and made reservations at Napa 29 to celebrate Heather and Johnny's hush-hush wedding. Napa 29 is a quaint, posh, and really expensive eatery in the Riverside/Corona area. The $30 meal + wine was well worth it. Check out my egg plant tower! Awwweee yeeeaa!
Photo: Gabi, Ro, and red red wine.
Photo: Amazing eggplant dish.
Photo: Gabi, Ro, and red red wine.
Photo: Amazing eggplant dish.
Monday, August 1, 2005
23 Days Left of Being 21
A book I read last week listed several aphorisms. The one I liked the most was:
‘Don’t let go too soon. Don’t hang on too long.’
I need to part with my thoughts for a while and let the cosmos re-align. Maybe then will my mind be clear of things that I’ve had a hard time phasing out.
In other news. It's August! Not only will I turn 22 this month, and part ways with my job at ISC, but I'm also going to see Coldplay live! Chris Martin, love him. Any man who can play the piano can easily finesse his way into my heart. He wrote "Fix You" (off of the album X&Y) for his wifey Gwyneth Paltrow, and it flat out takes my breath away. Pure genius.
[In terms of leaving the above mentioned job, and finding a new one...] I think that deep down inside, I’m holding my breath for something great to happen to me. Like that great wind to sweep me off into the right direction, wherever that may be. I’m at this stand still where I have to make a decision, and quick. But I have this eerie feeling inside of me that says – I’m not ready.
‘Don’t let go too soon. Don’t hang on too long.’
I need to part with my thoughts for a while and let the cosmos re-align. Maybe then will my mind be clear of things that I’ve had a hard time phasing out.
In other news. It's August! Not only will I turn 22 this month, and part ways with my job at ISC, but I'm also going to see Coldplay live! Chris Martin, love him. Any man who can play the piano can easily finesse his way into my heart. He wrote "Fix You" (off of the album X&Y) for his wifey Gwyneth Paltrow, and it flat out takes my breath away. Pure genius.
[In terms of leaving the above mentioned job, and finding a new one...] I think that deep down inside, I’m holding my breath for something great to happen to me. Like that great wind to sweep me off into the right direction, wherever that may be. I’m at this stand still where I have to make a decision, and quick. But I have this eerie feeling inside of me that says – I’m not ready.
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