I thought I had outgrown the years when I jotted the words "what it means to be me" in my head followed by confused shouts
But here I've been pushed out of my comfort zone, what a cliche, just like being called a banana, a twinkie, an ABC
The last name the most painful because, somewhere 18 years ago, in a city I don't remember, wandered a younger version of myself
One that didn't know suburbs or Spice Girls or smoked salmon and cream cheese on a whole wheat bagel, lightly toasted
Now I am confronted with the pathetic sum of my parts, at once Chinese and not, at once American and not
After spending so many years trying to fit in, I fool even the most native native — no one in New York mistakes me for a stranger from another land
Here, if I don't speak or move or breathe, maybe I pass but mostly I don't
Although I speak Chinese as much as I can muster and I keep my ears open and my mouth filled with questions
Still you turn to me and say, sometimes aloud but mostly with your eyes, you're so alien to me, a mockery and a fake
Why put myself through this? Who am I trying to impress? What am I trying to prove? What does it mean to be me?
All these questions, and I, the halfling, cannot find answers in either tongue

I had a really shitty day. And a really shitty day in my current line of work is really really shitty.

I crave quiet and sleep.

In Autumn, when the winds move fiercely across the ocean, when we press our fingers against the glass, again and again, marveling at how cold it feels,
I wonder if you understand that the rains have stopped and that we will no longer sit with fingers interlaced, shoulder to shoulder, watching the neon street signs flicker on, one by one
Long I have sought for another patient traveler, one that could understand the reason for my patience and the urgency of my search
Here again I find myself turning away, towards the wind, waiting for the right moment to close my eyes and get carried away

In Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino leads the reader through city after city — startling and familiar, languid and rapid, beautiful breathless gasps and solid looming moments. Another summer, another city — every year I find myself, all of a sudden, living and becoming a part of another city's fabric. Three years ago, New York; two, Beijing; one, Glasgow; now, Hong Kong. The initial rites, our courtship dance, have now become somewhat routine; upon arrival, I look for the nearest bank, convenience store, grocery, and pub/bar. Next, I learn the public transportation system whilst regretting the huge scads of cash I'm unloading onto the city's taxi drivers. After a while, I venture out of my immediate surroundings to explore far-away corners of the city. Finally, one morning, I wake up an outsider no more; unfortunately it is usually at or around this moment that I usually have to leave.

Calvino later tenderly reveals that, in every new city, his ever-roving protagonist looks not for things that are new, but rather things that remind him of the old. And so, as I have a favorite Chinese restaurant and local watering hole in New York, so I look for these in each new city. Other aspects do not have such obvious counterparts; thus, as certain things/places/moments in New York fill me with a gladness for life, so I find these in each new metropolis.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this entry. It occurred to me, as I was exploring the area around my hotel this afternoon, that in every city, I look for myself anew. I'm not sure if my search will be (or has been) fruitful but I'm not letting that thought bother me.

I got home at a relatively reasonable hour today (10:30PM) and decided to do all the things I had been putting off since my work (and increased pace of life) started. These included: folding my clothes, plucking my eyebrows, doing aerobic and weightlifting exercise in the gym, speaking with Jacob and my parents, and posting on LJ. All in all, I would say that I've pretty successfully used up my unexpected chunk of free time.

Work is long and challenging — but I wasn't really expecting anything different so I'm not going to complain. On the bright side, my fellow interns are mostly Chinese, born and raised, and therefore are updating my vocabulary with slang, proverbs, idioms, etc. Our lively chatter keeps me from getting too depressed about staying in an office from 8:30AM until whenever I finish.

In terms of exploring Hong Kong, I've only had a few opportunities to plan my own activities. During those times, I've opted to either: a) sleep or b) shop for necessities. Needless to say, I haven't become familiar with most of Hong Kong (other than the route from my hotel to the office and back) but I'm hoping I'll find creative ways to get out more.

This morning a Signal no. 8 Typhoon (meaning pretty severe) landed in Hong Kong. Work was briefly canceled because all public transportation had ceased. Then, two hours later, the Hong Kong Weather Observatory demoted the Signal from 8 down to 3 and back to work I went. Still, despite arriving at work 2 hours late, I left at a reasonable time and had a pretty manageable day. I hope tomorrow is like today.

I arrived last night, local time, at Hong Kong International Airport after a long and rather relaxing (other than my panicking over the ominous-sounding "Deep Vein Thrombosis" syndrome that was featured in this month's Continental magazine) 15.5-hour trek from Newark. I finally got around to seeing Mary Poppins, It's A Wonderful Life, and a few Bollywood flicks as well as test out my brand-spanking-new neck pillow (the verdict: eh, could have done without it).

Upon arrival, my jetlagged and weary body somehow made its way into the interminable (get it? it's ironic because it's in a Terminal) Customs line and then, once through, to the Baggage Claim. Thankfully, my black/silver/red check-in is quite recognizable and, soon as it came onto the spinning baggage wheel, I sighted it and hunted it down. As I neared the exit, I felt kind of nervous because I was currently in a foreign airport a good hour's drive from the City Central (where I'm living and working) and had only a faint idea of how to get there. Imagine how relieved I was to see my Dad waving enthusiastically on the other side of those double doors!

Apparently, my Dad had arrived in Hong Kong on an earlier flight, and my cousin + parents had come in on another flight. We piled our assorted luggage and selves into a van and made our way into Hong Kong proper.

After dropping off my bags at the Island Pacific Hotel (where Deutsche has placed me — thank you Deutsche!), we made our way towards the Causeway Bay where delicious foods could be found (yes yes!). Dinner was an extravagant affair — 9 dishes and red wine and Xiaolong bao — and my relatives must have wondered why I chewed so slowly and stared so dreamily at the spread before me. I haven't eaten so well in months! Although New York has every cuisine imaginable — no one can beat China at Chinese food (no, duh, you think. well, bear with me).

Upon returning to my room, I realized that I hadn't slept for a long time and that I was feeling the effects of the red wine. Thus I made my way to my (delicious, wonderful, unimaginably huge compared with my dorm beds) double-twin bed and slept until about 4:30AM (oh sweet jet lag).

Work starts Monday morning — will try to keep you posted on what happens there/then!

Everytime I reach this juncture where I feel, I don't know, so overwhelmed by stress or so adrift in my own issues (rather than grounded in realizations of the pain of others), I suddenly remember the secret weapon, the silver bullet, the panacea — a good song.

Although I couldn't sleep well last night because I'm leaving today for Hong Kong and my stomach is doing flips while my head is running through worst-case scenarios, I woke up with a positive mood because I knew that, here at the breakfast table, I would have oatmeal, good music, and time to reflect.

The song I'm listening to now — Priscilla Ahn: A Good Day (Morning Song) — really sets me up for a great day. Have a listen here!

It hurts just as much as it hurt last time. You'd think repeated exposures to this experience would build up my immunity but, alas, I miss you just as hard as I always do.

Still no rain :/. Although the forecast for tomorrow is partly sunny and 94*F so I'm pretty psyched.

Today's prompt:

Recently NYMag did a feature on breakfast; the most interesting part about its coverage, IMHO, was the part where the roving reporter asked 100 New Yorkers at random what they had each eaten for breakfast. Although some of the breakfasts were less for champions and more for chumps (cigarettes and whiskey), it was wonderful to see that everyone had eaten/imbibed something by the time they left their house/apartment/dorm. What for you is a: 1)Good weekday breakfast, 2)Good weekend breakfast, 3)Special breakfast?

Most mornings at school, I make do with some Old-Fashioned Quaker Oats oatmeal and raisins. I used to also eat a Stonyfield Organic Low-fat Fruit-flavored Yogurt too but, alas, my fridge puttered out its last few breaths early this past semester.

For the weekend, I usually rise a bit later and then opt for a more ornate breakfast — I will usually still have my oatmeal but will also include some grapefruit juice on the side. Then there are the weekend mornings when, having woken up past noon, delivery Chinese food makes perfect sense as a breakfast option.

On those rare occasions when I brunch, it's a egg-white omelette with goat cheese and spinach, whole wheat toast with a bit of jam, grapefruit juice (fresh-squeezed!) — Mmm. On one of our most recent forays to Community Food & Juice, a downtown-y feeling brunch/lunch/dinner place on the UWS, I discovered the (Organic) Farmhouse Breakfast — 2 (free-range, organic) eggs any style, one whole-wheat + fresh butter biscuit, carrot hash, and thick rye toast — and officially found an alternative to the same-old, same-old.

We've had a string of rather gray days in Jersey — wonder when the sun will come out again?

Today's prompt:
What song (or piece) is especially significant to you and why?

During an extended weekend (thank you Scottish labor holidays) this past summer, a group of friends and I went on a brief road trip to Inverness, a town in the most Northern tip of Scotland. To sustain ourselves through the long drive, I made our car a mix CD. My friend Crystal helped me make the CD — one of her selections was "Portions for Foxes" by Rilo Kiley, a song that I had never heard. The total running time of the CD was only about 70 minutes and the entire drive, one way, took about eight hours. Needless to say, I became very familiar with the songs on that CD. This particular song resonated with me because its lyrics (I know I'm alone if I'm with or without you/but just bein' around you offers me another form of relief/When the loneliness leads to bad dreams/and the bad dreams lead me to callin' you/and I call you and say "C'MERE!") were an apt description of this past summer and the feelings I had over it. To this day, when I hear that song played, I get the same feeling of sickness and pleasure in my stomach — returning to the same emotional place that defined Scotland.

But that's another story.

I'm planning to limit this short experiment to only five days so that it doesn't lose its momentum.

Today's prompt:
Hillary has run a fierce and tenacious presidential race against Obama. Now, though Obama has secured enough superdelegates to win the nomination, Hillary still declares that, regarding whether she should concede or not, she has made "No Decision". What is something that you have always fought for/against, even though you were faced with overwhelming odds? Why?

Taking a note from Hillary's book — I have always wanted to play in a "man's world" (although calling it that is already conceding to sexism). Ever since I was little and learned about traditional Chinese culture (the idea of treasuring sons over daughters, men over women), I have been on a one-woman mission to do one better. The odds haven't been really overwhelming, thanks to the efforts of feminists past in the areas of academia and the corporate world. That being said, I look forward to encountering the glass ceiling and doing my best to make large cracks in it for others after me.

Now that my (beloved and dogged) Hillary has resigned, I find myself dreaming of Obama-Clinton '08.

The thing about HRC was that, towards the end, her being in the race wasn't about winning the nomination anymore — it was about the principle of fighting the good fight. I was proud of her continued effort, both as Democrat and as an American woman. For me, her campaign embodied all the daily struggles of other underdogs and I found, in my support of her, something worth aspiring towards. I'm proud of the race she ran and hope that I will be turning in a vote for Obama/Clinton this November.

I'm glad to see that I've gotten some responses to my first prompt — kudos to Momo and Jacob for your thoughtful (and interesting) replies!

Today's prompt is:
There has been much written about the difference between "house" and "home", with the former being a specific place and the latter a feeling of belonging. What food dish transports you home? (It doesn't have to be something that was made in your house.)

I enjoy the dish Xihongshi chao jidan (Tomatoes stir-fried with Eggs) so much that I learned how to make it before I left for college. My parents will make this dish whenever they feel nostalgic — many of their generation viewed this dish as a treat since eggs were often hard to come by.

To make:
Pour 1 tablespoon of oil in the bottom of your pan — leave burner off.
Chop 1-2 medium-sized tomatoes — set aside.
Turn on the burner under the pan.
As the oil is heating, beat together 3-4 eggs until frothy — add in a pinch of salt.
Pour the eggs into the (now hot) pan, scramble until curds have formed but the mixture is still runny.
Remove the egg mixture — place in bowl by the side.
Toss in the chopped tomatoes — stir-fry them until they sweat (about a minute).
Now add back in the semi-scrambled eggs.
Salt, pepper, sugar to taste.

Pour all contents of pan into a bowl — garnish with a sprig of parsley or cilantro.

What about you? What foods do it for you?

I have a brief break between the end of the academic year and the start of my internship in Hong Kong. I've been taking it pretty easy, filling my days with running, yoga, practice LSATs, piano, and Jezebel — it's been nice to switch from the rather hectic pace of school into the slower, more thoughtful rhythm of summer.

I'm hoping that everyone else is also enjoying (or going to enjoy) a short break soon. Isn't it funny how college students today seem to keep themselves busy year-round? Anyway, the short experiment that I'd like to try is to present a daily introspective prompt, which I will then respond to, and then ask you (if you're not too busy) to give me your own response. You can email it to me (anama2001@gmail.com), write your own blog post (and put the URL in the comments section), or simply leave your response in the comments section — whichever feels most comfortable to you.

I feel that this will be a relatively stress-free way to talk about yourself and think about your life — and a way for me to reconnect with you. If no one responds to my prompts, I will still have my own personal daily reflections. The responses need not be long or complicated — just those thoughts that stem from your personal introspection.


So, here goes:

Today's prompt is:
During peaceful times, one can often forget about the supports that get one through the more difficult moments. What (or who) is a support that you can rely on? What would you like to say to them?

Although it sounds cliche, I have found solace time and time again in Bach and Beethoven. Whenever I have felt emotionally overwhelmed, the ability to focus on their music over everything else has pulled me through. If I could meet them, I suppose I would thank them for finding a means of translating all the messy bits of life into such eloquent expression — presenting me with a means of pulling through the messy bits of my life.

How about you? Who/What supports you?

I related completely to one moment in SATC:TM when Charlotte is afraid to take her daily run because, as she explains to Carrie, she feels that too many good things have happened to her. Something, she whispers with a panicked look on her face, must go wrong because no one gets a happy ending. However, although my inner pessimist (who am I kidding? I am a pessimist through and through, both in and out. I might as well just say "my soul") takes in stride every setback, I have recently found myself in Charlotte's shoes.

Life is...surprisingly wonderful. In less than two weeks, I leave for an amazing opportunity in Hong Kong. The vagaries of my body have, for the past few months, ceased to bother me. God was kind enough to bring Jacob into my life, as well as the rest of the Weaver clan. My relationship with my parents is tolerable and sometimes even enjoyable and I find myself creating five-year plans without a hint of irony. The friends that I keep in touch with give me hope that I will be one of those middle-aged people who have friends older than their children, house, etc.

Although my soul speaks of the inevitable roadblock, dark twist, nefarious stranger in my future — for the time being, I let myself go running everyday.

I'm not quite sure how to write this review. So far I've written three different openings and erased four paragraphs of thoughts. How do I put this? I went in to the theater with very low expectations — this is, after all, a show whose entire conceit is neatly summed up by the first tongue-in-cheek line of the movie: "All women come to New York looking for the two L's — Labels and Love". Still, having lived in the City (and, for me, as for these four women, New York will always be the one and only City) for almost four years now, I found myself drawn to this series and this movie despite my better judgment.

I left 2 1/2 hours later having seen numerous outfits, heard several groan-worthy one-liners (Carrie, upon emerging from a long mourning session at her would-be honeymoon resort in Mexico, cackles towards the girls that she has been in a Mexi-coma), and decided that my younger self — a fan of the show — had been tremendously optimistic and naive.

Optimistic because, at the point where I enjoyed the show and characters, I thought their actions and mannerisms to be sufficient for a fulfilled life. Somehow, I believed, so long as I had the right outfit and sassy girlfriends, I too could weather all of life's unexpected twists and turns. Fortunately, with age has come some degree of wisdom and realism — I now am aware that I cannot spend my life skimming only the surface of things and obsessed with myself and the trappings thereof. Unfortunately for the characters of SATC, although they age biologically, their stereotypical behaviors never change.

And this is why I think my earlier self naive. She thought that these women were strong and powerful role models; she found them worth imitating. Perhaps it was because of the size of the screen, but watching their antics writ large has shown me that these women are false idols, insincere prophets of an increasingly unsatisfying materialistic lifestyle. As a minority, I was offended by the disparity in race between the main characters and their various servants (be it Carrie's saintly personal assistant or Miranda's long-suffering nanny) — hence my bestowing of an alternate title to this blog post.

In the end, I was glad to see it end. I was glad that each woman got her version of a satisfactory ending and even more glad that I get to continue writing my story without the constraints for "happiness" that exist in the SATC universe.

I've had an entry kicking around my head for a few days now — something that sums up another year at college, filled with life lessons, amusing witticisms, appropriate song lyrics (All I want to do bang-bang-bang-bang is roll up, and take your mon-ay), and the like. But, each time that I sit down to begin writing this, I find some excuse to do it later. By building it up to be such a big deal, I find myself preempting disappointment by avoiding writing it altogether. So, on this rainy afternoon while I sit on this fast-emptying campus with no concrete plans, I will...write a different post entirely.

Seriously, I know you don't want to read another overly-pompous train-of-thought entry about "my experiences and the lessons learned from them". I'm even bored by the thought.

Rather — this morning I had a conversation with a resident about recreational drug use. He was talking about how he occasionally used Adderall to get through Finals and Midterms and was excited about his upcoming trial of LSD. Being a relatively social college student, I know enough people who have dabbled in the usual collegiate drugs of choice — marijuana, LSD, shrooms, Adderall, to name a few — not to be shocked by his admission. He then asked me if I wanted some of his remaining Adderall, to which I politely declined. It's not a moral issue but more a personal thing — I have an addictive personality. I get hooked on the most mundane things — tv shows, individuals, sandwiches — and have not met a stimulant I didn't like. At one particularly low point, I was drinking 4-5 cups of coffee simply to stay awake during the day. I'm not proud of my body's weaknesses but I am aware enough to keep myself away from things that will entrap me.

Like this new drug I just read about called Provigil; it's originally aimed at promoting wakefulness in narcoleptics but, in the hands of people who don't have this condition, it becomes "Viagra for the Brain". Provigil supposedly allows you to stay focused and alert for longer, suppressing the areas of the brain that usually trigger fatigue, slumber, and sluggish thought. This all sounds incredibly alluring to me as I am a neurotic overachiever who is always looking for more ways to squeeze juice out of the lemon.

That means that, when and if I'm offered Provigil, Adderall, or whatever the next designer neuro-steroid is, I will have to be twice as vehement in my denial as the Average Joe. And I hope you don't judge me — I'm not being Ms. Puritanical when I flee away from your outstretched hand but rather trying to keep the Beast within. Trust me when I say it's me, not you.

21 Things I've Learned in my Two Scores and One Year:

1. It's important to sleep at least X amount of hours a night. What X equals depends on each person's unique make-up; mine's around 7.5.
2. Long walks don't always generate brilliant insights but they do serve as helpful study breaks, temporary sanity restorers, and calf-toning sessions. Also — daily exercise is a great way to keep your body healthy and spirits up.
3. A good friend is near when you are feeling down — the hard part is mustering up the will/courage/strength to reach out.
4. Music makes the world go round. I've yet to meet a problem that couldn't be solved by a few hours playing piano.
5. Finding regular ways to give to others is rewarding for all parties involved.
6. Drinking too much is overrated. Ditto smoking (be it tobacco or pot), overeating, and too many parties.
7. One social event per week is a good rate for me. Sometimes that means front-loading or back-loading engagements during the semester — smoothing of lifetime social event consumption anyone?
8. My parents love me, in their own idiosyncratic and odd ways. And our maturity levels are inversely proportional.
9. Challenges are what keeps life interesting — rising to meet them is how I grow.
10. It's better to err on the side of over-communication rather than under.
11. Everyone screws up sometimes, myself included. The trick is forgiving and moving on.
12. 知己知彼：In order to know others, you must know yourself. It worked for Sun-Tze, it'll work for you.
13. I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and don't function well in wintertime without either some sunshine or a some time in the gym.
14. It's better to be busy than idle — busy people get things done! And quickly! And check their email incessantly and send you replies asap!
15. Caffeinate responsibly. Ditto the partaking of libations.
16. You can't please everyone. Or, being popular means that more people are aware of you and therefore more people can hurt you — you have to be strong to stay in the public eye.
17. Merlot goes well with sweet potato fries. Cabernet goes well with a medium-rare hamburger. Syrah goes well with Lamb curry.
18. The price of something doesn't always equal its value.
19. Learn how to manage your finances now so that you can enjoy them later.
20. Being snarky is deliciously fun but be sure to balance laughter at others with laughter at yourself.
21. In the words of Edith Pilaf: Non je ne regrette rein (No, I have no regrets). 

1. When my parents drag out albums full of baby pictures of me and my siblings
2. When I'm late for a meeting/event in which my being there is crucial
3. A bar/club that only plays cheesy songs from the 90s
4. Romantic comedies (well, only some)
5. Star Wars references. Ditto Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter references.
6. Inappropriate jokes in a serious setting
7. Jersey diners
8. When people make a big deal about your birthday (calling you, singing off-key tunes, making you take a break from all that reading/studying/working in order to "savor the day")

1. Zombies + Strippers — awesome apart, so-so together
2. Chocolate Flan + Olive Oil + Sea Salt — I had an avant-garde (I guess) dessert the other night that featured these three prominently. Bold, yes, delicious, no.
3. Good friends + Suitemates
4. Scarlett Johansen + Indie music — The girl should stick to acting. Fo' serious.