lilsweetformosa's Xanga

Forgive the ramblings....

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 01:11:24 GMT

Because I've really had trouble placing my thoughts in written word for a month, published or unpublished.

Anyways...

I’ve had a new car for less than 24 hours and somebody crashed into it when it was stopped.

Well, maybe "crashed into" is an overstatement, but I have to now pay for the repainting of part of the back bumper, or possibly the entire thing.

Surprisingly I admittedly don’t feel much about it.

The starkest difference in opinion between last year’s students and this year’s students about me is on the person I am. Last year’s students said I cared a lot and I was the nicest teacher ever. This year’s class claims I’m a good teacher but I’m about as cold and emotionless as a machine sometimes. Somebody once claimed that if they cut me open they’d find wires, bolts, a computer run on a toaster for a brain.

But if I did care about everything as much as I should, I suppose I would have actually felt bad about yelling at the kids whenever they didn’t practice or didn’t show up to rehearsal before the show.

If I did care about everything as much as I should, I suppose I would have actually felt guilty when kids failed my tests this year.

If I did care about everything as much as I should, I suppose some of my coworkers would still bother me as much as they did last year.

If I did care about everything as much as I should, I suppose I’d actually feel remorse when telling off certain people when they’re being unreasonable.

If I did care about everything as much as I should, I suppose I’d feel mildly embarrassed about letting the car salesman know I thought he schemed me about 3 different times in the process of selling me the car.

If I did care about everything as much as I should, I suppose I’d be more upset and I would have yelled more at the person who crashed into my car.

If I did care about everything.... would I be a better person or would it all be for the worse?

I feel like I don't feel deep emotion about anything that much anymore. I question whether it's worth the trouble, although I think a part of me is afraid of becoming an old person devoid of any real emotions or care for anything around me.

Sure, I’ve changed into a new person over the course of this year. One that lets go of a lot and doesn’t give a rat’s shit about a lot of things. It’s supposed to make me better and I get mad less, but in a way I’ve become a scary person to myself.

Although I will make one last note.

Of all the things I don’t feel anymore, I do still feel genuine losses.

Right now I actually just miss the car I won’t drive anymore, even though it was very obviously a relic of the 90s and wasn’t exactly the hottest thing on the road.

Right now I actually think, despite all the mental abuse this year’s class has taken from me, I will miss the kids I had this year for class when they graduate my classroom and become a stranger of the hallways in a few months.

Right now I actually think... I actually don’t know.

There goes again that train of thought I've been trying to construct and reconstruct all month long. How to place it all in words.

Now Playing: Pete Yorn -- Lose You

The song they played when Kutner died on House... I do like nearly every song they play at the end of the show, I really do.

Birthday wishes.

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 17:59:08 GMT

Mom: "What do you want for your birthday? Can I buy you something? I’ll get it and send it to you or you can have it for when you get back...

Me: ".... No... Because probably the top five things I want right now can’t be bought. Not without resorting to bribery at least, for some of them."

I cringe at the thought that the top of my wish list can no longer be fulfilled with a little candy, with a little nice outfit, with a little stuffed animal, even with a little nice Tiffany’s.

Who the hell have I become? Discontent bastard?

And that, my friends, is the true sign you’re getting too old for birthdays.

Because I know wish #1 is not something that could be realistically granted, it’s ok to post it.

#1 -- Given the chance to do things differently for many parts of my life, I would.

Now keep guessing for 2-5.

Now Playing: Lenny Kravitz -- I’ll Be Waiting

"I realize there’s no end in sight..."

But what's really filling this void between the present and this end?

可不可以不勇敢?

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 01:57:25 GMT

"You're the strongest person I know."

I’ve gotten that more than once before from different people, for different reasons, and more often recently than in the past.

Ever since I was little, I’ve played hardball with myself and refused help when given the chance to have it.

When I was three, while other little kids were clinging on to their mommies for dear life on the first day of pre-K, I was busy getting rid of my mother. My mom kept asking me if I would be ok, if I knew what to do before she came to pick me up later. I told her "yes, go home, I’ll be fine." In truth, it was probably more out of impatience than strength and I probably just don’t remember my mom reiterating things for the 50th time.

All through grade school, I opted to work by myself than with other people on projects. I still do, as I have the last few months.

I wonder what people actually see me as. Seemingly a psychotic fem-nazi? A workaholic who apparently does way too much overtime for free? Overconfident tomboy with the short hair? Somebody impossible to save because she can apparently save herself anyways?

Perhaps it’s because as a child, my dad always made me own up to the game.

As a child, I wondered if my dad was aware he had a little girl and not a little boy. He would take me to car dealers, Lechmere to look at camcorders, and had high hopes of convincing me to be a computer engineer. The closest I ever came to that was working at CIT and to this day I still have no idea how I got that job. There’s pictures of myself at more air shows and car shows than playing with stuffed animals and dolls.

I was daddy’s daughter, but tears were never really sympathized with. Instead, crying was for annoying loser girls who couldn’t take care of themselves, even when I was as young as three. We got along great... No, we really didn’t. My dad and I didn’t call it a draw until I was somewhere in my college years and he realized that I was just as loud and corrosive when arguing as he could be, when I wanted to be.

With that kind of upbringing, you learn to keep fighting until the dead end.

"You should not want to be healed without fighting."

Sometimes I think to myself I shouldn’t be so "strong" on the outside -- I’ve never really been that much so on the inside, and it would be nice to be honest with myself for once here.

I could use some lifesaving now and then myself. I wish I could break down my barriers and let that on more often. I don’t know what keeps me from doing so. You can’t expect to be saved if you never let yourself be.

Now Playing: Anna Tsuchiya inspi’ NANA -- Kuroi Namida (Black Tears)

From my favorite anime NANA... Sometimes I could see myself as the main character (aside from the haircut of course)... and right about now, I wouldn't mind being on that random train ride from the start of the story.

Crossroads.

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 01:16:29 GMT

It’s been about a month since the show.

The kids and I have started to do some preparation for next year’s show. We have one dance already choreographed and ready to be taught to 5 others.

What I haven’t told them is the truth is I’m not sure I want to run this thing again.

While it was a great rush for a first time show, I can’t promise that I’ll ever top whatever we got this time, especially since these kids are most likely not capable of going farther than they already have. On top of that, I’ve been trying to book a date of 2010 without running into conflicts left and right and I’ve been getting nowhere. Not to mention the usual roadblocks of sports, other activities and just getting the kids to be allowed to come to rehearsal. All of that will inevitably happen again.

Don’t get me wrong. When I went into this profession I knew I’d be doing plenty more work than a lot of people in NY but probably getting paid less for it. I didn’t expect to get any sort of stipend raise this year for adding "show organizing" to the set of credentials. I also knew it was meaningful work which is work that you’d actually want to think about and feel good about after you leave the office.

My biggest problem with this was how much of my life it took over and for how long.

I didn’t realize how much of my soul I had sold to this effort until I went into the city this past weekend and took a quick trip into a Red Mango with friends. I tried to order pomegranate on my yogurt and I was told that I couldn’t. I asked if they discontinued it. The girl at the cashier looked confused. "It’s been going on for 4 months or so, the season’s over."

Later my friends and I tried to go ice skating. I suggested Bryant Park. I was told that it was already closed for the year as of last week.

I don’t remember any of these mysterious seasons even starting.

A while ago, I was talking to a stranger at a social function and realized that every last thing coming from my mouth had to do with work or the show. He actually asked me if I ever did anything outside of work. It wasn’t even out of sarcasm.

I had to take a moment to think about the answer to that question. That scares me.

With my 26th birthday closing in all too soon... It’s hit me more than once that my 20s are passing me by, locked away in the auditorium of this school building. It wasn’t even up to the point of the show being over. The fatigue lasted for weeks after, I got sick twice in the month following the show, and since then I’ve had to spend other weekends taking the kids to other events to perform at.

I think my parents have forgotten my true age at this point, because I’m still talking about school all the time and appearancewise I haven’t changed all that much since then. But logically speaking, I spend the majority of my time in that building. The people I interact with the majority of my time are between the ages of 14-18, with the exception of one parent who gave a hell of a lot of her time to helping out (although it probably gave her a good excuse to spend extra time with her daughter during school hours). The fine line between whether I’m still in high school and whether I’m in my mid-twenties has gotten blurred by the last couple months. No matter how you dice it, it’s not that normal, even for the nature of my job.

I could tell myself that these kids will learn to take care of themselves in another couple years, the way the parent helping me out did during the show. She says at that point I won’t have to take care of the show the way I had to this year and at that point I could probably rely on them to do what they have to do. I think she just told me that to make me feel better about the way the show was going at the time, because there’s very little that convinces me they’re capable of autonomy, even for something as simple as a food sale.

I once assumed the extra work from the show would be a simple form of escapism for me, but it has admittedly become more than just that. But I could keep going with this, or choose to start devoting more effort to moving on with my real life as a normal person in her 20s.

I don’t know yet. Chances are this is all just mental / physical burnout talking. Time will tell.

But nonetheless, I am happy that I saw the project through until the end. I saw the 30 of the best blessings in my life shine that night.

Some yearnings make you wait longer than dreams. At least some will meet you halfway.

Pa xiang si bi meng hai chang.

Now Playing: Fei Yu Qing -- Xiang Si Bi Meng Chang

"Ren sheng ru ping ju san wu chang / he xu chao chao mu mu pan wang / pa xiang si bi meng hai chang..." (Life is short like the act of a play / So why yearn from day to night / some yearnings will make you wait longer than for dreams to come true.")

This was a super old theme to a Chinese historical series I saw when I was 9. I have to admit I've liked this song for a long time and it's on my Sleep playlist. Listening to this song makes me feel old.

The day faith in my job died.

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 03:15:20 GMT

Well, I guess we don’t have to make it sound that bad.

But it was the first time I’ve ever felt disgusted with something I had to do for my job here.

I was basically commanded to change the grade of a student from a F to a D because the parent wouldn’t stop complaining.

You would think we’re all above that sort of bullshit, wouldn’t we?

I always thought my boss and this school would be above it.

And while this is not the first time I’ve had to, as a teacher, manipulate grades to make the pill easier to swallow, I figure here at this place I’d be above it too.

The funny part is about two months ago the same scumbag parent called complaining that I’m too strict and demanding with her daughter and blah blah, that I need to be more nurturing and blah blah. Well, I loosened up on her daughter, played the nurturing card, and somehow that translated into the kid now assuming she’d pass by not doing half her homework for the second part of the quarter and handing in labs once in a blue moon.

So basically I was told that because I hadn’t informed the parent and she was "taken by surprise" (about how irresponsible her own kid is) I owe it to her to change her grade to a D.

The anal-retentive-moral side of me seethes at grade changing.

I was also told to work on being more nurturing and loving, but of course, I wouldn’t know how to act like a mom yet because I have not yet become one. That comment might have registered as most obnoxious in the conversation, since that basically says that if I never become one, I’d never know. Not that every parent out there is all lovey dovey 24/7, I for one am a pushover compared to my own father throughout the majority of my childhood. Gee, I wonder where that dictator streak came from...

But fine. It’s not my grade anyways, what the hell am I getting worked up about. Why bring up the blood pressure for a losing battle anyways? "Of course, that's not a problem."

But at the same time, it bothers me. I feel like I'm coated in slime after having this conversation. I admit I’m probably having a bad day and he caught me in a crappy mood with poor wording since I know he means well most of the time, but very few things about teaching bother me more than grade manipulating. Call me crazy, but I guess it's the overly moral side of me speaking too loud.

Well, I failed about 4 people this quarter with averages between 60-65. I decided I would pass another with a 64 and changed his to a D. I figure it Little Miss 62 deserves a D, Mr. 64 who at least tried all quarter long deserves his D.

Maybe one of the reasons I’ve ceased to care about my job, and I’ve said that before, is because out of the three bio teachers, I’d probably be first in line for the axe if the budget goes down. Out of the other two, one gets her way all the time anyways, while the other’s there because my boss is friends with her uncle. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been here until 11 or 12 at night putting together this school’s first culture show, or that I’ve held the brunt of the most ESL kids in my classes (more than half of which are Asian students that got dropped with me at various points of the year because "they’d feel comfortable with me," based on whose allegation, I don’t know). It’s not as if anybody in the entire department (except the new hire, who’s quickly become my best friend at work) actually came to see the show, not even to help out, but to at least lend support. Truth be told, we don’t actually matter to one another that much.

I can only wish I could have walked away from that meeting with nothing but a middle finger in the air. And I wouldn’t care either who got hurt from that. Just like I don’t care who gets hurt in a lot of things these days.

Now Playing: Amos Lee -- Colors

From the House MD soundtrack. I've had a kid tell me that I am House. I’ve got the random piano playing streak down, among other creepy parallels. I wish I had that piano on random off days like this.

"Yesterday I got lost in the circus / Feeling like such a mess / Colors seem to fade

Your mama called, she said / That you're downstairs crying

Feeling like such a mess / Ya, I hear ya

In the background bawling / What happened to your sweet summer time dress

I know we all / We all got our faults

We get locked in our vaults / And we stay..."

Playlist.

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 02:46:35 GMT

[Originally January 1, 2009, except I just never had time to tweak it or even post]

It’s 9AM in Penn Station on New Year’s Day.

I’m sitting slouched, propped up on one arm, legs dangling from a bar stool at Starbucks.

I feel like I should look up to see a Jude Law-alike barista gazing into my smudged eyes asking me if I need more mocha, a la My Blueberry Nights. Actually, more like blueberry pie, because it’s the leftover one nobody wants. But obviously that’s not what I’m getting.

And so out comes pen and paper. The last half year, I’ve always carried pen and paper with me everywhere I go. The best things I write will never return to me again once they’ve elusively crossed my mind. I disgust at whatever the hell’s playing, so I find my own soundtrack.

Contemplating this past year relative to other years of my life, it’s not that this year was any worse. Every year has high points, along with the times that you wish you could eradicate from your mind. Although sometimes I think to myself, if that creepy mind-eraser doctor firm from Eternal Sunshine really existed, I could give it a whirl on some things over the years...

There was a period of time in life somewhere after graduation where I saw life as a Jin Se Shi Dai, or golden age, where my work life made me extremely happy and was in a matching shade as the happiness of my life outside of work.

Again, as mentioned before, I don’t know where certain days have gone, and maybe they were only golden for me and nobody else in my life, in and out of work. It’s like a picture of yourself and a group of others where you’re the only one with a dumb grin plastered to your face while everybody’s wearing a half smile or even giving the look from hell.

I know I partly did it to them, and I don't blame some people for being frustrated with me. For all my own selfishness, I do feel remorse.

Recently, it’s more like the scales have been downshifted to work being the happiest thing in my life (you can see the genuine 100 watt smiles coming from me in our culture show trailer), but in a counterintuitive way, I’ve grown apathetic to whether or not things work out to tenure here which has created a far more assertive (read: strict) teacher in me this year. Not that this is always a bad thing, since it elicits getting what I want, when I want it about 90% more than it did last year. Takes away more of the grief on my end, saves it for somebody else to deal with. I don’t know why I don’t care when work is something I enjoy, or if it’s only part to a vague sentiment of abandonment for my own general welfare.

All good things come to an end, whether that end is precipitated by drawing the curtain on life events or death itself. But at least things are only clearer when seen in hindsight... well, maybe.

Last night might have been the first time I stayed out all night with no real destination as for where I wanted to be for the remainder of the night.

Mimi, Melissa and I came back an apartment full of crashing revelers at 5 in the morning. One was trying to sleep in the hallway. Another two were on the futon and one was snoring louder than my mother would. A fourth was spread out over 3 hard chairs.

The one in the hallway decided to get up.

"Do you need room to sleep?"

"No, I’m going to stay up until the sun comes up and I’m taking the 2/3 back to Penn Station so I can go home and actually really sleep."

"Well, I can’t sleep. Wanna talk?"

Well, faced with a situation like that, I guess it would be bitchy to say no.

I listened for maybe 10 minutes of where he’d gone to sightsee in the city for the past week and got coerced into talking about teaching for maybe an additional 5 before we heard a crash from the futon. Apparently, they were trying to make room for 3 on the futon and so they asked one to get up and another to roll closer to the side, which equated to tipping over the entire thing.

From the ground: "thank you guys, thank YOU." The lump didn’t bother getting back up, and went straight back to snoring.

At some point all of us awake decided to retreat to Mimi’s room to keep doing what we apparently do best at this hour -- talk. I actually wanted people to leave me alone so I could plug in to my Sleep playlist and just zone out. But don't leave it to me for ruining a good time, I suppose...

I must have listened to all this "talk" for another half hour, sometimes participating and sometimes not. With my down coat still on, nowhere to change out of this goddamn party dress in the dark, and my eyes heavy under mascara and fatigue, I fall asleep sitting up to the sound of whispers between the two awake people sitting on both sides of me, and the mild smell of hookah from somebody’s jacket coloring the air.

It was probably the first time I’ve ever woken up wondering who the hell was next to me, but thankfully it was nobody creepy of the other gender or unfamiliar.

I wonder if in reality I’m living my life backwards, like a Benjamin Button case of sorts. I've obviously been "back" in high school again. I’m almost feeling too ancient to be out all night and attempting to crash homeless on somebody’s floor until daybreak. Although I probably should have lived this part of my life earlier. A lot of things are true paradoxes these days. I’ve never been good at understanding paradoxes.

Goodbye, Jin Se Shi Dai...

The train’s coming in less than 10, so I pack up my stuff and head out to the tracks, on my usual nomadic way in Penn Station.

And that is when I hit up the same old song on my ipod.

Press play.

Now Playing: Norah Jones -- Thinking About You

"Yesterday I saw the sun shinin' / And the leaves were fallin' down softly / My cold hands needed a warm, warm touch..."

In honor of the lovely Miss Norah Jones, star of My Blueberry Nights.

Here's to hope.

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 02:06:46 GMT

"At least it will never be as bad as South's first show."

"What do you mean? They actually had a bad show before?"

"I saw their first ever show. I was in elementary school at the time."

"How bad could it possibly be?"

"There were like 3 people in the audience. Okay, maybe not that little, but you get the picture. They had like 5 acts, a couple traditional dances. And that was it.

And here we are. We're doing our first show and we have 15 things to show them. I think we actually underestimated ourselves at the beginning of the school year." -- Jeff, alumni working on the show here at North.

While we're preparing for students from South (famous for their 3-hour culture show beasts) to show up and boo us off stage, I guess there's some glimmers of hope.

Here's to hope.

When I was in high school, I used to do drama up to a certain point in my 4 years.

I auditioned for a part in a fall production where I was being considered for one of the 4 leads. I got cut in the last round.

I knew the girl who got the role was not better than me. I've never been prone to over-confidence.

I had asked the drama teacher what I could improve on for my next audition and what I could do better.

"Actually, there was really nothing you could do. You were admittedly great for the part.

But here's the problem. There were parents and a sister cast in the play already. I'm sorry honey, but you don't look anything like them. It was more a decision that would help keep the parts looking consistent."

"Oh." I don't remember saying anything else than OK and leaving.

It's been 10 years since I accepted every word of that and left.

Today, I just finagled the auditorium for 2 full days of rehearsal from the drama teacher at this school. I told him that as a former high school thespian, I know what it's like being on stage and looking out at a huge expanse of auditorium seats.

"As I am sure you would never force your own students, real thespians, on stage for a performance with less than 2 days of familiarity with the auditorium, I'm sure you wouldn't force these students to do the same when many of them are performing for the first time in their lives."

Here's to never letting a white person tell us again we can't be on stage because we are Asian.

I have to admit the greater part of this week, I've been worried about what people will think. I worry about what parents will think when they see this -- will they ever support us again and let their kids stay late for rehearsal? I worry about what my friends will think when they see this. I hope I don't disappoint, I hope I don't disappoint, I hope I don't disappoint...

Here's to thanking my friends in advance for coming Saturday night. It really means a lot to me.

Now Playing: Angela Chang -- Dou Shi Yin Wei Ni (All Because Of You)

CTAS eCsTASy MTV theme from years ago... if it weren't for being in eCsTASy year after year, I seriously don't know what I would have done the past 4 months to get this circus together.

Everything. Will. Change.

Mon, 29 Dec 2008 15:56:26 GMT

As the show approaches, I’m thinking of the relief that I’ll feel once it’s over

At the same time, wondering what it will be like to be "back to normal."

Is normal enough for me?

It’s been a weird holiday season

I’ve spent it alternately watching TV or reading, if not working on the show

I feel like I haven’t had much of a chance to relax my mind

But at the same time it’s more satisfying than having nothing to think about at all

But there is something stagnant about the winter air this year

It was a few years ago where in the harsh midst of winter, you could feel hope in looking forward

Looking forward to the fragrant spring Ithaca air

Looking forward to picnicking in a clean state park

Looking forward to the onslaught of culture shows that came

Looking forward to bubble tea at midnight in still-balmy night air

Looking forward to warm sunshine on the Quad and greenery returning to campus

Filled with hope.

I don’t often go back and miss being in college and having less control over everything

But here is life

Swallowed up by the cold indifference of the metropolitan area and its millions of apathetic faces

I don’t know where those days have gone.

Now Playing: Gavin Rossdale -- Love Remains The Same

"As everything we know fades to black / I walk the streets through seven bars / I had to find just where you are / The faces seem to blur / They're all the same

Half the time the world is ending / Truth is I am done pretending / Too much time too long defending

Drink to all that we have lost..."

Happy New Year.

Hourglass.

Sat, 20 Dec 2008 02:17:49 GMT

The show is happening in 7 school days.

If you still have no idea what I’m talking about, it’s the school’s first Asian Night on January 10.

The programs are going to be printed in a couple days.

Most of the acts are done.

I've been in school until 8 or 9 nearly every day this week, with the exception of today because it was a snow day.

The modern fan dance costumes are here by Monday.

The dress rehearsal happens in 2 weeks.

Part of me wants to put out more than an arm and leg for this effort because I never had this as a kid. My school had less Asians, but not much less. The bigger problem was that none of us gave a rat’s ass about each other, if we didn’t hate each other. And most of them were too busy trying to fit in with the other white kids in the school. Nobody cared about being Asian, knowing Chinese (it was the uncool thing to do, to actually know your parents language, God forbid :P) and learning anything cultural. It’s nice to see the kids here not being sucked up by the majority culture and holding on to what they have.

It’s almost the same feeling when CTAS ran its first eCsTASy culture show in 2002... The same grassroots effort and totally doing things from scratch.

Although I think the truth is a lot of people think this is a dumb, small-town ambition, while others are heading to med school, working for the government, starting their own businesses, turning Obama into president, reinventing the wheel in whatever the hell way. Just too afraid to tell me that it’s a stupid idea.

I think there is more to it than just a show run by a tiny Asian Club in an already tiny suburban school. But you're all entitled to your own opinion.

My mother offered to help when she called me a month ago. I actually flipped out and told her there was no way I could handle her staying with me and running the show at the same time. I felt bad about saying it, but I was trying to be honest.

The truth is I don’t want her to see this.

I should, shouldn’t I? I’ve only been slaving over this since July. Partly giving me an obsession to worry about, part escapism, part over-ambition, part defiance of those who think I can’t do this nearly alone, part just being an obnoxious rebel since my own life outside of this school building seems bland.

For all I know, it could be a total train wreck.

I know I am scared shitless of failure in their eyes. It’s already bad enough that I’m worried about failing in front of the school and my friends. At the same time I take risks that I know can easily blow up in my face. It’s enough to hear from some people around me and also my parents that I shouldn’t have ever let this show happen and I should just make a small effort to start with this year. But would it make as much of a stir in school if it was a mediocre effort, as opposed to the 16 act behemoth that we’re trying to patch up now?

It’s said and done. The show will go on.

As much as I wish it was done and gone so I can sleep at night

There’s part of me that wonders what I will really do with myself when it’s over. Free time? What's that?

Now Playing: Linkin Park -- Leave Out All The Rest

"I dreamed I was missing, you were so scared / But no one would listen 'cause no one else cared / After my dreaming, I woke with this fear / What am I leaving when I'm done here?

So if you're asking me, I want you to know

When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed / And don't resent me, and when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory / Leave out all the rest...

I'm strong on the surface, not all the way through / I've never been perfect but neither have you / So if you're asking me, I want you to know..."

Random Thoughts From the Upper Deck of a Mega Bus.

Sun, 30 Nov 2008 22:14:32 GMT

Originally 11/16.

I regretted taking the upper deck after remembering hot air rises and that they were blasting the heat which was literally braising all of us on the upper level until somebody went downstairs and said something to the driver. Other than that, I enjoyed watching a picturesque piece of the sky as I made my way home to NYC, gazing out the skylight of the bus as we ate amazing turkey / gravy / cranberry sauce sandwiches from Earl’s.

A lot of people asked me when I got back what the hell I was doing in DC. I’m not too sure myself. Aside from the obvious (to see friends, why not any other weekend in the past couple years?), I don’t really know the answer. I probably should have cheered on my school at the Cornell-Columbia game that happened this weekend. My other friends were there, I've known them longer than I've known the people I'm staying with. What the hell was I doing away on a weekend where Cornell pride in the city was supposed to be at a high?

Like I said, I don’t really know.

There's something very liberating about long distance bus rides. A couple years ago, I would find escapist pleasure in getting on a Shortline bus and jetting myself away from a job that was causing me misery. It didn’t matter that the bus gave me about 4 square feet of personal space, or that it gave me stuffy air that made me sick every time I came back.

And there it was again. A bus driving me away, miles away, to another city and another scene.

Anywhere but here.

I suppose I could have gone home at the time, and I still could have this time. But I wasn’t looking to run to familiar arms.

If I had wanted familiar, I would have been on a bus back to Cornell again.

Take me away.

Over the weekend, I found DC to have just the right amount of midwest charm that Cleveland had. There was a period of time that I thought Cleveland was a cute city to live in, and I probably still do but there’s nothing in it for me.

If I were to pick an alternate place to live, I probably would have went for DC. The cheap, newly constructed housing is nice compared to the old construction you find in the houses and buildings of the metropolitan area, there's no lack of decent shopping and fairly good places to eat, and obviously there are some young people here (or at least a sizeable fraction of my friends). Not as exciting and everything seems to close earlier, obviously. The only thing I would miss is all the real Asian stores (and of course, haircutters) in Flushing since DC Chinatown was a joke. No real Asian haircutters would probably be a real dealbeaker for me though.

I thought about how my friends in DC seemed to be just as I left them in college, as though nothing had ever changed.

I saw two of them Saturday night. I hadn’t seen one of them in 3 years, the other I hadn’t talked to face to face in 6. Neither of them had aged a day in appearance and cynicism.

Or perhaps I’m the one who’s changed. I’m surprised they still recognized me.

What is it about NYC that changes people? I've watched my own friends here evolve into true urbanites. I know I've changed some since I moved closer to the city, or at least not everything they remember about me.

Now Playing: Janice Vidal -- Genius of Love (Ai Cai)

"Zhe ge shi jie you xu duo lian ren / ke xi ni you cai hua mei liang xin..."