Those days

I kind of miss those days somewhere in the time of grade school where we'd all sit in our "table groups" or clusters and it didn't matter how different we were culturally, socially, racially -- except for the occasional beezy or d-bag, we all just talked and got along just fine. These days, we seldom, if at all, talk to the people in our classes because 1) given the size and arrangement of our classes and 2) because people are just so different when they're older.

Our levels of vulgarity and values, our interests and world views become such a dividing factor in our day-to-day human relationships. It used to all be about our favorite cartoons, snacks we loved, things we're learning... but now, I feel like I have nothing in common with the person in my class that talks about getting wasted and trashed. Or do I?

All in all, I appreciate when people near me talk to me, even if it's mindless small talk. I've been trying train myself to return the favor and try to make a friend or two in class and it's worked! I challenge you to do the same! Kind of scary, but I think it's something most people appreciate. Oh to be optimistic and excited about meeting people... (the feeling sometimes wears out, but embrace it while you can!).


Amber

Come and go

"I can't... remember... the name, gah!" I say in anguish as I try to give my sister the name of the restaurant my parents and I went to in the Marina district of SF a while ago.

"It was a really good place with excellent scallops and that... other thing we got, can't remember what -- risotto? something with duck?" my dad helps me along the process of recollection.

"Meh, I'll look it up on google later. It was a good place though."


This was a conversation I had just yesterday at one of SF's finest places to eat called Zuni Cafe. We were coincidentally talking about restaurants and none of us seemed to remember this quaint little restaurant that served pretty good tapas we went to a while ago (I looked it up today and it's called Isa).

Thinking about it later, I realized that I can eat at X amounts of nice restaurants -- from ones opened by renowned chefs, to ones with spectacular pre-fixes menus, to ones that source their ingredients from this and that local/organic farm, to ones that fetch impressive ratings on yelp... and yet... how many of those meals do I actually remember what I ordered and how I felt when I ate it? Or how about the restaurant's style, the ambiance?


No matter how spectacular or impressive the place, I remember but few fleeting flavors and delectable moments.

I must say that we humans are definitely creatures of habit... as we may not remember a dish we had somewhere someplace, but after a few tries at In n' out the taste makes a place in our memory harddrives. Likewise, I think we're the same with a lot of things -- remembering the likes of a person after just meeting them, what we learn in classes, the art we see in museums...

Everything has a moment, a place in our lives, but time smudges lines of faces that were once clear and muddles memories that were once fresh.

On a personal note, I think I forget/leave behind most things very easily. You can see that with the relationship with my things -- not much can make me happier than tossing out the unused, outdated or just things that annoy me for that moment. Things that were once well-cherished, shiny and new. These things come and go in my life and some things, in reality are more easy to let go them others. The relationship with some thing was once thriving. It was in my room and I would see it and use it. And then eventually I just had no use for it anymore and it was like I never had it at all to begin with.

This is a cold reality that also goes the same for human relationships. Like a nice meal at a restaurant, my experiences with people can be joyful and rich at the moment, but erode over time. It's so sad that we can forget all the laughs, the conversations, the sparks and replace it with apathy, weariness and irritation. I'm thinking that this must be the same mechanism for marriages that go downhill, for friends that hit rough patches, or just moving on in general.

Nothing lasts forever. Nothing remains. But there is a reason and a time for everything. I try to write things in my journal to help me remember. Maybe I should start some sort of food journal for my meals....


Amber

Haterade

I think I must have accidentally sipped on some of that nasty stuff because I am feeling the hate bug right now. It's infecting my system to the point where I am just not making any sense, but I think it's a VERY interesting state of being that might be VERY interesting to write about right now. So here it goes --

I don't know why, but all of the sudden, a good portion of my energy is being channeled into great annoyance for a certain beloved college group I belong to. Not directly at any specific person/persons in particular, but just the collective as a whole.

I think the word I am feeling is trapped. Suffocated by that body of 150 something persons -- whom face yours is so familiar to, whom your business is so accessible, whom your awesomeness is based off of well, how awesome you are.

WHAT MAKES SOMEONE AWESOME? What if I don't want to be awesome? What if I just want to be some jerk that annexes herself into her own little world and did her own thing? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM MEEE??

Okay yeah, I'm a part of a caring group of people who care about people who need care. Let's sit in a nice little circle deal with our college, and transitional 20's age drama. Let's talk about how we feel about so and so and this and this. I have drama. But why should I give what comes out of a horse's butt about stuff that I feel at the moment doesn't even deserve acknowledgement compared to the important things in this world? The poor, the hungry, the needy. The nameless, the faceless, the shamed and the forgotten?

Okay, wow. I'm thinking pretty intense thoughts aren't I? I think it's really important that I am away from Davis from a bit and to process this funkiness in a new environment. This is good, I think. I think its' good to question and to rearrange the pieces of things I used to hold so dear and believe in... perhaps into a better collage of what represents me.

Haterade. Cynical cider. Disillusionment dew. Again, I am drunken on these things and will regain soberness in a day or so, so don't take anything I say here as truth or what I truly believe in. gahh I'm just sick from thinking about it right now.


I'm out,
Amber

Bite into a juicy apple

I just bought a Macbook today. And it came with a free iPod Touch. And I feel a little guilty.

My dad so sweetly gave his best wishes for me to go on with the purchase, even adding that he wants me to add in the better tech. specs and everything (I declined). However, as I'm typing on my really bulky, heavy but perfectly functional dell laptop, I'm caught in a conundrum. Did I allow my soul to be given into the consumerist seduction of being told that I deserve a new sexy and souped up computer? Or will this really be a worthwhile investment that will provide long-term usefulness to help me be a better student, employee, be better organized, etc.?

Macs, as you are well aware, fetch around $1K a pop. That's a lot of money that I am privileged and undeserving to be able to spend on such things for myself. Here is my rationale:

1) My current laptop is 4 years old and nearing its time for retirement. Processing is slow and memory is running out and it's just very vulnerable to viruses and other such problems.

2) My current laptop is really heavy. Taking it to school and other places is doable, but difficult. Macbooks are light and very portable.

3) My current laptop can be donated and given to someone in need of a pretty functional and durable laptop. (sigh yeah, all whilst I enjoy the benefits of the best in the market. what a jerk i am!). Still deciding if that should go to Computers with causes or One Laptop per Child.


I guess it's inevitable that we will be faced with many decisions regarding purchases of big things such as laptops. It's important that careful thought goes into it and that we are ever grateful and acknowledge how lucky we are to be able to have that ability to have laptops, computers, electronics etc. And perhaps to think about what we could do to improve the life of someone else in the process by considering donating to someone who would be so blessed by the things we don't want/need anymore.

Like a parasitic leach...

Like a soft, warm towel that gently smothers and dulls the senses. Four walls and silence that all the more scream out the solitude and hopelessness of my limitation. Where do I go? nowhere. Who do I see? No one. What do I want to do? Nothing, just keep on sleeping. Anything to make a dent in the endless detestable excess of time I have.

The parasitic leach punctures my soul and takes, takes, takes and drains me until it's fat and satisfied. In anaesthesic heaviness of spirit, I stagger into a smaller space, a closet -- a tactic I would resort to as a child when I felt lost or angry. Being in this little area all to myself helps me focus inwardly more easily, helps me deal.

What a child indeed. I long for something, some relief from this darkness, but at the same time so enticed by the darkness. The devils of my brokenness delight in triumph as they gorge themselves on my weakness; up until now too scared to come out in the searing brightness of hope. Hope?! Where do you go, why do you hide your face from me. I am lost, I am lost. Come back and help me find my way.

A parasitic leach is what I would describe my afternoon-evening depression episode yesterday. I think I should stop taking naps, or at least, naps that last over one hour because I wake up and it's all bad from there. Somehow, coffee has been giving me some energy and boost of liveliness, so perhaps at the end of this recovery I'll be a caffeine addict who hates naps.

Anyways, that italicized bit from above sounds pretty dark and depressing huh? I was musing to myself while I sat in that closet that HMM, it would really be great to have some person at this time of recovering from my surgery who would be by my side 24/7 to take me to go wherever and do whatever I wanted. Friends are good too, but I can't expect them to drop their plans for the benefit of my own amusement. Yeah, someone like a personal assistant... or a boyfriend!! Probably the former because they're paid and would do a better job at making me feel better (or a personal assistant that's my boyfriend? ok that's just crazy).

But it was honestly how I felt yesterday and honestly, I feel better now just waking up to a new day and writing that out. But I know I have to be careful. I know I have to continue to trust in God and be good about giving over my broken spirit over to Him because this shit just escalates into more and more negativity until I really do let the darkness triumph over letting God's hope and love in.

I am weak. I do not have it all together. That shouldn't be so much of a surprise though x)

Stick it to the man part 1

<sup>How can I, a privileged and middle-class Asian American female, know what it is like to live sub-standardly? To live with hunger and lack as constant states of being? What a grand notion, to be worlds away from poverty, but be somehow drawn to confronting it, thinking that I can make a difference or something. Does that make me naively idealistic?

I've been inspired lately to ruminate about my socioeconomic status and how it is not something neither to be ashamed about when I see begging, starvation and the underprivileged nor proud of when I know I have the spending power to bring myself some material satisfaction. How can I be used to challenge what the world says what I need and have the right to own and instead seek and live out the truth that God is the sustainer of life (and not my things)?

From a book I'm reading by J. Matthew Sleeth:

Ten percent of the women and 3 percent of men in our country need an antidepressant to get through a day, a day with no fear of starvation, invasion or want. What's wrong? We find that we can buy a house, but not a home. We can purchase entertainment, but not contentment. We can travel the globe, but we feel utterly imprisoned. We have degrees, but little wisdom.


Indeed, what IS wrong? Why are we not deeply happy with our fancy phonemP3googletalktouchberries? Why is it that when I used to go on shopping sprees where I would spend hundreds and come back with beautiful and new things, it still wouldn't be... enough?

This summer I was going to learn a lot about poverty and social justice for those living on the fringes of society. But I realized I can and deeply want to make concrete changes RIGHT NOW in the way I think and live that could break down the way the world has dictated how I should live for money and materials. These things aren't mine, they are God's.

What does this mean for what career I will pursue, what kind of neighborhood I will live in, what kind of shampoo I will buy, and even the rest of my life?

And this is just part 1 of my ruminations on how I not only want to say eff it to "the man", but to actively act on how this serves the Jesus of compassion and justice, who had a heart for the poor and was generous and loving on all occasions.</sup>

I end with a very convicting verse from 2 Corinthians 9: You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.

Amber

It's my party and i'll cry if i want to

Crying is so awkward. Someone starts to get wet eyes and all of the sudden we all freeze up and don't know what to do -- comfort the person? leave him/her alone? give a hug? give space?

I was curious as to what the purpose and function was of tears and found this on the one and only WIKIPEDIA!! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crying this can explain it better than I can.

Anyways, I think crying is wonderful. For someone like me who tends to bottle things up, ignore or delay the exasperation of my feelings, crying is like releasing the flood gates and letting all those collected feelings meander out of my system.

The fact that the human body can trigger this hormonal release that is a physical sign tied to a person's emotions is pretty amazing.

I thought I was an invincible tower that only slightly shook at the sign of a storm. No turbulence could vex or faze me. I am used to bouncing back within hours, a day or two at most of being disturbed. But I realize I am just as weak and fragile as anyone else. And... that's okay.

My good friend Shuyin sent me this passage from a book by John Piper, Suffering and the Sovereignty of God:

"God is God. He exerts a high and purposeful sovereignty. But we often misapply God's sovereignty when it comes to actually helping sufferers--both ourselves and others. Here is a common misapplication: "God is in control, therefore what's happening is his will. You need to just trust the Lord and accept it. Ignore your feelings. Remember the truth, gird your loins, and get with the program." Somehow stoic conclusions are fashioned from a most unstoic truth about a most unstoic God!

It's okay to plea with desperation, to lose my cool and to just not know what the freaking hell is going on. I can say more but I think I'm just going to end here and enjoy my peace =)