Posted 9:37 PM by >> B

The World Has Turned and Left Me Here (110602 reflection)

Lately I've been taking public transportation to work, either in the form of the bus or the Market St. streetcar. I haven't commuted on mass transit so much since I lived and went to school in Manhattan. This familiar feeling has come over me when I am sitting on the dense plastic seats or hanging from the chrome handles. I feel like I am being slowly consumed by San Francisco as I was consumed by the city of New York. A human particle moving through the guts and bowels of the city. Through my peripheral vision, I watch the city of San Francisco move on by, stop, and move again as if I am watching a film of my own experience. I guess moments of self-reflection feel like this. I feel detached from the world, yet I cannot escape its gravity. I do not feel sadness or apathy, but I encounter the phenomenon of perceiving my surroundings as unreal as they are inescapable.

In the mornings, my thoughts are usually in my coffee. It's probably the most productive place for them to be in the early mornings. I only become fully aware after I've digested my morning work. After work, my head is buried in a book while my body moves towards the setting sun, towards home. The destinations may change from mornings to evenings, but the feeling that the world has eaten me up and left me here remains.

I can only smile on the inside and know that this is exactly where I want to be right now.

Posted 6:33 PM by Mira

Esquire's What A Man Should Know About A Woman - CONT.
No, I am not dead.

#23. A good woman is as excited about a gift that costs nothing as she is about a gift that costs a lot.

My Commentary: I guess I'm a good woman. At least today I am. No really, I am.

Posted 5:05 PM by Blah blah

A Little Reality

By Sarah B. of Que Sera Sera. I love this:

I have been receiving an alarming amount of email lately where complete strangers compliment me and make jokes about wanting to marry me. Now, I'm not going to lie and say that isn't flattering and it doesn't make me smile and feel like a badass, but I am a bit concerned that you people are not getting the Real Deal from my words, so I'm going to fill you in a little here just to make sure everyone knows I'm not always flitting around, casting off bon mots and kissing exotic boys.

I liked the movie Romeo and Juliet, and not for ironic reasons. My favorite song of all time, also for unironic reasons, is "Brandy" by Looking Glass. Monday, did I wash my hair? No. On Saturday I didn't get out of bed until almost 3. I do not floss every day, or even every week. My little brother stopped thinking I was cool years ago. I'm pretty sure my parents don't even think I'm cool. My nose is not cute. I am not hot. I have never owned thong underwear. I'm not even going to tell you the state I awoke in this morning. I've had no idea who anyone on The Real World is since 1999. When I'm drunk, I sing. Loudly. If I shower in your shower, I'll use your scented body wash, even if I brought my own. I am not tall or graceful. I will covet your French fries. I have a sneaking suspicion that when I try to act sexy, it's actually just funny. I probably think I'm a lot smarter than I really am. If you were in the same room as me while I was reading, you would get mad because I can tune you out so well I'd forget your name.

Really, what I have going for me is pretty much what I've said before: I'm very friendly and articulate, and my hair almost always smells like wildflowers. Just not yesterday.

Posted 9:06 AM by Stephanie

Say Hi to Stephanie!

Hi. I'm new here, and a little unsure of what to write. "Write just like you normally do," Raymond said, and I thought, "Okay. What do I normally do?" The only answer I can think of is, I ramble. About Los Angeles. And my family. And my dreams of being a superhero. Um, yeah. So anyway...

I woke up this morning and decided to post. Not right away. I looked out the window and saw a sliver of grey sky between the buildings, with a hint of blue behind it. I wondered if it would be foggy up in the canyons, and if I should get out of bed and rush through the Sepulveda Pass to the valley to go hiking in my favorite weather. But I was going at 11 with a friend, who I haven't seen all week. I had just been dreaming that she was dating a guy I like, and I had to accept that, in the dream. I decided not to go hiking early, but to wait till 11 for our planned excursion. I was disturbed by the dream.

So I thought about going to the beach. I pictured myself seated on a bench on the cliff above the water in Santa Monica, reading The Fellowship of the Ring, which I have not read since I was 10, and snacking on a cranberry muffin from Barnes & Noble, shivering a little bit in the cool air. No -- I would be rushing then, watching the clock and not focusing on the book or the waves rolling onto the beach or the muffin or the air, but on the fact that I had just half an hour to get to the valley or I would be late. So I heated some butternut squash soup and booted up the computer and sat down to write something here.

I am 26. I feel older, younger, or both at once, depending on the circumstances. I feel the time slipping away when I could stand outside in the rain and stare up at the sky and laugh because the wind just felt so good whipping through me. I have been at my full-time job for two years -- by far a record for me -- and I am finally enjoying it. I wonder if I am getting complacent. I live in Los Angeles. I moved here on November 13, 2000. I recently looked at apartments and realized mine is larger and homier than anything else I could get within my price range in my neighborhood. I am lucky. I am learning to eat well. I still want to dye my hair bright blue, if only to see what it looks like. I cannot do this while I am at my current job. I write TV spec scripts in my spare time. I do well in contests, but have not won any yet. I get a kick out of walking to the corner store. I need more time alone than most people. This irritates most other people I know. I like to draw. I drink a lot of water, and hot water mixed with lime juice. I like limes better than lemons. I will never get through my reading list. I love the high I get from watching a good movie or listening to great music. I have a time management problem. I dream of spending four months a year in L.A., four in New Zealand and four in Massachusetts. Chicago is a good city, too. I miss the snow. Most of the year, I miss the rain. I love the variety in the L.A. landscape -- there are mountains and coastlines and canyons and lakes all within the city limits. Sometimes, you don't even know you're in a city. I don't like how you have to drive everywhere. The roads are great on Sunday morning, when you can get anywhere in 20 minutes. Saturday sucks because everyone is trying to get somewhere. On Sunday they all sleep. My favorite coffee house is on Sunset near Crescent Heights Boulevard. It is called "Coffee House" and has good food, too. I miss caffeine but feel much better without it. I smile a lot. I stare into space. I like to play chess. I'm pretty weird, but I'm happy to be here.

Posted 9:25 AM by Macaby

More than 40% of asian women marry outside their race

"Examining a national trend...(more than 40% of asian women marry outside their race, and almost all to white men. This vs. only 5% of white women who marry outside their race)"

I was actually researching my next blog, Asian American vs. Americans of Asian Descent, but came across this poll for ASIAN FEMALES ONLY! The questions asked were as simple as, "Do you dye or bleach your hair so that it is not black?," to a more difficult one to answer, "Again if you answered that you find Caucasian features more attractive, this must imply that you find white women (who have Caucasian features) more attractive than Asian women (who have Asian features) since you find Caucasian features more attractive than Asian features in general."

Granted, I have dated 100% white males (that's because of my Caucasian fetish, we concluded in an earlier blog *rolls eyes*). According to this poll my choices are 1. I never found Asian Men attractive (*Hello Russell Wong & Jet Li) 2. I've never been around other Asians (*True; therefore, never had the chance to relate to other ABA)

My peeve about this poll is that it is too black and white. The poll makes it seem like if you dislike Asian features, you hate yourself. WHOA! How did they conclude that? I find all sorts of non-Asian physical features attractive, but I also find other Asian features more attractive than not. Eventually, we will all be one race anyway.

Posted 6:41 AM by Clementine

Modeling for Tubby

From my Oct. 18th blog:

The weirdest thing happened today: I was approached by a talent scout to model for a fashion show for Tubby, a big girls' clothing line. Actually, I noticed the people inside the Shangri-la branch looking at me when I was choosing clothes, but I thought they were either just making fun of my size (which, now that I think about it, wasn't possible - it is a big girls' store for crying out loud) or watching if I was going to steal anything. Anyway, I tried this off-shoulder top with the busy print, and when I was on my way to the cashier, this girl talked to me and told me if she could interest me into joining this fashion show on November which will be held in Shangri-la atrium, possibly to promote their newest branch.

Now I know the meaning of shock.

Anyway, so I was escorted to Bon Appetit where the interview was taking place. There were five other big women there - the daughter of the owner, the former image model, and three other costumers like me. I was told that they saw my potential - I swear, these were their very words - the minute I entered the store. And then I was interviewed by this petite waif who asked me standard big-women-interview questions like what was your fashion style before, did you ever have a hard time finding clothes, what other clothes do you wish to wear, etc. I think I might have pissed her off because when she asked me if I still want to lose weight, I said yes. I heard the others say no, they're comfortable about their size etc. Damn hypocrites. Anyway, I'd say only one was slimmer than me. The rest were big, but all of them have very pretty faces. And very conio. And they're all made up. I wonder, did they know there was going to be a casting thing? I was feeling super insecure because I was wearing this flesh tiangge peasant top and factory-overrun Ck skirt and I had no make-up. Funny though, the very pretty former image model asked me where I bought the top. In her words, ang ganda ganda. Sana pala sinabi ko, sa pamilihang bayan ng Gapan. :) (it's so pretty. I should have said, in Gapan market)

Timing, the past few days I was actually very insecure about my looks. I thought I look not just fat but ugly. Yeah, I know, I was invited to model for a BIG WOMEN fashion line, but hey, I probably don't look that bad right? Coz if I do, they wouldn't even think of putting me there. I mean, the fashion show's supposed to promote them, not scare away their future costumers.

I don't know though. I have to submit pictures by Sunday morning, and I don't have any. Plus, toxic na sa November. And they might ask me to wear tops that will expose my flabby, flabby arms. Yuck.

But yeah, Dudit is right. I should be flattered.

Sabi ko na nga ba eh (I knew it). In my past life , I was a supermodel. :P

Posted 11:46 PM by Sandy

Posting this for Raymond!
I sent him this questionnaire. These are his answers:

By Raymond

1. IF YOU COULD BUILD A HOUSE ANYWHERE..... WHERE WOULD IT BE?
Near the beach in San Diego or just south of Newport Beach.

2.WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ARTICLE OF CLOTHING?
My polo shirts.

3. FAVORITE PHYSICAL FEATURE OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Come-hither eyes.

4. WHAT'S THE LAST CD THAT YOU BOUGHT?
Don't know. Will buy Vienna Teng though.

5. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO BE?
International House Berkeley, my "other" home. (2nd place: the RBJ Korean sandwich!)

6. WHERE'S YOUR LEAST FAVORITE PLACE TO BE?
In the midst of an argument.

7. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO BE MASSAGED?
I've actually had a full-body 90 min. massage before. My arms and hands, since they hurt.

8. WHAT'S MOST IMPORTANT...STRONG IN MIND OR STRONG IN BODY?
Mind, plus a bottle of Viagra.

9. WHAT TIME DO YOU WAKE IN THE MORNING?
8 am, or when the leaf blowers outside start moaning.

10. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE KITCHEN APPLIANCE?
Our high tech aerodynamic can opener. It's sooo smooth.

11. WHAT MAKES YOU REALLY ANGRY?
Narrowmindedness. People jumping to conclusions.

12. IF YOU COULD PLAY ANY INSTRUMENT, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
A 50-foot high hulk of a church organ.

13. FAVORITE COLOR?
Red-orange, the color of sunset and Baywatch Hawaii.

14. DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE AFTERLIFE?
No. I believe in taxes after death.

15. WHICH DO YOU PREFER, SPORTS CAR OR SUV?
Sports car, baby. I drive fast.

16. FAVORITE CHILDREN'S BOOK?
The Lord of the Rings. 2nd Place: The Phantom Tollbooth.

17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?
Spring.

18. WHAT'S YOUR LEAST FAVORITE HOUSEHOLD CHORE?
Washing windowsills. All that black gunk.

19. IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Chameleon. To be anyone I wanted.

20. IF YOU HAVE A TATTOO...WHAT IS IT?
I don't. But if I ever hooked up with Angelina Jolie, I'd let her pick one for me.

21. DO YOU JUGGLE?
Only time.

22. THE ONE PERSON FROM THE PAST YOU WISH YOU COULD GO BACK AND TALK TO?
Benjamin Franklin or Thomas Jefferson. Renaissance men.

23. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE DAY?
The first day of a travel vacation.

24. WHAT'S IN THE TRUNK OF YOUR CAR?
Emergency car toolbox. Tennis equipment. Rollerblade equipment.

25. WHICH DO YOU PREFER, SUSHI OR HAMBURGER?
Sushi. Preferably off of someone's body.

26. FROM THE PEOPLE YOU E-MAILED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
My imaginary friend Thumper.

27. WHO'S LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Angelina Jolie.

28. Do you Yahoo!?
Ya-hooooooooooo! Gesundheit. Sorry, I have a cold.

Posted 7:16 PM by Raven

This Marriage and Other Fabulous Prizes Could Be Yours!

The hot topic of conversation in the office today: The Bachelor. Personally I think this is an asinine show but everyone was talking about it.

A little background on the show... Over the course of several episodes the Bachelor is given the opportunity to date lots of beautiful women. After having dates with him he is supposed to vote them off one by one as he crosses them off his list of marriage material. The end goal of the show is for the Bachelor to go ring shopping with his chosen lady and propose to her.

This is probably the DUMBEST idea I have ever heard of for a show. In addition to that, what does this show say about our society? Have we sunk so low that marriage is a prize to be won? We are pretty worthless indeed, space aliens should nuke us.

When you are deciding on a woman to marry you aren't merely collecting a trophy or some worthless trinket. Marriage is not some prize to be won and tossed aside in the closet next to the moth balls when it has lost it's alure. "Thanks Bob, I'd like to bid on the showcase with the woman in red holding the Tiffany engagement ring." You are deciding on a life partner, someone to be with you through good times and bad. They'll be there when you are rich, poor, fat, bald, out of work, depressed, on top of the world. You make decisions about the life you will lead, where you will live, to have kids or not... Well you get the picture.

Its no wonder the divorce rate is so high in this country, people making stupid and rash decisions just like I described. I definitely know two people that will be part of the statistical pool this year, they won't even last 6 months... I bet they don't even make it out of the engagement!

Posted 5:28 PM by Raven

RBJ: Redux

RBJ is back with a vengence. Thankfully, we were only without our electronic crack for a few days. The new location for the boards is http://rull.us/rbj/index.php. I don't know what the state of the data migration is but it looks like Carlos has at least gotten the core board back up.

Posted 4:04 PM by Blah blah

Taking a Break

I'm taking a break from blogging to sort things out in my life. I've decided NOT to go down south tomorrow. Later, when ready, I will. You may ALWAYS reach me by email and Yahoo Messenger. I'm not far away. Take care, guys. We have a new cowriter, Stephanie, joining us, as you can see on the left. I hope she'll introduce herself soon.

She's a writer who was a semifinalist in a writing competition. She moved to Los Angeles and works as a senior editor at a publication. She wants to make it as a TV writer. From the beginning of Stephanie's blog:

"Thursday, May 16, 2002

Amazed by the renewed sense of wonder that I feel since starting this weblog. It may not be like walking on fresh snow, but at least the snow isn't all yellow and dirty like it is in the mainstream Internet. I'm rediscovering the reasons why I once thought the Internet was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen -- the real sense of community, the idea of people sharing their thoughts and collaborating with no financial incentive to do so, the raw honesty, and the opportunity to learn something new every time I followed a link.

I really missed that. In the middle of the recession, I've found it hard to keep moving forward and learning new things. I think it's easy to get caught up in wanting other people to change your life for the better, to give you what you think you deserve. It's simple to feel entitled. What's hard is to get off your ass and work toward a goal on your own.

So if no one is going to hand me fulfillment on a silver platter, fine; I'll create my own silver platter. I may not know much about silversmithing, but if it were impossible, no one would know how to do it, and there would be no silver platters in this world. And there would be a lot of unhappy people. Or maybe they would never know they were supposed to be distressed by the absence of silver platters, because such platters never would have existed. Then they might be happy. But not very complex and probably not very interesting people to know. Those who have had and then lost silver platters are much better conversationalists."

Posted 2:14 AM by Jian Shuo

The Great Firewall of China

There is a lot of discussion about what the Internet filter looks like in China.

First, there are a handful of websites that cannot be accessed. If you type in "BBC.com" in your browser, it will return "DNS Error." It seems that "bbc.com" does not exist at all. The list of banned websites is long and includes some famous sites like Wenxuecity.com (a Chinese website by overseas Chinese). Previously, the Google ban raised a lot of attention about China's Internet situation. Now the ban has been lifted, but the cache function still does not work---it simply returns "DNS Error."

Second, the word filter works perfectly. If you search for sensitive terms like "Jiang Ze Min" in Google, you are disconnected immediately from the network. You are still connected to the network, or the dialup still remains active, but the browser returns "DNS error" for any site you try to visit. The network will resume after about 5 minutes automatically. This is a great technology I would say---but it is used in the wrong place. All ISPs are required to follow this policy, but different ISPs vary in how they do it. For example, for some dialup connections, it only bans the site for which you enter sensitive queries. I was posting about the (Communist) Party at Tiger Cafe before, but I was also disconnected from the network. I tried for some time until I directly used a U.S. connection. I don't like this.

Posted 2:00 AM by Blah blah

Danny's Compliment. Christina Says Hi!

Raven told me that Danny had written this compliment about us. Thank you, Danny!

"I ran across a very interesting group blog a few months back and though I have not read it daily, I do tend to read it at least once a week. It is set up by this cat Raymond, the service he provides is pretty good and it brings a group of people together to do what they like most, write.

It is interesting what you find online, anything that you want, just with a little iota of searching and you can find it. I tend to look into more of the writing sections, because it interests me. Raymond's site is one of the better group sites that I have seen. I have also run across multiple sites where it seems it is all about swinger sex; those kind of make me feel queasy. It is never really hot women in swinger groups, it is filled with really ugly like 40-year-old women that look like they have been using drugs far too long. Their husbands are 70's peacenik rejects, still living in tie dye."

That's a gulp of pure Danny for ya. It's amazing that someone as conservative as he is reading the blog of an ex-Berkeley guy.

Christina sent me links to her recent pix. She says hi to you from Nanjing! I have told her that she rarely shows her teeth when she smiles. Here she looks like she's poking fun at that.

Posted 8:55 PM by Raven

Granolas, Hippies and Me, Oh My!

Reposted from my November 15th journal entry.

It was Thursday night and I was disappointed because RBJ was down due to continuing difficulties with their web host. I was bummed out, I had already surfed all my daily journal reads and RBJ was down. What would I do until Survivor came on TV?!?

My roomate John walked in the door and the conversation went something like this:
Me: What's up John?
John: Hey not much, what are you doing later tonight?
Me: Not much, why?
John: Wanna go see some Bluegrass downtown?
Me: Bluegrass?!? What the hell is that?
John: It's Bluegrass, wanna go?
Me: Yeah let me think about it.
....
Me: Ok sure

So off we headed to downtown Seattle. I didn't know where the show was going to be. John just gave me directional hints as he talked on his cell phone to a friend back home. It felt like we were going to some super secret location that no one knew about.

Our first stop was in Queen Anne to pick up our co-worker's girlfriend, she wanted to go to the show. They lived in this studio apartment that in days past used to be a high school. Mrs. Smith could have very well taught French in that portion of the classroom many years ago. At any rate the apartment was gorgeous.

After a few drinks off we went to The Showbox on 1st ave to see The Yonder Mountain String Band perform.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. As we waited outside at the doors I could tell very quickly that I wasn't going to fit in based on the general makeup of the crowd. Once we got inside we headed to the Green Room to have a few drinks and wait for the band to start their first set. I'll have to say that it was a really cool bar and I was impressed up to this point.

We heard the band start their first set and finished up our drinks as we began to move towards the stage. There I stood amidst granolas and hippies with unkempt beards and mangy dreadlocks. The air was permeated with the smell of cloves, body odor and marajuana. The atmosphere was charged as if everyone was waiting for the bolt of lightning to strike during the storm. This is how I always pictured Seattle.

The music started up and something happened. For three hours I became a granola minus the unkempt beard, mangy dreadlocks, au natural B.O., hemp clothing, clove cigarettes and shirt promoting organic foods. I danced a jig like it was going out of style. The music was contagious, it was pure energy! Everyone was filled with happiness, if I could picture in my mind's eye even an inkling of what woodstock was like I would start here. It didn't matter whether you were a college student a resident of a local trailer park or a yuppie like myself; for those few hours everyone fit in.

I tore myself away from the dance floor to answer nature's call halfway through the first set. Unfortunately the men's room was all the way on the other side of the extremely packed dance floor. I meandered through the sea of bodies pressed together, dancing. As I passed through a particularly attractive hippie looking girl grabbed me by the hands and started dancing with me. We danced a bit and then she introduced herself as Rain. I told her my name was Raven and she swooned instantly; she asked me to marry her on the spot because I had such a cool name. I screamed over the music that I was taken and hurried on to the bathroom.

Tonight re-kindled something inside me; my desire to enjoy life. Over the past few months I have fallen into a dangerous rut. I would come home, fix a frozen dinner, watch TV and surf the internet. I pretty much declined all invitations to go out because I would miss out on my internet time. Tonight showed me what it was to have fun again. I choose life over the internet... for now.

Posted 2:38 PM by Blah blah

Rice Bowl Journals is Being Moved

Because RBJ has been using too much bandwidth and getting over 1000 visitors a day, Carlos's server host decided to shut down Rice Bowl Journals.

Please help donate money to support the future of RBJ. Carlos is migrating it to a new host right now. But we must pay as a group on a regular basis from now on to keep it going.

Go here for the latest news.

I've decided to stay away from the new RBJ from now on, unless it's something really important. It's time for Raymond to move into the post-RBJ phase of his life.

Posted 8:17 AM by Blah blah

This is related to what I wrote about Vienna Teng, the up-and-coming singer/songwriter/pianist. I really think her "Lullabye for a Stormy Night" could be a hit single---a song from a movie soundtrack. That song is riveted to my skull. It's so good I fall asleep every time I listen to it! (Just kidding, Vienna.) Here's her performance schedule.

I forgot to add that Sunday night I also met Eric's friend Jim Batcho, a drummer, programmer, and sound engineer.

From Vienna Teng's journal:

15 April 2002
Good Shows

There's a mysterious correlation between warm weather and great shows. Maybe daylight savings time makes people more willing to venture out at 8 PM; maybe it's the open doors of the coffeehouses letting the sound wander out into the street. Or maybe, this past Saturday, it wasn't the weather at all but a guy named Jon working the counter at the Blue Rock Shoot, telling every customer to go check out the singer-songwriter in the back room. Whatever it was, it was a magical show. On a few occasions I've felt a distinct two-way communication happening between myself and the audience -- where it's not just me playing and them listening, but also the listeners' energy and attention somehow feeding back into the song, an expression of something intangible and lovely.

Since I started playing live I've done a few shows to near-empty rooms, or -- and this is somehow worse -- a room full of people not paying any attention. Nights like those I pack up my gear and wonder, am I wasting my time? Am I wasting everyone's time? What's the point of all this? Those are fortunately rare; most other times I just play the songs, make some new friends, have a good time and feel grateful for the lunch money in the tip jar. But at Eric Cheng's house last summer, at the Global Village Cafe in February, and again two nights ago at the Blue Rock Shoot -- at these shows I felt like there was a real connection with the audience. Here was something truly worthwhile.

Those of you who shared those moments with me -- thank you. I mean it. Times like those completely renew my faith in this business of music, and in human nature in general. My profound gratitude to you for being there. Thank you, thank you, thank you. (And sorry, I still haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do when all of you are standing and cheering, except to look terribly embarrassed and happy. *grin*)

Those of you who weren't there -- here's to many more such evenings to come!

Posted 2:25 AM by e*star

Racism...Sexism...Racism AND Sexism...mixed in with a little bit of Exoticism.

After reading some of the past posts, comments, etc... on this topic, I've begun to understand my own complex with these issues (feminism, exoticism, racism, etc.) even better. Having said that, I want to say, here, that a lot of what I have to say on these issues are basically conclusions I've come to on my own, from my own experiences. I believe that much of what each of us as individuals have been exposed to have almost everything to do with the people we are today. Having said *that*, I am in no way judging or disqualifying the viewpoints of others which happen to differ from my perspective--specifically the other Asian female co-writers on Tiger Cafe. I am simply offering my own insight. Take it or leave it as you will... I am rather pleased with the camaraderie we as co-writers share on Tiger Cafe and am so thankful I can "come to the table" comfortably sharing my experiences and thoughts. Keeping that in mind, please take what I say with a grain of salt. :)

I mentioned a lot of my background in my latest Tiger Cafe entry. I did this to set the preface of what I thought about inter- and intra-racial dating. I mentioned my experiences growing up in a predominantly white environment. Again, I have an inclination to set up even more "background information" on my own behalf to be able to present my perspectives on this topic, yet again. Forgive me. :)

In addition to the being in the racial minority, there was yet another manner in which I was a minority. There was even more to the strange environment I grew up in. I grew up with three brothers, all older than I. Let me clarify: they were, and are, all *at least* nine years older than I. I had no sisters. Sometimes, I feel silly in presenting this as a major factor that shaped the way I am, today, but all I can offer as a justification is that my nuclear family is a very, very tight unit and therefore was a huge influence in my childhood and even adolescence. When I was growing up, I saw that my three brothers, who were 13 months and 2 years apart from each other, had themselves as familial peers, and I wanted so much to have the same thing. Identify with them. I was related to them in the same way they were related to each other, right? Our mother carried me in her womb like she did they, didn't she? They were the closest "peers" I had...yet they were so far.

Because they were so far, I made it extra hard on myself. I rationalized, My parents should have the same expectations for me as they do them. As the different-sex sibling who was nine years behind, I was too eager to play catch-up. Why didn't they invite me to go with them to the movies? Why couldn't I stay out late at night? Some of the answers to these questions were easily answered by the age gap I shared with my brothers, such as the prohibited R-rated movie and staying out "late" at night. Other questions had a blurred age- *and* sex-gap rationale to it, even from the very beginning.

Why wasn't I expected to mow the lawn like they were expected to? Why did they "play catch" with each other but never wanted to teach me how? Why were my brothers expected to be doctors, and I wasn't? While I asked my Mom and Dad some of these questions as a child, very few of the answers they gave me sufficed. Some of the questions that I had in my mind in my childhood, I answered myself even while still in my childhood.

I was a girl.

This made me very, very sad.

I still remember being of age 5 and not liking being a girl. Wanting to be a boy. If I were a boy, more would be expected of me. Being a girl meant my potential was limited. If I were a boy, I could reach for the stars. Be successful. The presidents of all the companies were boys. The President of the United States was a boy. I, because I was a girl, couldn't mow the lawn. Girls were weak. I couldn't play catch because even though it looked fun, it just wasn't a "girl thing to do". (I always recount the time I was given a Barbie by a family friend. The same day it was given to me was the same day it got thrown in the closet and never touched until one trash day. It was the only doll I had ever owned. My mom always thought I was a "strange girl" for never being interested in dolls.) Unreasonable Asian parent expectations aside, my brothers were going to be doctors. The same was just not expected of me.

I remember, succinctly, not being happy with these lowered expectations in comparison to my brothers. However, I also remember, succinctly, not accepting these lowered expectations. All I knew was that I knew what my expectations were of myself, and that I saw no reason that I should be different from my brothers. If I wanted to be like them, I saw no reason that I couldn't be like them. Eventually, my parents caught on. They were and still are devout Christian, but they were also pretty progressive for being such devout Christians. They never ceased to push me as much (if not even more) as they pushed my brothers. To this day, I thank them.

Come middle school. The Lions' Den.

Through adolescence, in addition to the inequities in expectations of success between the sexes I initially saw at home, I saw the differences in *gender* in middle school. What was it, really, to be "sexy?" And, why were girls expected to be "sexy?" Having already discarded the differences in ability between boys and girls, I was baffled by this new role that seemed to be forced upon me. The goal, which was popularity, "seemed" to be attained by gaining acceptance from guys. And I achieved this by being "sexy?" I wondered, "Why should I please guys?" All I knew was that I never saw my brothers having the need to pay such close attention to their looks and how their looks attracted girls. Why is *my value* based upon the opposite sex, not on what I can achieve, myself? Specifically, not like how my brothers achieved *their* value--their own hard work and merit.

I struggled with this. I struggled with it hard, then.

I have never stopped struggling.

Continuing in middle school and high school, I wondered, Why was it that the *guys* could be popular by being really funny? The class clown. The witty one. The "cool cat." But, it was the prettiest blonde-haired, blue-eyed *girls* who were the most popular. All they had to do was bat their eyelashes and "be cute." Amazingly cute. "Being funny" wasn't "feminine." You could be kind of funny, but not too funny. It just wasn't girly enough. Neither was being aggressive, or overly assertive. Then, you'd be a bitch. I thought, What was the challenge in that? Being cute doesn't take any brains. You didn't have to earn it. As a girl, I observed, you had to be born lucky. Lucky with good looks. Lucky with a great body. My destiny lay in the hands of how the opposite sex viewed me. I felt trapped. I felt that no matter how hard a woman worked, she was inevitably forced to be a whore in some way. Discard her aggressiveness to please men. Only men could be aggressive. She was a slut if too exploratory with the very sexuality men valued in her. But, men got high-fives for their sexual "conquests." If the woman was too pretty, less was expected of her and she would not be taken seriously, because God forbid a woman be born with both looks and brains.

For a couple years, specifically during 8th grade and the beginning of 9th grade (end of middle school and the beginning of high school), I slipped into a mild depression. I was not happy with what I was given--limited potential. The mild depression had a lot to do with my wavering between learning to accept some premises while discarding others. Looking back, I realized I discarded more premises than I accepted. Through high school and even up til this very day I fine tune my personal theology on what is acceptable and what is unacceptable. What I will succumb to, even utilize to my full advantage, and what I will discard in totality.

Forgive me as I preface, here, even more aspects of my adolescence and young adulthood.

Regurgitation (from my previous post):
1) I grew up in Wisconsin.
2) One of two Asians in my graduating senior class.
3) I was very attitudinal, which actually attained me respect and a decent amount of popularity.

I will elaborate even further that while I was popular in the "popular crowd" sense, I was not popular in the "sexual", "boy-girl" sense. I was not asked on dates. If I was, it was not very often, at all. In fact, I had a hard time even having a homecoming date. A prom date. A winter formal date. Everybody in my crowd went to these dances except me. When I went, it was always my asking the guy. To my "injustice", I observed, the less popular people, even the far less popular people went to these dances when I stayed home (from not having the nerve to ask yet another guy to be my date), or they had dates far before I had my date.

Asian fetish had not yet reached Wisconsin.

It was still, good 'ol midwestern Wisconsin. In every way.

Anyway, my experience with racism affected my conception of beauty. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder--no matter how jacked up that perception of beauty is. It is in the eye of the beholder, and the "beholders," for the majority of my life, did not accept my looks as beautiful. I accepted it as fact. I was not beautiful. I was to get by on my merits alone and push those, in spite of my looks. In fact, I got to being proud of how I looked. I forced myself to accept it and love myself for who I was. I rationalized, People who were "pretty" were inevitably weak, because they need the extra "edge" of people being nice to them. They can expect people to do things for them because they wouldn't survive anyway, I reasoned. In the end, because they are not equipped enough to handle the ways of the world because everything was handed to them on a platter, I would win because all along the journey of life, I was forced to learn the skills of the trade, and would trample over them. Somehow, amidst my Christian beliefs, my ego provided for a Darwinist theory.

This was how I rationalized why I was not beautiful.

It wasn't until junior or senior year where guys thought I was attractive. At least, it was only then when *I noticed* that guys noticed I was attractive. In my own, non-blonde, non-blue-eyed way. But still, I felt like the taboo. The taboo attractive girl. I knew it was because I wasn't white. It was just that my popularity had some sort of spillover effect, or something. Who knows.

I didn't care.

I liked that somehow people were coming to their senses. But I made myself not care--to get back at them. To show them that even when they cared to notice me in that way, I still didn't need them. That I wasn't about to let my sense of self-worth be left to them. That I was in control. Of everything.

Like I said before, through adolescence and the maturing process in general (even in undergrad), I knew what norms in society I thought were acceptable and what things weren't. I discarded *a lot* of the societal norms. I went so far as to think of certain, pertinent social concepts as "right" and "wrong." Femininity in its own right is a beautiful thing and it is what each woman makes of it--but once it is synonymous with characteristics that are second-class (a subjective term in itself) or non-diversified across an entire population, albeit sex--it should not be considered feminine. People have come to view gender, what is associated with one's place in society, to be one and the same with one's sex. But, this is the very core of what I have discarded a long time ago. I would *not* accept the degree of a woman's appeal to men to have anything to do with *her* worth.

What it is that I've discarded and deemed unacceptable in regards to sexism overlaps and is even finely intertwined with racism. This is what I think exoticism is--sexism and racism intricately woven into each other as relevant to the Asian female. There is a lot more I can say about this, but I'll leave it at that, for now.

I will say right here that yes, I am a feminist. Depending on the ears upon which that statement has fallen, the listener may cringe at that very term. I don't think feminism is a dirty word. I don't think it ever should be. I think there are many different types and branches of feminism. There are feminists who would like to align the duties of child-rearing with a woman's role--their being feminist merely celebrates this "role" they so adamantly advocate. In my opinion, being a feminist means celebrating the equality of the sexes. NOT that there are "no differences" between the sexes, therefore they are equal--just that because both should be given equal consideration despite these differences and taking into account those very differences and accomodating them, equally.

So. This is my view of feminism. If your view is different, I am not saying that you are not feminist, that your views are not as worthy--this couldn't be farther from the truth. I respect *your* opinion, whatever it is. This is merely my voicing my own. This is what I've derived from my own life's journeys. :)

Moving on. Racism served as a sort of contorted catalyst for my experiencing the "Ugly Duckling Syndrome." I became comfortable with my being "ugly," as preference for blondes in my environment would have it, but then when I came to Los Angeles for undergrad (following on the tails of the "opened eyes" of my peers in high school) it suddenly just pounced on me. I was suddenly somewhat desirable on such a larger scale. But big surprise--it was because I was now surrounded by tons and tons (literally) of Asians. A lone female freshman at UCLA...pure MEAT. YAh. I'll admit it. Nonetheless, this was ugly duckling syndrome. My "swan-ness" revealed itself oh-so-suddenly. I had no idea what was going on.

I had my fun, but I never forgot what it was like to not be so easily desired. But, I didn't handle it well. I tried to do both. I had a split personality. I had *a lot of* fun--I went to frat parties and clubs. Oh, so many clubs. I danced many nights away and enjoyed my fair share of attention--on the go-go box or whatnot. But it was so fleeting. So, so fleeting. On the other hand, I pushed all boys away. I was asked on many dates but only went on a couple. Inside, I felt ashamed that I got attention purely by my looks. It is not like I felt I didn't deserve it--in fact, my ego was dangerously ballooning time and time again but at the same time, I kept popping it with my own needle. I thought, Why do I deserve to be desired more than the next girl? She could be so much more interesting than me. So much more compatible with this guy, who is asking me out--wasting his time on me because he picked me purely on my looks. I *judged* all the guys who asked me out--in my opinion, they were shallow because they barely knew me. They would barely know who *I* was. They only knew how I looked. I thought, Whoever picked up on me wouldn't be able to handle me. Frankly, my ego was out of control. It was not good.

Exoticism...or lack thereof...

I must reveal, here, that I haven't had any significant, long-lasting dating experience like Sandy where I had an epiphany and realized that the piece of scum I was dating was actually just that...a piece of scum. I will leave that cameo completely to Sandy. :) I have had a few run-ins at clubs who would single out Asian women, and really--they were no different than any other type of slimeballs that you would, well, meet at clubs. They just had that--the Asian preference, *whatever* the reason was. In the end, I have *not* had a lot of personal experiences with exoticism, but somehow I still think I have a lot to say about the topic. Hah. Call me self-enlightened. ;)

The first 17 years of my life, I was in a time and place where my being Asian was deemed my disadvantage. My strike. My dishonor. Beauty was viewed through one lens, and that lens saw only European features as beautiful. Not Asian features. Not African features. Not Hispanic features. Like I said, not Asian features. This, specifically, impacted me directly.

Suddenly, things Asian started to become "in fashion" and "trendy." Do you remember the time when Abercrombie and Fitch started placing Chinese characters on their T-shirts, sweat-pant legs and baseball caps? I remember. I was completely psyched out, but in a bad way. I was all confused. Suddenly, Indian sari's and Chinese silk became popular home-decorating materials. Gold trimmings where everywhere. The Asian influence was in. One time, I visited some old friends in their dorm rooms at the University of Wisconsin when we were Sophomores during a Christmas break, since our breaks were disaligned with each other. I saw cheesy Asian decorations like poorly-made changing screens, cheap-looking bamboo picture frames, poorly-written and inauthentic Chinese calligraphy on the walls. I was absolutely baffled.

Why, you ask? Sometimes I wonder myself why I was so shocked.

All I knew was that my entire, entire life, I was "not cool" because I was Asian. I thought, Who the hell are you are to tell me *when* my culture is in fashion? You, as white culture, had no respect for who I was and for my ethnic origin my entire life, but you would dare bastardize my culture and make it "trendy" whenever YOU decided it was time? Why was it up to white culture to decide when anything that has to do with me is finally valid? All in all, I felt that none of them had the right to "celebrate" my culture if they were the ones who were also responsible for making me feel like an outsider because of the very same reason--that my culture, my origin, was not theirs.

Factor in my encounters with men with Asian fetish. I had always considered Asian fetish to be a short-lived, more recent phenomenon. Like a trend. A phase, like the grunge era--where people just suddenly thought that for a period of time, maybe 5 years, it would be fashionable to date an Asian woman. This was my conception of the Asian fetish--and like my old friend's new decorations, I was not about to allow for my origin or culture to phase in and out like rolled up pant legs in the '80's. I would not be a trend. I would not be seen for my race. My race would be seen to *compliment* ME. But, you, if you were really interested in me, would find out who I am as a person. You will not single me out *because* of my race so you could use it as a pawn how and when you chose.

I am a chump. I am all for just having us all "get along." So the minute that any gender-based/race-based generalization infringes on the happiness or well-being of anybody, man or woman, is the minute I get upset. Mind you, I am *angst-ridden* all the time, since it happens every gosh-darn minute. I am also a feminist. How I've embodied feminism in my own way is not to utilize my looks to get what I want and what I perhaps don't even deserve. The moment I've given that up (my looks in order to schmooze) is the moment that I have devalued myself as an individual, thinking human being worthy of achieving through her own merits and have therefore enabled men to objectify me in such a way and be suspicious of my own abilities.

Like I said in a comment in an earlier post--I would be lying if I said I didn't identify with the Catch-22 of liking attention paid to my physical attributes. I dress up. I never *intentionally* dress frumpy to see how men would react and "see who my true friends are." Haha. Ludicrous, I know. But, in order to not let other people use these very physical attributes to "box me in," I leave the physical purely at the physical, and would not let it cross over to my using it to attain other things, such as by flirting. Lately, I've had a lot of practice keeping a casual yet professional attitude at my workplace. I've definitely learned how imperitive it is. :)

Keep in mind, I know that sometimes I am an idealist who often mistakens myself for a realist. This makes for very unreasonable expectations at times. Combine all my stances on racism, sexism, and combine those to formulate exoticism, you have the very complex mind that is mine. Yes, I know that realistically, men generally hit on women whom they are at least first physically attracted to. Men, in general, have preferences. But in my little ideal world, as little emphasis as possible would be placed on the physical. That my man might see the person, inside, that I've worked so hard to become. He might *appreciate* that I am Taiwanese, but not stake me, along with countless other Asian females, out purely because of that. That he might appreciate the *individual* that I've worked so hard to become. He would also appreciate the scars as well as the soft tissue that has replaced the once-open wounds. And then, learn to take care of me.

*e

Posted 6:35 PM by Macaby

My one Asian friend ... well, maybe two

Someone asked me why didn't I have any American Asian friends. From the time I was six years old until I went to college, I lived in Birmingham, Alabama. I always wondered why my Mami thought I could find a suitable Indonesian man when we lived in the Heart of Dixie and where the only other Asians we knew were our relatives. We had no American-born Asians (ABAs) my age to talk to.

A Korean family lived next door to us for a few years in grade school, and my sister had a Vietnamese friend of whom I still think fondly. All of them moved away eventually. We never had the sense of an Asian community. My parents are hardworking blue collar people who had to constantly work and are still working as hard as they did 20 years ago when we first immigrated. So my sister and I lacked supervision. Moreover, being latchkey kids, we consumed ourselves with American television and other influences in our predominantly white schools.

I was also shy growing up, 180 degrees of where I am today. I wanted so badly to be an American, wear the right clothes, lose the accent, and start using forks in hope of becoming one of the popular kids. I repressed my Asian heritage. At the same time, we celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving the American way. We never participated in any Indonesian traditions. Of course, it's saddens me now when I'm getting married and I have no way of knowing how to intergrate my heritage into our wedding.

By high school, I was maybe one of five Asians in the entire school. In college, I couldn't relate to students who had come to the US for schooling only. Like Thea: those Indonesian students didn't grow up the same way, have the same views, or enjoy the same things as I. I did converse with one guy from Indonesia from time to time. By this late in the game, my language and dialect had been replaced by a thick southern Dixie accent. I just couldn't relate to non-ABAs, period.

Even now, you guys are my only Asian friends. I did click with another Chinese-Indonesian guy from a trip to Boston back in 2000; he's going to be one of my bridesmen. He was my first Asian friend, sadly enough. Alx is a nice and generous guy. He lends an ear and never asks for anything in return.

This past weekend, when I was in Seattle, we went out with a friend of mine, J.T. I totally forgot she was a hapa (Filipino/Anglo). When I pointed this out to Raven, he said you could barely tell, with no physical traits and definitely none of the culture. The woman can't even use chopsticks. She admits her mom never educated her on her Asian heritage. Both she and her mom were born in the Seattle. Could I really count her as an "Asian" friend?

So now what? I am venturing out to seek new friends [like Thea, you just have to give someone the chance]. My goal is to find more people like me: eccentric, free-spirited, quirky and just plain silly. Asian descent or not, they just have to be open-minded.

Am I weird to not have any Asian friends in real life? I know Ray already told me he would be my [virtual] friend :)

previously posted on 08/12/2002

Posted 1:25 PM by Blah blah

Out of Place
Among One's Own Race

By Thea (Nov. 17). She responded to Esther's post about feeling out of place as a minority. But for Thea, it's more a minority based on her mind and personality:

"As a general minority yet academic majority, I do not feel like I fit in anywhere at all. I grew up in predominantly white neighborhoods [Tennessee] so for most of my life I have felt different and ostracized (although my reclusive nature probably accounted for a lot of that too). I could not even relate to the few other Asians around. They were the token Asians, popular and highly competitive. And I couldn't even fit in that mold.

When I was thrust into a situation where I was part of the majority, I felt like I had been dumped in a mirror universe. Everyone looked like me, but they didn't believe the same things I did, didn't wear the same things, didn't like the same things, and certainly didn't act like me. I was puzzled as to why the Asians would want to lump so closely together that they excluded everyone else. I was excluded because my behavior did not conform with theirs. (If I want to be honest with myself, I feel like I don't look like the other Asians enough to be accepted. I'm not coy, thin, or pretty. That's probably better in the long run, but geez, I feel like I'm living in a vacuum.)

It's not that I don't have friends. I do. Only that my friends are of the more eclectic mix--where communicating ideas is a stronger motivator than sticking to people just like them. I'm torn between the two conflicting imperatives: should I ingratiate myself with a group of people suspicious of others in order to facilitate integration or should I just avoid those not-so-forward-thinking people and stick with the people who are like me? Both don't sit well with me. Although integration is a noble goal, I'm never sure if deep-seated prejudices are changed. As for the people who are like me, they're really not like me.

Integration not only should be about race, but about who you are. I'm tired of being labeled as the chicken in the flock of cuckoos wherever I go. I'm going to roost on my own lonely branch."
_______________________
Thea graduated from Caltech this spring. Now she's in grad school in biology at Dartmouth, in New Hampshire.

Thea, I know what you mean about feeling the odd one out. Even with my outgoing personality, I grew up an outsider and am used to being an outsider. I would suggest changing your attitude and thinking about others, so you view people as all human beings who actually share a lot more in common than at first glance. Don't stereotype the other way and think those popular "token Asians" you mention are not also going through the same problems as you. Or that they are all airheads who don't want to have meaningful conversations. You don't only have those two choices you mentioned. I'm also non-conformist and don't like to rush along with the crowd.

I would say take more social risks. Look people in the eye. Go the extra mile and introduce yourself to people you previously avoided based on your past prejudices. Dig deeper with them for common ground. Even if you meet someone dressed like a Goth, with spikey purple hair and a nipple ring, she still has more in common with you than you may think. That's the beauty of getting to know people. You break through those facades and the window dressing people mount before them.

Even the "coy, thin, or pretty" girls have your problems and self-doubts sometimes. Believe it!

And voila, you have a new friend!

Posted 1:08 PM by Blah blah

Christine

Check out Christine, one of our readers. She's getting married. Her wedding blog. About her: Filipina in Chicago who works as a technical consultant.

Posted 7:28 AM by Blah blah

Vienna Teng

Last night I drove to Eric's beautiful, artsy place in San Francisco. He had invited me along with maybe 30 others to hear Vienna Teng play on his grand piano and sing a selection of her songs. Her performance lasted about two hours. They were celebrating the release of her album Waking Hour. I also met and had fun talking to Pjammer there, too! They are all very cool and accomplished, and I'm happy I got to connect with them. It was my second time meeting each and my first time meeting Vienna.

She writes a journal here too.

Here's a bio of Vienna Teng by Virt Records, an independent label with whom she signed a deal this May. She's a 24 year old singer, songwriter, and pianist. From Metroactive: "Pianist and songwriter Vienna Teng hails from Saratoga. She graduated from Stanford [computer science] and worked as a code warrior at Cisco before chucking it all to focus on her budding music career. Her style will strike a chord with those who love Sarah McLachlan or Tori Amos; her light voice is imbued with the icy chill of piano. But don't get it twisted--Teng isn't into Windham Hill surface noise. Her lyrics are confessionals tucked into songs of quiet grace.

Vienna has a low, soothing voice. She wore a dark blue-violet dress. Everything about her (including her music) suggests calm, depth, sincerity, and a quiet inner strength. She wrote several of these rich melodic songs by the time she was 20. Says she grew up missing a lot of 80s music. Instead she was inspired by the melodies of Bob Dylan and other singers of the 60s. All of her songs, which she wrote, cover a wide range of topics. One, "Drought," is about "writer's block" of all things. "Since I tend to be a 'roundabout' person in describing things, this is good for writing a song. I need to be more flowery and talk (through music) about how my feelings remind me of clouds, of how they float around the mountaintops, etc." Another, "Lullabye For a Stormy Night," she wrote at age 17, while procrastinating on an essay for a high school English class. "It was 2 am and I was stuck on my essay. I happened to be at the piano." She says being busy helps her creativity, for ideas tend to come to her while she's supposed to be doing something else. Another song, "Unwritten Letter #1," she wrote when 18. She had been in a bad mood about a boy not returning her romantic advances. "I got tired of hearing myself whine." I loved this song, which surprises you with lively twists and feels like its high on caffeine. Another song, which I loved, was a lullaby she wrote for a little girl who loved her work, named Rose Anne. Another one, about one of her past relationships, is called "Eric's Song." When she plays at his house, she must always add: "Not THAT Eric." Near the end, she sang a stirring version of a John Denver song.

Like most artists, she can take these petty details of daily life and weave them into spiritual melodies that resonate with the eternal, the unconscious. "Confessional" is an apt word for her style, because I sometimes felt like I was in church. It was Eric's "church," though, with homemade M&M cookies, cake, wine, and sofas shaped (I'm not kidding) like the Yin Yang symbol. The mood reminded me of a friend I had in high school, Alice, a pastor's daughter who played many worship songs on the piano with that lighthearted, soulful air.

You may download some of Vienna's songs from Waking Hour here (MP3). She sometimes performs at the Blue Rock Shoot Cafe in Saratoga (photos), close to my home. The next time she'll be there is Nov. 30. (Pjammer, let's see how many comments I get for this one!)

Hear her lovely voice: Lullabye For A Stormy Night ( MP3)
__________________________
From Vienna's journal:

15 April 2002
Good Shows

There's a mysterious correlation between warm weather and great shows. Maybe daylight savings time makes people more willing to venture out at 8 PM; maybe it's the open doors of the coffeehouses letting the sound wander out into the street. Or maybe, this past Saturday, it wasn't the weather at all but a guy named Jon working the counter at the Blue Rock Shoot, telling every customer to go check out the singer-songwriter in the back room. Whatever it was, it was a magical show. On a few occasions I've felt a distinct two-way communication happening between myself and the audience -- where it's not just me playing and them listening, but also the listeners' energy and attention somehow feeding back into the song, an expression of something intangible and lovely.

Since I started playing live I've done a few shows to near-empty rooms, or -- and this is somehow worse -- a room full of people not paying any attention. Nights like those I pack up my gear and wonder, am I wasting my time? Am I wasting everyone's time? What's the point of all this? Those are fortunately rare; most other times I just play the songs, make some new friends, have a good time and feel grateful for the lunch money in the tip jar. But at Eric Cheng's house last summer, at the Global Village Cafe in February, and again two nights ago at the Blue Rock Shoot -- at these shows I felt like there was a real connection with the audience. Here was something truly worthwhile.

Those of you who shared those moments with me -- thank you. I mean it. Times like those completely renew my faith in this business of music, and in human nature in general. My profound gratitude to you for being there. Thank you, thank you, thank you. (And sorry, I still haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do when all of you are standing and cheering, except to look terribly embarrassed and happy. *grin*)

Those of you who weren't there -- here's to many more such evenings to come!

Posted 8:50 PM by ...

Manila Girl

I walked into the Tiger Café this morning with a question in my head: Should I have said “yes” to Raymond when he asked me to be one of his co-writers? The answer came as I realized the words “nudity,” “spirituality,” “elitist,” and “ignoramus” were all unabashedly used in one page. Yep, I’m in the right place. (The world will forever remember my first entry here as the one that came right after the one on “boobies.”)

My name is Mona (something I share with macaby) and I’m from the Philippines. Eight to five, five days a week, I head up the marketing unit of a telecom multinational in Manila. Marrying my best friend and bringing two of our children into the world are the best feats I’ve managed so far.

I write a weblog because it helps process my thoughts and my feelings. I write fiction because it gives me joy. I write here because the clever, cerebral conversation looks like fun.

Besides, for this, we get free coffee every day, right? ;D
________________________
Welcome, MONA (aka Renaissance Girl)! Thank you for doing this. She's a very popular blogger, read by many Filipinas. Her blog was featured in this article in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, one of the major newspapers of the Philippines!

How should we refer to both Monas here? I'm thinking of saying Mona V and Mona T. Do you have any preferences? Or should I call Mona T as Macaby? -RG

Posted 12:43 PM by Blah blah

Warning: Nudity

Religion reminds me of Eve (of Eden fame) who reminds me of...nudity.

This girl LOVES us, guys (nudity)! She even made extras:

Me
Ang
Ben
Charlie
Duke
Jian Shuo
Raven

Posted 11:08 AM by Blah blah

Leaving Technology for Religion
From Ang's blog, Sept. 1, 2002:

Admittedly, this whole seminary thing is a pretty reckless thing for me. Not only am I abandoning a fairly stable career in management/technology, what I'm seeking to do is itself a very uncertain and unproven idea. My background is entirely in science (with a BS in physics) and computers (working as an Internet technologist). It is entirely unknown how well I will do as a philosopher: I've never done any academic philosophical work before, and I have no way of discerning how likely it will be that I will be even given the opportunity to study it at my school of choice, much less teach it. I must admit that this is fairly stressful for me. My most private thoughts are filled with uncertainty: will I have what it takes to be a "philosopher"? Do I have anything to contribute in this field? Sure, I love philosophy now, but will I retain my passion for it when it becomes work? Wasn't it Plato who said "All learning which is acquired under compulsion has no hold upon the mind"? Will I burn out and find myself longing for the corporate setting in a year or so?

But as troubling as the vocational transition is, even more difficult is the transition in location and community which accompanies it. In my years in Los Angeles and Boston, I've grown accustomed to living within the sort of cultural and intellectual diversity that those places provide. Now, I'm in the South, thousands of miles away from either of those places, attempting to reconstruct from the resources around me a similar richness in culture. This doesn't happen quickly.

Add to that the loss that comes from leaving my community of friends---those people who've known me for the past 10 years. Who understand me (as best they know how---I'm pretty wacky). Who value and affirm me (well, I think they do, anyways.) Life this last week and a half has been very isolating. In all, it's been hard.

I know what I need to do. My main priority right now is to begin connecting with my fellow seminary students, as well as finding the new church community I will be participating in. Connecting with seminary students is relatively easy: I live on campus with them. Finding a church is more difficult. That's been at the forefront of my attention recently.

Up to now, I've visited three churches in the area around the seminary. One is a Korean-American church about 45 minutes away. (I have a friend there who attended my church in Boston.) Another is a Chinese-American church about 15 minutes away. (This is a church that many of the Chinese seminary students attend.) The third is a new multi-ethnic church plant run by recent seminary graduates located in one of the poorest communities in the area (about 10 minutes away from the seminary).

Of the three churches, the third seems to have the most interesting mission. It sees itself called to minister to the underprivileged--those who haven't been given much opportunity by our society. The congregation is composed of the very poor, homeless, drug users, prostitutes---as well as those who have been raised in church all their lives, who are highly educated, who are business owners.

Observing the church renewed a conviction that I have had for a few years now. My current goal is to be a college professor---in effect, to minister to gifted folks: namely, those who are able to attend college. Many of my students will be over-achievers---those who are highly blessed, whose value is affirmed and cheered by society. (I count myself within this crowd...)

The highly advantaged face many significant spiritual challenges. These challenges tend to include pride, selfishness, self-righteousness, greed, vain competitiveness. In many ways, I see the highly advantaged as needing the disadvantaged. By working with those who have been neglected and rejected by society, the highly advantaged have an opportunity to learn compassion, mercy, love, self-denial.

I say this purely from observing myself. I have to admit that when I peer into my heart, to try to understand the state of my soul, I see a massive emptiness left there by the ease of my childhood life, of my college studies, and of building a lucrative and prestigious career. When I see a pastor (Cletus**) who has the courage and compassion to embrace those who are dirty, poor, weak within his church---one who invites the homeless to live within his own home---I cannot help but recognize something which fits with some of the deepest groanings of my heart. I cannot help but think: perhaps here, God can show me another aspect of the ministry which He has built me for...

We'll see. I've never been able to get genuinely excited about mercy-based ministries. Maybe this is Time. Perhaps there can be special value in connecting the rarified, elitist, mind-driven realm of academic philosophical thought with a very down-to-earth, practical and heart-driven ministry. In the realm of inner-city ministry, I have a lot to learn. In fact, I bring to it nothing, other than a guarded desire to serve, tainted by a large portion of cynicism, personal isolation, and some emotional instability. I hope Cletus can work with what I bring....

(**All names have been changed to protect the clueless...)

Posted 11:00 AM by Blah blah

A New Life: the Seminary
From our cowriter Ang's blog, August 22, 2002:

I just moved in yesterday to my seminary dorm. Today was orientation and registration for new students. Classes start Monday...

What a wild ride it has been the last month! I suppose it all began with a cross-country road trip which was stopped short by an accident in, of all places, Laurel Mississippi. My car was totaled, but, thank God, nobody was hurt.

If only the accident were the worst of my troubles. It was, in fact, only a harbinger of the trial to come. The course of events over the past 20 days, which I'm unable to discuss in detail in this forum, have left me shipwrecked emotionally and spiritually. Discouraged and weak, confused and hurt, lonely and misunderstood--that's the best way to describe my current state of mind. I have almost no strength left. I have nothing left to give. The only thing left for me is to offer this broken mess of my heart and soul to God, hoping that he can do something---anything---good with it. To cling to God with all that remains of my will.

And really, what am I doing here? I often wonder if it makes sense for me, a fairly liberal, wacky, and nonconformist Christian, to come to this seminary, a fairly straight-laced, conservative institute in the South [Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary]. The incongruity of this pairing isn't lost on those who know me well and have spiritual authority over me. I commented to my pastor in Los Angeles that I feared being misunderstood---that folks may not understand why it is that I do things the way I do them or say things the way I say them. His reply: "Just tell them you're crazy! That should explain most of it." As for my pastor in Boston, he offered to put $5 into a betting pool various church members were putting together for how long it would take before I either quit or get kicked out of seminary. His estimate: 2 months. The shortest bid there starts at 2 weeks. And my father, himself a pastor, has warned me that my ideas are so extreme that if I ever pastored a church, I would lose the orthodox members and turn into a pseudo-cult.

Thankfully, God has not been absent during this time. I can see the goodness of His provision in the arrangements in seminary (from big things like providing an awesome advisor and a cool roommate, to small things like broadband Internet access in my dorm room). I hear His guidance and encouragement in deeply powerful and gripping ways through preachers and teachers in the various churches I have visited. And despite the trials and crisis in my life, I'm continually sustained by a strangely deep peace about the entire situation. There is much joy, comfort and consolation from God, whenever I turn to receive it. Praise and Glory to Him!

Here are some fun facts:

- I got into trouble with the seminary ethics committee before even showing up on campus. Apparently, someone informed them about an 8-year-old web page of mine which I had forgotten about. I removed the web page before they would let me enroll.
- No shorts are allowed on campus.
- If you must wear shorts while working out, you must also wear spandex underneath
- My roommate, Vern**, is studying social work and ministry-based evanglism, with a specialization in inner-city. Vern met his fiancee over the Internet. He claims that at first, she stalked him through his web site.
- Just today, I met Jed**, another seminary student who wants to do what I want to do. He started on the M.Div track as preparation to pastor, but is now seeking to teach philosophy full-time at a secular university.
- I've registered for five classes this term: hermeneutics, systematic theology, philosophy of religion, apologetics, and a class taught by my advisor, Jethro**, about Christianity, the Arts, and Pop Culture.

(** These are fake names.)

Posted 8:52 AM by 216443

And sometimes those stereotypes are reversed:
Freshmen year, I asked a female friend of mine to my fraternity's Barn Dance party (it's a Michigan thing, I think- spiced/spiked apple cider, flasks, hay rides, flannel).

She says sure, that she'd love to go with me. We're just friends, but she's been told by her friends that she should be really nice to me. Because I'm Asian, she says. Because that means I'm going to be rich, she says.

And then the kicker.

"Besides, you're pretty cute for an Asian guy."

I immediately found a new date.

Okay, so maybe that second part was really more an affront to my pride than anything. I'm cute, period. "For an Asian guy" is just an unnecessary limiting of the set of cute guys of which I am a part. So where was I? Ah, Asian male stereotypes. We're supposed to be successful- as doctors, businessmen, lawyers, engineers. And we get those jobs because we all have deeply rooted Confucian work ethics. And crazy math skills.

I've also heard that Asian guys are supposed to be really frugal, which I suppose has some morsels of truth, depending on the guy, of course. One of my childhood friends has the most frugal parents I've ever seen. It rubbed off something terrible. When giving his sister her lunch money, he told her to just drink water, because milk by the half-pint was too expensive. His hand-me-downs were handed down threefold. He was the last member of Members Only. No one understood why, his family ran several successful businesses, they just didn't believe in buying furniture for the house. Maybe it's because first generation children don't normally come from parents immigrating with support from old money. The reason they came to the States in the first place was to find new opportunities for success and wealth creation. (Odd because you'll notice so many Asian families spoil their children, but that's another story completely.)

On the other hand, Asian males are thought to be so thoughtful and sensitive, sometimes altogether lacking that male-ness that others may have. Again a double-whammy, because sometimes Asian guys are thought to be totally into the machismo, unable and unwilling to back down from any challenge. Growing up under parents ruling with iron fists (and yet sons are treated like little tigers), we're allegedly unaware of the option to actually even consider risking authority. Of putting our shoe-less feet down on the carpet.

So Asian women are exoticized, made more desirable. Asian men are slaves to work, slaves to authority, lack power, and frugal. And not often attractive. Great, just great.

At least we've got that whole moody/brooding thing going on for us.

Posted 4:12 AM by Sandy

RE: Interracial dating and the topic of being exoticized and sexually stereotyped.

Raven asked about the different stereotypes surrounding Asian females and what non-Asian males have done to make us feel exoticized.

To be honest, I don't encounter too many men who are blatantly racist towards Asian women. My experiences were with men who were subtle about their preferences, and later became quite apparent once the relationship(s) got more serious. I dated an older Caucasian man (mid 30's) about 3 years ago. Right off the bat he confessed his fetish for Asian women and because I wasn't serious about him, I just shrugged it off.

I can relate when Mira says: "I admit without hesitation that I like the sexual attention/stereotype, I feel flattered by it. Yet it upsets me at the same time that I'm 'boxed' and viewed that way."

I was definitely flattered by his compliments. He loved certain physical features. Actually, it more like he was intrigued with me. I felt like some exotic, rare bird that caught his fancy. He would constantly shower me with compliments that somehow extinguished any possible insecurity a "Asian woman" might possess. He loved the fact that I didn't have fake, silicon boobs. I hated how my heavy, thick hair hung shapelessly over my shoulders. But he loved brushing my "long, raven hair," always reassuring to me that he preferred "brunettes" over blondes any day. I always just thought that he was confirming the fact that Asian women were indeed beautiful in their own unique ways, but after a while I started feeling exploited.

At dinner parties, he would joke with his buddies and make remarks like, "I know you envy me. My girl is prettier than any Miss Asia contestant around!" My favorite was when he flirted with a Japanese waitress at a restaurant. He thought he was Mr. FunnyManComedian when he started cracking jokes about the fried shrimp heads she served as an appetizer. For some odd reason, he thought he could charm her by using