Motownphilly back again

What? Yup, I went to a Boyz II Men concert last night with about ten friends, old and new. Let me tell you, it was RIDICULOUS.

Hundreds of people packed into an average-sized amphitheater at the Alameda County Fair. Sad that this most successful R&B male vocal group of all time has downgraded to a county fair venue. But whatever - I got to see them. It was a dying wish that I did not know I had.

Michael McCary, the deep voice guy (re: On Bended Knee: "Baby, I'm sorry. Please forgive me") has sadly retired because of his scoliosis conditions. The other three danced and pranced and passed out roses and, of course, sang their way into our hearts.

So moved was the crowd that a couple women ran up on stage to try to touch the Boyz. One made it as far as to hug one the them, but the other didn't quite make it, and both were immediately dragged offstage. Another girl - probably in her early twenties - ran up to the section of the moshpit where we were standing and started shouting, "My son! My son is up there! He's four years old! Let me get through!" People in the mosh couldn't hear her at all and then she started bawling hysterically. Some tried to help her locate her son, a girl told her boyfriend to get security, and I put my right hand on her back to offer some comfort.

Here's the crazy part: Later, Nhuanh saw her walking around the fair and asked her if she found her son. The girl was taken aback at first and then replied, "Oh, no I haven't. Maybe I'll look for him in the lost and found," complete with an attitude. Wow, oh wow. I did not expect that. She had us all duped.

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In other news,
I finally finished One Hundred Years of Solitude last night. Great read. I loved the incredible stories and the way they expanded my imagination.

Self discoveries

My hair is long enough to be twirled into a bun.


In the summer time, I am sometimes mistaken for a Latina/Filipina.


The idea of teaching is more appealing than appalling these days.


Going to Banteay Srei's graduation reception did a number on me. I don't know what it is yet, but it feels like fire.


This heart of stone is in the process of becoming flesh.

I'm in Portland, Oregon, right now visiting with my friend Theresa and her husband Matthew. I met Theresa last summer while volunteering at a Chinese foster home for blind children. She is a high school teacher at the Washington State School for the Blind and a writer. Matthew is a priest at the Orthodox Christian church that they attend. They are good people; currently all three of us are in the kitchen having a mac party - that is, conversing sporadically while typing away on our personal mac notebooks.

Portland is a most beautiful and foresty city, and it has been refreshing and healing for my soul to spend time here. I cannot tell you how gorgeous and picturesque every corner of this city looks (at least what I've seen so far). It's definitely a treat to be here after living in New York City and Los Angeles. Today I attended the graduation ceremony at WSSB. It was so tender to see the seniors receive their hard-earned diplomas in spite of their visual impairment, complete with supportive family members, teachers and friends weeping. My heart felt warm and happy having partook in this special occasion.

This evening Theresa and I took a walk outside of her home, which, I swear, looks like an enchanted forest. Along the way we talked about family, marriage, mistakes, dogs, and trees. Tomorrow we will be driving up to Woodland, Washington, to attend a lunch party at LiQin's host family's house. LiQin is another beloved friend from China; she is 19, blind, from the foster home and currently attending WSSB for a year. Today she brought me lots of laughs by reminding me of how last summer the kids at the foster home made me their honorary grandmother, and how I complied with their demands by acting senile and speaking in a husky voice.

Oh man, I'm lovin' it here. At this rate, I'm not ever going to want to leave this place!

Procrastinating while packing

I'm going away for the month and then some. I'll be back in time for: C&T's wedding, Lydia's return to Claremont, and Maria's baby shower. Life is full to the brim.

Hopefully I will be writing on my trip, since I'll be spending time with a couple writers (authors and aspiring). I've discovered that writing is a way of loving myself - to allow myself to express freely and creatively; to accept and to be amazed at my life and experiences.

Reading has been doing wonders for my soul too. I'm almost done with Life of the Beloved and will finish it up on my flight.

Other titles I am bringing along:


The Inner Voice of Love - another Nouwen book

One Hundred Years of Solitude - it's about time I finish this fatty novel

Savage Inequalities - by Kozol, a big deal in the ed. field

Eat, Pray, Love - yes, I've read it and it's overrated. and yes, I want to read it again anyway.


Now, a song for the road:

Rosie Thomas - Wedding Day

An imagery

We walk together, you and I, down a path that leads to a stream. I am following your lead, but we walk shoulder to shoulder, talking and conversing along the way. Our conversation is simple and few words are conveyed. But you know me, and you know what I mean even when I don't explain or go into details. When you speak, I am comforted by the gentle kindness of your voice. I like hearing you talk; I listen with my heart without trying.

We come to the stream and there is no one, no sound but the sound of water flowing by. The small rocks in the stream float along and softly rub against one another, creating a quiet, barely audible medly of percussion sounds. We mostly just walk together in silence, knowing each other's thoughts and feelings without having to speak them aloud. I point out groves of trees in a distance and you smile and nod, then take in a deep breath of the aroma of nature's fine fragrance. We walk at a slow pace, just the way I like it, with no care in the world but only thoughts of how lovely it is to be in the great outdoors together.

You pick up small pebbles from the side of the road and toss them one by one into the stream. The rocks skid down the stream and create small ripples along the way. Without a word, you hand me some pebbles and I imitate your tossing movement. I throw one good throw, then a second one that falls sloppily into the water and does not come up for a second jump. We laugh effortlessly. Then we stand still for a long moment, watching and gazing at the landscape before us. We are just where we want to be.

Scientific American Says

Blogging -- It's Good for You


other therapeutic measures I have found to be helpful:


centering prayer, 20 min. a day


eating good food - lots and lots


exercising and being out in the sun


dressing up cute, even if it's just a trip to the post office


laughing uncontrollably


reading fiction and lonely planet travel guides


taking trips to places you've always wanted to go

I love him

His name is Yang.

A Hike into Icehouse Canyon

This morning my buddy Ryan drove out to Claremont to visit me. It is always a privilege to have people come out to my hometown (or boonie land if you will), because Claremont is really a one-of-a-kind city. It is akin to a small town in the Midwest where everyone knows everyone else, but it's in Los Angeles County and liberal.

When Ryan arrived my mom was getting mad at me about something she wanted me to do but I had already said no. (It's really hard for me to maintain boundaries when relating to my parents. But I'm working on letting my yes's be yes and my no's be no.) So just as we were leaving home I had all these pent-up emotions that needed to be unleashed in a healthy manner. Hiking was the perfect solution.

Instead of going on my usual Claremont Hills Wildnerness Trail, we explored Angeles National Forest via the Icehouse Canyon Trail. The entire hike is 7 miles roundtrip, with the destination being the Icehouse Saddle (7555'). We never made it to the top. Instead, we got overly engrossed in our conversation about the absurdity of fundamentalist Christianity and went off trail for a good half mile. By the time we realized that we were probably not where we needed to be, we had already jumped over a rushing creek, tripped and fell over loose rocks (Ryan, mostly), and discovered a nest of two-spotted ladybugs right under our feet.

Attempting to rediscover the trail was not as easy as we thought. Perhaps because I was still feeling emotionally-charged, I led us down the side of the mountain in what felt like a reckless rampage. Good thing neither of us got hurt - although I did fall into the creek for a split second. This was right after we read a sign about the New Zealand mudsnails in the water that are capable of reproducing thousands of embryos per female per year. With the mudsnails in mind, Ryan coerced me into taking off my wet sock and putting on a dry sock that he had diligently prepared in his kidney pack. What a great friend.

Two and half hours later we found ourselves down the mountain and eating at one of my favorite high school lunch spots, Saca's. Then we treated ourselves to a dark chocolate chip cookie for me and vegan apple bran muffin for Ryan at Some Crust Bakery, another beloved eatery in Claremont.

It was a lovely and adventurous day. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Ryan, who I hadn't seen since late March during his visit to New York. One of the things I appreciate most about Ryan is that he is able to logically explain and put into words the things I feel in my gut. It's good to know that in times when I don't even trust myself, there's a friend who believes in me and helps me make sense of my feelings.

Helter Skelter

Good times abound with my friend Hanna.

Then:
...A.P. Biology with Dr. Tchaikovsky the crazy Russian lady who imparted to us not a drop of scientific knowledge
...driving with her to Rowland Heights while I sat in the passenger seat divulging my deepest darkest fear: that I was adopted and that my parents just never bothered to tell me

Now, many thanks to her for:
-a most lovely vacation in San Diego, sun-burned, expanded-belly and all
-the rediscovery of the music of Rita Springer
-persuading me to take up blogging again
-friendship that brings healing, restoration, and love

Taize, France, April 2007