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talking of michelangelo...
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moi moi moi
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6.28.2002
for "drew barrymore", today's deep thought:
why does the hamburger helper only have four fingers? =P
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OH my gosh! how completely depressing! i TOTALLY didn't know that i'd lost everything from before i switched over to this template. ugh, SUCKS =(
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i'm soaked in martha agerich's electrifying rendition of the rach III and the selfish part of me cannot fully focus on all that's going on. it's because i'm focused on me, and i feel wistful. with her every singing note, her every impassioned cascade, i feel the pressure of the ivory against my fingers, cool and responsive as the keys sink in, singing out my story, expressing my feelings. and a sadness sinks in, because it's not true. in reality i'm in my cube at work, and my fingers are now clumsy from two years of non-practice. what's more, as i'm feeling all this, i'm typing on a plastic ergonomic keyboard. blah.
i miss being on stage, auditorium blackened, the soft light of the spotlight. i miss the feeling of the excitement as the keys fully respond to my every whim, as i barely breathe for fear of ruining it all.
i miss playing with the orchestra behind me, and the exuberance of the implicit call and response, and the resulting euphony of a perfect synergy.
and most of all i miss my solace, as i focus on bach, beethoven, chopin... who always understand.
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blah. blahblahblahblahblah. BLAH. =)
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6.27.2002
on the cable car this morning i found sweetness. i step on at the second stop so there's usually a seat for me. not this morning though. so i stood and inwardly grumbled about carrying my bulging purse. there were two people sitting in front of me, a large heavyset woman, and a middle sized man. without even looking up, the man scooted over, and the woman followed suit and scrunched to the other side. the space was tiny. i contemplated just sticking my purse there, but then the woman smiled at me. had i choice? so i sat, gingerly on the edge of the seat. no, the woman said with a smile, lean back, room'll be made. so i scooted back and sat, sardine smooshed for the remainder of the ride, heartwarmed by this display of early morning kindness. life is all about these little moments =)
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when i was waiting for my bud to drop by, my bed exuded an inexorable magnetism that i could not resist but for the name of friendship. she's leaving for la tomorrow, and the big apple after that- so sleepy or no, my attention was all hers. she just left, and i am free, but i cannot sleep.
i believe a small dose of sleep equals about four shots of vodka- everything spills out. and tonight, she shared with me her story for the past two weeks. the pure, unadulterated version of it, brought on by a full day and only two hours of sleep from the previous night. and it's the way she is, the way she speaks that made me think; her thoughts broken down, simple, honest, yet pregnant with connotation, eerily reminiscent of my own in the wee hours of countless mornings long ago. and it struck a chord in me, a chord that hasn't been strung in a long while.
so i'm sitting here with sadness, trying not to listen to this music of remembrance that may bring on regrets that have long been buried
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6.25.2002
1. LIVING ARRANGEMENT: me and four other broads (well currently three)
2. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING NOW: books? what are those? bible. ulysses.
3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME: i don't do board games
4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE: Vogue, The New Yorker
5. FAVORITE SMELL: light and airy
6. LEAST FAVORITE SMELL: stagnant water
7. FAVORITE SOUND: trance dance
8. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD: despondancy
9. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING:
i think i'm going to set my alarm for 20 minutes later
10. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE: however long it takes me to check the id
11. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME: bismark and chloe
12. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN LIFE: relationships
13. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA: chocolate
14. DO YOU DRIVE FAST: depends whether i'm alone or not (when i'm with others i'm like a turtle)
15. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL: sometimes with winnie da pooh
16. STORMS - COOL OR SCARY: cool
17. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR: subaru loyale
18. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK: i don't drink
19. YOUR ZODIAC SIGN: virgo
20. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI: yup
21. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE: wouldn't dye my hair
22. GLASS - HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL: a glass is a glass (right jimmy? =P)
23. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS: yes
24. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER: no favorite numbers for me
25. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH: soccer. basketball is too stressful
26. WHAT IS UNDER YOUR BED: carpet. my 'bed' consists of two mattresses on top of each other...
27. TOILET PAPER/PAPER TOWELS - OVER OR UNDER: over
29. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN IN LOVE? once
30. IF YOU COULD BE AN ANIMAL WHAT WOULD YOU BE? hippop...i mean a bird
31. DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME? steiners, c-dawg, tina, chris, christina, xina, x., her highness...
32. WHAT WOULD BE YOUR IDEAL VACATION? a trip around the world
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she's at the edge of a wintry precipice and dives in, only to swoop up soaring with a freedom that comes only from god.
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excited. life is good =)
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6.23.2002
10:15 am: running down polk street in shoes i can barely walk in, trying to catch a bus to church
10:15 am 20 seconds: ignoring all the stares i'm garnering with my wobbly attempt to sprint
10:16 am: sadly watching as the mean bus driver drives away
10:25 am: on the van ness bus on my way to the n-judah. there's a girl with an incredible voice singing softly to herself behind me
11:15 am: sitting in the pews at scbc
11:20 am: calling lyd about the giants game
11:30 am: walking toward the muni again to go back to work so i can make the game
1:00 pm: sitting relaxed in the dark setting of my cube, lit by a hint of sunlight, my stomach warmed by strawberries and cream oatmeal. sarah vaughn's soothing 'misty' in the background.
*contented sigh*
will leave for the game in about 15 =)
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6.22.2002
nicotine stains yellow
ralph lauren 300 count egyptian linen
damask exposed
fog smog rolls in at 6:30 in the evening
curls around brick buildings grey
smothering blue skies and windexed windows
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6.21.2002
awwww my little brother is growing up to be quite the fine man. i am so proud of him =)
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6.20.2002
draft.
in the symphonic hall
warm euphony spreads,
hovers golden
as rich timbre'd cellos sing, soar
brim empathy shining
heightened wavelengths extend toward
soaring glassplanes above-
diffuse
into soft light, misty
and grainy- a photograph circa 1960.
upper orchestra d101: a woman
empire waisted, her hair in perfect curls
and lips
red and moist
like her eyes, sits
as words bring to pass
a man
her star
glimmering in the sky
his earnestness on bended knee and
the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled...
bright light pierces ink oceans deep
as telescopes with heartbreaking clarity
reveal implosion
millions
and millions of years ago.
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i just got back from lunch- imagine my surprise when i looked in my inbox and found a message to me from jeff bezos! sadly it twasn't specifically to me, cqli. but man oh man. what a great marketing tactic =)
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so on the cable car, sometimes the conductors get frustrated, and for good reason. many drivers don't realize that you can't just smash on the brakes and stop at the last minute on these pure iron ton weighing vehicles. thus, (sometimes to their own detriment) drivers often suddenly swerve in front of the cable car in a desperate attempt to pass the 10 mph vehicle (muahahaha). anyway, ok this is totally mean, but it cracks me up how the conductors try to pound on their 'horn' to scream at the drivers, but on the cable car there are no horns. there's only the friendly sounding bell. thus, instead of laying a fat, extended BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP on the steering wheel that conveys ()#$*@*($)! YOU #$&*@)_@#*(%#()*!!!!! what you get instead is a conductor vigorously shaking and pulling the bell rope in anger and frustration, which unfortunately conveys something to the effect of clang! =) CLANG! =) clang! =) CLANG! =) [have a nice day]
anyway. yeah. something that cracks me up.
oh. something else that makes me laugh. so there was this guy who was frustrated that i wouldn't date him because he wasn't asian. well like i never told him that outright, but he knows i prefer asian people. anyway. so a bunch of us were in the car and he's in shot cuz he was too drunk to drive, so all he was capable of was controlling the cd player. christina, he goes, you'll really like this song, and he sticks in michael jackson's 'it don't matter if you're black or white' song. i didn't know whether to feel bad or laugh, it was so cute. he's so funny, i love him to death, but just not in that way...
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6.19.2002
oh how i have fallen.
this has been a weird year for me. i'm looking in the mirror everyday, and although the physical features remain the same, the carriage and perspective of the face staring at me are unrecognizable.
when i was home two weeks ago, it was the first time in a looooong time that i felt like myself. and this brought to the forefront of my consciousness how far i am from my goals, and the true extent to which my past has quagmired me.
looking through some old emails i am reminded: the highest compliment i've ever received was from this guy i interned with two summers ago. one of the most passionate, empathetic, and driven people i've ever known, it's because the words came from him that they meant so much to me.
one evening he had been walking along dupont circle and come upon a homeless looking man staggering on the street- ghastly pale, wide eyed, and gasping for breath. the pedestrians who passed him averted their eyes and quickened their pace. he wanted to help, but didn't know what to do. '...i tried calling you, but you weren't home', he told me later, 'so i tried to think of what you would do in that situation.'
i've not thought of this in a long while, but it gives me hope. something i needed today. to excavate the remnants of my former attributes trapped beneath memories, fears, and circumstance. here's to a year of regaining my momentum, to rebuilding myself to who i used to be.
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it's going to be rough today, i can feel it...
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6.17.2002
fyi: invertedly squirting apple juice through the straw opening in a minute maid box is alot more complicated, messy, and time consuming than finding a straw to suck it up.
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i had the most quinessential of sundays yesterday- the perfect epitome of a lazy sunday afternoon:
woke up at 10 am with no alarm clock just in time for church, despite hitting the sack around 5 the night before; i had prayed that if i was meant to go to morning service then i would get up in time by myself, yay =) i called my dad to wish him a happy father's day and muni'ed over to sunset.
after service went to ocean beach to just sit with god for a while. it was the first time that week where i had more than an hour to myself, and the time of just sitting and waiting on the lord was refreshing.
then was off to irving street to kick it with my cousin- we spent 3.5 hours at one of the bbq places, just chatting, eating and sipping tea: the most perfect way to spend a lazy sunday afternoon. the cantonese are onto something with the concept of 'yum cha', it's kinda sad that it's modernized into a hectic point and eat affair, although old schoolers in hong kong still get up at 7 am to relish in the delicacies and company.
we went to pick up some boba afterward and went back to his apartment, where we viewed deuce bigalow, male gigolo (not the perfect way to end a quinessential sunday afternoon =) ) but never fear. after taking a break to read by the window, we watched the hong kong film fulltime killer- cool movie, the ending clinches it.
it really was a sunday to be savored.
. . .
rembrandt's the prodigal son
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6.14.2002
oh man, i just chewed the most pungent of onions (they were in my pungent sandwich). blech!!
maybe i should ask my co-workers: hhhhow are you doing? heh heh heh =P
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laziness is bliss. there is a cable conductor who i happen upon at times and he and i are completely on the same wavelength. i bring my eight pack minute-maid drinks to work to store alongside my other non-perishables in my cube (so i don't have to travel far for my meals); he prepares a metal coat hanger so he doesn't have to stand up to ring the cable car bell. i have a cd collection in my drawer alongside my electronics for my listening pleasure during work, he's stored a portable radio that belts out jazz in the corner of the cable car ceiling. sitting facing one another on the cable car, we make an odd couple. a girl with drinks and bread sticking out of her oversized purse sits across from a conductor, legs up on the seat, relaxed, holding a hanger to pull down on the rope that tells the trolley that all passengers have boarded. while billie holiday croons in the background.
we the lazy know how to enjoy life.
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6.11.2002
yay, i am smart =)
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o poopy. i changed my template but can't figure out how to stick comments back on. plus i lost all the old ones =(
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back in the day, one of my favorite poems
One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing further, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
- Elizabeth Bishop
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6.10.2002
he always calls during periods of transition- when he quit salomon, when he tired of consulting...and now, he's moving to new york. there is a quiet finality to this one
pablo neruda: love is so short, forgetting is so long
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the answer, my friends, is yes. stand by, watch, and proactively love, trust, and pray.
by the way, do i dare to each a peach? absoeffinglutely =)
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6.01.2002
the night my grandmother died i had a dream. she was dead, but refused to go to hell. well, more accurately, she was petrified, desperate, and really didn't want to be there. she kept gripping me, so tightly, and i couldn't do anything but pray that god would do all he could to bring her to heaven with him. i don't remember how the dream ended. several times i woke up because she was gripping me so tightly it hurt. it was strange, because when i had initially recieved the news earlier that day i had been somewhat at peace with her passing: more specifically, i had felt loved. so the dream completely took me by surprise. i didn't know whether it signified something. but i was determined that i would put more of an effort to speak to my grandfather about the faith.
so fast-forward a couple weeks later. i'm talking to my mom, who doesn't want to talk to him about christianity because he gets annoyed with her and it pushes him more away from the faith. but on the other hand, he has steeped himself in buddhism to deal with his grief. he doesn't watch tv, he doesn't go out, he hasn't even shaved since her death. he just sits at his desk, reading buddhist papers, writing essays. her christian friends say that he's too old, and to let him be, that god 'understands' and will make himself known if it is part of his plan. but i feel so weird about it. am i just to stand by, watching, and just trust?
this is so annoying.
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