Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in J. Jade's LiveJournal:

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Friday, December 12th, 2008
7:34 pm	fun fashion meme ...because I never blog anymore and this is a cheap way of updating. :P And because I'm generally obsessed with all things fashion and always have been. Name an item of clothing that has been with you the longest: I'm actually drawing a blank here. I did a huge wardrobe overhaul last fall and got rid of my old stuff which was mostly dorky and outdated anyway. :P What’s an article of clothing that you can’t live without (BESIDES jeans, people)? A great winter coat. Right now it's a tie between my beautiful winter-white wool Guess coat and my classic wool-blend trench coat. "Put on a trench, and you're suddenly Audrey Hepburn walking along the Seine." - Michael Kors. Amen to that. Never underestimate the classic, simple elegance of a great trench or trench-like coat. Describe your perfect winter & summer footwear: Winter: knee-high, high-heeled leather boots worn over jeans or with a wool skirt. goes very well with a trench coat. ;) Summer: tasteful, well-constructed flip flops to be worn with everything. What’s a good, ethical clothing brand you’d recommend? No idea about clothing companies "ethics," and don't particularly care, to be honest. As for recommendations though, I'd recommend Seven for All Mankind jeans to anyone. Despite the other great premium denim brands out there, Sevens are still an essential staple in every girl's wardrobe and the most basic. Their construction, fit, and washes are top-notch-- stylish, durable, timeless, and worth every penny. And what’s a brand you wouldn’t recommend? Anything that's shoddily constructed and falls apart. What’s the ugliest trend of all time? Well, 3 things. The first, Without a doubt: gaucho pants. What could POSSIBLY be more unflattering? Anything that makes even the most lean and statuesque women look shorter, stockier, and wider are a strict no-no. Anyone who has ever bought into this trend must epitomize the word "lemming," for what reason on earth would compel a woman to put on such ridiculous attire? Unless you were wearing them to dress up as a gypsy for Halloween or something along those lines, there is no excuse for the abomination known as gauchos. Second...Overalls. but they don't count as a trend, as they are meant to be functional, not fashionable. Lastly, the footwear equivalent of gaucho pants is the atrocity of CROCS. what are you doing wearing over-sized, clown-looking shower shoes out in public? 'nough said. And the prettiest? Hands down: The classic, high-heeled, pointy-toed pump, especially in black. So simple and elegant and reliable, so sexy in the way it shapes your legs and improves your walk (or strut, if you prefer). And they are subtle enough to let the other parts of your outfit speak, which is sometimes just what you need. What colors predominate in your wardrobe? black. reds and pinks, white. Lots of black, which is something I'm trying to expand on... What are your vintage shopping strategies (if you have them)? In the words of Rachel Zoe, "I die." I'm afraid that vintage shopping would be the death of me. Fortunately for my bank account, I have neither the time nor resources to invest in vintage right now, but I can't wait to go vintage shopping in the future. What’s the most insane piece of clothing that you have ever owned? I've never actually owned anything that outrageous. Does a pink wig count? Hahaha... If you could describe the majority of the clothes you own in one word, what would it be? classy. :) sophisticated is the only way i roll. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 28th, 2007
6:16 pm	Ticket I love the moment at the ticket window—he says— when you are to say the name of your destination, and realize that you could say anything, the man at the counter will believe you, the woman at the counter would never say No, that isn't where you're going, you could buy a ticket for one place and go to another, less far along the same line. Suddenly you would find yourself —he says—in a locality you've never seen before, where no one has ever seen you and you could say your name was anything you like, nobody would say No, that isn't you, this is who you are. It thrills me every time. "Ticket" by Charles O. Hartman, from Island. © Ahsahta Press, 2004. (Comment on this)
Sunday, October 28th, 2007
9:47 pm	the city that never sleeps Sweet Jesus, is fall break over already? I feel like it was only yesterday night when I arrived at LGA on a rainy night and got into a cab and crossed the Triborough Bridge into the city for the first time in over 4 years. Life in New York moves so quickly that 4 days later, I'm back, and I feel like I haven't even left yet. I've been on quite the emotional rollercoaster these past few days. Someone take me back to the city. Right now. Anybody. Please. Best. Fall break. EVER. Current Mood: nostalgic (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 9th, 2007
3:47 pm	They'll Source: Garrison Keillor's Writer's Almanac.   Poem: "They'll" by Cheryl Denise, from I Saw God Dancing. © Dream Seeker Books, 2005. Reprinted with permission. ( buy now) They'll take your soul and put it in a suit, fit you in boxes under labels, make you look like the Joneses. They'll tell you go a little blonder, suggest sky-blue tinted contact lenses, conceal that birthmark under your chin. They'll urge you to have babies get fulfilled. They'll say marriage is easy, flowers from Thornhills are all you need to keep it together. They'll push you to go ahead, borrow a few more grand, build a dream house. Your boys need Nikes, your girls cheerleading, and all you need is your job 9 to 5 in the same place. They'll order you never to cry in Southern States, and never, ever dance in the rain. They'll repeat all the things your preschool teacher said in that squeaky too tight voice. And when you slowly let them go, crack your suit, ooze your soul in the sun, when you run through the woods with your dog, read poems to swaying cornfields, pray in tall red oaks, they'll whisper and pretend you're crazy. (Comment on this)
Thursday, September 20th, 2007
1:46 am	Nostalgia Memories that have a special place in my heart, Volume I. In no particular order, other than the order in which I whimsically feel like talking about them. I don't know how many installments this will have... Flash back to July 4th, 2007. Nicholas and I, at the town docks in Wolfeboro Bay. The wind would not stop blowing like crazy, whipping my then waist-length black hair into tangles. It was Independence Day and I was in New Hampshire. The quaint town of Wolfeboro, middle-of-nowhere NH really came alive that weekend, a colorful, charming affair that was believe it or not, a refreshing respite from the usual andante pace of life in the idyllic resort town. Hundreds (no, not thousands and thousands of people...haha, sorry- inside joke!) of vacationers from all over New England lined the sidewalks of Main Street, the benches by the town docks, and Dockside Grill. Some traveled into town by boat and docked their speedboats and jetskis in the Bay. Many waited in line for the best ice cream in the entire universe at Bailey's Bubble, filled the gift shops in search of memorabilia that accurately captured what they were experiencing at that moment in time. People-watching during July 4th weekend was fascinating: everyone from Boston Red Sox fans, wealthy New England trophy wives and divorcees with big hair and hot red Mercedes coupes, sticky, sunburned, children and their exhausted parents, old ladies with the most adorable puppies, an interesting group of French foreigners, jolly, old retired men in Sebring convertibles, preppy, overprivileged teens looking for a good time-- were in town to celebrate this national holiday. I marveled at the classiness of the environment- wow, even the hicks up north aren't nearly as rough around the edges as the hicks in the south are! I thought. It was the second of six weeks of the Heifetz Institute, and the first time I'd seen downtown Wolfeboro during the daytime. I'd expressed my incredulity about the idea of the only coffee shop in town not having wireless internet (imagine that!), so we decided to check it out. It became the first of several pleasant trips to Lydia's, which became refreshing weekly escapes from the daily grind of practicing, lessons, and Communications classes. There was no place to sit in Lydia's, so we migrated to the town docks. Writing this now has prompted me to remember how the epic Lake Winnipesaukee looked that day: a distant blue-gray, a little foggy around the edges. Distant and foggy- that's how life seemed at that point in time, or, at least, my nebulous future and identity and where I was going in life all together. We watched the M/S Mount Washington dock, sound its deep, low, penetrating horn, exchange passengers, and sail off again, and vaguely contemplated the Board of Directors' boat cruise for us in the near future, jokingly tried to calculate the duration of the trip. There were ducks swimming so close to shore- mallards, and male ones, if I remember correctly, and they seemed happy and festive like the tourists. The wind was blowing so hard that the boats swung and bumped against the docks, and the water, choppier than ever, seemed to take on a life of its own. I remember, at some point, taking out the score to Beethoven op. 31 no. 3 and trying to go over what I'd learned in my lesson earlier that day, but the wind was blowing too hard and kept turning my pages. I was wearing my blue Tommy Hilfiger shirt with the red and white stripe across the middle in casual honor of this holiday. I sipped on my $5 banana-like smoothie, which didn't turn out to be all that great. We joked about how the ducks here would ever reproduce, since there didn't seem to be any females present. Countless numbers of people arrived and left at the town docks. There was no shortage of adorable dogs of all shapes and sizes, and Nicholas never failed to identify the breed/species of each one. I tried to pet one fluffy cute white puppy that resembled a sheep, but she wouldn't come to me. We discussed life at Heifetz so far, our chamber groups, repertoire, our ideal lives. Nicholas said he would conduct because it was the only way to have a chance to influence the orchestral repertoire; I told him I'd go to law school because studying law always intrigued me. We ran into my chamber music coach at Lydia's and it was a little awkward, especially when she suddenly disappeared afterward. I told him about my boyfriend. We examined the culture behind different instruments and what kinds of people certain instruments attract. I talked of my aspirations in classical music and of life back home, and found myself feeling unnervingly unconvinced about a lot of what I was saying. My life as I know it, my goals, the way I described myself- all felt oddly unsettling, in a way. And I think that that was the beginning of the end, somehow. I remember realizing that afternoon why I was a violinist at heart, considering perhaps that I'd picked the wrong instrument all along. A piano just can't sing the way a violin does. You play a note on the piano and it decays. When I listen to piano quartets or trios, I find myself longing for that sustained, singing line, a voice so close to the human voice, so much closer to the heart and soul of a person than something as seemingly abstract as a pianoforte. I felt so inadequate as a pianist. Was it possible that I loved music but didn't really love the piano? I pondered what could have been. My piano teacher, B. Snyd, showed up in his white pants, Teva sandals and button-down print shirt. In his silver Sebring convertible and festive, laid-back resort-town attire, one could hardly guess that this jolly man lived in the frigid gray of Rochester, NY all year long. I said hello, and it was a little awkward. The wind was overpowering. I was exhausted by the breeze, the conversation, the tasks before me. As we walked back to campus, I felt clumsy in my brown "Jesus sandals" from having been sitting for two hours. July 4th in a New England resort town was, to me, a dream. I loved it. Being there, living on a beautiful lake, surrounded by colorful tourists, feeling that quaint town come to life around me-- well, I could feel my heart turn upward into a big, irresistible smile. A peaceful, happy-to-be-alive smile inspired by the beautiful, fresh environment around me. Arriving back to the Brewster campus, I plodded across the lawn of Vaughan House, twisting the red lanyard of my room key between my fingers, turning down Nicholas's offer of the use of his violin anytime I wanted to play violin again. I refused, saying that I couldn't possibly play violin in front of actual violinists (haha, of course, then I was peer-pressured into playing a Guaneri and Vuillaume a week later, but these things happen). It was going to rain, and I wondered if the Institute's July 4th party would be cancelled that evening, along with the spectacular fireworks display. Back safely in my room, needing a break from everything, my head spun as I tried to digest the thoughts prompted by the conversation of the past two hours. I felt unsettled, sad, a little nostalgic. I had about an hour until Communications class (Public Speaking that week) and I was exhausted. My roommate was away for once at this time of day, and in the absence of her cello playing filling up our room, I heard the faint sounds of a violinist practicing next door. Too wound up to take a nap, I sat on my bed and cradled my laptop, mindlessly checking facebook  and staring out the window.  And then thinking, I can't do this right now, not after the the seriousness of the past two hours. I curled up and tried to take a nap, but couldn't. Something was different  about me then. I think that that was the beginning, the day I began to question and welcome the possibility of  different conclusions and expectations. I was a violinist at heart. I was not a pianist. I wished that I could play violin. The first (and a small one at that) of many revelations that summer, the day I began to change in ways that would be unrecognizeable to the old me. Well, nearly. See, I tend to have this trouble and inability to let go of certain old ways, but that's another story. Something strange was happening to me, something had begun, although I didn't fully recognize it then. It's similar to the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when your body is alert for some nearby danger, or that tingling feeling you get when you anticipate something, even if you don't know it. There had been a rainbow in the sky that day. Zina wouldn't say what it was, but at lunch she kept insisting that I take a look outside at the sun, making it sound like there was some kind of crazy eclipse or that aliens had landed on it or something. Perhaps she was unsure of the English word for "rainbow." The rainbow was faint, barely perceptible, but clearly present. I wonder if that means anything, or if it ever did. That night I finished learning the last movement of the Ghost trio, it poured, and our party and fireworks were cancelled. What a night. And what a day. And I'm spent. (Comment on this)
Sunday, August 5th, 2007
10:03 pm	Overheard at Heifetz Things I want to remember about HIMI 2007, in no particular order: missing my flight to Manchester, freaking out That's a long way to drive with a piece of meat down your throat. I'll lie down anywhere but on a bus! Speed-boat Day 1 afternoons at Leonard Ca$s's ballin' multi-million dollar lakehouse the olympic pingpong table,  figuring out how to use the sauna, water trampoline, jetskiing Your skillset...is nonexistent. (Leonard, after Casen crashed his jetski into the dock) Let's sit outside today. getting left behind at Sugar Hill Awkward moment at Sugar Hill: me: where are you from? retirement home resident: "I live here!" Episcopal, pronounced Epi-SCAH-ple meeting Rudy Giuliani at Bailey's Bubble. "Mr. Mayor? These are New Yorkers!" The mini MS Mount Washington...all of Heifetz on that? our Friday nights at Bailey's/the Town Docks post-chamber music rehearsal pretty much every night at Bailey's Bailey's Bubble, period. and Maine Black Bear. and Green Monster. doing the casting call for MTV's Made the gym viola jokes the jungle path shortcut to the beach I FEEL SO GOOD! (no you don't!) Pianist on the Hill! forget Fiddler on the Roof when Morel came and we played on the Strad, Guaneri, and Vuillame, and more... Let's use Skype to call the office, pretend to be Perlman's agent, and tell them that Perlman is coming to give an impromptu masterclass next week in KPAC and see how many actually people show up! that first Saturday in Boston gibberish the adorable children of the faculty! Especially Ana Buswell and Amit Peled's daughter the KC the FAC the PP (Pastoral People) the grumpy fish the tax deduction the shower player "...because I work with horses." THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE....IN YOUR DORM ROOM!!! USING YOUR BATHROOM!!! July 5th, aka the REAL July 4th Carpenter 23 plans to liven up the 8th grade dance..."Sonia, you've been entrusted with a mission..." The classy lounge known as Carpenter 18...whew, that's SOME hotness! Stars of Tomorrow, Stars of Yesterday Spring Sonata meet me at the Gazebo at 6 am Thursday mornings at Lydia's the nasty bout of OTS (Ocular Trout Syndrome) which caused my nasty red eyes the hospital fair on the last day- completely ridiculous. and LPs for $1. and 8-track tapes. and exercise bikes. the Pamela Frank masterclasses Rosie B. Synd Antonova The Single Tear: Kangsta, Erikobra, and Tsaiycho Kangsta's efforts to get out of rehearsing we think this piece is about Penguins. The Lizard Lounge being visited by Death and the Maiden John Chernoff's speech about pizza: "And I didn't want to make eye contact with the pizza..." 8:20 am coaching with Andy Simionescu: "you don't want to sound like a house fell on you! you're the only one playing there. I mean, who's not going to hear it?" And....float yourselves... dinners at Garwoods, Wolfeboro Inn, the Mexican Restaurant the FUCK postcards I got in the mail having bad camera luck the Upper Deck with Zina zip, zap, zoop kitty wants a corner collé alles is me being allergic to everything the horrid Friday night cookouts the 8th grade dance Heifetz Gone Wild, the post-8th grade dance orgy nightmares about Danny Heifetz DebauCHery. my impregnable sand fortress on the beach Nicholas Haemi and I trying to come up with a list of hot guys at Heifetz: "wait...STRAIGHT guys!" the cabin fever of being stuck in Wolfeboro the green light at the end of the dock every single Gatsby moment the Country Bookseller Deer are large rodents I should buy stock in Rite Aid... "...the war between Russian and another country" the broken swing Beiliang's speeches Diana's Baths...the water bottle, slippery, scary rocks, the cat July 4th weekend The Science of Sleep Chic's concert, the Board of Directors showing up drunk Larry and the Gatlin brothers...yeah... Existential speeches at the last Stars of Tomorrow the brightness of the moon learning how to grow up, who I am, and where I really belong. *** To Heifetz people-- I miss you! Thank you for a summer that was so beyond wonderful. (Comment on this)
Saturday, August 4th, 2007
6:32 am	I'm coming home today ...and so another adventure comes to an end. but to make an end is to make a beginning, so I know that this pain is only temporary, that this isn't the real world, that this has all been a dream, my midsummer night's dream. Still, I'm allowing myself today to be sad, even though today is just another day that I get one step closer to finally becoming who I am really meant to be. It's not over till it's over...and I felt like this time warp would never end. Now I actually have to go out into the world and live. Normally, I'd be heartbroken on days like these, but the difference now is that I can save myself. I'm ready. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, July 27th, 2007
1:28 am	Collé is everything. - zuckerman The more things you have to blog about, the less time you have to blog. I haven't written much lately. There's a reason for that. Many, in fact. I feel so guilty for not writing much about this most incredible summer of my life. There I go again- my obsession with commemorating things, the unquellable urge to find ways to remember what it felt like to be there, to be alive in that exact moment. I'm such a nostalgic. It's painful at times. There have been so many times when I've wanted to write-- like every minute of my days here. It's just that so many things have been happening- on a daily basis as well as a spiritual one, and I honestly haven't had such a life-changing summer, or any era of my life-- since my first "coming of age" of sorts at the age of 16. I'm so sad to leave next week, even though I know it's time. Leaving here isn't like leaving any other place or anything else- it's the end of a monumental era and the beginning of the real, fearless, no-longer-afraid-to-be-myself Jessica. The people I've gotten to know and the things I've experienced over the past 5 weeks have given me the courage to do what's right and what I really want...it hasn't been easy (good, bad, and ugly, actually), but basically, I feel so different because I'm finally in a place where I belong. No, I don't mean the actual town of Wolfeboro, NH, but the people, the environment, the values I identify with- those are what make home home. It's times like these when I remember how so very loved I am, and how love really finds you when you least expect it. And now I'm about to go "home"- technically home, anyway. Why is this summer so different? Because I never got away from it all long enough to realize what I really need, what truly matters. And when I go back, things will never, ever be the same... It's times like these that inspire me to entertain the idea that maybe there must be a god after all...whatever god means or might be... I guess an update is in the works. To be posted eventually...sometimes you just have to enjoy living and not worry about commemorating it so much. I'm working on it. Living in the moment- I'm going to try my best to do that during the next 8 days, because god knows I'm going to miss this and look back upon it so fondly for the rest of my life. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, July 13th, 2007
3:25 am	I can see clearly now the rain is gone Wow. That was probably the most difficult, challenging, insightful, honest conversation I've ever had. So beyond necessary. And now, of course, I can't turn off my brain long enough to sleep. Thank you. Current Mood: there are no words (Comment on this)
Monday, July 2nd, 2007
4:00 pm	From NH to the Beantown [edit] Cities like people I think cities are like people, and living in a city is like being married to it. Atlanta, city of my birth, will always have a special place in my heart. But although we get along well most of the time and I can appreciate many things about it, we're not soul mates. I don't LOVE Atlanta, despite the fact that we've been married (okay, in a long-term relationship) for years now. Cities also are people as well- and if I, Jessica Jade, am a city, then I am Boston. People can tell right away that I'm not a Californian. People often mistake me for NYC (because I have expensive taste?) but I'm not truly an extrovert, nor wild, nor very social, nor terribly competitive, nor maniacally driven to success (err, money-making, economically speaking)...no, I'm more of the poetic, sensitive kind of person (although it maybe be hard to tell sometimes from my often-sarcastic front), and even if I am not those things, those are the very qualities I truly desire in friendships, relationships, people, places. Boston is a less-commercialized/less superficial and pretentious version of New York and I can appreciate that. It has more class. It's more of a place where you really can live deep and suck the marrow out of life rather than running to catch up or keep up and driving yourself crazy in the process. Anyway, like all people, cities have their good and bad sides, but the concept is what is important, not the details- if you love someone's fundamental character, then the little annoying things (in this case, the cold, the snow, the new england winter in general) might wear on you, but the essence that you love never diminishes, so you remain fulfilled. If you compare cities to people (of course, not everyone can be an exact fit), it all makes sense. If I'm Boston, I'm probably going to end up marrying another Boston one day. Or a New York. Are Boston and West Coast cities very compatible at all? Who knows- there are so many cities I haven't been to, after all! So yeah, just my random thoughts as I was practicing this afternoon. Public speaking class begins today. OH YEAH. If I'm good at one thing, it's talking. And being opiniated. hah. I realized that I feel most comfortable in interview settings (well, ones in which I actually know what I'm talking about anyway) because social skills are something I feel confident in after all these years. I feel like I really can't go wrong in situations like those. And anytime I get to talk to a readily available and captive audience, I'm happy! :D Sunday 01 July 2007 11: 38 pm Before I do/write anything else, I MUST write about my inaugural trip to Boston. I'll never forget the moment I laid eyes on Boston, MA for the first time. After the two-hour car ride and numerous toll roads had lulled me to sleep, I awoke to the sound of Julia and Jannecke's exclaimations: we're here! We're in Boston! As we exited off I95 toward MassAve and drove through the Callahan Tunnel (maybe not in that order?), I took one look at the place and pretty much fell immediately and violently in love with it right then and there. Of course, I tend to have a very romantic view on things. Let's face it: I'm a perpetual tourist and that's how I live my life. I have a terribly excitable and intense view everything I experience. Anytime I visit a famous place, being there just seems so much more significant- I feel like I finally get to see, in the flesh (figuratively), a place that so many people before me have come and gone before me. My mind takes me back to all the things I learned in fourth-grade history about the American Revolution and Paul Revere's midnight ride and the Tea Party and all that. I think of all the movies and books that have taken place here, of my friends as well as famous people who have gone to school here. You just can't argue that Boston is, in fact, a very important city. And when I walk the streets, I think of all those who have talked here centuries ago as well as in recent years, of how this place feels like home to them, of the mixture of familiarity and wonder that they must find in it. I've never seen any place like it. The novelty is overwhelming. Boston is downright beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact. I've always found New York City to be glorious, the skyscrapers like goddesses rooted firmly in the ground but also towering up as a symbol of achievement. NYC has always represented, to me, a sense of accomplishment and innovation. But Boston is the real American Dream, it's organic demeanor so much more inviting than New York's austerity. I love everything about it: the colonial-style architecture and gold-plated store signs, the cleanliness, the stylishness of the tourists and residents that walk up and down the streets. Forget what Jude Law's character says in Alfie about the most beautiful women in the world residing in New York- Boston takes the cake. People look great here and dress trendily, but not in a homogenous way like you see on college campuses. If they wear designer labels, they wear them well. There are lots of people walking their cute, adorable, dogs, ranging from purse-sized to um, full-sized (how do you describe dog sizes anyway? like small, medium large? haha). The Seven-Eleven there is probably the nicest-looking Seven-Eleven I've ever seen. Driving around the city looking for parking was a great aesthetic experience. Drove past Berklee College of Music, Church of Christian Science (that thing is HUGE), lots of nice-looking apartments, the Boston Pops, the street that NEC is on...We valet-parked on Newbury Street ($10/hr, not bad because there were five of us). Newbury appears to be the Fifth Avenue of Boston, an orgasm of designer boutiques, with well-dressed young people, adorable children and pets strolling the wide sidewalks. There are also some nice restaurants here, but kind of pricey. We spent quite a bit of time in Boston Commons, which is like Central Park but 10,000x more beautiful-- almost reminds me of this Japanese garden I went to in San Fransisco nearly a decade ago. There were at least three different weddings in the city that day, and I got to see three different wedding parties take post-ceremony bridal portraits in the park. Oh gosh, what a dream wedding that would be! Seeing them made me so happy and I hope that I'll have such a beautiful wedding one day. I tried to get a group picture in front of Paul Revere's monument (which would have been SUCH a great picture) only it turns out that the guy didn't actually TAKE the picture, so nothing showed up! How annoying...too bad I didn't realize this until later. Boston is fairly diverse- mostly white people and Koreans, Indians (Zina got a fabulous picture of these three Indian girls just sitting on a park bench reading books quietly- never seen something like that before; trust me, it was unique), not a lot of black people, I don't think. I go to the most homogenous school ever, so it was nice to see that not everyone dresses the same/acts the same elsewhere. Of course, if I went to school in Boston, I'd probably notice different trends. Stopped at a bar/restaurant near the subway station for a drink and a break. Had a nice glass of wine, and we meandered along the Charles River taking pictures of the townspeople and enjoying Boston Harbor. Sorry to disappoint; I did not, in fact throw tea into the harbor. hah. It's such a pity we couldn't stay long. On the drive home we got to see the sunset, and I totally wanted to go to Cape Cod- ONE DAY! I also saw a lot of things I can no longer remember in detail; thankfully I have the pictures. Shopped at H&M because I had to since it's so overhyped and it's not in the south and is therefore inaccessible to me all the time. It's crowded and the sizes are weird and nothing fit, and those are clothes you can buy anywhere else but omg it's H&M so there's such a frenzy there. Yes, it is tax-free in Boston to shop there, but really, the clothes are cheaply made and not high-quality or well-fitting. It's a good place if you have hours to dig through sale bins and such, but no way would I spend all that time and energy on clothes that obviously are not my style nor made for my body type. We saw a Porsche limo. And a hot red Ferarri. And some really sweet-ass cars parking along the side of the street. There are so many things I want to do there and I can't wait to go back, whenever that may be. NEC doesn't give much scholarship money, so I doubt it's worth my while to apply there. Maybe I'll try BU instead? I didn't do nearly enough in Beantown yesterday; it's such a shame. But Boston is a city with culture, history, great schools, and modern attractions- what's not to love? Okay, so it's not as exciting as NYC, it has no MET or NY Phil or Met Opera or all those other great NYC things. I heard that everything closes at 10 and that it's a nice place to settle down and raise children, but not a place to be when you're young and beautiful. I DO agree with the raising children part- I'd love to raise my future family in a place like Boston. But the quiet, intellectual nature of the city appeals to me so much...it's very compatible with me because those are the qualities I like in people and in places. It's a good place to think, write, learn, observe, enjoy...and even though it's bleak and freezing in the winter, no amount of snow could diminish the amount of unique character that the place has. I think I would love it just as much in December. I'm not a fan of the government there, but that's another story. Other than that, I really need to spend some quality time there. I know I don't have nearly enough information yet, but to me, Boston is a dream. If I can ever afford to live there, I'd like to. It is so beyond wonderful and I wonder why I waited 21.5 long years to see it. There's a line in Eva Hoffman's Lost in Translation that sums up what Boston felt like, the history, the culture, the character...(paraphrased badly by me, since I don't have the text with me): It was like beholding nature with a primeval curiosity, as though never had ever been seen or done before. Something like that. Something pioneer-esque. Like I said, Boston is such an important city. I know I probably have grass is greener syndrome in thinking, how could anyone want to live in a place like the south if they'd ever experienced the northeast? I love the north eastern US. Why did I grow up in Atlanta again? Ah, whatever. :) I just thought I'd commemorate how at this moment in time, I am completely head-over-heels in love with Boston and it's wonderful. Most of all, I learned that as beautiful as Wolfeboro, NH is...I'm such a city girl at heart. Nothing makes me feel alive like a big city. Especially a big, beautiful one. What a great weekend respite from the lonnnnng grueling work week at the Heifetz Institute. And now: Heifetz Week 2, coming right up. Saturday 30 June 2007 12:38 pm Today, I get to see BOSTON, MA for the first time! I'm beyond excited. It's 69 degrees right now and perfectly picturesque. Nicolas is a lifesaver for loaning me his digital camera for the day since mine is out of commission. The city is going to look so gorgeous on a weekend like this. We're leaving at 1 pm and planning to arrive back here at 9 so that we can practice at least 2 more hours tonight. I'm ready to tackle the 2nd movement of the Ghost trio tomorrow! See you when I get back. :) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, June 23rd, 2007
11:31 pm	A midsummer night's dream ...literally. That's what summertime in New England is. I've been here two days and I really love it. I'm here and I'm alive. The nightmare of getting here began in earnest when I missed my 9:22 am flight to Manchester. Took off 10 minutes before I got to the counter. Fuck you very much, TSA. Extremely long story short-- 285 traffic jam caused by guy in blue gym shorts who nonchalantly overturned his matching blue truck. Delayed arrival to Hartsfield for 20 minutes. MASSIVE, unprecedented glut of people in Security- line began at friggin BAGGAGE CLAIM, wrapped around the atrium well before we got to the snake-like ropes like usual. And, like rush hour traffic on I85, nothing was moving. Even after a Delta agent expedited me through after I almost burst into tears (they weren't even going to let me through even though my flight was leaving in, oh, 20 minutes) and I still missed it. I didn't stand a chance. Simply too many people and too many liquids (re: "liquides") present to allow me to make it to the terminal on time. I wrote a rant about this whole situation but it's unpublishable. Censored. I am not the kind of person who remains calm in emergencies. Ideally, I wouldn't have anxiety attacks over something I simply can't control. But I freak out anyway. I know Hartsfield like the back of my hand now. During my 5 hour wait, I got daily workout walking through concourses. Was lucky enough snag a standby flight to Manchester at 2:50. Finally got to Brewster around 7 pm. It was raining here. I didn't mind. The lush green that is the arial view of New Hampshire was striking. I'm used to flying over GA where the suburban cookie-cutter images and construction sites look really ugly from that high up. But NH is beautiful- from the plane, I saw lots of trees, large expanses of grass, an occasional house surrounded by big, landscaped lawns, each house unique, standing on its own, unlike the suburbs of Atlanta. The lurching shuttle ride from Manchester to Wolfeboro was also a spectacle- this is a whole new planet to me! The architecture, the roads, the feel of the town-- is so quaint, old fashioned, remote- but all in a very pleasant and calming way. Here I sit in Wolfeboro, America's oldest summer resort- live, from Brewster Academy. It's great to be able to somewhat experience what I've read so much about! That whole New England prep school environment that always seemed so Hogwarts-esque/cozy/academic/evocative to a preppy girl like me. Dead Poet's Society, A Separate Peace- both which are stories I love, all took place at a school like this. Granted, this isn't Exeter, but it's a similar environment. This is all so very romantic to me. The books I read do affect me a lot! Facilities here are awesome. Buildings have odd hours and Brewster is strict, but the dorms are so nice- wood paneling, carpet, comfortable beds, ample floor space, it's clean...and the academic buildings are everything I imagine that a prep school would look like. For the festival, they have pianos in every room (Yamaha grands wrapped in Syran Wrap because they have to sell them at the end of the festival! haha), practicing in classrooms with big windows (so much less depressing than UGA!) and also great views of the campus/lake. I live in Vaughn House, which is actually A HOUSE, not the high-rise type college dorms I'm used to frequenting. Every dorm is a house, and we even share ours with a family that lives on the other side of the wall (the dad teaches at Brewster). It's so home-y and cozy. No wonder tuition is so high- it takes a lot to rent/maintain a place like this. Did I mention that I love on the lake? Well not directly ON, but close enough. Just a large green field of grass away. The view is breathtaking. I look out the window and I see Lake Winnipesaukee/Wolfeboro bay- expensive lake houses, boats...ohhh, it's so beautiful. it's so quintessential New England. Sunset here is to die for! Practice space/time is not a problem. They don't schedule a lot of things here, so all you do is practice. For long stretches of time every single day. Good thing, because I have so much to get done. I can swim! They have lap lanes in the lake. Too bad the beach is open to swimming at odd hours. :( Went for a walk/run today with Jannecke and Cory on the road behind the beach - saw Brewster Beach, as well as crazy expensive lake houses- looks so aristocratic in that old-money New England way, and believe me, these are only their summer homes. Even the driveways to these houses are amazing, and their lawns too...everything here is so unique and has so much character. Some of the lakefront property looks, from some angles, like something out of The Great Gatsby. There's a colonial-style dorm next to mine with a nice back porch. The Carpenter Building, which is where all the pianists practice/have lessons, is a historical building and has to be treated as such. Meaning it closes at like, 3:30 pm because someone from that school (it's an elementary school) has to be present in order for people to be in it. Blah. Good thing the main academic building has pianos available all the time! I haven't been into town yet. Past two days have been spent preparing for my "jury" tomorrow. Evaluation in front of the ENTIRE faculty. Most people went today and were discussing their pieces at dinner. We have to play a scale in whatever mood they tell us- "angry" "happy" etc. And then we have to say what emotion we're trying to communicate in this piece (one of the goals of this festival is for us to be good communicators about our music, not just...for us to play). Op. 31 no. 3: innocence. Is that an emotion? Whatever; it's what I've determined. And the piece IS so so soo totally about innocence in a retrospective way. No bad feelings, everything is very diatonic. Not even any melancholy, just agility and grace. The movement does, however, have late-Beethoven characteristics- hinting at the introspective and philosophical nature of his late sonatas. So it's like someone looking back on their childhood with no hard feelings. I mean, come on, it's in E-flat Major. So I'm a little nervous. I don't like having DVDs made of me, either! There's a lot at stake for all of us, because this is for chamber music placement. And even though I already have my piece, I want to have good people playing with me! So I have to fool the faculty into thinking I'm good, too! ;) Two hour orientation today was, well, long. Say what you want to about Daniel Heifetz- but I admire the man for having the initiative and getting the resources to fund a program like this. He clearly has a philosophy about performing that he's trying to advocate, and the mission statement of the Institute is well-defined and realistic. Dunno about thew hole memorizing chamber music sonatas, though. I don't agree with that, but, well, I'm not playing a sonata this summer, so there. Oh, the rules are pretty relaxed here since I'm 21. Horacio Guitierrez is NOT coming. Oh, the disappointment. He was playing some great stuff, and I wanted to be in his master class! Alas. He is getting surgery. I hope all goes well. It's too bad. He's the one I was really after. All the college students here are either from Eastman, Peabody, Manhattan School, or NEC. I have met like, 3 people who go to universities, myself included (I've met me, as one might expect). So being here is sort of like being at a conservatory. This is a studious bunch- not so party-centric like Brevard. Brevard was so much more diverse (in terms of instruments and types of people), but places like this are what I need- this is the perfect part of the world to spend a summer reading, writing a novel, studying music...it's very focused. Concerts are mandatory attendance. Celebrity concert series happens Thursday. Mon/Wed are the Stars of Tomorrow concerts- student recitals. There are also opportunities to perform in the community, something I'm definitely interested in. Can't wait till this camp really gets started. I also can't wait for recreation days- speed boating/inner tubing, the hot springs/hiking, the board of trustees boat cruise around the lake...ahhhhh so exciting! The weather here is SPECTACULAR. 71 degrees at the most. Fifties (often low fifties) at night. It's PERFECT. Especially after leaving the 90 degree sauna known as Georgia weather. Ugh. I could get used to this. They tell me it gets much hotter but I hope that's not the case. Cool people I've met so far (as many/much as I can remember about them): Haimi- my roommate, a Korean cellist from Peabody. Rising senior, like me. Cory- my RA. violist. was here last year. Nicolas- Italian violinist from LA who goes to Manhattan School. former professional actor who has appeared on Ally McBeal and in McD's commercials. no, they don't make the people in the commercials eat the food, just so you know. Miyoumi and her sister (I forgot her name!)- pianists from San Fransisco. They're young- 12 and...14, 15? Extremely Californian. Alex- what I like to call a "California Asian"- so west coast. Seigi- grew up in Miami. Casen- cellist from Colorado. Pier- violinist at NEC. he is Jonathan Deans incarnate. It's uncanny. They have all the same mannerisms and everything! Except Pier is brunnette. He is such a character- so animated. Alex- his classmate at NEC. They won a lip-syncing contest singing the Gaston song from Beauty and the Beat. rofl. Jonathan- violinist from James Madison University. Really cool and laid-back guy. Julia H- pianist from Eastman. Studied with Schumacher! Commented on his "batty ways"- haha, apparently everyone thinks Schumacher is crazy or a lot to handle for 4 entire years. Talia- violist from UIllinois. She knows Sam from the LaGrange competition! Small world. She has a car here. Jannecke- also a pianist from Eastman Nari- violinist from Eastman. lives next door. Xena- not sure how to spell her name. Beautiful blonde/blue-eyed Russian violinist from Moscow Conservatory. Juan- Spanish (from Spain literally!) cellist at Peabody. We met because he locked his cello inside his room and lost his key right before his audition tonight. He has the kind of accent that lots of girls will go crazy for. Cello faculty member that looks like a bigger, older version of Martin- I think he teaches at Peabody. I forgot his name. But yea, from a distance he looks like Martin. His daughter, who is...3? is blonde/blue eyed. WOW talk about the revenge of the recessive genes! It's uncanny. I know I'm forgetting a lot of people. I swear I'm the only one here who is from below the Mason-Dixon line (or, as Brad would say, the Manson-Nixon line. hahaha). Such a drastic change from the very very very Southern culture of UGA and such. This is so much better than the South so far. Well, there is Seigi, our resident Miamian, but that's Latin America and doesn't count. This is a very morning-centric place. No one sleeps late because who'd want to miss the crisp, fresh morning air and beautiful morning view? I'm so much more productive than I am at home. This and Brevard, the only other festival I've been to, are so so so different. This is so much more my style, although Brevard was necessary. We don't have to do work-study to earn our scholarship money. We don't have to clean bathrooms. Bugs are minimal indoors. I don't live in a freaking cabin. There's a beautiful gorgeous lake and not a little dinky one. The food is not bad at all. It's so clean. Wolfeboro is so conservative and quaint and the people here aren't much into being social, so I've gathered. But it hasn't really started yet, so we'll see. Like I said, I could get used to this environment. I'd most likely long for the city after a while, but spending peaceful days here as a break is so refreshing. If I had that much money one day...I'd live here. Not here, per se...but well, I'd love to summer here. The wind howls against the windows at night. Not tonight, though. The types of people around these parts are so different. They say there are some sketchy townies, but near campus there are only rich, old folks summering around these parts. The plane I flew here on seated only about 30 people. We had to walk out to the runway to board. Smaller plane = claustrophobic, but better service. Extra snacks. The conversations people had around me were much more interesting and more relatable than anything I get in the south.  I also noticed that northeners are not overly- tall like southerners. I'm used to everyone towering above me, which is actually not the case here. Why is it that people in the south are so freaking tall? Not that I don't love tall guys or anything, because, obviously, I do. :) 6 ft guys = hot. :) 6 ft girls? Not hot! Wait...haha oh, you know I'm just saying this because I'm jealous of tall girls and wish I could be 5'10 so that I could be a supermodel and not be broke for a change. Cingular sucks here. Phone works in a few spots on campus. So email me if you need me. Internet works in the dorms just fine. And if you must call, do so after 9, as I'm sure my minutes are long gone by this point. My ex called me for relationship advice today. What is the world coming to? Haha, just kidding. It was a good talk, and yes, you can be friends with an ex. There is a Rite-Aid here! Thank goodness. I only brought travel sized toiletries. Okay, first obligatory, rambly, first-impressions entry drawing to a close. Tomorrow is the walking tour of campus, chamber music orientation, my audition (ahh!) and then some. So much work to get done, so little time! I have to get up early everyday, so goodnight! I'll tell you more stories as they happen. This is only the beginning...only the beginning. It's so freaking beautiful up here. I think New England + me were meant to be, but it could just be the honeymoon phases clouding my judgment. Either way, it feels great up here. I'm all full of NRE (new relationship energy) in this infatuation with New England. Might as well enjoy it! I don't know how long I can keep these entries public because gone are the days of carefree blogging, and I'm paranoid that the people I'm writing about will read this- just so you know. If we're not livejournal friends already, just leave a comment and I'll add you. That is, if I know you. Took some pretty pics of campus to day. To be posted eventually; stay tuned, my avid readers (har har)! (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 18th, 2007
2:44 am	Litlove So this is the kind of stuff I stay up all night thinking about... Litlove's literature blog Tales From the Reading Room has been a favorite of mine for some time now, although I don't read regularly because it often overwhelms me- intellectually and with guilt, reminding me that I do not read nearly enough, conjuring up bits and pieces and memories of books and authors I've been exposed to throughout the years. If I didn't go the musical route, I'd definitely aspire to be an English professor, no joke. It's great to see someone's personal interpretation on some of my own favorite books. Any Philip Roth fans present? She recently wrote about The Human Stain here. JACKPOT! Read it in freshman English and it is by far the most enigmatic, complex, and brutally honest novel I've ever read. Philip Roth is genius^100. He's at once scathingly hilarious, irreverent, dark, insightful about the human condition in the most unforgiving way. I will never, ever fully understand the meaning of his allusions- his allusions to Symphonic Dances, Mahler 3, Shakespeare, the novel's format into a 5 act Aristotelian tragedy ...but it's so much fun tying my brain in knots thinking about it from time to time. I remember doing an extra credit assignment on the significance of the musical works mentioned in the Tanglewood scene (it was fun research), and writing a rambly 1500 word mess of an essay on the book for my final exam. And still not understanding it. This book is so unforgettable to me because I relate to many aspects of the characters or at least find them intriguing- the whole race/roots/family identity, ideas about innocence, reconstructing the past, purity, Hawthorne's "persecuting spirit," the politics of morality (this one makes me angry grr), what fate really is (I agree with Roth on this one)...etc. And oh. the IRONY. it's the most ironic story ever. Anyway, litlove's analysis is superb; she succinctly outlined the main ideas of the novel and I found her insight very helpful. Of course, now I can't sleep because I want to stay up all night re-reading passages of The Human Stain, or at least re-reading my essay about it to see what I thought back then. A re-read is definitely on the menu. Eventually. See, there are so many books I haven't read even for the first time...I want to read another Philip Roth novel but I'm afraid that my brain will crash. Litlove's latest entry (about an Alice McDermott novel That Night)-- got me really interested in reading McDermott again. I read halfway through her Charming Billy sophomore year in high school, but I totally couldn't appreciate her style...I do recall, however, that her stories are very heartbreaking because she tells them in such a heartwrenching way. The power of McDermott’s writing lifts even this intriguing premise into a new dimension, however, for she manages to compose a profound meditation on the nature of love out of her resolutely ordinary characters. Love is, as she so poignantly demonstrates, what lifts us out of the standard run of humanity and makes us chosen, special, new to ourselves. Yet what this book so hauntingly considers is the supreme and magnificent moment of love against the backdrop of the relentless ruthlessness of life; the way life insists that even something as precious and glorious as love be set aside, forgotten, labeled irrelevant. Couldn't have said it better myself- and, you know, that paragraph reminds me of the movie Titanic. Stop laughing- I could honestly write an essay on why Titanic is one of the most true and greatest love stories I've ever encountered, but that paragraph pretty much says why already. Besides, I already did that before, sort of. But I digress. I really miss taking English classes and reading novels constantly. Dammit I think I'm going to register for an English class this semester or something because it's probably my last chance to take an English class, ever. I remembered today that Green Eggs and Ham was the first book that I ever enjoyed reading. Ever. in this entire life of mine. You never forget your first. I started reading Hannah Green's I Never Promised You a Rose Garden a few weeks ago but am not sure if it's still worthy of my time investment. It's good, but old fashioned...reminds me a lot of Of Human Bondage, which was great, but not my kind of book, at least not then. I'd love to finish that one day. I've been learning Bach all day. Learning Bach, like reading Conrad, is like watching paint dry on a wet day. One prelude down, one fugue to go. (A Major from WTC II). Kill me now. Ah, so much piano stuff to do...so little time. Gotta get some sleep so I can finish learning the trio tomorrow as well as more Liszt and Beethoven... goodnight. :) (Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 12th, 2007
10:04 pm	Words of inspiration... Very motivational site here. Highly recommended if you're ever having a bad day. Be sure to check it out! (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, January 28th, 2007
8:12 pm	like puzzle pieces From an old entry I dug up, one of those long, rambly, contemplative things that I spent hours writing for myself because I never want to forget. Contrary to what most people believe, it doesn't always take years to know a person. You see, once you understand a concept and how it functions, the details don't really matter-- as in, it's not the amount of knowledge you have that allows you to really know a person, it's your understanding of how they function. The concept can always be applied to the details, and what is important is that you "get" the person and that they "get" you. You can know someone in a day. You could interact with someone every single day over decades and still never know them. Best friends, soul mates...they're like puzzle pieces: they either fit or they don't, you either click or you don't, you either have the potential to "get" each other or you don't. And there is no bending or changing. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 7th, 2006
5:07 am	Forever Twenty-One Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers gave birth to them, but life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves. --Gabriel Garcia Marquez First of all, I refuse to let my age define me. I used to say that I'd like to be twenty-one forever. But honestly, I'm never going to feel any different- whether I'm 21, 40, or 65. Really, the significance in age lies not in that we change, but in the human tendency to organize our lives in a certain way. As much as I try to resist believing that birthday = big deal, "happy birthday" is a way of saying, "I appreciate your existence." And that's a lot of pressure- I mean, I hate expectations. But I've come around-- a birthday is, after all, like my very own holiday. So is 21 the last birthday I get to look forward to? I say, NO WAY! I'm happy to take advantage of my annual excuse to party...annually, thankyouverymuch. Because there are not enough of those in college, or anything. So, twenty-one. Hooray! Now I get to do...the same things I already do! Oh wait... it's "illegal" for persons under 21 to consume alcohol. God bless America. Then again, who am I kidding- the cheap and plentiful opportunities to break the rules with such ease and glee are gone now, never again to return. *single tear* To all those out there who have contributed to the corruption of Jessica Obsessica Jade- whether it be via alcohol, porn, fake ID, sex, drugs, rock n' roll, and all of the above-- you know who you are. To those I have the privilege of calling my honorary corruptors: I would not be the same without you. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my...nevermind. You taught me well, and the time has come for me to bear the torch of corruption for future generations. I have a lot to live up to. I know it's childish to view life in phases. But a birthday is, after all, a time for reflection too. Sorry to disappoint, but my twentieth year in life doesn't even come close to my nineteenth year in terms of scandal/debauchery. But I did get to... ... perform a concerto with an orchestra, win a lot of money in a big competition, total my car, take a women's studies course at last, use my first fake ID, go clubbing for the first time, discover bar-hopping, take a summer trip across the Pacific to Taiwan and revisit childhood, get back in touch with bonds I thought I'd lost or never realized I had. I did fall so in love with my major and everything that came with it, buy myself presents on Valentine's day, perform Mahler 6, Shostakovich 10, and Beethoven 9, miss Brevard, attend my first UGA football game, teach piano lessons, lose my voice, accompany a soloist, tackle Beethoven op. 109, give my first degree recital, discover Franck Sonata in A and David Sedaris, get over something I was too deeply hurt about for the longest time. I did finally see what has always been in front of me, enjoy my solitude, kiss somebody special, become a better pianist and a better drinker, love being single, learn that you need your family more than you will ever know, realize that love never fails. I did get photographed like a model, procrastinate, buy a plane ticket to New Orleans for winter break, see the ASO perform Beethoven's 9th, purchase an iPod, bid on someone at a date auction, buy a lot of shoes, shop till i drop and keep going. I did love music theory, go to formal and have an amazing time, endure Medieval torture, feel lucky to have great friends, and finally understand that pain only goes down to a certain point and then it stops. I did do all that and so much more... I still refuse to let my age define me. I'll be just as crazy at 80, 90, 100. Because after all, life is continuous, not a series of phases, and it is like T.S. Eliot said: to make an end is to make a beginning...and after all these years of solemnly swearing that I was up to no good, I can proudly say: MISCHIEF MANAGED. So far! Because don't be fooled: the mischief doesn't end here, now or ever. And I don't know about you, but I'll drink to that. Legally. Damn it felt good to be a gangsta. God bless the ol' US of A indeed, without whose stupid law this particular birthday wouldn't be especially significant. Since it is, a certain chapter is now over. So here it is, friends and foes: happy twenty-first birthday to me. The "end" of an era. French-kiss it goodbye. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 15th, 2006
12:07 am	Happiness is... Hello friends and neighbors, Let's play a little game of fill-in-the-blank. Seriously, I'm curious to know your answer. In the doldrums of this hell week, I could really use some happy thoughts right about now, and so could you. So think of the pretty things and tell me what makes you happy. I am happiest when.... [fill in the blank]. Current Mood: curious Current Music: echoes of tonight's Shostakovich 10 performance (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 9th, 2006
1:43 pm	Till my next adventure... Well friends and foes, another summer has come and gone, and I'm making this final post as a send- off to all the good times and bad. So long and farewell to hot summer days and even hotter summer nights; hello to work-a-holism and sleep deprivation and good, challenging intensity; goodbye to Livejournal again, or at least until my next adventure, perhaps. If you still wish to keep up with me, I'm back to posting on my real blog again. [yes, to view it you have to log in, but it's really quick and easy- I promise! So do it]. from my paper-and-pen journal... Friday, July 14th 2006 I. Leaving on a jet plane Fear of flying is an inexplicably common affliction among many otherwise normal people. I have never understood it. I, for one, have always loved flying, at least as long as I've been conscious enough to appreciate what flying means. It's a gateway to all sorts of delightful, prospective adventures. It's a philosophical affirmation to the glory of the human potential, an eroica symphony to the will of mankind, and rightfully so, for isn't it nothing less than heroic that we've managed the fusion of imagination, ambition, and intelligence to turn out this triumphant sum of hard, radiant competence? I'm writing this at an altitude of 36,000 feet, aboard a plane that has just taken off from Hartsfield International Airport in home sweet home Atlanta, headed for that glamorous, plastic, SoCal dreamworld of bottle blondes and bimbos, but titled, for some reason, as The Angles. Not for long though, for soonafter, the adventure will resume and will see me flying over the rivers and through the woods and across the great Pacific Ocean itself to that tiny, chic island, that bustling metropolis and mountainous terrain of Formosa, a name which comes from Portugese and means "beautiful." Nothing can spoil the fun of getting there, and leaving  just now has reminded me of one of the best feelings ever in life-- the anticipation and the gathering momentum of being aboard an aircraft that is in the act of taking off. Maybe it's because I haven't flown nearly enough in this dear lifetime of mine, but the novelty has never worn off on me. It's the pure exhilaration of a rare, privileged moment when you are running with no holds on life. It's like running on a beautiful, bronze and pink-tinged beach at sunset or sunrise, running while holding a high-sailing kite, and suddenly you realize that your feet no longer touch the sand and up, up, and away you go, throwing caution and reality to the winds and laughing with pure glee and joy, shouting "hah hah hah fly you fools! hah hah hah I'm still alive!" Every take-off is a moment in my life when a manic lust for enthusiasm and adventure overcomes me and I just want to sing out my excitement. I think it was Bilbo Baggins who said in The Hobbit, "There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go." How true, and how I welcome it! Let a journey begin anew; let me meet that horizon. When the wheels of the jet begin rolling down the runway, torturously slow at first, but then faster and faster until suddenly I'm racing upward and forward and my ears are popping and I'm zooming high above the clouds in a thrilling, upward trajectory, unprotected and free from my worries that are grounded in the descending world below, a title of a collection of short stories come to mind, some Southern literature I read in IB Junior English that I didn't particularly like. But the title is so appropriate: Everything that Rises Must Converge...and it does; I see it right here outside the window, the wing of this Boeing 757 meeting the floating horizon, this blue and fluffy white tinged with gentle gold. The soundtrack to this moment, courtesy of my new iPod, was none other than the Adagietto from Mahler 5. Someone once told me, "If heaven had a sound, it would sound like that." Heaven- how appropriate. Flying isn't just getting from point A to point B, it represents this ideal of adventure and worldliness, of ambition and sophistication, the largeness of mankind's ability to conquer all that senseless space. And I never, ever want this to get old. II. Dance With Me I'm currently watching Take the Lead, starring Antonio Banderas, who basically epitomizes the meaning of devastatingly sexy. I want to learn how to ballroom dance with skill and grace. It's a wish I have in life, I suppose. I've been planning (saying) to go at school for ages, but something always comes up and I just don't have time. This complimentary in-flight movie is a little cliche (hasn't this all been done before?) but at least it reaffirms what I've been saying forever, that ballroom dancing is one of the sexiest, most artful expressions possible to mankind, "sex on hardwood" (as a girl says in Take the Lead), or "a vertical expression of a horizontal wish" (from Shall We Dance). It's not really about sex, but romance; the elegance and the fun and the flair that it exudes. It really is romance incarnate, and it's high time that I learn how to dance beyond just the waltz. Oh, and any guy or girl who's a wicked dancer is DAMN sexy and makes me wish I had what they had, wish the impossible if only for a moment, wish that I knew how to move my body like that. Maybe one day. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 6th, 2006
8:16 pm	So this is it These are my true confessions; confessions of an ABC (American Born Chinese), although it's more like CBA (Chinese Born American), actually. haha. Disclaimer: I'm not trying to make blanket statements. Two short, whirlwind weeks of vacation in Taiwan isn't nearly enough time to fully immerse yourself in its culture, and I've never lived there, so I'm naturally unable to perceive many of the nuances of the lifestyle. Having grown up in the South (Georgia of all places), my life experience isn't necessarily representative of America as a whole either. So I speak only for myself. I. On Being American Being an American is not a race or a pedigree or a heritage, it's a consciousness. And any cultural consciousness is a set of ideas, ideals, a lifestyle, and even the many unspoken, assumed nuances that you identify with. (Eva Hoffman's Lost in Translation sheds valuable insight into this). Having been born, raised, and socialized in America, it only makes logical sense that I'm American. In recent months, I've been musing quite a bit on what's happened to the Asian in me? Had I become just another twinkie (yellow on the outside, white on the inside)? No time like the present to have the hallmark cultural identity crisis of an ABC, I supposed (and here I was thinking I'd escaped such a typical tendency! oops). I hadn't even realized how much of myself I'd forgotten about or betrayed. It's not okay for me to be "white-washed" because 1)obviously I'm not white even though I'm American 2) my entire upbringing has been so steeped in Asian culture, so if I've lost that, then something must be missing...I was always the first to claim that my identity is interest/belief-based, not racially/ethnically based at all. But isn't it? You see, Chinese (Mandarin) is my native tongue. I didn't learn English until I was three. I went to Chinese school for nearly 10 years. I learned Chinese history and values and Chinese calligraphy and Chinese painting. I studied/participated (I used the term "studied" loosely because I sucked at it) Chinese dance for the same amount of time. At home, my parents cook Chinese food and I eat with chopsticks. We used to speak Chinese all the time but that's faded over the years. I grew up celebrating Chinese New Year and the Moon Festival and all that. When I was little, my parents used to read me Chinese bedtime stories. My parents' friends are Asian too and I remember spending lots of time at their houses throughout my childhood. My entire family (other than my immediate one) lives in Taiwan. I still remember the days when I used to think only in Chinese. I don't know why or when or how, but over the years, I gradually lost touch with my roots, to the point of near-extinction. In college, I grew even further away. Maybe it's because I'm at a school like UGA, where there are are like, five Asians on campus. And I think I've always identified more with the Western world anyway- I infinitely prefer Beethoven or Mozart opera over Chinese opera or the music of some strange, far-eastern instruments. I probably relate to Shakespeare more than I do to Chinese literature. But they say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. As Westernized as I've become, there are many aspects of my personality that spring directly from my Asian upbringing, things I don't even realize. How am I Chinese/Taiwanese and American? How do I be myself, all of myself? What does that even mean? I don't have the answers. I also know that I don't need to worry. But at least I can begin by asking the right questions. II. On Culture and Being the Norm Being in Taiwan really emphasized  the all-influencing factor of environment and how much of our characters is determined by the culture in which we live and came of age. Being accustomed to America, it felt strangely curious and somehow comforting to be in a place where I was the norm (ethnically speaking). I think I've spent so much of my life running away from the Asian in me because I wanted to as close to the norm as possible, which is understandable. It's sociological and has to do with a societies' unequal distribution of power and bias toward what is considered the "norm" (in America, it's white, heterosexual, and male); at least, that's how we perceive it (it's a lot more complex but I don't want to get into that here). My parents (like all parents, I suppose) always taught me that I'm not like everyone else, but I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to fit in, and for a long time, I saw my Asian-ness as an impediment to being accepted. You know how backward and ridiculous adolescent peer pressure and insecurity can be. Anyway, my trip to Taiwan was very important to me, not only because I went to a different country but because the culture is a part of me too- I mean, meeting my very own family and seeing where my parents grew up and everything- imagine that! Being immersed in the culture from which I came is a refreshing reminder that my race and background is so much more than a skin color or a(n often) misrepresented caricature portrayed in the Western media. I don't know when being an Asian girl became trendy, but the whole "Everybody loves an Asian girl!" craze commodifies and fetishizes Asians without regards to the meaning, appreciation, and culture behind Asian heritage. Many a time, I've felt like some Caucasian men view me as one of this season's hottest, must-have accessories or something; at least, I definitely realized that being Asian is an asset that makes me "exotic" and therefore more desirable than the average girl. Sadly, I began to view myself that way, forgetting the responsibility I have to be in touch with my heritage and thinking that I was only Asian in my genes. I really hadn't given all this cultural-identity stuff much thought in recent years. The least I knew was that I would be a round peg in a square hole in Taiwan, an outsider because I am so Americanized. And boy, was I ever. Somehow they all knew, they could tell from a mile away that I'm not a native (not that I expected anything different). Maybe it's the suntan (pale is the beauty standard and girls carry parasols and wear jackets to avoid getting tan), the sunglasses (nobody ever wears them over there), flip flops (inconceivable!). People there always tried to talk to me in English first. One woman at the night market thought I was Japanese. I know that I have a different mien altogether and I am probably the most Americanized Asian person that I've ever met. I thought of what a friend told me about her recent visit to Japan- she said she felt like such an outsider (even though she was born there), but she said that it's okay. It's okay to be American, because we grew up here. What she said has helped me a lot. I know I'll never be the norm here. I'll never really be the norm in Taiwan either. But being in-between isn't so bad. III. An Original Moment Obviously, the origins of Taiwan's culture sprang from traditional Chinese culture (in China) centuries ago, but it has also been influenced a lot by Japan (from the occupation in the 1800's) and Western elements.  It's a blend of original far-East meets innovative West with various other original motifs thrown in for good measure. I find it annoying when people ask me about the difference between being Chinese and Taiwanese. It's a matter of culture: I've never been to China, but I know that it's a totally different lifestyle from Taiwan. Yes, the ethnicity is the same (for the record, my maternal grandparents are from China, so I am Chinese and Taiwanese) but culturally, Taiwan is unique, and it is not like China or Japan or anywhere else. If anything, Taiwan is more like America-- it is very Western and democratic. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree...everybody goes back to their roots in the end. It's always like that. I hate to be predictable, but ABCs like myself will always want to get back in touch with their culture after having grown up a world apart from it. I wish I paid more attention in Chinese school. I wish I knew how to speak, read, and understand Chinese history, art, and culture better than I do now. I came of age in America, and I'll always primarily identify with American culture. I am proud to be American. But I am extremely grateful and happy that American isn't all that I am. I'm proud to be Chinese and Taiwanese too. I'll never be completely one or the other. And I'm also proud of that. It's both a blessing and a difficulty, growing up with two cultures.  Does one conflict with the other? By being one, am I sacrificing or marginalizing some of the other? How do I reconcile the two? Maybe you get to be the best of both worlds. The following are some of the reasons I love Taiwan: A. It's a practical, efficient, fast-paced world. I'm thinking particularly of Taipei city. Like Taiwan itself, it ranges from the crowded and dirty to the austerely beautiful in that steel-gray NYC kind of way. There's a real vibrancy and creative energy buzzing about that makes it such a hip, fun place to be.  Everybody minds their own business and is always in a hurry, but nothing like the stressed, anxious anonymity often criticized about big cities. I'd describe Taiwan as amiably brisk. It's more friendly and there doesn't seem to be a pervasive sense of one-upmanship like in America. Anything goes and nobody really judges you (or has time to). I ride motorcycles in a miniskirts and it's no big deal. Traffic is intensely insane. The ubiquitous motor scooters are, at any moment, passing or circumventing cars and busses from all directions: horizontal, vertical, diagonal, you name it. They are not cars and they know it. Cars are equally crazy. The streets are so crazy that you often have to pass over double-yellows. Head-on collisions are narrowly avoided but no one seems to find that a big deal. I tried waiting for a few motorcycles to pass before crossing the street once and they probably thought I was a novelty- what?! a pedestrian yielding to a motorcycle? It's a very aggressive world out there. American drivers would NOT be able to drive on the streets of Taiwan. I would never dare attempt to. The cross-walks are very strictly followed (unlike in NYC) but only so you don't die. The cool thing is that when you're allowed to walk, there is a timer (accompanied by a cute, digital, cartoon-like walking figure) counting down the seconds until it changes to red again. When it gets to six seconds, the digital, cartoon-like walking figure begins to run. It's cute. And honking is a friendly way of saying "I'm here, just letting you know so you don't back into me or something" It's not rude at all, just very practical. And drivers will always honk at you if you're in the way. Always. There is a convenience store (or two, or three) on every corner, mainly 7-11, FamilyMart, or Hi-Life. You sweat. A LOT. You learn not to be concerned with how you look because at the end of the day, your clothes will be drenched in sweat. The sun rises at 5 am, which can be quite unnerving. I find it hard to sleep past 8 am for some reason. Chocolate does not exist on the island. Neither does cheese, I think. haha. Solicitors are very aggressive, everywhere from the night market to the Chanel boutiques. They always approach/talk to you directly and their overbearingness makes me feel guilty for just looking (even at Chanel and Gucci- telling me about their great sales as if I can afford this stuff or something! haha). I learned that you don't need air conditioning to live, and after experiencing summer in Taiwan, I will never complain about hot, humid weather ever again. Valentine's Day is a three day affair, beginning on July 7th, 7/7 according to the Lunar calendar. As if living through February 14th on an annual basis weren't bad enough, I got to quadruple the fun and experience a total of four Vdays in 2006. This would be horrid, except that nobody in Taiwan really gives flip about Valentine's. (See? America, you have a lot to learn). I also quite like Taiwanese MTV. It's always the first thing my sister and I love to watch when we turn on the television. It is so cute and just fun. The Taiwanese are not obsessed with appearances. Typical apartments/housing don't try to be aesthetically pleasing and often look quite stained and dilapidated, but don't be fooled. Taiwan is very unromantic (at least to me) and unpretentious. I still see Taipei as a beautiful city. It's not like Europe with an air of sophistication, sentimentality, and all its grand, breath-taking, old-world beauty. It's not covered in sweeping sky-scrapers like glamorous New York (aside from Midtown and a few other swanky places). But the uniqueness is reflected in every gesture and not to be overlooked or underestimated. B. Food ...is something to be enjoyed and delighted in. In Taiwan, you eat whatever you want, whenever you want it. It's plentiful, tasty, convenient, and cheap. I hardly ever had time to get hungry because food was always available and consumption always encouraged. Food is a sign of welcome. Whenever you visit someone's house, they always bring out a fruit plate (I will miss the abundance of yummy tropical fruits (especially guava and mango!) all over the place!) or other tasty Chinese snacks. It's also a sign of community and sharing. If you don't eat, you're being anti-social. Eating with friends at the night market and family dinners are pleasant. In America, food is connected with the obesity epidemic and is "the enemy." Eating issues are hard to imagine in Taiwan. Realize once and for all that if you just eat what you want when you want it, it never amounts to very much. It's deprivation that causes obsession and overeating. I definitely ate more over there than I did in a month at home, and I actually lost weight (eh,  I'll probably gain it back from being in America. hah). My metabolism is still in Taiwan mode right now- shot through the roof, and I barely weigh a little over 100 lbs now... and there's absolutely nothing unhealthy or wrong with that. This got me thinking...as far as I know, eating disorders are an American set of problems. In my American History class in college, I once read that perverse, dysfunctional behaviors represent the core anxieties about a particular civilization and its ideals, a contradiction revealing how those ideals are falsely encouraged and do not work. Case in point: America, starvation in the land of plenty, where people willingly make themselves sick to achieve a beauty standard. My Taiwanese friend Cat says that people in Taiwan are still obsessed with losing weight. Sure, you have your usual lose weight by sleeping! commercials. But the way that the Taiwanese interact with food is completely different. There is no obsession or guilt associated with it. And for heaven's sake, the way Americans overanalyze and break down food is perverse and disgusting (counting calories, fad diets, and all that bullshit. JUST. STOP. it's ridiculous). Dieting and deliberate exercise seem pretty nonexistent on the island (except for boys, maybe- my sister said that all the boys at her camp were worried they'd lose weight so they wanted to go work out at California Fitness, haha) and as a result, generally everyone is trim and stylish. Walking everywhere is not only required, but a built-in part of the lifestyle. I noticed how in America, the tendency toward obesity may be tied to socioeconomics. Poorer people can't afford gym memberships and live in more dangerous neighborhoods where walking outdoors can be dangerous. Access to organic, healthy food is difficult; it's much easier to feed yourself for 99 cents at McD's than to buy a $6 sandwich. That's not the case in Taiwan, where the lifestyle seems so much inherently more active and healthy. Tasty food is still cheap, accessible, and not so fattening or oversweetened (I love the muted sweetness of Chinese desserts!), and where the hell did Americans develop such a penchant for high-cholesterol junk food anyway? Obesity is extremely rare. As someone who had an eating disorder at the age of 18 for almost a year (and knowing how common eating disorders are), I can testify that it's a psychological problem and a question of attitude. 60 something percent obesity rate in America? The prevalance of eating disorders? There's no denying that it's caused in part by the way food is treated on a macro level. C. Fashion Bottom line: America needs to be more like Taiwan in fashion. My friend Cat says Americans are more practical and that Taiwanese girls try to be too cute. I disagree and prefer the Taiwanese way. Many American college students are too sloppy and scruffy. If you know me, you know that I love to dress up and would never be caught dead going to class in my pajamas. In Taiwan, slide heels are what flip flops are to America. Flip-flops are too much like house slippers and therefore not appropriate to wear in public over there. Yes, some of the clothes in Taiwan can be weird or tacky or frilly and cross-decade/generational but everything is very unique. No two people really dress alike, even if there is a definite leitmotif in the way people dress. Like I said before, the variations are truly endless. It's not the high- fashion- runway look of Europeans, but a chic, trendy fun quality that manages to be low-maintenance. Taiwanese girls don't try too hard. In my particular college town, many girls will spend hours getting ready for a night out on the town only to emerge in ill-fitting clothes and globs of clownish makeup and look generally low-class, tacky, or sloppy. The nightlife in Taiwan is much more aesthetically pleasing and cutting-edge. Oh, and Burberry and Gucci are extremely popular on the island. I see it everywhere I go, real or fake (haha). I learned a lot about fashion while I was there. The cool thing I learned is that you defintiely do not have to spend a lot of money to look stylish (hello, night market!). It's not about having expensive clothes. People don't judge you by what freaking brand your clothes are or by what kind of car you drive (like I said, Taiwan is unpretentious). Taiwan is all about chic, low-maintenance cuteness. Dressing well is about being creative, having an eye for combining things that make winning combinations, and making otherwise normal, perfunctory things look good. Even the ubiquitous Polo shirt can look stylish if you wear it/accessorize it right. Even if you wear what other people wear, you don't have to look like carbon copies (some people at UGA don't seem to understand that yet). After spending a couple weeks there, I have so many more ideas about how to dress (not to mention awesome outfits!). Unfortunately, Athens is not the place, and I fear that I'd only feel ridiculous showing up to class in cute shoes and sun dresses and such. So you probably won't notice a difference in me, hah. I know that they're wrong and I'm right-- frumpiness should not be acceptable and people SHOULD be fashionable on a daily basis! Casual can still be chic. As it is though, I'm in America not Taiwan (where you can dress down or dress up anytime and nobody will think less of you or bat an eye) and I don't want to dress inappropriately for any given occasion. Like I said, America needs to be more like Taiwan in fashion. Everybody has stylish hair too. Yes, even the boys. And the clothes come in much better sizes. Clothes fit me so well there and I love it. D. Family I never knew much about my family. I know a little more now: on my mother's side, my ancestors came from China. My great grandfather was a military doctor and the family moved to Taiwan during the 1940s, during the China Civil War, with the exclusion of my grandmother's older sister, i think. My father's side has been in Taiwan a lot longer and lived under the Japanese rule in the 1800s. There's a lot more, but I don't really know. My father grew up in a small town and my mother grew up in a big city. They met in the States and got married here. Then I came along four years later. I used to say that America is the only home I've ever had, that I've never had any place else to miss. That's not completely true anymore. There is a special kind of love and bond that you have only with your family members, something that no one else can share in or understand. I can't describe it in words, really, but I know it's something I'd never, ever had before, which is why I'm only realizing it now. I identify my with my mother's side of the family more than my father's side (mainly because the latter is mostly older than me and further ahead in life. For some reason, although I appreciate their kindness and friendliness, I can't relate to them that well). It's amusing how it turned out: my maternal grandparents had four daughters, who each proceeded to have daughters of their own, which results in our family being almost all girls. Out of all my cousins, only two are male and they are, as my sister says, the "anomalies." It's different for most people than it is for me, being with family, because with mine there's a language/culture difference. A huge one. At first, I thought we'd never relate to each other- I grew up a world away from them; I can't really talk to them about what motivates me, what I'm passionate about, the literature or music that's changed my life, or my opinions on U.S. politics. And I'm so conversation-based, so it's impossible to know me otherwise. But my family dynamic is something really special, and I realized that you don't always have to have intense conversations, you can just be in each others' presence and it's a lot of fun and funniness. Before, I didn't know what I was missing. Now I'm acutely aware, and it's sad somehow. I wish we hadn't waited 11 years to come to Taiwan again. I wish that there isn't an entire ocean separating us, that they'd been a regular part of my life all along Goodbye, goodbye, when will I be back? My grandfather says that he hopes he will live long enough to see my complete my doctoral degree and become Dr. Jessica Jade Tsai. I remember how adorable my formerly-baby cousin was when she was 3, the last time I saw her. She's 14 now, and it's incredible to see people so much more grown up and knowing that you weren't there. The cousins from Taipei are so cute and zen and well brought up.  Debbie (the one who is learning English) is fascinated with American culture- she has many misconceptions of it because she's only seen what they portray in movies. She says she wants to go to a house party (to which I say, if you're in Taiwan, why party at someone's house when you can do it at the club?!) and wants a boyfriend, to which my sister and I promptly responded, no you absolutely don't, it's tai ma fan (however you spell it in pinyin). hahaha. My youngest cousin is the most adorable little four year old boy. Since he's the only son, his father's side of the family spoils him. He's missing his two front baby teeth, is already very intelligent, and likes to sing K-TV songs in both English and Chinese. He always loses in the "seaweed game" but does it so adorably. When I next see him, will he have morphed into a handsome young boy, too? Youth seems so fleeting and the years go by in a flash. If only I had more time and more money...but my mom says that if I saw them often, the wouldn't treat me like a guest anymore and spoil me; they'd treat me "like family." haha. Still, I don't want it to be another 11 years before I see them again. After spending time with both sides of my family, I definitely, completely realize that when you marry someone, you really are marrying their whole family. So you better get to know them and make sure you get along. It's kind of a scary thought. One day, I'll have a husband and I'll have to integrate myself into his family too. And he into my family. I pondered this, and knew with certainty that one day, I shall bring my future husband (or fiance) to Taiwan to meet my extended family. I can picture it already- he'd be so out of place, tired, and confused, but I'll look into his eyes and see that he doesn't mind, because he will love me, all of me. I know that I don't have to and it'd be so easy not to, but the thing is, I really want to. Because there really is more to me than what you see on American soil, you know. I laugh and think of how awkward it will be, especially if I marry someone Caucasian, which is very likely based on my track record (haha). Obviously, I am years away from considering marriage (frankly, it freaks me out that my same-age peers are already planning to get married/engaged!) but this all feels so circle-of-life-esque. It's hilarious to picture the future in which my sister and I will be the weird aunts (yes G, you are still weird, albeit never as weird as I am) and our kids will talk about us and my grandmother and my aunts will sit around talking about us like they did before. Family, family, family. What a strange, quirky thing. And what about my own future family? Will they be bilingual too? How could that be possible? How do I keep up with being bi-cultural, and how long will it last? I can't possibly predict that yet, but I'm sure the answers will come as my future comes into fruition. IV. Conclusions This trip has re-affirmed why I believe traveling is so important: it gets you out of ruts you didn't realize you were stuck in, forces you to see that the problems you thought were so universal and stressful are either non-existent or are treated differently in other cultures. I should make a point to leave the country once a year or something (if I had money, that is- haha) because it's important to never get too caught up in the present, to realize that you have a past, to get a bigger picture for the future, to realize that there is a great, big, beautiful world out there that is so much more than here-and-now. Not all those who wander are lost, and it's important to wander. It's not just about the places you go, it's how you experience them. I haven't seen enough of the world and I will. And I'll make the most of it, all of it. I can't tell you how many times I longed for America the beautiful while I was away. America is my home because I came of age here and have, since birth, been assimilated into the American cultural consciousness. For the most part, I will always be out-of-place in Taiwan because of how Westernized I am. Over here, people find me exotic because I'm Asian. Over there, people find me exotic because I'm American. I can't say I really felt at home there, but in a way I did, in a different sense of "home" that I can't quite put into words. But I'm no longer trying to "fit in" in any given place anymore. I'll always be in-between. I understand that my environment is primarily responsible for how I came to be who I am today, and that had I grown up in Taiwan, I'd have completely different attitudes, experiences, and taste in men. I might not have liked growing up there, with the intense, mericratic culture (and all the buxiban, aka "make-up class" craze) and academics. Test scores are EVERYTHING and we all know how much I, Miss I-Will-Never-Tell-My-SAT-Scores-Because-That's-Completely-Irrelevant would LOVE that! haha (hey, it's a matter of principle on my part, just so you know). I'm grateful to have grown up in America and I'm happy to have become who I am today. In many ways, I do feel that Taiwan is "vastly superior to America" (okay Paul, minus the flashing peace signs, hah). At least culturally speaking, it is. I mean, in America, kids grow up believing in the tooth-fairy, Santa Claus, and soul mates and all that shit...none of which are fantasies I really buy into. Over there, girls wouldn't dream of getting married right after college or anything (like I said, it freaks me out that my some of own peers are already jumping into this kind of thing). It's not overly sentimental like Europe/America. Everyone valued primarily for their brains and competence, which is just more logical. People don't seem to get attached to other people/places/things as much, I don't think. Or who knows; I didn't grow up there, remember? But I think Taiwan is where I get my independent, sassy spirit (although I'm embarassingly maudlin and naive as well, but we'll keep that a secret), my fast-paced personality, my intolerance for people who walk too slow or talk too slow, my love of being in big cities, etc. I get the big-city aspect of my personality from my mother, who grew up in a big city. I still don't know what I got from my father, at least I can't discern yet, haha. And there must be a lot more Chinese/Taiwanese in me than I can discern, many things I don't realize. But those aspects are present within me, all the time. Actually, it's not about me, but about something much greater than myself: family. Understanding that I have roots, a heritage...maybe it's something that other people have always taken for granted, but somehow it makes all the difference in the world to me. And the difference now is that I want to know, to be a part of it. I'm still much more out-of-touch with my heritage than I should be, and realistic truth is that I probably will never know as much as I should about it. I can't read worth crap. I do not have an eloquent command of the Chinese language, even though I'm still mostly fluent. I'd like to improve that, gradually, somehow. Somebody speak Chinese to me, please! haha. I'm considering doing the Loveboat camp that my sister did during the summer after my college graduation because I really want to learn about this wonderful place where I came from. The answers will come as the years go on, but I'm not going to worry about it. I'm glad we took this trip so that I can at least begin to understand. I have a bit more agency now (agency meaning the ability to act within a structure; in this case the structure is my bi-culturalism...yay for what I learned in Women's Studies! haha). Like Alice of Alice in Wonderland, I want to ask: "Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!" Going to Taiwan, seeing where my family came from, and coming back again has also made me appreciate America more. It has also urged me to visit other countries and see other cultures. Most of all, it's made me very happy to be exactly who I am and has given me the confidence to not run away from any part of myself anymore. Who in the world am I? Well, I'm a classical musical lover/aspiring musician, a literature lover who tries too hard to read between the lines and thinks too much and overanalyzes, the Ayn Rand enthusiast, the feminist, the irresponsible one who procrastinates way too much, the one who feels things too deeply, the solitary, anti-social one who is more likely to be found in a practice room on Saturday night, the rebel with too many causes who used to skip class in high school to take walks in the park or around the Forum, who left h.s. orchestra rehearsals to "make up a test" at Wendy's, the gym neurotic who swims laps before her morning classes, the excited little girl who jumped and pointed with delight at "choo-choo trains!" from her grandmother's balcony in Taiwan when she was four years old (or so the relatives tell me),  the 17-year-old who performed Beethoven Concerto No. 3 with an orchestra and still hasn't played that well since, the child who used to practice her Chinese calligraphy with her grandfather when she was little, the girl who went to GHP once upon a time and Brevard last year and loved those two summers, the deluded wannabe who played Beethoven op. 109 for her sophomore recital, whose best experiences in life were playing second violin Mahler 6 and Beethoven 9, the fashion-savvy Vogue reader, the sentimental softie who listens to Hey Jude when she's sad, the wild child that loves to party (heh heh)...but you know, whoever I am, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...I wasn't made in a vacuum. It has definitely been a good 20 + years. I realized that there are many aspects to me, and I just  have to be myself, whatever combination that entails. And I'm more than my career, my hobbies, my race, my culture. I'm not worried about figuring stuff out as much anymore. Don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff, right? Things tend to take care of themselves, because that's what things do. All I know is that I'll never be able to view the world or myself in quite the same way ever again, and that's something I did not expect from being away so short a time. I learned that I am so loved, that I am not alone, and most of all, that it's not only okay, but great- to be different. And I'm glad. I'm nostalgic. Or is it grass is greener syndrome? I miss all the unique aspects of Taiwan: the night market, the MRT, good food, going to the hair salon to get my hair washed, fresh tropical fruit, eating ice dessert, crazy traffic, walking miles and miles everyday, 7-11, Midtown, waking up to the sunlight streaming through the windows of the third-floor bedroom at my grandmother's house in the morning and the way the curtain billowed out from the screen door in the breeze (or the fan). I miss my aunts and uncles and cousins. I want to go back and don't know when I will next be able to. I've been pondering how people say "bye" across the globe, and as far as I know, only in English does it have such a monochromatic weight of finality, carrying no more open possibilities. Everywhere else, there are other direct connotations: the French and Spanish say "to God" (adieu and adios). But then I noticed that English there is "godspeed" and also "farewell." And even "bye" is usually "goodbye." So whenever we part, we bestow well wishes upon those we part with; we send them a blessing and positive vibe that is nearly inherent in our concept of leaving. Interesting how much our language can reveal, isn't it? I think I prefer the Chinese way most of all: zai jian (is that the correct pinyin? eh). Goodbye is never the end, so zai jian to the island known as Beautiful (according to the Portugese). We will meet again, and hopefully in sooner than a long decade. It's good to be home. I feel like everything unexpectedly fell into place this summer, and it's a strange, curious kind of wonderful. (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, August 3rd, 2006
10:59 pm	I feel pretty, oh so pretty...! Which fashion designer are you? Gucci. Sophisticated yet sensual, you are cutting-edge. Extremely classy, your attitude can sometimes be described as snobby. However, you are always elegantly outfitted in the latest trend. You are modern and usually serious, but sexual at the same time. As far as guys are concerned, you tend to go after the rich CEO. Guys love your tough-girl attitude and can't resist your bold charm. Take this quiz! Haha. I like, I like. The last bit is not true, though, because the rich CEO might very well be an unscrupulous asshole. I dated a business major once; I would know. hah. Anyway. One of my guilty pleasures is the E! Channel. Watching the Top 10 Hottest Celebrities countdown yesterday, I couldn't help but chuckle when they'd praise the beauty of a celebrity and proceed to show airbrushed glamour shots or screen shots from a movie of said celebrity. Don't they know how those photos/videos are put together? I laugh. For seven hours of my life, I have been a model. I took studio pictures in Taiwan, and it was mind-blowingly amazing. Literally all of the pictures they take look like they're ripped from Vogue or Harper's Bazaar, they have professional hair and makeup stylists, professional photographers, genuine model-like poses and sets, and everything. Seeing how all the different themes and styles were put together was an invaluable learning experience for me in this media-saturated, image-obsessed world. There's a reason why fashion magazines make you feel ugly. Let me say this once and for all: comparing yourself to celebrities and models (or shall i say, their images) and trying to look more like them is a Sisyphian endeavor indeed. It's ludicrous (not to state the obvious). I mean, you're taking already exceptionally-beautiful people, putting on layers and layers of face-lifting, highlighting makeup on them, photographing them from their best angles, and then re-touching/airbrushing those photos. Not to mention how many shots it took (you will not believe how many photos get discarded) to get that one pose you see in the Vogue fashion spread. As an avid fan and observer of high-fashion runways and glossy photos, my first-hand experience seeing how far removed the billboard images are from reality was intriguing. I can also testify that being a model is not a difficult job. Wear pretty clothes. Sit in the makeup chair for two hours. Proceed to do whatever the photographer wants you to do. Lather, rinse, repeat. This is not rocket science. It's just a simple matter of following directions...and endurance. Hey, I wouldn't mind getting paid to do this. It would pay for school, you know. Oh yes, it gets exhausting, more than you would know. I wanted to curl up and a corner and drop dead from exhaustion at the end. You can't eat while it's going on either. But it certainly doesn't require brainpower; therefore, it can never really qualify as difficult by my standards. Playing a Beethoven sonata is infinitely harder, believe me. The point is, in professional photos, you are the photographer's (and the makeup artist's, and the hairstylist's) creation. You are not really yourself. You are  their product. It is undeniably ART. It's as highly stylized as any water-color or oil-painting. It's like science. And the good artists have to know what reality translates into on film. The makeup and clothes and the poses are all planned down to every single minute detail: the placement of a hand, the curl of a finger, the way the dress falls, the sweep of the hair, the exact location of a glance. It doesn't work in real-life (posing for professional photos is completely different than smiling for pictures in real life!), but one must always keep in mind that art does not imitate life, it idealizes it.  Models and celebrities don't just look good in their photos for no reason. Anyway, my experience of being photographed (I use the passive voice on purpose here) was some of the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on (half-kidding. don't take what I say too literally sometimes!). A good photographer really knows how to pose his models, knows what works on film and doesn't just deal with the lighting and angles and stuff. My photographer was a genius. He knew exactly what worked for me and instructed me rapidly (entirely in Chinese!) and was always rapidly grabbing, moving around, and re-adjusting the many flashes. He used the air vent/fan in several "windblown" shots too, a la trademark Marilyn Monroe, haha. He was also really friendly and not intimidating at all. He basically loved me because he said I'm photogenic and took over 300 pictures of me (they usually only take 150 proofs). He was probably hoping I'd buy a lot more, but alas!, i only purchased 41 (sadness). He did an amazing job. And let's not forget my stylist! Her talent is absolutely stunning. Being a good stylist is definitely an art too. With every new outfit, you are essentially creating a new sculpture. You have to be endlessly creative, quick on your feet, and innovative. She just had such an eye for how to accessorize and make me up to create a whole image/character with the outfit and pose called for. And you will not believe how much and how meticulous the makeup process is. It takes a very long time (ie- at least an hour to prep for my headshot, even though that was the simplest, most natural look of all!). Even in photos where people don't look like they have on much makeup- believe me; makeup for professional shoots is totally different than you'd expect. I think I'm armed with greater skill now on how to apply makeup for special occassions. Like I said, I learned a lot! Oh yes, and I think my favorite part of the photo shoot was the prepping process- I absolutely loved sitting in the makeup chair and getting dolled up and loved the fun of seeing something come together as she created a new look every time. They all said that I look like some Hong Kong movie star (I forget who)~ awww! I'm flattered. I got to have five different themes. I wanted these five outfits/poses to represent me, and my theme, which I'd predetermined, was to be urban sexy, romantic, and sophisticated. You know how much I love classy, romantic, and cutting-edge sexy! They had so much cute, funky, and vintage-y stuff but I couldn't, not even for dress-up, because it just isn't me. For the "me" I wanted to create, I also had to include fantasy, show a side of me that people would never see in real life. No, no bikini on the beach shots (although they had the beach and everything); because that's kind of lame, and besides I promised my friend and photographer Adam that he has exclusive rights to the shoot if I ever decide to go the Maxim route (hahaha I'm kidding). This is what I finally chose: 1) the headshot (standard). I can use this for my recital/competitions whenever they need a photo of me. I wore a white drape, and he shot his one first, in the clear, morning sunshine. Very fresh and innocent. 2) the springtime romantic.  I wore a long, light-green, sequined evening gown. These photos turned out the best- it was kind of like my favorite painting The Bolt (the scarlet-draped bed and the mirror were so classy and romantic!) meets Drew Barrymore's photo spread in the June 2005 issue of Vogue. 3) the fantasy: clubbing/disco/'70s-meets-'80s girl. I didn't expect the look to evolve into that, but the pictures turned out well. I wore short shorts (okay, so shorts can still be trendy! haha) and boots. My stylist gave me big hair (but it doesn't look weird!) and I really look like I came out of a '70s disco ball or something. Definitely the most fun pose of all. 4) traditional Chinese chi-pao. I chose a white/gold one, like what Cho Chang wore to the Yule Ball in the Harry Potter IV movie. Except that mine was short-sleeved. Either way, it was very classic and classy! I've always loved the chi-pao. 5) urban sexy. I nick-named this one the "Gucci" look. Black suit with a sparkly silver-sequined strapless bra. My stylist gave me a very dark, dramatic look (smoky eyes!)  for this one and very chic hair! Actually, this one was probably my favorite. It's got such an edge, just like me. It was all so much fun! I was like, ohh, even I can be pretty too! It was kind of like Glamour Shots, but infiintely better. And nothing like those cheesy studios that take your senior pictures and stuff. No way; this is much more sophisticated. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to rest or remove my makeup afterward, because my parents and I hopped into a cab and raced across town to have dinner at the Howard Plaza Hotel with some of my dad's old coworkers/friends. It was so nice!~ they rented a private party room and we had a 10 (i think? i lost count after so many) course dinner. After the 4th or 5th course I was about to fall asleep on my chilled plate or something. I must have looked ridiculous in my studio makeup too, haha. But the Plaza Hotel is amazingly beautiful and the dinner was so good~ I love Chinese banquets (this is why Chinese weddings are so great too. heh heh). And I bought a blue Russian Doll at the gift shop. All in all, a very good day. Photo-shoots are so exhausting. If you're ever in China or Taiwan or Japan, go get studio portraits taken. Yes, it's expensive (still cheaper than the U.S.), but so worthwhile! It's pretty much part of the quintessential overseas visitor experience anyway. They treat you like royalty and make you look so good. I was sad that i couldn't keep some of the pics; they're the best pics of me that will ever be taken and I will never look that good again or in real life (it took over 3 hours to choose!). I am so pleased with how good a job the studio did! The package I got is very nice, and I won't actually get mine until they're finished and my aunt air-mails them along with our family portraits (can't wait to get them!). In addition to the CD of my photos, they print and bind them into both a large and a small denim-bound book (I saw my sister's; they are so nice!), make a big, glossy poster of me (haha I almost look like a bride on mine...ahh!), and I also get a key-chain and a framed photo. I can't wait to show them to you guys! I suppose that the next time I take studio pics will be for my wedding portraits one day (yeah, pretty scary thought I know). It's not all vanity, though (even if yes, I am a very very vain person; just look at this post! haha). I really think that everyone should have a photo shoot for the learning experience. I know that I will never view magazines, TV, or movies the same way ever again. Current Music: West Side Story: I Feel Pretty (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, July 27th, 2006
11:22 am	Dirty dirty south I am at an internet cafe and every single person- i kid you not- is GAMING. omg could this BE any more ASIAN? hahaha.  I'm in Southern Taiwan now- staying at my grandparents' house in Taichung. Very nice- 3 stories, more bedrooms than I can keep track of, and various pictures of my family throughout the ages. Speaking of family, it's been intriguing and entertaining to meet mine, as I have grown up with nobody but my parents and my sister and often forget that I have this whole, sprawling family tree on this side of the Pacific. I laugh a lot here- it's impossible to explain in English (or secondhand) why my family is so entertaining, but believe me. Now I know where I got some of my craziness/unintentional humor from. My grandmother is the greatest cook in the world and still remembers what I love to eat (she lived with us for several years during my childhood). The past couple of days, relatives have been appearing left and right, and the whole experience is somewhat fragmented as I haven't seen these people for at least 11 years. An odd sort of familiarity pervades the experience, and I keep remembering bits and piece of my childhood years, and it all makes me very happy. Oh yes, and my great uncle is perhaps my favorite family member. He drives an SUV (in Taiwan! for crying out loud) and is quite a character. A true comedian by nature if I ever met one. Extremely young; I'd think he were my uncle, not great uncle, if i didn't know better. There's a picture of my great grandfather at his apt- it cracks me up because he has such a chill expression on his face mixed with a comical Mona-Lisa esque "wtf" expression. Visited my great-grandmother yesterday- she is 96. All I can say is that I hope I don't live that long...oh yeah, and my second aunt (my mom's younger sister) is like a more chill version of my mom. My sis and I have determined that when we grow up, I will be like my mom (the neurotic one) and my sis will be like the aunt. I saw a wedding pic of my parents from years ago. My mom is really pretty but we can already detect a hint of craziness from her expression in that pic. Yep. that's my familia. The record stores here are amazing- I spent a long while browsing one in Taichung yesterday and it was seriously an orgasmic experience. Sensory overload- I want this! and this! and this!...I couldn't figure out how it was organized (all in Chinese), but they had pretty much EVERYTHING. Box set of Mozart operas (44 discs) *drool* I LOVE Mozart operas more than anything, I think...The Ring Cycle (I thought of Paul and his "Ring Cycle Party"- nerd, haha), and every imagineable soundtrack/Broadway show ever. Not to mention the usual types of music I could ever hope to find. Not bootleg, sorry- so I couldn't really afford everything I wanted. In the end, I bought just one thing: the 30th anniversary Collector's Edition of The Sound of Music. Listened to it and almost wept- that musical CHANGED MY LIFE, no joke. Actually, it really had a huge part in how I came to be who I am today. I watched it repeatedly and religiously as a kid-- How do you think I have perfect pitch? None other than the Do Re Mi song, of course! There is something so sweeping and heroic and romantic and sad about it all- maybe it's the beauty of the Austrian Alps, and I know that next summer I am going to visit Austria (I swear I will)..THE HILLS ARE ALIVE!!!  Anyway,  we finally ate ice for the first time in a few days (I was in withdrawal)...for those of you who don't know- eating Ice is a very common and anticipated desert here in Taiwan. It's virtually an "ice sundae" with fruit and whatever you want toppings on top of shaved ice with "syrup" (dunno what else to call it) poured on top. Kind of like bubble tea but in edible form. Tastes like heaven. Food here is so much inherently healthier. Tonight we're going to hit up another Night Market- yay! Oh yeah, and yesterday one of my aunts bought me a pair of shoes- so cute! Six pairs and counting...did I mention that I did indeed get the perfect little black dress? and it is PERFECT and one of a kind. Satin and unique and I had it altered to perfection. Found it in a little boutique next to the photo studio. I've been searching for the perfect one for ages and I finally found it. And it is better than yours, so be jealous...hehe.  My cousins are here and they're learning English. They are pretty cool. Some of the cousins on my dad's side already have kids. The babies are SO CUTE! Does that make them my nieces/nephews or second cousins? I have no idea how these names work. Oh yeah- and in Chinese, we have so many differentiations for different cousins/aunts/uncles. In English, you call all your aunts "aunts" and stuff, but in Chinese, depending on who is older, and what side of the family the person is from, you call each person something different. It can get terribly confusing and a little awkward at first when you don't know what to call the person. haha.  Kind of like how Eskimos have 26 different words for snow. I don't know why there are so many familial nuances. It is interesting... I am flying home Saturday night. It will take approx 24 hours to get back to Atl, and you know, I'm actually ready to go home.  Atl is 12 hours behind Taiwan, so I actually have more time than I think. The moment I get home, I have to gather up all my stuff, drive to Athens, get those orchestra excerpts, break out my violin which I haven't touched in months, play piano again...AHHH. Home is where the heart is, and, you know- I miss the comforts of home...this has been a really great trip though.  I miss Taipei. Definitely one of my favorite cities ever. Btw, boys of Georgia Tech- watch out. My sister has gotten like, really hot over the summer. Almost didn't recognize her when we were reunited. That's what 6 weeks in Taiwan will do to you. She has also become quite the heartbreaker (with heartbreak-ees from Houston to Austria to Taipei to...who knows)...great skill to learn right before college! that's my girl. (3 Comments |Comment on this)