Monday, May 31

Tell Me Anything You Want, Any Old Lie Will Do...

Currently indulging in the beauty of the Fleet Foxes Ragged Wood album. Their music is simply pretty. Listening to it makes me feel light inside. :)

What makes good art? Forsaking subjectivity is certainly not an option. With any given standard we run the risk of modernism. I'd rather eat my own foot than be called a modernist.

I feel my brain slowing turning all gooey like the insides of a rotting banana. I am becoming weak in the mind and such a thing scares me. I'm so desperate for intellectual stimulation, I'm pushing dialogue out of people clearly uninterested.

You have to understand though. I need to flex my critical thinking muscles. I have to read up on theoriticians. I need to devour more philosophy. My days are empty. It is the pattern of work, television, exercise and sleep. If I have any hope of surviving in this house, I need to get my brain back in shape.

These days I find myself preoccupied with silly things. Like getting a manicure and playing poker. Like diet food and summer dresses.


Saturday, May 29

On Love.

I believe that my parents love each other. I mean, you can't really put up with someone's bullshit for 26 years without feeling some kind of attachment to that person, can you? But I also believe that growing up, I very rarely saw healthy examples of loving relationships. For me, love has always been incurably linked to responsibility---you received the reward of affection once you've proven yourself useful. Bring honor to the family, show off how bright and clever you are, and suddenly, your parents love you. Being useful does not give you a free pass to being loved. I have finally learned this after many, many years. Love has also always been presented hand in hand with guilt and passive aggressive-ness.

I will not say that I wasn't loved enough as a child. My parents love me as best they know how. Growing up Asian fucked me over, though. We don't show affection. We don't express love. We are compelled to act because of obligation, duty, responsibility. We are valued when we are needed. I need to be needed to feel like something.

How tragic is that?

I'm trying to discover new and better ways to love. The problem is that I don't really know how...




Tuesday, May 25

When dad went on business trips all over the country, he'd bring me back all sorts of trinkets. Sometimes, you could tell he just picked up whatever he could find in between work and the hotel gift shop---an after-thought present for his 'favorite' child. Other times, I knew that he went searching the streets for something he thought would make me smile, even if that meant forgoing sleep.

I loved all these things he brought home to me; the charms, the glass candies, the snow globes. I hoarded it all in a little colored box under my bed for many years and only later in life did I trash them out of spite. This, I regret.

I don't know how we've gotten here to this very moment where none of us speak of what is important. If I could turn back time to demystify the misunderstandings of my life crossing yours, I would. But I can't. Because we've forgotten that I was the little girl who sat atop your shoulders to see the world for the very first time.

Tuesday, May 4

I wonder is it's stupid of me to want so badly to study alongside/the words of female Asian philosophers. It's a little silly, I guess. But maybe they think the way I do. Maybe we have shared experiences which make our philosophy different. Maybe they have the words for the thoughts I could never string along coherently.

I dunno. Maybe it's not silly at all.

I'd write a longer post, but my word coffers are all empty from the past week's feverish writing of papers.

With that, I leave you.