Monotony

this turning wheel

cartwheels in my mind

again and again,

sweet surrender...

reality is far

it is a veil of dreams

that covered

the sharp knife of

cold cognitive conclusions

oh how wonderful life is

when you're in this world

unsatisfied

why can't you sense

the confusion

which blurs the chalked line

the wind whispers

as i wish for the disappearance

of these damned boundaries

Pour Moi

pour me-

 a cozy cup of your presence

and warm me with the blush

of your cheeks

so i may douse myself

in you.

oh how i love mini-poems. they are so cute and easy to write :)

Tainted

For him not to know this,
Limits him to incompletion.
How weary is the word,
How heavy is the tongue.
Expression tainted,
in this untrustworthy world.

Words cannot express,
my limitless emotion.

winter warbles

i do think that warble is a wonderfully wacky word, do you not agree?

oh yes and this is a comical spin off of dear seester's 'winter wishes' post. as you can see..my pictures do not have the same elegant quality as hers.

很 MAN....

yes...quite sadly, i have nothing better to do but waste a little time on meaningless posts...but we all do need something to get us through these last weeks before the holidays, yesyes?

dedicated to 姐姐......TO SHOW YOU A MAN WITH TRUE FEEL.

yes how weird i am.

dreamy

a disgustingly boring blog post for dreary december...that is...dreary until the holidays! ohohohoho (jingle all the way)

work work work...until it's time to play!
some dreamy (click!) to counteract the dreary

Thankful Thankful

There is so much to say;

that..in the end...

so much is nothing.

Thus,

I shall bow my head

and simply

say.

Thank You.

For: 爸爸, 媽媽, 第,第, 姐姐, Amanda Dear, and my Hubby 

your sweet, dark eyelashes

I really shouldn't grumble so much. I feel like i deserve to go out, because of all the extra work that i put in; as well as my much improved grades this year. I've worked and worked and worked; and when the time's right...it's not. it's simply quite frustrating, really. i know i really shouldn't complain; that i mustn't err off the road to far...but it's thanksgiving! if i may say so myself, i deserve a break. and there i go again, whiny me. it's also quite coincidental (fate's mean trick on me, I THINK.) that these frustrating incidences always occur on the days right before when my great aunt marge (hahah) is supposed to come. Then i am very emotional and i cry easily. oh childish me. it's not that i'm even that sad; but trust me...at times like these, little obstructions such as times like these irk me SO MUCH. it feels devastating (dramadrama) and i feel as if the world just crashes down on me and i feel so, so tired.

well enough of my grumble rumbles.

this picture is so lovely; the significant others in this picture look like they were genetically created for each other. :)
their eyes reminded me of dark, smoky...things....and i will write something along the lines of that, but right now, i can only whine...

Time

Time

mangles the heart,

and draws out

the note

leaving it poignantly

suspended

in the heavy air.

Crumpled Origami

Delicate child crane,

Born from this life,

Stretches its thin, rice-paper wings.

How transparent and lucid,

Those thin bones.

How heavy, the weight of the world.

Far too heavy, for the skeletal

veins trickling through the

faint heartbeat of these

paper children.

The inevitability of destruction,

Society's iron will which

rejects all those beautiful

in their fragility of mind.

Crumpled origami,

the torn, mangled architecture

of thin, whispering paper

inflicted by those biting tongues,

oblivious to the perfection

in the weak.

Not knowing that those broken

-are the ones who never bent

to the iron will of

this cold world's fury.

Turn over. Breathe.

These recollections...

of past, of present, of

subconscious future...

...they haunt me.

These memories...

torment my body.

I struggle against my chains

-Only to find my wrists

bleeding and chafed.

Oh, my love

My dearest love,

Damn your realism

and cross this new divide.

Bridge the gap between

our hesitant, unsure,

tender-to-the-touch feelings.

Shivering in the empty hallway,

How I miss your presence.

I thought I had packed up

all my beautiful memories,

But all I can take away

is my own emptiness.

Your smile, your warmth,

the smell of your hair...

I can't quench this longing for you.

My wrinkled, tear-stained days...

I desperately search for traces of you.

I wonder and wonder

about all that has been put behind

and I can only remember remembering.

Turn over.

Breathe.

Staying Afloat

This week, I have been QUITE uninspired. Maybe it’s the oppressive work load, but really, I do not feel like squeezing every precious moment out of life recently. I just want to stay afloat and not let myself err too far from what I ought to be doing. Harp, for example. I haven’t sat down to practice more than an hour for almost two weeks. That is…unacceptable. Terrible! How could I let my one defining trait in life drop? I feel so guilty. But yet...when I do sit down, I’m always distracted and can never really get in a solid, productive practice time. Ah me. Do not get me wrong; I love harp more than anything. It is ecstasy; it is love, it is beauty, it is bliss. There is not a more beautiful sound produced in this human world. Wow I sound so narcissistic. I need to practice. So badly. For 5 hours.

Yet everything always drags me down.

But in the end, I’m always back again. What a meaningless post. This better not become a pattern. I have been so uninspired..I can't even write poetry at all. :(

Separation

The endless liquid sea of sky

has turned me

-sprawling, onto my back

helpless in the dizzying intensity

of memory.

The beauty of bittersweet

touches my eyelash

pricking with its startling familiarity.

A single tear

 - do I shed.

This tear - do I offer

to the naked heavens

I'd touch a star

and send a kiss

on its angel-backed wings

to deliver a heartfelt message

to

you.

But yet, it cannot be true.

This sameness

- of sky

- of liquid sea..

Why else, then...

Would my star messenger

return without a flicker of

emotion?

Tonight, I touch my Apollo

and his coldness is devoid of

emotion.

Is it too far?

I send the fleeting wings of the

heavens themselves.

Yet even he cannot break

the unbreakable wall.

Oppressive dissatisfaction

crushes in on me from all sides.

I press myself against

the cold, black grass

which cannot soak up

my dripping memories.

Separation is eternity.

The Observer

You bend your head

and shape your hands

to the geography of ivory

piano keys.

I see your passion

I hear your conscience

The depth of your soul

- I cannot begin to fathom.

Your words provide a

safeguard for the sea

of emotion, of thought,

and of sorrow

- which I do not understand.

This discontentment

of wanting to know.

I stretch out my hand

and like a ripple on glass,

you pull away.

Smooth and impenetrable.

Fascination and frustration

-I am now privy to their inspection

How I wish to know

your personal psychology.

I cannot see

-I cannot touch
 your inner mind.

Sunk below the sea foam surface.

I can only observe

and come up with a blank

upon drawing a conclusion

- envying those who do understand.

I submerge myself

Hoping-praying-

to be part of your passion

and part of the conscience

-which I cannot begin to fathom.

Help me understand.

Let me understand.

Chimney Flues

fog in the dark - 

defines the untouchable 

- the invisible

- the unknown

nothingness is heavy

upon my soul

-stolen by the demons

of the night

The Untrustworthy Speaker - Louise Gluck

Don't listen to me; my heart's been broken. I don't see anything objectively. I know myself; I've learned to hear like a psychiatrist. When I speak passionately, That's when I'm least to be trusted. It's very sad, really: all my life I've been praised For my intelligence, my powers of language, of insight- In the end they're wasted- I never see myself. Standing on the front steps. Holding my sisters hand. That's why I can’t account For the bruises on her arm where the sleeve ends . . . In my own mind, I'm invisible: that's why I'm dangerous. People like me, who seem selfless. We're the cripples, the liars: We're the ones who should be factored out In the interest of truth. When I'm quiet, that's when the truth emerges. A clear sky, the clouds like white fibers. Underneath, a little gray house. The azaleas Red and bright pink. If you want the truth, you have to close yourself To the older sister, block her out: When I living thing is hurt like that In its deepest workings, All function is altered. That's why I'm not to be trusted. Because a wound to the heart Is also a wound to the mind.

April - Louise Gluck

No one's despair is like my despair--

You have no place in this garden
thinking such things, producing
the tiresome outward signs; the man
pointedly weeding an entire forest,
the woman limping, refusing to change clothes
or wash her hair.

Do you suppose I care
if you speak to one another?
But I mean you to know
I expected better of two creatures
who were given minds: if not
that you would actually care for each other
at least that you would understand
grief is distributed
between you, among all your kind, for me
to know you, as deep blue
marks the wild scilla, white
the wood violet. 


i love this poem so much..it is so beautiful. former poet laureate louise gluck...she is a masterpiece <3

Insurance

ah yes...sadly, this poem degrades in quality after the first two stanzas....sniff.

I do not need assurance,

nor do I need your smile,

I defy all petty insurance,

I can save myself for a while.

My superstar will come one day;

Perfection coupled with incompletion,

Beautiful, blessed - as they say

Incompletion, upon first sight, will achieve its

mind deletion.

You.

With your pitiful assurance,

is this the best you can do?

Insecure, clammy hands-

-oh you, I see your

fragile, desperate self-esteem.

That.

over there...

You say...they

make you?

How much, I ask you,

Do you really know?

I mock your empty, flimsy words,

I scorn your false, foolish promises.

Broken, empty, and unforgiven.

Pure love waits

For those who wait.

And hence, I shall wait

& defy all this meaningless insurance.

So no, thank you,

You may keep your heart,

I want no part,

In this stupid game.

I'll keep my incompletion,

and wait for-

-my super star completion.

mr. suave, mr. cool

you

turn your face

so sharp your jaw

so sharp

your wit-so sharp your-

step.

ambiguous mr. cool

shines his shoes and clicks his heels-

the smooth boy dashing charm.

mr. suave spins his quarter

across diner counters

the waitress spills

the noon coffee

on the overheated mug

burning like her blush.

he smirks a lazy grin.

mr. suave

mr. cool

what

is

it

that

makes

you

a

classic?

Childhood

Disappointment clouds their faces,

ages them till furrows appear, crestfallen -

I bow my head and weep with shame.

A tear trails down my cheek-

Like a child, I bite my lip and try not to cry--

-how foolish a tear.

And like a child, it does not listen.

Traitorously betraying my guard,

Quivering along my trembling mouth

-oh that hateful tear.

Please catch my trailing tear,

and hold it in your hand.

Smooth out the wrinkle of my failures.

Dear God, I need you here-

-to catch my traitorous, trailing tear.

Face the Music

Paralyzingly sweet and sad,

I turn my head from the inevitable.

Rip my heart

Out of my chest

And hold it in your hand.

My heart beat’s idle spastic rhythm

Parallels itself with your footsteps

As you approach me

I wish to reach out to you.

But yet I turn away,

Too scared to face the music

The moment where I confess all to you

I cringe away from the possibilities

Infinite yet fathomless

In between those precious moments

happy birthday Dee Dee!

Glacial Freeze

Time has unfrozen-

melting seconds ooze

in liquid ice

upon your languid tongue

which is mute

as words dance away on the pine

covered trees.

A shock of beauty

pierced your frosted heart

brittle as the bare bone

softening the impenetrable facade.

Glacial freeze,

slow to run in

the spring fresh river

---the waves of time.

May we chill the trembles

of the clock?

Can we stop up the bottle of change

which has broken

in shards of diamonds?

Doors

A door shuts slowly

the shadow replaces the light, leaving the room in darkness.

On the other side, one slams open

and light blinds the room with blinding glare.

As I offer, I take.

I arrive and I leave

the companionship

of new and old.

Coming back, for certain

As who - I don't know.

But I leave with malaise -

at loss and confused.

Who am I to please?

Who am I to be?

The rush of it, the glare, may blind me forever

But as my eyes adjust

I hope to find beauty

So I take the chance.

A goodbye

And a hello.

A door shuts

And a door opens.

Does it please you?

Dusty concrete stretches for eternity,

Our past revealed in the glaring sun.

You bare your heart, all's said and done,

Oh the inevitable-evitable, changing it is long past.

Sandy wind, grain by grain,

entangled in the web of complications.

Distractions, the weaving's stopped.

Loom silent, in awe of one.

Speck by speck, our memories fly,

what was & what is...distinguishing

between is what we call impossibility.

Boundaries drawn; I am alone.

A falling leaf

- the sign of change.

Does it please you?

Or is it simply moving on?

I am strong,

the other is not.

She needs you here,

And I...well...not as much.

You make excuses for her,

I stand fully judged.

I let you go,

And consequently, you let me.

Does it please you?

---the changing winds...

Or is it simply moving on?

Because sometimes, my unoccupied self has not.

Deliberate Living

"We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep...I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary...........................................it is error upon error, and clout upon clout, and our best virtue has for its occasion a superfluous and evitable wretchedness. Our life is frittered away by detail . Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!"

-Thoreau "Walden"

Expectations

Does happiness come with success?

No.

(Part of) Happiness is the sense of fulfillment, and success is achieving a goal.

And goals can be achieved all the time. Whether they are the right goals determines whether one will be either happy or depressed, two polar opposites.

The quick way to depression:

Accomplishing irrational goals. Accomplishment is a feat: it requires dedication, work, and luck. It's essentially an "investment" that people make. However, far too many people expect their investment to completely pay off in the end. They spend all the work accomplishing the goal without spending the work of determining what their goal is, and unfortunately, the world is mean and expectations are missed and undershot all the time. That's the root of all sadness and madness in the world, if you think about it...failed expectations.

"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." -Brian Littrell

Apparently this guy assumes everybody can cope with undershot expectations. He is quite out of touch with people.

The quick to happiness!

Accomplishing goals that lead you closer and closer to whatever your main goal is: your purpose in life, whatever you choose it to be.

Basically, expectations always come with the accomplishment of hopes, goals, and dreams - these expectations are an integral part in determining our overall sense of happiness.

Expectations reached? Good for you. Keep going. Expectations missed? I say accept, learn, and move on. But a lot of people intentionally dwell and drown in their own wells of misery, asking for comfort of other people.

Oh well. We're only teenagers.

I shouldn't have high expectations for them anyways. Myself included.

On the other hand, I'm scared to death of failing other people's expectations.

lower your eyelids to die with the sun

my shadow melts

between the trees,

pale hands clutch the bark

not so at sudden ease.

my nerves sing

as they touch the leaves

caressing my fingertips

touching my soul.

golten tip to burning spear,

the sun ignites the burning wood,

glory in the burning trees

thrums with my burning heart.

flaming desire

so terrible and great

let no man know

of this sinful hate

extinguished by night,

paled by the stars,

desire is no more.

lower your eyelids to die with the sun.

Pain

The bite does bleed,

The wound does scar,

I shake my fist-

at the crimson sky.

Sliding down my tearstained thigh,

the drop of blood seduces the wild--

calling the hunters of my

weary, weary mind.

The lion does roar,

The Devil does run,

The vultures soar,

Oh sweet decay has begun.

End it all -- my lover won,

Let the pain come

like a knife in water

soon to turn it red.

Blood -

- Blood

-red.

Succumb to fate,

how easy, how deliciously

--liberating like no other pleasure.

A final gasp

--I am released.

retreat...

Vultures descend

Pessimism

We came as the freshmen. We were fresh-faced and eager; we were excited, we were hopeful, we were nervous, we were light-hearted. Morover, we were totally lost. We were the freshmen.

A yearlater, we are...sophmores. Many feverish and stressful sleepless nights later, we are sophomores. All things start to fall into place and align themselves for us. But really, the gradual settlement of our lives stamps out any excitement we had before. Is it lack of enthusiasm on our part? Or is it simply the concept of "same old again"? True, to our droopy, tired eyes, the school we once considered so beautiful now only sparks thoughts o fhomework and the despicable teachers we loathed. Even seeing our friends is not as exciting as before...why? When we see them, gossip taps us on the shoulder and whispers the latest news on current grades, relationship status, and social scandals.

Truthfully, the thought is quite depressing. The people you see everyday don't mean anything to you unless they have something you could take advantage of. Now this perspective is a bit harsh, but is it not true that the prickly side of high shcool has rubbed off on us?

If we were looking for a more virtuous excuse to make up for the lack of energy in the new school year, we could blame the one thing we all have in common; our future. Our future, our goals, our hope, our hell.

We are all capable of dreaming big. In our minds, everybody DOES want to go to an Ivy League school and find the cure for cancer. But with our eyes so fixed on the price, we forget about the path to get there. We gloss delicately over the details; we are masters of evasion. Call us shirkers, if you will.

This brings us to the finishing stitch. A year has passed, and we are one more year closer to senior year. A year closer to college. A year closer to shoving our whole life in front of a panel of administrators and letting them decide our fate. The looming Judgement Day does put things into perspective, do you not agree?

The fleet carefree freshman flight of fancy has flown...it's time to grovel down and get to work. It's time to actually do the labor to achieve the lofty goals we so foolishly tacked up on the totem pole.

Here's to a new year, and to our futures. I really hope we make it.

blurp.

What happens when 2 different personalities tug on your mind?

What is the smartest thing to do?

Is it to please both sides, have split personalities, and live a life with an ever changing personality?

Of course not. It is the quite the opposite.

A sticky situation happens; you'll be forced to cut one side off and take the other.
And, for some unfortunate reason, it becomes a question of who you'd rather please. Because sooner or later, you'll have to quit compromising and take a stance between the two minds. You cannot be forever ambiguous and accept contradicting ideas.

Life is harsh.

It just sticks us in these messy situations. So as usual, when I encounter a messy situation, I try to find a purpose.

Although it's subjective and up to interpretation, I believe this type of dilemma to be the opportunity to establish an identity, and it's up to yourself to make it a good or bad one. There's plenty of examples all around us everywhere, at school for example, in how people chose sides and established their own identity - the whole phenomenom of the strengthening and breaking of friendships, the latter known more commonly as "drama."

Many of us just choose the side that is most fun.

Is fun really the deciding factor of our personality?

It could be.

Decisions, decisions.

So now I'm stuck.

...Who am I supposed to be?

Inspiration-High

What’s an inspiration-high? Upon returning from a camp, a retreat, a tour, or a conference…it is common to be filled with the environment of the friends you met, the experiences, and the memories. Back to cold reality, nostalgia is your closest friend; and you cling to the pictures, the conversations. You’re in inspiration-high mode. The thing is, while some wile away their days dreaming of their treasured times, others strive to turn their inspiration-high into something productive and worthwhile, and in the end, make the experiences that they had into something that would permanently become part of their identity, so they won’t forget.

But what, exactly? Well, supposedly they would be inspired to write a lot of poetry, avidly research a topic, or start practicing 8 hour a days. So filled with the passion that sprung up during their time away, the spark of interest would become a life-long hobby and activity. Oh, this is our dream. Our intentions are good, our hearts are in the right place, and the future lies ahead. But the question is…can we really persevere and keep the inspiration-high? Or will we let it die within two weeks, and it will only serve as a fond memory, and later, something to stick onto our high school resume, to show the colleges that we ‘indulged in our interests’ during the golden days of summer?

Some of us, I believe, really do take that step forward. They start planning, and start doing, all as a result of that inspiration-high. They dream big, they plan, they take action. But you ask, “how long will this last”? However we swore that the time we spent away at the event was life-changing and eye-opening, how much of it do we ourselves believe? Will we keep going with our new interest to turn it into something worthwhile? Or will we let it fall off the sidewalk sooner or later? Change is so hard.

Harp camp was wonderful and amazing. Judy Loman is a goddess. She’s so gentle and patient, though I heard that she used to be really fierce and strict. She sometimes goes, “eh?” at the end of her sentences, which is adorable. But however a cute, little, 75 year old lady she looks (with tiny hands), she’s so different on stage. She hugs the harp, and the sound she can bring out of that wide-spaced Salzedo is lush and full, with not a single buzz. She performed all of Salzedo’s variations all from memory. Her rippling fuchsia dress and high-heeled silver gladiator shoes only added to her fierce and emotional vision of perfection. She’s both strong mentally and physically. I admire her greatly. She is endurance, she is strength, she is patience, and she is the endeavor.

She wants me to study with her for three weeks at a time in the summer. It’s such an honor. At first, it was just so overwhelming. I thought; does this change my future? Am I going to Toronto to study for college? Will I become a famous harpist? What does Judy expect me to be? I was so filled with images of the future that I almost forgot what lay ahead of me. Just because Judy Loman (goddess though she is) approves of me and wants me to study with her does not mean that my future is set in stone and I am, in a way, “insured.” I still have much hard work, practice, and experience ahead of me to achieve anything. Besides, there’s so much more in my life. All my aspirations for my school work, high GPA, and my dream schools: Julliard and Colombia. The future changes with every decision I make; I must keep that in mind to keep on the straight path. One step at a time, as long as I keep my eyes up and my footsteps planned in perfect precision.

colors

we're different.

different at birth - the billionth chance of being you, that one sperm lucky enough to reach that one egg.

different as adults - the result of events we experience that happen by chance and sheer luck.

every mind has its own shade of color.

a color on a pallete, waiting to be mixed with the others.

then painted onto a canvas, the product of skill and luck

to coexist and work together

to be a masterpiece.

yet we point at each other and say the other is brainwashed

when really we're brainwashed ourselves.

we reject differing people that we're not familiar with

without even understanding them.

there is no empathy.

the colors don't mix.

the world makes an ugly painting.

Turnpike Breeze

Exploding suitcase, knees bumping the aisles/
Dizzy takeoff, clutching baba's arm/
Stale pretzels, groggy eyes/
open in time to see the 9:00/
sunset serving as a matte for the spiky shadows/
of pine trees standing guard over the city/

Rain-washed air, carressing the wind/
sinuously snaking around sky-scrapers/
Hint of puddles, evaporating on dirty streets/
a boy in a v-neck throws his cigaette in the puddle/
steam rises, marring the fresh leaf of the evening/

hello seattle/
flying in the turnpike breeze/

Thank You Failure

I haven't cried for a while.

Thank you failure for the tears and total frustration.

Today was a mini-recital (to prepare for SYMF saturday) at my violin teacher's house. And it would be the first time I came out of my shell and played a violin solo in front of a real audience. This whole week, my upcoming performance had been constantly floating on the top of my mind. Wow...My first chance to impress. To show what I actually have. To prove something...something I've been working for since 3rd grade.

So fast forward to 8:30. It was my turn. Fear rushed into me as I stood in front of the audience. My cheeks flushed red. My eyes darted back and forth across the room. Their eyes stared back at me.

Piano started, I lifted my violin and set the bow on the string. It's your chance to prove it to all of them. 6 minutes later, I walked out of the room not acknowleding the fake applause and knowing I played the most horrible, awkward, and stiff rendition of Tchaikovsky.

Life basically was sucked out of me as I sat there and watched everybody else after me play something actually decent. A burning dry feeling stayed in my throat. That feeling was frustration and total failure. I tried to drink it off, but nothing helped the pain. Endured a few more players until my mom suggested we go home. I happily obliged.

As I walked towards the car, I couldn't help but start crying. It was as if I were a total weakling, with the lower lip quivering and tears teetering on the edge of my eyelid.

And then it just all came out.

My mom tried to make me feel better, saying she was proud, the other moms all went to talk with her, blah blah blah. But she did lessen the pain. Thank you mom for that.

I continued being overdramatic and depressed. All this for just 6 minutes in front of 16 people. A mini-recital. I did not know I was that pathetic.

Why Failure? Why did you do this to me? Why do you want to cause so much shit to happen? All these thoughts echoed through my head as I stared out window to the black sky. This pointless stupid world...why me? why? Then I just sat and stared. And began to think purposefully.

...maybe it had a purpose.

Failure is teaching me something. Asking me to open up - to accept it. To cope with it. To use it to improve. To tell me I can do so much more. And once I open up to it, I'll be twice the person I am now.

I don't mind how I do this saturday. If I place, well, good for me. Maybe enjoy a temporary boost of some self-esteem. If I don't, well. Who cares! It's only a 6 minute window of my almost 8 year relationship with my violin! You're not going to die, you're not a failure, it's just a competition after all. Yes, we all want to be the best, but success comes from failure. And it'll come someday. Someday...