LEPJOURNEY

Back in the late winter of 2008, I met a man at a shopping centre when I was gossipping and laughing with my buddies. It was my bad habit that I literally didn’t care about things around me when I was TOO happy. But in one-billionth of nanosecond, my eyes suddenly draw attention at a guy sitting at the back seat of the shopping hall, staring at me. I shrugged him a smile and he smiled back.

At a glance, I guessed he was a black-and-white kind of guy. He wore a black T-shirt with the white word “Vogue” on it, a black jeans and a white pair of Converse shoes. He looked stylish but kinda weird and was definitely not my type simply because I didn’t like “ton-sur-ton” guys. But, well, my heart lost its beats when he put that bright girl-killing smile on his handsome face and gave it to me. Don’t worry, I didn’t die but I fell for him from that moment on. Totally.

One day later, we began to bond and hang out on a daily basis.

From the start of the “honeymoon” stage of falling in love, I truly cared for him and so did he. It is mistakenly believe that those who love white and black are very spiritually and physically strong because he is a white-and-black addict but is…vulnerable. I didn’t let anyone or anything hurt him. I spent most of my time and efforts protecting him from any danger. As I said, he was incredibly vulnerable but it doesn’t mean that he was feminine and good-for-nothing. He was an extremely supportive and reliable man. I couldn’t imagine how I would live without him even in a second. He never ever got angry with me even when I wrote “FBI” (which means Female Body Inspector) on an easy-to-see part of his most favorite T-shirt just to check whether my pen still worked.

In a course of 2 years, we have shared so many ups and downs in life with each other. But you know, though I’m deeply in love with him and always try my hardest to be his bodyguard as well as spiritguard anywhere at any time, I hafta admit that there are still so many dark parties in my inner self– greed, selfishness, carelessness and such a thing–being eager to rebel. And because they have lots of advanced and modernized weapons, I hafta wave my white flag every now and then. Last time, when it was raining torrentially, I let my carelessness knock him down on the ground. It was not the first time I myself hurt him badly. It was the “n” time. And now, with time, he has got wounded a lot…

Our love is true love, but it’s not a fairy tale. Luckily, Daddy taught me about the definition of true love and advised me not to be confused with the fairy tale, happily-ever-after, everything-is-rainbows-and-sunshine conception. (Thanks, Dad!). Nothing remains the same with time, just so you know. A  best friend of mine once said “The best thing in life is not to be with a person forever but to love and to be loved truly at a certain time of your life.” And to me, those last two years were unforgettable…

I don’t know where our relationship is leading to in the years to come and though I have to confess that I did go out with some other guys when he was away (but just sometimes. Nothing more. I’ve got zero interest in them. They are not as awesome as him!), he’s still the sweetest honey in my heart.

Despite those scars on his face, he still looks cool to me!

He’s the love of my life.

And his name is GLASSES.

‎In Washington DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

After about four minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.

About four minutes later, the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At six minutes, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At ten minutes, a three-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent – without exception – forced their children to move on quickly.

At forty-five minutes: The musician played continuously. Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About twenty gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After one hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.

This experiment raised several questions:

In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

If so, do we stop to appreciate it?

Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made…
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?”

I hereby declare I’m now in love with Pappa-Roti!

I’m not a big fan of buns but, honestly, this exceptionally fluffy one tastes so good! Yum yum!

“The rain may be falling hard outside,
But your smile makes it all alright.
I’m so glad that you’re my friend.
I know our friendship will never end.”
— Robert Alan

Yup, I am so so so so glad that you are my friends.  I have heard that there are some people out there who have never had a true friend till they take their last breath. And if I were one of them, it would be the most horrible tragedy of my life. But as I have always believed, I am a lucky girl. My friendlist is not super duper  full with thousands of friends who do not even have an idea who I am. I just have SOME friends. And they are truly real friends. I am grateful for that. Honestly, I prefer having a small numbers of friends who are always right there for me when I am in need to a long list of friends who formally say “Hi” when bumping into me on the street and then, one second later, turn their backs with a question in their mind “Who the hell is she?” – a question that, once in a very blue moon, will ever be answered.

I have known these two girls for more than 4 years. “Everything happens for a reason”; and deep down in my heart I believe that they did not come into my life just for fun. There must be a reason, but I never try to find out what it is. They are just like Heaven-sent gifts to me – they accept me the way I am. They are always ready to do crazy things with me – wandering around the city with joy and laughter on bloody cold Saturday nights, lying on the beach and singing out loud some random self-mixed songs, etc. Without them, I couldn’t go through ups and downs in my life. They change me in a good way to “Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.”

Since we graduated and began to struggle with the post-grad life, we don’t meet each other everyday anymore. But I am so thankful that, on a weekly basis, they still spare time to chit chat and ‘be crazy’ with me like they used to do. Time has changed and so have we, but somehow a “forever young” part is still here to stay in our hearts.  And tonight was the most wonderful Sunday night ever. We met up. We talked. We laughed till our tummies hurt. Suddenly, everything seemed so beautiful – raindrops on the windows, guttering street lamps under the torrential rain, or even strong moaning winds by our ears. Everything.

I heart you two!

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(Me on the left and my two sweet buddies – 25.9.2011)

This afternoon’s rain ruined my weekend and mid-autumn festival plan. So I stayed at home, playing with my pencils and papers. It has been a while since I last drew something. Drawing was my favorite childhood hobby. Back through the years I was spending hours and hours drawing. I do not remember when and why I gave up that hobby, but every once in a while, I grasp my notebook and pencil and begin to do something like this:

and this:

and some other CRAZY stuff.

I only draw or write when I am inspired. And you may ask “Today,where does the inspiration come from because the Moon festival is definitely not for you – you are too old to enjoy it.” Yup, I know it well. But believe it or not, this Mid-autumn festival is the most meaningful one I have ever had since I was born. Why? Because of this little sweetie baby:

(Ken on his very first Mid-Autumn festival)

This is how he looks like when he sees something new. Awww ADORABLE!

What most of us expect in the month of September is a spectacular show of colors all around our little mountainous, windy and sandy city before we are plunged into a freezing long winter. Yes, Fall has come! It is not my favorite season of the year because I actually have no favorite seasons – I love them all equally and deliriously. But hardly do we get what we love to or want to have, as it has been said. Mother Nature does not generously give us four clearly separated seasons. At times, we feel as if we are in Summer eventhough Spring has just been around the corner. And now, amidst Autumn, we feel like we are getting burned by the hot sun early in the morning and then a cold feeling overwhelms us when the sun goes down, giving place for a heavily rainy night.

I am not sure if Lady Autumn is around here or not. And the uncertainty when it comes to the weather is here to stay in my mind as long as I still live here.

But isn’t it interesting to have or ‘feel’ more than one season in a day?

And one wonderful thing that keeps me not feeling bored with this kind of unpredictably changable weather is the  blossom of pink flowers on my house’s balcony. I do not know what they are called – okay, lemme call them Pinkies. They seem to be weird but beautiful flowers to me. There is an exclusive section on the balcony for me to plant small trees or flowers – most of them are cacti since I do not have much time to water and take good care of them, and cacti are the best choice for those who enjoy keeping in touch with Nature but have little time. I have no idea who planted Pinkies but one thing I can say for sure is that Pinkies have a jaw-droppingly strong nature of survival. They do not need to be watered or protected from bad bugs or helped to fight against rapidly growing grass. All they need is a night’s torrential rain, and they will blossom right away the following morning. Beautifully.

And Pinkies kept my spirit up on this unpredictable-like-women autumn’s early Saturday morning.

Here are my Pinkies:

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Michael: You threw away your flowers.

Sara: Like I said, they don’t last.

Michael: I don’t think they’re dead yet.

Sara: I don’t like getting attached to things if I know they won’t last.

Michael: Why are you so cynical?

 Sara: Michael, I think there’s cynicism and then there’s realism

 Michael: – and there’s optimism? Hope? Faith?

Sara: This coming from an eight-toed guy locked away in a penitentiary!

Michael: (smiles) Toes are over-rated.

Sara: Thank you for trying to make me smile. Not today.

Michael: You never know.

Last night, I went home late and found out that my little cousin was waiting up to me. She was supposed to sleep at 9 or 10 since she would have to be up early in the morning. Schools start at 6.45 am, and normally kids always struggle with getting out of the bed at such early hours. I know she loves me so much that she follows me all the time and bursts into tears after being told that I have a boyfriend. But staying up to wait for me was something she had never done before.

So I asked her what was wrong. And it turned out that her homework was keeping her eyes wide open eventhough the warm, welcome bed was temptingly calling her name. Her teacher assigned her to learn by heart some new long complicated words. Trouble is, the teacher did not explain what they mean. Memorizing something without understanding its meaning is really difficult even to us adults. And taxing kids’ brains to do such a thing is unacceptable.

I had to do the same thing when I was a kid, and would often get frustrated when teachers avoided explaining words but forced us to memorize them all. We were taught that understanding was the outcome of memorization. Disagreed. Totally disagreed.

Kids are praised as precious treasures of our country in this open-up era. But if this is the way they treasure and educate the future generation, then it is not unusual to see parents send their kids overseas for education. And educators or teachers, please do not question why the brain-drain issue is getting worse if no steps are taken to reverse the thought that understanding is the outcome of memorization. PLEASE.