Greeting From Miss Rose!!!

Greetings,   Dear, you may be surprised to receive this letter from me considering that i did not know you in person or even have seen you before but due to the trust & confidence i have in you made me to share this opportunity with you so kindly consider this message as confidential. My name is Miss Rose, the only daughter of late Mr. Johnson. who was a Gold and Diamond merchant based in Freetown. My father died in auto accident where my mother died when i was a baby and my plan is to continue my education but which was disrupted as a result of their death. My father deposit amounting of ($7.5 Million US Dollars) with my name as the next of kin in Finance House. Now things is not easy for me and i have tried to get the fund out from the Finance House but the management refused because of my status here coupled with my age but the legal department of the Finance House told me to solicit for an assistance of a reliable personality who can stand as my trustee to safeguard the fund and manage it well in to investment wisely as my father directed them before his death. I am afraid because i don't know how and where to start about this issue but i will appreciate if you can help me out so that the finance house will transfer the fund to your account for investment under your control again for me to come to your country to further my education. I will be pleased to explain more about the transaction on the receipt of your response. You shall never regret of assisting me as i am ready to offer you 30% of the total sum immediately after the transfer of the fund into your account.   please kindly forward your full contact details to me on your respond to enable me use it write and submit an application letter of claim / nomination to the finance house and introduce you as my foreign partner or representative. (1) Full Name,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (2) Home Address,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (3) Country,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (4) Age,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (5) Occupation,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (6) Phone Number And Fax,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, God Bless you, looking forward for your urgent reply, Yours Faithful, Miss Rose.

wats the point of accomplishing such GREAT AMAZING THINGS when you have no one to share your happiness with? *sighhhh*

<3

"Just when I'm about to give up hope, stop trying, and stop believing...someone enters my life and grabs my attention. They make me want to believe again. And the small fire of hope within me burns a bit brighter..."

=)

Baggage

Everyone once in awhile, I read old blog posts to remember the thoughts that have aged in my head. Some age well, while some are trivial. This one in particular stuck out to me as fitting:

Had an unexpected mental health afternoon today.

Two of my days of the week unfortunately starts at 8am. Having only slept for 4 hours, I got myself ready for a nap after I got back from work. As soon as I rest my head, a friend calls to see if I wanted to grab lunch at noon.

On her scooter bike, she drove me to a nifty brunch spot called Guerilla Cafe - decked out with art and revolutionary black figures and environmental consciousness. She got the carrot ginger coconut (vegan) soup of the day while I got a ham panini with a side of poached egg. I would definitely come here again.

We haven't seen each other for months and we spent the next hour filling each other in. How busy I am this summer with Summer Bridge and with transitioning for senate. With organizing SAT prep lesson plans for SEAM and debriefing SASC SI. I gave her my views of how SI went this summer and admitted I was worried about taking it on with senate and SLAS/EOP on my plate next year. We evaluated the past few SIs and talked about healing. How we have been successful (or unsuccessful) with healing ourselves. We moved on to meditation and Buddhism. Our experiences with spirituality and the language barrier post-diaspora. Our common ties remind me how our ways - our Buddhist ways - are sacred and old.

Having stepped into the post-graduate life, she said she's been carrying a lot of baggage. From her years with organizing and from her year stepping back. This baggage has taken a toll on her trying to adjust and I fear bringing along the same baggage when I leave Cal. There's this Buddhist story, of two travelling monks. At a river, they come across a rude man who wants to get across without dirtying nor wetting his robe. So the older monk carries the man across and they went their separate ways. Hours later, the young monk is still in disbelief about his friend helping the awful person and angrily says, "that selfish man who rode your back across the river didn't even thank you! Why did you even bother helping him?"

"I set the man down hours ago. Why are you still carrying him?"

----

Just as I finished my plate, she asks, "where do you wanna go?" The first place that came to mind was the Rose Garden. The past two times I've gone (with my mom & brother and with my high school friends) have been embarrassing. What was supposed to be an amazing show of diverse roses became a "Where's Waldo?" hunt for any colorful sign of life. Today, however, was my first time seeing the Rose Garden in full bloom. That, with the sunny, clear day and the view of the bay, was a nice breath to take in.

I told her about my two-and-a-half-week stay in Việt Nam. I find it interesting that so many people who studied or will study abroad in Việt Nam really romanticize the notion of going back and having the time of their lives. For me, I think I experienced (shortly) just life. I was with my (American) aunt for my cousin's wedding in the heart (and touristy area) of Sàigòn for a little over a week before staying a few days at my eldest aunt's (and what used to be my father's family's) home in a district that didn't cater to western backpackers.

This was my second time in Viet Nam and I distinctly recall the city smelling the same when I stepped out of the airport. I also spent a few days in Bẽn Tre, an hour south of the former capital and my mother's hometown. It was a stark change entering the small city. I didn't hear the loud honks of taxis and motorbikes. Got to meet a lot of family friends and learn family history that wasn't related to the war. Then my mom and I spent a day going to Cần Thơ for the floating market on the Mekong River. That was probably the most exciting part of my trip, riding through the waves of the Mekong and watching boats after boats of fruits.

Before I left, I got to nhậu with Kim, Richie and my former SI mentor, Vinh. It was so coincidental that we all got to see each other. Kim was about to leave for Australia and Richie just flew in. We drank, ate and talked (what nhậu-ing is) until our eye lids got heavy. Seeing the city, the countryside and the river of Southern Viet Nam was a humbling experience. I think my trip, and especially that night, was a nice notice to slow down in life.

Back at the Rose Garden, we walked through an underground tunnel that led to a large park. The playground there was alive with running and laughter. We went along, randomly, some trail and watched as kids lined up to go down a cement slide. I need to take step back more often and come back here with my own cardboard.

--Anonymous

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xr810XCQ7Wg

Bao Phi

Larry Bach puts up the most interesting statuses. He should share those links on this blog too. Hint Hint. 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/02/18/AR2011021805371.html

untitled, draft #1

Phở noodle soup mixes

spicy siracha and hoisen sauce

resulting in murky brown, dry dirt color

matching my lizard skin

creates sand flakes falling at each itch

from too much eczema

too much Vietnamese blood

I ask mẹ why she wishes for my skin to be lighter

“đẹp hơn nhiều” (more beautiful / prettier)

She pleads for me to stay indoors

Two trái cây mít weighs more than 50 pounds

unattractive, spikey, pale

Vietnamese jackfruits

matching my two rough thighs

growing in width, not length

resembling Siamese twins

from too much cultural foods

too much Vietnamese blood

I ask mẹ why she wishes for my thighs to be lighter

“đẹp hơn nhiều”

She pleads for me to start a diet

But as my full-grown thighs strike thunder onto the dance floor

lightening flashes a heart beating liberty

Exhibition of head to shoe

moving to Souls of Mischief’s “93’ til Infinity”

I may not dial the seven digits to call up Bridget

but I have seven digits

asked for by eyes who see the “đẹp” in my body

doing top rocks and six steps

showcasing dark lizard arms and jackfruit thighs

I dance with foundation existing at the bottom of my feet

not over my sun-kissed skin

free from Bare Essentials

that could make skin lighter, brighter, glow

I already glow of neon signs

that read Vietnamese, Southeast Asian

Representation of beauty through movement

Twenty-one

and definitely “đẹp hơn nhiều”

-em

Article about a continuing Hmong tradition in California

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-hmong-festival-20110101,0,4857732.story

Wishful Thinking

 

I asked for a cup of water and you gave me a waterfall.

The water's spilt over and you've made a lake of me.

My notes are washed away and I may drown.

I only wanted a sip of you.

I can only hold so much of you.