Two Days Left

omg guess what joke host sister asked me today?
Q: “黑人为什么喜欢吃白巧克力?“A:”因为他们吃黑巧克力时会不小心吃到手指头。“
I said: “say what?!”
the moms in the car were dead silent as I spilled a couple-a “OMG OH MY GOD OH MY GOD”ssss


Three Days Left

December 19th, 2010 (Sunday)

Today, I tagged along Gus’s meeting with Charles, the mastermind behind the super insightful blog, Charles is currently working on a documentary on the phenomenon of kidnapped children in China.

Check it out here:

I love meeting my kind of people. “My kind” containing a broad range of definitions — simply put, people who I love talking to.

I have been counting down the days until I get back to the States. But recently, I find myself wishing the countdown would slow down — I’m making many unforgettable friendships to keep saying, “I can’t wait to get outta here!” Alas, I will be back, China. Rest assured of my return, my Little Mistress.

Well, my impending bittersweet departure has sparked a question in my turbulent mind:

How many people do we brush shoulders with daily — whom we might connect with, under the right conditions?

Ahhh, there are so many interesting things to uncover in this world. We just need to open our eyes, and look under the rocks, which we have fooled ourselves to think are only part of the background.


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To Do List

The other day, like a goodie-too-shoe-aka-model-Chinese-girl, I phoned Grandpapa and Grandmama.

After I reassured them that I was wearing enough layers at the moment, and that I was feeding myself frequently, Grandpapa and Grandmama issued the following ordinance:

  • Don’t eat candies from strangers. Even if they are wrapped.
  • Don’t go anywhere alone.
  • Don’t talk to strangers.
  • Don’t go anywhere alone with strangers.
  • When you smell smoke, run.
  • Stay out of politics.
  • Avoid men.
  • Don’t get tattoos.

Oops, are you sure you don’t mean “do” all of the above? Because I have reason to believe that I have done the opposite of all of the above. And yet, still alive. Ha!

Yep, even the last one on the list.

I got a “made in china” tattoo that was made in China! On my skin, which was also made in China!

Triple entandre, baby. Just for that, it was worth the ¥75.

Bro says that “a tattoo is a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling.” I say a tattoo can very well be a permanent reminder of a permanent truth.

Next things on my to do list:

tattoos of “Exported to the U.S.” and “Refurbished in Berkeley.”


Irony, you are a bitch

December 11th, 2010 (Saturday)

Dearest Life,

Quit playing games with me.

Today, I had enough of the taste of irony. I feel like I’m under a curse. Even all this French food can’t wash the bitter taste from my mouth. Even all this sweet compliments can’t lift my spirits.

I’m so tired of unreciprocated-ness. It’s extremely inefficient; it pains me to witness all these beautiful flows of energy going in misdirections toward Nothingness, evaporating into thin air. Poof! All gone. Until they come back, spit ruthlessly onto your face, and stone you to death with rocks of Mockery.

Fine, two can play this game. I’ll laugh louder, liver better, and love harder.

“The phoenix Hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune’s spite; revive from ashes and rise.”  — Miguel Cervantes (author of Don Quixote)

Hello, sweet Resurrection.

My Most Prized Possession

December 6th, 2010 (Monday)

Of late, a remnant from the past has surfaced and fermented in my conscious mind, releasing so pungent a smell that I can no longer ignore it. So I shall confront it.

This nuisance is a short answer from the 2008 Stanford college admission application:

What is your most prized possession?

My answer was “my brain,” two words that showed how much of the said thing I was using.

(Considering that my other answers also bore the same shade of stupidity, I don’t think I took the application seriously… plus I procrastinated until the last hour to finish it. But then again, the sourest grapes are always the ones out of reach, no? Ha. But hey, was Warren Buffet admitted into Harvard Business School? No. Did publishers accept J.K. Rowling’s story of a four-eyed scrawny wizard the first 7 times she had sent in the script? Negative.)

Anywho, regarding the question, I have another (better) answer:

My most prized possession is a music box.

Not just any musical box. This box, my friend, is neither visible nor tangible.

And this box makes noises that only I can hear. I was not aware of its existence until a few months ago.

Ever since I began traveling, I have grown accustomed to Independence and her bastard, Being Comfortable Alone. When I am alone, my musical box springs open and plays a melody that complements whichever mood I am under the spell of. The melodies vary, but they are always composed of voices and laughter and cackles of the beautiful people that I have had the fortune to meet in this journey of life.

Therefore, I am never alone. Take that, Stanford.


I sink I’m gettin’ a cavity…

Crystal’s Christmas wish list:

  • pillow pet
  • books
  • ice skate at Union Square
  • fly to China to see Elizabeth

This is exactly why I’m getting so many cavities.