chuc mung nam moi

stevie wonder -- "superstitious"

asian people are very superstitious. while it is the american way to work hard and diligently for everything we want and let things come as they may, asians don't like leaving things up to chance. therefore, every stone will be upturned and every possible jinx safeguarded against.

especially this thursday, february 7, 2007, at the start of the new lunar year, there are important things to do and not do if you want this year, the year of the rat, to bring you lotsa good luck.

for instance, clean your house from top to bottom before new year's eve, then make sure to put all the cleaning supplies away! don't wash your hair on new year's, either, because it's believed you'll wash all your bad luck away (although i'm not sure i'm completely sold on this; if i go a single day without washing my hair, i go crazy!). wear red for especially great luck. and don't offend the spirits by talking smack, using foul language, getting into fights, or talking about death.

i'm 27. but i'm not married. that means i can still receive good luck money in those red envelopes just like all the other young kids in the fam. :oD

but the main event of the start of the new lunar year consists of praying to ancestors and making offerings. my family intends to cook or bring a whole boatload of food to my grandparents' house on thursday, and each dish will be offered up to the shrine that my grandparents maintain in a room that is completely dedicated to the ancestors. in this room are pictures and remembrances of all the people in the family who came before us and whose spirits now keep vigilance over us, the living, today. there are also pictures of buddha and a lady goddess.

generally, you are supposed to pray a couple of times a day to your ancestors, but prayers will be especially important on new year's day. and there will be the scent of incense, which i find to be the most reassuring scent in the world, wafting around.

we have to offer the food to the spirits first. because they have no physical form, they partake of the offered food by inhaling its essence. and once they've had their fill, the food's brought back to the main area, and we can all dig in. it's bad luck to eat food that's intended for the spirits before it's been offered to them. like, really bad luck.

all this may sound like irrational gibberish.

but i'm here to assert that it's not.

and i don't say that because this has been a part of my lived experience my whole life. i say it because i have huge respect for this. the way i hear it, the spirits are your life-line, and you are, in a way, theirs.

the worship of ancestors is patrilineal. when a woman marries, she stops paying tribute to the ancestors she grew up worshiping and instead must pay homage to the ancestors of her husband's family. only this past year did i realize the implications that this had on my mom. she was very close to her grandmother on her dad's side. this grandmother, my great-grandmother, was left behind when the city of saigon fell; she knew she was too old to try to escape and so she insisted that she get left behind. it was a harried, desperate time, and the decision to run to escape the communists was made rather instantaneously -- as soon as word reached the city that the communists were coming.

when my mom talks about that, about leaving her grandmother behind, i hear the sadness in her voice. they were just very close. the grandmother died within a year or two after my mom and her family escaped out of vietnam to the united states. it breaks my heart even now, because my family here was never able to see her again.

it was only last january that my grandparents and mom could return to vietnam and visit my great-grandmother at a cemetary. it was an especially poignant moment to be standing there and look upon my great-grandmother's tombstone. i remember it quite clearly: my mom started recounting stories about her relationship with her while my grandmother started setting up offerings on top of the grave -- food, incense, and fake money that we burned.

there's such a sense of continuity when it comes to ancestor worship. you never forget who comes before you. my great-grandmother was a source of consolation to my mom while my mom was growing up -- and continues to be to this very day.

in vietnam, we also visited graves of other family members -- my great-grandparents on my grandmother's side, distant aunts and uncles. i do not want to recount what we did because it feels sacrilegious to do so. suffice to say, it was a time of reunion, a time for re-establishing connections, and a way to show remembrance. that trip to vietnam changed me in so many ways that are just so inexplicable.

you know me. i'm agnostic. i'm a relativist. i'm totally secular-minded, so completely absorbed in the here-and-now rather than the sweet eternal ever-after.

nonetheless, i know that when the time comes, i'll be carrying on the traditions, too. i will remember those who came before me and make sure that they continued to be honored in life.

i've got no brothers. just two sisters. my dad is the last in his line, the last one to carry on the surname. there is some worry that, if my sisters and i never have kids, there will be no one to remember the ancestors in his line. in fact, an aunt (my dad's sister) has suggested to my mom that perhaps they should consider adopting a boy who could take on our family's name.

i think that'd be a great idea, but, um, that's not likely. *ahem* at all. like, ever.

and so you know it falls upon the responsible child -- i.e., me -- to start thinking about and planning for the future. i will not have my family be forgotten.

it's not that my sisters and cousins on my dad's side of the family don't care. i think they just don't really think about these things.

and like i say, i'm the responsible, conscientious, goody-two-shoes one. so it must be me.

not that i'm superstitious or anything. ;)

anyhow, chuc mung nam moi! happy new year!

minor road-trip set-back . . . .

oh no!!

my mom has talked of inviting herself on my road-trip -- again.

O_O

no, mom, no!

the rational part of me wants to give in to her -- if only because i wouldn't mind having a bit of help in paying for travel and hotel costs and food and such. for me, these costs would hurt me in the wallet; for her, these costs would not be so bad.

not that she's rich. she's not. but she does have enough money to be comfortable.

and don't get me wrong: my momma makes for a good road-trip buddy. we've gone on a few road-trips with just the two of us a number of times before, and i've always had a great tiome. it offers us a chance to bond (as well as a chance for me to learn to exercise patience when she's being difficult :-P), and it is always fun when it is just the two of us against the world.

at the same time . . . .

nooo!!!

i'd still rather be alone. i'd rather not have to worry about anyone other than myself. this is my journey that i have to take alone.

and it just does not cross her mind that she is often one of the people i wish to escape at times.

that's what has been a major bummer about returning to my hometown after i finished school. the familial expectations i escaped years ago came back and latched themselves to my shoulders once more, as if nothing had ever changed. and i have resorted once more to being the goody-goody who began taking those expectations seriously once more.

i can't have that!

and seriously, the whole point of this trip is to be all alone and cope when i find out my bar exam results. how can i cope with my momma still within arm's length as i'm looking on the calbar website for my name?

but if i tell her "no," she will be all affronted and give me the "well, fine then!" attitude, and then start pretending that it is no big deal even while making it clear that she is offended.

**sigh**

but good golly gum-drops, it would be nice to have some help defraying the hotel costs. in fact, i've been contemplating staying at hostels, even though they can be really grody, disgusting experiences. seriously, any time you have to live in a communal situation, you can expect people to be at their most disgusting.

and yes, i speak from experience.

but my mom is already talking as if "we" are going on a trip together. i think she may have even asked for the extra time off from work already, too . . . .

**sigh**

ya'll know i love my momma. i rave about her all the time.

but this will not do!

i must try to connive her into changing her mind! i just want to be able to have free rein to engage in any kind of bar-exam freak-out that i want when the need strikes. i love doing things with my momma, don't get me wrong. but one thing i don't want to do with her at all is cope with the idea of failing -- and watching her cope with that idea, too.

i swear i usually have more confidence in myself when it comes to other things! but with something like the bar, you just cannot hang on to false hope. i just need to mentally prepare myself to be okay with failing.

but i'm also clinging to the tiny hope that in just under 17 days, i'll be able to actually post some good news on here about it.

:)

here's hopin'.

full of shit (where "shit" = myself)

the morning has been crazy!

right now, i kinda feel as if i'm in the middle of the rainforest and unable to find a clear path to walk on that will lead me out of the chaos and back into civilization. still, i am determinedly hacking away at the underbrush with my machete, clearing all the debris away and forging my own path that i know will ultimately lead me out of the craziness.

so despite it all, at least i feel that the fate of the day is in my hands and not left up to random chance. :)

and it's a good thing i've been kept pretty busy all day thus far today. it's already a quarter to one! half the day is already gone! yay!

my uncle has been trying to get a-hold of me for the past few days. i finally just talked to him about an hour ago. he really wants me to apply for this one particular attorney gig, even though bar results haven't come out yet. "apply," he says, "and let me know when you've submitted your application. then i can give them a call."

O_O

sometimes i'm astounded by how much leverage he has -- in all the right places.

he's pulled a bunch of strings for me before, and because of him, i've had lots of opportunities to meet local politicians and party it up at fund-raisers and campaign events and stuff. he's an awesome dude, and that's why he is so well-placed and still well-liked even after years of having been out of the political arena. like the rest of my family on my maternal side, he's just a great dude -- brash and honest and just totally hilarious. he's got some strong opinions and doesn't hesitate to share them. and on a personal level, he's done so much for me and is always on the look-out for new opportunities for me. he's easily my favorite uncle.

just like i'm easily the favorite niece of all for him and all my other aunts and uncles. :) seriously, they all treat me as if i were their own kid. and i know none of my other cousins gets the same kind of treatment from aunts and uncles. it's fucking awesome and a damned privilege. i totally try to respect this and not take it for granted.

i think my family is strange like that. there are so many strong personalities, and as a result, people from one familial subset won't necessarily get along with people from another familial subset. certain people just don't like compromising their personalities, quirks, and/or opinions and so rather than do so, they just avoid anything more personal than a "howdy-do."

fortunately, i'm nothing like that. i take after my momma in this respect; we can get along with anyone. in fact, we're the type of people who can make friends with total strangers. because of this, i can actually negotiate my way into each familial subset within my family tree without nary a qualm. i don't see anyone else in my family, both within my family nucleus and among familial relations, being able to do so -- nor even having the desire to do that.

it makes me wonder why. don't they want to be on good terms with anyone else besides their immediate family? we're all blood, you know!

oh, wait -- it just hit me why. it's an asian thing, i think. but each family subset is in competition with each other, each wanting their kids to be the best and most successful. so this carries on into how they interact with each other, with outside relations. now that i think about it, i think i am the one who is cut the most slack and is treated most favorably by everyone. i'm the first of my particular generation within the family to have finished one, let alone two, advanced degrees. and now that i think about it, i think all the aunts and uncles have lavished accolades on me to their kids -- while also instigating them to try to surpass me in achievements. . . .

and it is easy for the cuzzes to do this if they become doctors or whatever.

as everyone in the world knows by now, having doctor kids is every stereotypical asian family's dream.

and in regards to this particular stereotype, my fam ain't no exception.

silly people. don't they know that family members should love each other no matter what?

still, i'm the only one who can navigate through the murky waters and have genuine and positive interactions with all the families, despite the fact that each of them generally tend to prefer to keep on their own island. they stll willingly let me enter their domain whenever i want.

it's at such times that i like being me. i do have an inordinate amount of pride and tend to be a bit self-absorbed. but i haven't got so much pride that i cannot appreciate the personalities and unique proclivities in other people.

yes, i'm a strange, moody chick sometimes. i prefer books to people because i prefer fictional drama, not real-life drama. and i am full of myself sometimes (or a lot of the time, depending on how you see it), despite my insecurities and occasional indecisiveness about what i really believe. and one of my favorite pasttimes of all time is talking shit about people -- even though i know i should know better and should stop partaking of such a heinous activity.

nonetheless . . .

i do think the world would be a better place if everyone was just like me.

up and down -- and up and down

i just had an interesting encounter.

when i'm down, one of the things that i like to do is get away to one of my favorite coffee shops in town -- which currently happens to be a starbuck's about twenty minutes away from my house -- get myself a grande iced soy chai latte, and sit outside at one of the tables so that i can chain-smoke and write.

i've actually been doing this quite a bit lately. if i can write while partaking of my two favorite vices -- caffeine and cigarettes -- then i can usually get myself into an appropriate mind-set and gain proper perspective.

so that was what i did today. i was sitting by myself outside at a table at starbuck's when some random, ghetto black dude came by, got a table next to me, then started chatting with me as if we were old friends. i was wary at first, as i am of strangers, but i soon warmed up to him, and we engaged in a bit of a dialogue, interrupted only when he got phone calls or when i thought of something i wanted to jot down.

of course, he flirted with me in a major way. but i didn't mind because i rather enjoyed speaking with him. he is a self-proclaimed nerd-thug -- although he had the thug look down pat more so than the nerd look. now, he was all up with the ghetto lingo, and what struck me, after we had only been talking for just a few minutes, was that he had a mad furious way with words. as an english major and total biblio-phile, i just always tend to notice these things. and he was stringing words together in astronomical ways that i'd never heard of. i was way impressed and found his liguistic skills pretty powerful. so right off the bat, within minutes after he started talking to me, i told him, "i think you should write poetry. the way you speak is amazing."

oh, and i should also mention, i think, that while we were talking, he totally busted out a glass pipe and was smoking right then and there, and by this time, his eyes had already started glazing over.

so when i mentioned that he had a poet's skill with words, he got totally elated. i can't remember what he said exactly, but he flipped out with happiness. he said he actually did write quite a bit and that he was glad he met me (although i'm sure his elation was due in good part by the glass pipe as well). i told him that if he was interested, i would give his stuff a read and critique it and then possibly give him some possible sources to which to submit his stuff for publication.

he asked for my phone number, but i refused to give it, saying, "i'm sorry, but i don't give it out to strangers."

actually, i don't give it out to anyone who is a self-professed thug, albeit a nerd-thug, who busts out a glass pipe in public like it's no big thing.

but he took it like a man and said it was "romantic" that i was going to make him earn my number (imagine me rolling my eyes internally even as i maintained a sweet and polite smile. like, dude. i'm a dyke). and then he made me promise to show up at around the same time this coming saturday at this same starbuck's so that i could read his stuff -- and so that he could detail my car. for free.

i tried to tell him my car wasn't worth it; it was so old and ghetto. and i even pointed it out to him in the parking lot nearby. he said it was no biggie and that this was his job anyway and that all i needed to do was wash it (which is true) and that he could add some chinese rims to it. he said he'd be happy to do both. besides, he could always use a few "practice cars" on which to practice his craft.

who knows if i'll take him up on this offer. prolly not, but it was a nice gesture, one that i really appreciated.

anyway, we had a sporadic conversation on and off during the course of an hour, and at the end of it all, he said i was a gift to him today and that i inspired him and that he was happy to be right then and there at that particular time to meet me. i smiled and thanked him.

and then he gave a gift to me in return, which i consider to be one of the best gifts i've received in a while. "you are such a sincere girl," he said. "your sincerity is a gift. you keep it real, and you're going to change the world."

i love him for saying that.

i kind of need to hear this, that even my presence or the sight of me to someone else can have meaning that transcends words and reverberates into the other person's heart and soul. and sincerity is really one of the true gifts i have that i like to freely share. i can't fake sincerity at all without looking hollow and pretentious so i don't bother faking at all. with me, i'm the real deal. what you see is what you get; and if i say it, i mean it. that's how it goes.

so i am glad to have met him, too, because he could see that in me.

it's funny the kind of random acts that can be given to you by complete strangers if you remain open to the possibility that every person you come across can bestow something special to you, even if you see them only for a fleeting second and never come across them again. and this is just a lesson to me to not be so fucking judgmental about people based on their appearances. sure, if stereotypes hold true, then i should've been running in fear in the opposite direction of this guy as soon as he tried to talk to me. he's a big, solidly built black dude wearing a do-rag and baggy shorts. but fuck that, he's a nice guy. a poor one who probably wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of me, but nonetheless a good one.

and i'm glad to have met him today.

because i've been having a really shitty day. i have been down as hell today. and yes, much worse than yesterday. . . .

and this is why i'm back on blogger and why i need it so much. i am more down than i would want my family and friends to know or realize. they have no idea. sure, they're aware of my abrupt mood-swings, my tendency to flash quick anger, or to suddenly retreat from the world back into myself. they just don't know the real extent of how deeply i can plummet into despair and hopelessness. and frankly, i prefer it that way -- they don't need to know my true self. so i will keep that other blog of mine over there for them -- and i will keep this particular blog for me over here.

i am back to chain-smoking, as if the next cigarette i inhale will give me that sense of peace i desperately am in search of, as if the very next inhalation of smoke from a freshly lit stick will latch onto every last bit of unhappiness i have and happily carry it out into the air when i exhale.

when i first set up my blogger, it took a while, but i chose this screen name: ABBAGirl. in a way, it represents everything i am -- up-beat, positive, in the moment, joyous, light-hearted, and not too serious. just like the namesake from which i chose it.

at the same time, it is not me but something i wish i could be every moment of the day.

every now and then, despite the really joyous moments i find when i least expect it, i find myself getting so tired of life. or at least of the facades i've erected and must maintain. i'm tired of all the damned expectations. and that is why i have been so down for a good chunk of today. for once, i'd like to live a life that is wholly mine, one in which i can enjoy myself as i please and i don't have to be perpetually reminded of who i "should" be instead. i don't want to live confined within a fixed role or always have to be so fucking nice and dependable all the time.

because what i'm finding is that it is not a fair trade-off. i have given so much of myself up, and it used to be enough for me that in doing so, i made others happy. now, i have to ask just what the hell am i getting in return?

these moments of despair hit me every now and then. not too often, which is nice, but when they do hit, i get completely devastated and depressed and become even more anti-social than ever before. when this happens, i inevitably end up getting some sort of wake-up call. something dramatic or serious occurs to someone i care about and jolts me wide awake out of myself. i then begin kicking myself for being so ultra-self-absorbed -- and then i fall right back into line, unquestioningly taking up the roles that i had so dearly wished to shirk, and life goes back to being hum-drum and fine once more.

but this routine can only last so long. frankly, i'm already sick of it. it's no longer working very effectively on me. i hate it so much . . . .

the bar exam is only one component of this but the most glaring example of it, if not the epitome of my woes. i loathe it so much. i fear it so much. and yet i want it so very fucking much.

the best way i can think of to explain all this is through use of platonic theory. now, i absolutely suck at philosophy and political theory. all the schools of thought get to be too convoluted and obtuse for my puny little brain. but if i understand (and remember) platonic theory correctly, plato was obsessed with the idea of forms -- ideal forms of both justice and goodness -- and he wrote that in an attempt to achieve perfection, all humans should seek to conform their conduct to these ideal forms as much as possible. in so striving, such humans would eventually come to embody these ideal forms.

(did i get it right, at least in lay-person's terms?)

and so it is with me. in my head, and in the heads of everyone important to me, there is an ideal way for me to be. i've already spent much of my life matching myself to this particular form in almost every possible way. but the ideal remains elusive. i'm just not there yet. there are still acts i must complete and achieve -- and until then, i am imperfect. flawed. unworthy.

is this the proper way to be thinking about my life? i know my shrink would ask me that. and i would say, "fuck no. i'm miserable as hell, aren't i? obviously, this is not the way to go." but i don't know any other way to be.

fucking shit. i am miserable as hell.

to take this platonic analogy further along of matching one's acts to those of the ideal forms, i further wish for another kind of matching -- and i only realize this thanks to a number of very interesting and cool dialogues with my good friend girlinshortshorts.

i want my insides to match with my outside.

my insides are tremendously crushed. i feel like i have nothing left to give and nowhere to move from because everything inside me has been bludgeoned, blistered, and bruised; that i have no sense of self -- at least not in a positive way -- that has been left untouched after years of psychological flayings and beatings from both myself and from others.

so a part of me just wishes that my outside will be as torn up and busted apart like my insides are. because i can deal with physical pain. in fact, i would welcome it and relish it and know i deserved it. but this psychological stuff i can't take; it provides a different, intangible, immeasurable pain that is so much more difficult to deal with.

i think it would help me to face the fact that i failed the bar.

i really think i did fail.

it's only a damned fucking test, for crying out loud -- albeit one of the hardest fucking tests of its kind in the nation.

but i am still crushed.

and i suppose i'm glad i had a chance to talk with my old high school friend yesterday about it and realize just how much i've potentially fucked up on the damned thing. it's better to deal with failure as soon as you can then falsely have wishful thinking drawn out for an over-extended period of time.