a very not-deep post. about time.

It's a blogging day. ;0)

This post is going to be entirely girly and not well-thought out, very not-deep and rather silly. Are you ready for this?

SHOOOOOOOPPING!

I've never been that much of a shopper. 98% of my clothes up until the age of... 17? 19? have been given to me or occasionally from a thrift store. Which actually has always been fun. We'd get huge garbage bags of clothes from various sources which my sister and I would voraciously rip into with all the joy and wild desire of Christmas.

At one point I needed a black skirt, really wanted one, and knew exACTly what kind I wanted. So I asked God for it and sure enough, in a garbage bag a few months later, there was the very skirt. Two similar ones, in fact.

Whatever desire I possessed for shopping was further destroyed when I, for the first and last time, shopped on Black Friday. For 10 hours. In a city were there are beautiful beaches. Oh the insanity!!

It was fun to hang out with friends, but I gained no love for lines or florescent lights. They give me migraines.

BUT very occasionally, if you can kind of afford it (or if you've already blown your budget and figure, 'what's another $20 or $30 bucks? no good, people. no good), shopping is fun. I went to Plato's Closet and got a pretty dress and necklace and earrings and chatted with other shoppers.

It's fun... clothing stores are kind of like modern day harems where women congregate and do girly things and chat about all things girly. Without the whole concubine thing.

Advice about color and style is readily given and received, and women lament the size of their feet or thighs in sympathetic (and also lying) company.

All this has made me realize that your frame of mind is critical when shopping. If you're having a crappy day, don't you cross the threshold of a store and think that trying on skinny jeans is gonna make it better. ARE you insane??

You need to go in like a queen, on the search for that lucky piece of clothing that will reveal just how gorgeous that body of yours really is. um... but not too much.

That's my shopping philosophy, anyway.

Women are so interesting when they're in herds. :)

Like at Wisdom, it is a rare bird that can buy a slice of apple pie without saying she shouldn't, asking if she should, and saying that at least half if is for her husband. I've become quite an expert on womankind from 30 to 90 from working there... it's pretty fascinating, endearing, and just sometimes a little bit scary.

Now I'm not one to be down on women. Not at all! They're a wonderful breed, and have many lovely qualities.

But I can empathize with the men who are scared off by a group of them. The noise that emanates remarkably resembles hyenas.

I just hope that as I grow older:

~My wrinkles will be laugh, not crying or frown, lines.

~I will be filled with grace, patience, and compliments for the people serving me. I get so many little compliments from middle-aged women. It's kind of sweet. I think they think I'm 18.

I vacillate from looking 18 at Wisdom to (hopefully) looking 25 or 26 when I teach. The transformation? Lipstick, a skirt, and sometimes heels. And eyeshadow.

~If I'm going to get a dessert, I'm not going to apologize for it.

~I'll wear pretty things and cool jewelry.

~I will exercise. And eat good food that includes, but is NOT limited to, salads.

~I will have amazing things to talk about and only stay the most beautiful things about my family and kids and husband.

~I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER get botox.

sea glass

i try to be honest

try to be kind

and honestly leave

when i know that it's time

i know that it's time

~the weepies ("hideaway")

I don't think I do well with self-inflicted transitions. I could blame it on my childhood (what can't you blame on your childhood?), but I think it's hard for everyone to step out into a change that is not required.

Right now I'm wading into something new. The final details are slowly coming into reality like sea glass bobbing in on the last night tide.

I miss the ocean, can you tell?

One vacation in Heng Chun (south Taiwanese city) we were on one of our almost daily beach excursions, complete with swan floatie and sunscreen (I hope. Oh I hope). I fought past the surf and dog paddled, safe within my inner tube. After I had drifted and gotten tired I turned around and started kicking my way to the beach.

Halfway there the waves picked up and I, already recklessly holding the tube from the outside, slipped

down

into green saltiness.

I held my breath and opened my eyes, looking up at the sun wafting through increasingly darker shades of green-gray. Saw the black circle of my inner tube.

The next half second I was up, up--spluttering, eyes itching, clawing at the tube. Dad and some other people were nearby and helped me get back to the beach, where I recovered in the shade and rubbed my stinging eyes. I didn't go back in for a whole half hour.

Now~

I think I'm still rubbing the salt out of my eyes. Feeling rough sand, a million colors, reassuringly under my feet but still battling the suck of the waves--pulling the sand from under me even as I walk the last few feet to sun-baked sand.

I just hope that I'll take sufficient courage to start what I've already begun and turn away from what I have already left.

Why I could live in SoCal

When I stepped out into the brightness and humidity that defines August in Los Angeles, I felt at home. Quite unexpectedly. Although I'm obviously more used to that climate than Colorado's, having grown up in the tropics, I distinctly knew that I was coming back to a home.


I say 'a' home because I don't really have just one--geographical places hold memories and nostalgia, and I feel home in Highlands Ranch, CO Springs, CO, Singapore, Rep. of Singapore, Cameron Highlands, Malaysia, Taipei, Taiwan (although that hasn't been tested since 13), Dover, NH, and LA. But people really cement 'home' for me. When place and people come together, then that's pretty much my true home of the moment. Thus far, it's still defined by my immediate family.


At least that's what I've deduced so far.


But anyhow, it was interesting this visit because I felt like I really could live in Los Angeles, or Azusa, Covina, Yorba Linda, whatever. Perhaps this reaction is because I JUST got back, and am really missing my old roomies. Also, before the visit I had convinced myself that I could never go back to the traffic and smog.


I guess I just want to make a disclaimer and prevent anyone from getting their hopes up: I don't plan to move back there anytime soon. I'd be more likely to move to Taiwan or Singapore or Korea or something and teach English or music. But most of the time, I'm content to get to know Colorado Springs; I hope that this year, I can really explore the place and more involved in church.


But disclaimer aside, here are a few reasons why I really like SoCal and miss:


1. pink orange creamsicle sunsets. I know it's the smog, I don't care.


2. palm trees and bouganvillia (sp?) and millions of flowers that I can't identify. Trees smothered in purple blossoms. heavier air that holds scents and lets them linger.


3. the BEACH!!!! Oh, I miss the beach. When I was there, I was fresh from Singapore, and I missed warm, tropical beaches. But it was just marvelous to go to Venice Beach and feel the salty breeze, see the sun reflecting off endless water and play in the waves. God, please let me live somewhere where there's an ocean nearby.


4. the crazy hippies and eccentrics and street performers and things happening!! Not to mention the music scene and jazz clubs. I love walking down a busy street crowded with people--that's totally Asia, too. But for the hippies, I probably just need to spend more time in Manitou. :>


5. food. The real Vietnamese, Taiwanese, Mexican, etc. food that you can find. mmmm


6. diversity. After walking out of the airplane into LAX, it was instantly a 100x more ethnically diverse than Colorado Springs.


7. Really a sub-point of 6 (but I'm not in school for the first time in oh, 17 years, so it DOESN"T MATTER!!!), the large Asian population. It was so fun meeting people and learning where they were from, and speaking Mandarin with them if they were from Chinese or Taiwanese.
Jen's roommate is Taiwanese, so I chatted with her about Taipei and what food she misses and how absolutely gross buttery rice is.


And when I got a pedicure and manicure with Step and Alison (my first pedicure!), I talked with Kim, the lady that was painting my nails.
Actually, we began the conversation by commenting on how hard it is to find a good man. :) hehe. Steph had mentioned to her and 47 million other people that she was getting married on Sunday, and Kim said that she was very lucky. I agreed, and thus began a very interesting conversation. She looked like she was in her early 30s at the oldest, but actually she was 50. She learned Vietnamese and then French, and English (which she spoke very fluently) was her third language. When Kim was 18, she moved to Hawaii and learned to hula dance for fun; she told me where to go on Waikiki Beach to learn how to hula. It was there she met her husband, and they moved to Arkansas. She then had three boys and was raising them in Arkansas, which she said was great for parenting; there was so much for the boys to do, and it was very safe. But then she divorced four years ago and moved out here, where she's a single mom with three teenagers.



What a brave woman; it would take some guts to first move to a new country without any family, and then to move again with your kids to another new place. She seemed a bit lonely. She had visited Vietnam a few years ago, and her boys had really enjoyed seeing the country.


We talked about a lot of different things, and Kim told me that her grandfather or father lived on the land in Vietnam. He had a garden and fruit trees and chickens, so he barely needed money. He had rice fields which he farmed for cash, and did well. I told her that I thought rice fields were very beautiful. There were many in Taiwan.


She also mentioned the corruption that still exists in the government there, and we talked about Singapore's government, too.


Why am I writing all of this? Well, partly because I must be faithful to my stream-of-consciousness scatterbrained long-winded posts, but also because there are such fascinating lives in the world. And we gloss over them and categorize them and de-humanize them so very quickly. I do it all the time, and it scares me.


So I wanted to just write about her. There have been so many people like her, and it seemed that I heard more people's stories when I lived in California. But again, that's probably because I've been so horribly busy this past year.


to close 6-sub-point, I love Los Angeles and its surrounding cities because millions of cultures mingle.


Oh, and Kim also played the bamboo flute--she and a few friends would play Vietnamese music as an outreach. I think she was a Christian because she had a cross, but we never officially delved into religion.


8. Of course, my friends there!! I was so blessed to see some of them again and spend time catching up. I'm trying to lure more to Colorado Springs... we'll see, we'll see.




Well, that's it. I could probably make an equal list for Colorado, or at least close. We'll give it a year.

Switchfoot and music

Wish I had what I needed 
To be on my own 
'Cause I feel so defeated 
And I'm feeling alone 

And it all seems so helpless 
And I have no plans 
I'm a plane in the sunset 
With nowhere to land 

And all I see 
It could never make me happy And all my sand castles 
Spend their time collapsing 

Let me know that You hear me 
Let me know Your touch 
Let me know that You love me 
Let that be enough 

It's my birthday tomorrow 
No one here could now 
I was born this Thursday 
22 years ago 

And I feel stuck 
Watching history repeating 
Yeah, who am I? 
Just a kid who knows he's needy 

Let me know that You hear me 
Let me know Your touch 
Let me know that You love me 
And let that be enough 

My sister and I traded a bunch of music a few months ago, and I discovered this song.  Neither of us knew who wrote it; it was just in a random playlist.  But ever since I first listened to it (maybe...March?  April?), it captured the essence of so many things that are 'me' now.  I didn't even know it was Christian--thought that the "You" in the last verse was just another family member or friend.  

But today when I googled it (I was trying, unsuccessfully, to have it play on my blog), I found out that it was from an early Switchfoot album!!!  And I'd listened to that album a lot, back in the day (or actually when I started getting into Switchfoot and then listening to their older stuff, too), but that song had never stuck out.

It's interesting to see what speaks to you now, and what is simply saved until a more auspicious time.  That's why the same things are still new, and perhaps why we don't have to fear growing old.  Because there is still wonder--mercies are new every morning.

I love how a simple song can capture so much.  It seems like the great musicians never shied away from simplicity--the familiar I IV V vi (ooh!) V I.  And yet there is so much creativity there.

They also reach far beyond the regular progressions, but it isn't forced... they have the creative maturity to handle weird and wonderful things like French 6ths.... unlike when I was taking Music Theory and tried to force the new chords I was learning into songs I wrote.  Just stilted and weird.

I guess it goes back to the right time.  We need to be content with where and who we are now, with what God is doing in and through us.  This isn't embracing stagnation, but instead lifts burdens of misguided expectations.  Which goes back to the song-- 

let me know that You love me, and let that be enough.

enough.