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-    waking up late in the afternoon in order to avoid hiking.
-    attempting to make nice with edward.
-    following father around in his garden. cucumbers, tomatoes, and berries season.
-    helping mom out with her latest shenanigan. i think i reported before that she was trying out mixology.
     well, she changed her mind. "why mix when you can create!"
-    eating extreme organic food and leaves of random vegetables that my parents deem healthy
     (pumpkin, sweet potato, and other things i don't want to think about).
-    karaoke.
-    watching one of 5 movies (series) my dad recognize as classic: lord of the rings, james bond, star wars, titanic or independence day. alternatively, watch foreign films with mom.

me: "i need to work on my alcohol tolerance. in the future it might be helpful."
dad: "yes. but you should do it in a controlled environment. not at college parties."
me: "ok."
dad: "here. finish this bottle and get drunk. then you can go sleep it off."

new york

gilman 2010

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excuses were on hand and repeated for sincerity: "hello, we are reporters from the newsletter. hoping to get a look before everyone starts rushing in." but they were not necessary. the day light had not faded but the inside was quiet and dim. white, the halls seemed endless, leaking paint and wood polish. paper signs and unwrapped furnitures marked the incomplete; one room flickered blue, a projector was left turned on. we endeavored to silent wariness by tiptoes and reconnaissance but our excitement were hard to contain as we imagined our teachers' glee; each would have their own office: beautiful desks, wooden chairs, wide shelves for books, and a window view. no more walks to dell house, of former hotel fame and several professors to a room spacing.

in the new gilman, there are memories that lingered. the rooms are still lined side by side reminding me of sweaty afternoons in the basement, nodding off to the poor air conditioning's endless drone. the hut is still a open space equilibrium, though more like an airport now with its sky high glass ceiling and panopticon modernity. the halls are as narrow and endless as before; though now covered in light and unbroken chiffon yellow.  i am most impressed by the staircases. how cramped they were before and now sweeping and bottomless. 

true, i miss the old gilman of freshman year. the place where i pulled all-nighters and had to test for usable outlets. where the worn sofas were large and enveloping. and the night came in drifts of unwelcomed sleep.

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hard times/good times

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in court i often have downtime. this is when i drift into sketching. it is a perfect location, stained and straining with human experience, grief, and lives colliding. i usually sit up front with the judge so that i face the "clients," some in prostrated attentiveness as if the rows of cold benches were pews and the judge their revered priest, some in stony, silent indifference, and the worst, rowdy nonbelievers who muttered and whispered their discontent under the bailiffs' watchful eyes.

yet they were all united by their setting, a human circus of drugs, abuse, poverty, and violence. often i would sneak among them, more comfortable to sit in the chaos than pretend i was above it. i was in domestic violence court when i chanced upon the person i drew above. he slept through the entire proceeding. at the end when the judge asked him to come up, this conversation followed:

judge: why were you asleep?
man: sorry sir, i was very tired today.
judge: why were you so tired?
man: i had to wake up at 5 today to get to court, sir.
judge: do you live far away?
man: no sir. i actually moved houses yesterday. over the weekend, i got shot.
.
.
.
judge:......are you fine?
man: yes sir. just tired.

time to wander

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today i went on a trip to find shop gentei, one of the two places in baltimore i know that carries japanese imports; it was definitely more for the adventure. the picture above is my map...the best map ever; drawn to scale and oh-so more accurate than the iphone gps. we were actually able to find the location but we didn't realize since (believe this) the store had no display sign. we walked a full 180 and wandered down some pretty sketchy alleys. we even tried asking two architectural firms located nearby, the last one a door down from the shop and they had absolutely no clue.

it ended well. we found it before my feet mutinied. the place carried mostly men's goods: skate, bike, motorcycle. y-3 skates were 40% off, very nice but none in my size. either way, my friend managed to do some shopping. time not wasted.

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after, i bumped into one of my favorite people at hopkins: anatoli, political theory graduate student and ta extraordinaire. i finally met his wife. just as i imagined: socal sweet and smart. man, they give me so much hope after sitting in on all those domestic violence cases. their recommendation for dinner: the helmand, runned by hamid karzai's brother. the appetizers were some kind of amazing. :)

coming home, i found that my pen converter came in; now where is my pen (or ink for that matter)?! night time was spirit within, children of men, and the ice storm as i read today's news and reconnected with friends. i can't explain in a non-rambling format how much i love the first film. children was pretty eye-opening and violent. and the ice storm--well, i like how packed this movie is with famous actors in their youth: christina ricci, tobey maguire, elijah wood, katie holmes....and that dude from numb3rs.

the flowers stared

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parents brought fresh roses last weekend, cut straight from our garden. today, they are...less than well. the salt water trick did not work well. i shall spread their petals to the wind.

do the glitch.


the glitch mob. introduced two days ago by aaron. i've downloaded their entire discography but so far i've only listened to this album, drink the sea. 6 times. my friend told me their remixes are a lot better, but i refuse to try the others before i've had my fill of this course. i'm a slow eater.

my favorite yesterday and parts of today was "between two points ft. swan". a slow paced spin with the vocals of a siren. now...it's slowly becoming "starve the ego, feed the soul." this song is like nostalgia hitting with a velvet baseball bat. before i knew it, i was already sinking into my childhood, on the swing that my grandpa made me. in that courtyard of grapes, pomegranates, bonsai, and rows and rows of heavenly flowers, twisted branches. i hear the low clucking of hens and chicks locked behind the shed. to get there i must walk through an aisle paved with century old stones. green and the dirt. smells like those summer nights beneath an eastern sky. i miss sitting on my small chair with my grandparents. waving bamboo woven clover-shaped fans, the warm air stirring. and the magic of dusk seemed endless, in waves flowing over my closed eyes.

San Mao “Love and Trust”/ 三毛《爱和信任》

Our parents' experiences and love are undeniable facts. When beneficial, we accept, learn from and repay them. When unsuitable we must not act insistently, which would only bring about family tragedy. One can try patient dialogue and persuasion; if this has been exhausted, then one must bear love's cost and chains, and enjoy the weariness from the bliss of family happiness, both its restraints and pleasures. But do not forget we are still "individuals”. Quietly search in your inner most for that mysterious taste of independence! Because my parents are enlightened, in the deep silent night, on the rare occasion when my mother does not help me--a middle-aged daughter--tuck in, I have the courage to write out a daughter's heartfelt wishes to her parents.

Father, mother, my love for you surpasses everything; I even pray to the heaven above that you will be the first to go. Yet I, the one who lacks the most courage to live, will push on until the very end for you. This for me is too difficult, but I agreed to come back here, to the complications and pressures of Chinese-styled engagements, to eat, to the concerned love you gave me---your darling treasure. But I request that you also give me some degree of a freedom. Because there's an opportunity to breath, on my shoulders this love's heavy burden will transform into responsibility’s pleasure.


父母的经历和爱心,是不可否认的事实。在好的一方面,我们接受、学习、回报,在不合时代的另一方面,一定不可强求,闹出家庭悲剧。慢慢感化,沟通,如果这一些都试尽了,而没有成果,那么只有忍耐爱的负担和枷锁,享受天伦之乐*中一些累人的无奈和欣慰。但是,不能忘了,我们也是“个体”,内心稍稍追求你那一份神秘的自在吧!因为我的父母开明,才有这份勇气,在夜深人静的时候,母亲不再来替我──一个中年的女儿盖被的偶尔自由中,写出了一个子女对父母的心声。

父亲、母亲,爱你们胜于一切,甚而向老天爷求命,但愿先去的是你们。而我,最没有勇气活下去的一个人,为了父母,大撑到最后。这件事情,在我实在是艰难,可是答应回国定居,答应中国式接触的复杂和压力,答应吃饭,答应一切你们对我──心肝宝贝的关爱。那么,也请你们适度的给我自由,在我的双肩上,因为有一口嘘息的机会,将这份爱的重负,化为责任的欣然承担。

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*天伦之乐: this phrase is hard to translate due to its vast cultural and religious context. Basically it regards the deep bonds of love and mutual concern (and enjoyment in life) between humans, family members, etc.

ps: thanks bijou for both your insight and retardation.

Inch'Allah

i remember back in 12th grade, my social studies teacher (mr. donald) had asked me to come to the board. he'd written two columns on the board; the left was titled "in your control" and the right, "out of your control". he asked me to think about future, and in which way i would proportion the percentages. i had written 90% in the left column, 10% in the right.

when i saw this word and grasped its significance, this memory of senior year returned and i wondered if i had changed from that time...

because i can't explain the word better (for obvious reasons), i will repost an article from whence i learned its nature:

"If God wills, If God wills, If God wills"…There is simply no getting around it. The doomed colloquialism sending shivers down my spine. Whether you need to make an appointment, inquire about upcoming events, or ask if the local grocery store has eggs, the answer will inevitably and invariably be: "If God wills".
To most non-Moroccans in Morocco, "inchallah" is the arch-enemy,a frustrating expression they interpret to mean "maybe".
"Maybe" we will get there in time, "maybe" I will come to the appointment, "maybe" we will make that train... not surprising you should see them shiver at the mere mention of the word. Some even adopt it as a defense tool in the tourist industry: "Come and visit my shop"..."inchallah".... Come and ride my Camel ..... "inchallah".... "Will you return to visit my museum"...."Inchallah"!! Try it, it works wonderfully- chasing the faux guides and shop hagglers away, as if struck by a spell.

But "Inchallah" does not mean "maybe". If it did, guides and shop owners wouldn't carelessly let you walk away. Inchallah is a form of commitment- but a contingent commitment. In a world where all things are willed by God, and understood only by him, men are faced with much uncertainty: the unexpected sometimes occurs, and men should not be so arrogant as to claim control of time or even control of their future. "Inchallah" is meant to remind us of this contingency. Were we to translate it fairly, we would need more than one word: "provided all goes well, and that the unexpected does not occur, I will fulfill the commitment you have asked for, expecting no blame from you if I cannot deliver, and not blaming you if you cannot deliver". "Inchallah" is a vow of humility.
This can be a rather frustrating experience for those of us who aren't so accustomed to thinking of the world, and of our future, as products of a supra-human will. To those ears this expression can sound like a suspect intention to flake, to default, to avoid promises. It 's a refusal to commit, an ex-ante defense against blame or guilt. And in some ways it is... For lurking behind every "Inchallah" is an even trickier "maktoub ": "It was written" - the ultimate alibi, the complete exemption from responsibility. No one to blame…just another bad twist of fate. Perhaps even a divine punishment. Nothing to feel sorry for… as it all lies well beyond any given individual's powers.
Now in many ways, this "inchallah" business is rather pragmatic- the truth is that we do not have total control and that unexpected events do occur. Actually, we all take these contingencies into account, making room for the unexpected: an accident that cancels a meeting, a reversal in fortune, a change in plans. So while we universally recognize the very contingent nature of life, different cultures adopt different means of expressing it, of weaving it into daily life.
In the West (to use a very broad, vague but hopelessly substituteless term!) unexpected events are thought of as anomalies, deviations from the norm. In the 'usual' course of events, things work out as planned, giving each actor the very real illusion that he or she controls this course of events. To reflect the low probability of unpredicted events occurring (and perhaps to reinforce the illusion of control) we simply omit to reference it, occasionally cracking jokes around it (One of corporate America's favorite expressions in reminding workers to archive all their work is "Just in case you get run over by a bus"; how charming!).
In Morocco, the incessant use of "inchallah" points to the exact opposite understanding of contingency in life. It's "normal" for plans to be canceled, for things to go wrong, for people to lose track. What's unusual is prediction, commitment, fulfillment. Chaos is the norm, order the anomaly... For a Muslim, this intuitive understanding of chaos is based on his or her understanding of God's will. While things may appear chaotic, random and unpredictable from 'down here', they all wonderfully fit in the 'bigger picture', which no individual can dream to comprehend...Life is a constant act of faith, a daily acceptance that God, not I, controls my life. And I owe it to others to remind them : "inchallah"!
So while us westerners run about making promises, talking about tomorrows, acting as if today were a good enough predictor for days to come, Muslims remind each other daily that the present has very little to do with the future, and that your guess is as good as mine as to what 'might' happen. Take away the "divine" explanation of this contingency and you get a rather healthy reminder of the genuine ambiguity of time passing. Generations of rational sciences have taught us to analyze the present with respect to our past, finding comfortable cause and effect links between what was then, and what is today. But these 'ex -post', after the fact rules don't easily translate to' ex-ante', before the fact rules- just as many an inaccurate prediction reminds us. It may not be the works of a fickle God, but humans certainly do have to deal with much darkness regarding the future- a darkness we too hastily mask, by using today as a perfect predictor for tomorrow.

So rather than tear my hair out at the very sound of a hesitant "inchallah" I have found my own, secular substitute: "Things don't always work out the way you want them to, but life goes on...."



reference
wiki reference it can also be written as Insha'Allah