In This Skin

Two years. I've spent two years clearing my face of the toxicities, years abolishing the stress on my skin... and in 4 months all that work has reversed itself. The sadness that covers this face, the loathing of this place so far away from home has run its course.

I don't know what to do. I feel stupid here, where the bottom line believes in BAMN philosophy and the idea of benefiting the human race is non-existent. Where are the people who care?! The Occupy protests at Berkeley make me homesick. The now cold nights make me fear of what's to come in the dead of winter.

All I am left with is the manifestation of what I think this place represents--annoying white flecks of eczema and the pimples on the path of progress. And the creme de la creme: a 4-week old cough rearing its ugly head. 5 more weeks. I just need 5 more weeks.

P.S. I apologize for my writing style. I just watched an episode of Frasier and I just noticed that my writing reflects his bizarre and sometimes elitist speech patterns.

Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay

It must've been the heat that reminded me of the typical San Francisco October weather... or my need to go back home or possibly a need to hit things hard (get your mind out of the gutter), but I had a dream about an SF Giants baseball player yesterday.

Carlos is berating me in Spanish (which I somehow fully understand). He refuses to have his little sister, a natural talent like himself, who cannot switch-hit with consistent numbers from both sides. We're at the batting cages--public batting cages--and here he is, practically flogging me, using his bat as a cane, other hand on hip, declaring that if I can't hit--that I should change my last name. Two hours, he locks me in these cages. Only after the skin on my palms starts blistering (because I shouldn't wear gloves until I understand the reverberations of my bat when I do hit the ball well) does he let me out. While we walk to the parking lot he tells me that he's satisfied with my progress, that I can keep our surname, and then makes me some bomb-ass homemade lechon back at his house.

Yeah... I really don't know what this is about. I really don't. But that lechon was awesome. The dream was so vivid--the brown/orange dirt at the batting cages, the vibration of a hit going up your arm, the loud yelling... the blue sky, light breeze with an ocean scent. It was like a freakin' movie and I was Girl Friday.

...Yeah... I believe I'm pretty close to losing my marbles. 0_o

Gotta listen to this version... the sadness and pain in Sara Bareilles' voice... oh man... (at least the first verse and chorus...)

Sitting on the dock of the Bay...

Wasting time.

Clockwatching

It must be the recluse in me... an actual complete poem.

Behind the Times
I am two hours ahead of everyone that I care about.
And it's starting to wear on me.
I know that time is only an illusion,
I know that it is everything but linear,
But I am lost in the smoke and mirrors that it created.
I am separated by four dimensions instead of three.
Blinded by the reality of empty space between home and me
And it's starting to show.
But I know that time is only an illusion.
It is nothing if I want it to be nothing.
It can be everything but linear.
I can be lost in the smoke and mirrors that it created,
The reality of what I've created.
Blinded by the four dimensions instead of three,
Empty space between two hours ahead.
But always looking back to everyone that I care about.

Home

Couldn't help it... gotta use the Buble version. It's been a week of orientation. It's been 3 weeks of being away. Three weeks of homesickness.

I got a chance to have dinner with my friend and we had a good heart to heart. She didn't sugarcoat it. This is going to be hard. Being transplanted into the region of the country where you're the only one of your kind is hard. Being away from everything that feels like home is hard. Knowing that you're being selfish is hard.

Some crazy stats: out of 99 students, I am the only Californian transplant. There are 31% women and 21% international students. I am the only woman of color that doesn't have an accent. I am 1 of 3 American-born Asians. Just the makeup of the class alone segregates me.

You don't have to play superwoman all the time. Sometimes you just need to cry. Sometimes you just need to cleanse the soul. And wherever you are, you deserve to have a place called home. 

I will try to make my place more home-like. Makeshift isn't working right now. I know that this isn't permanent, but it is for 2 years. However strong you are, you do need people and friends that understand what it's like to be in your situation or workload. This probably has been the hardest thing for me--I have great friends at home... I thought that I didn't need anyone but them... but they have their own lives and their own situations, and sometimes it is best to find people who can relate to you in an instant/superficial level than use your lifelines at home.

And it's okay to admit that you want to fold the hand that you've been given. Once you admit that, there's no place to go but up. 

This will get better. It has to.

Home

Is this home?
Is this where I should learn to be happy?

I promised my friend that I wouldn't play Michael Buble's "Home." But I did play "Home" from the musical version of Beauty and the Beast. I am a bit homesick today, more than usual. I know... it's only been 2 weeks and 2 days since I've been away. I know... it's only been 2 days of orientation... But I don't know. While we were getting lectures about targeting your career--finding your path... I started thinking of home... And how I hope that my path leads back to the West Coast. 

Everyone here seems to have sooooo much confidence and my classmates are so outgoing... I just feel really lost... in every aspect.

I call home everyday, but even that doesn't help. It makes me even more sad. If you have any words of wisdom on, maybe not even conquering this, but just minimizing the effect, please let me know.

Home should be where the heart is
Never where words so true!
My heart's far, far away
Home is too.

You Are Mine

I will come to you in the silence, 
I will lift you from all your fear. 
You will hear my voice, 
I claim you as my choice,
Be still and know I am here. 


Do not be afraid, I am with you. 
I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me
I will bring you home;
I love you and you are mine. 


I am hope for all who are hopeless,
I am eyes for all who long to see.
In the shadows of the night,
I will be your light, 
Come and rest in me. 


Do not be afraid I am with you.
I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me
I will bring you home;
I love you and you are mine. 


I am strength for all the despairing,
Healing for the ones who dwell in shame
All the blind will see,
The lame will all run free,
And all will know my name.
-"You Are Mine", D. Haas

I went to mass yesterday and broke down (shaking shoulders and all) when this song played. I know that Jesus is with me. I know I'll need His help. But I'm scared that I won't think it's enough. I'm scared that in the moment of weakness I'll give up everything that I worked so hard to attain. Not everyone gets this chance. Not everyone has the balls to put all their chips in. I know that I'm lucky to have my parents (they could've not given me their blessing)... but the guilt that I feel for causing my parents this much sadness (of me being away) is almost unbearable. And the fact that I won't be helping the family financially is causing me so much grief. I can't believe that I am this selfish.

Being from such a big family, you take people for granted. You take the criticisms and comparisons from family members for granted. You take the random friend conversations for granted. You take the jam sessions with the brothers for granted. You take the little nephew for granted. You take the cousins for granted. I didn't know there was a difference between wanting your own time and space, and being absolutely alone. I think I learned the difference too late. 

I know that this will make me a better person. I already have a deeper appreciation for all the things and people I love in California. I just need the strength to make it through. 

Please keep me, and especially my family, in your thoughts and/or prayers. 

...Three more months until Thanksgiving break...

Sad Eyes

It's funny. I wanted to stay away from facebook today. It's my cousin birthday, and I rather not see the, "Happy 21st Birthday! Wish you were alive to celebrate it with us!" posts that are rampant within my many cousins' statuses. With every status update I see my aunt's eyes... eyes that will never heal. It's hard to swallow... so I avoid it completely.

It's difficult to see the fairness in life when things are taken away from you... when you give and nothing returns to you, when others take but never give... But over time, there is only one way out of the cave of sadness that the world helped you create...

My friend messaged me today about planning a little dinner/touch-bases before craziness ensues... hence my reason for going onto the time-sucker. But by the time I sent my response, my other cousin had this on her status:

Life is never about proving to people that you are a good person.
Sometimes, the bad things matter.
For in your darkness, you see people who are ready to light the road for you.
It's not how many friends you have, or how many people roam to you,
But it's how few of them accept you.
For in your nothingness, people TRUE to you, find reasons to still love you.

In the past year and a half, we've had to deal with so much loss. Gotta remember not to lose things that have meaning to me. And I have to remember not to lose myself. Gotta remember not to lose sight of what's important.

Here I thought I was avoiding my cousin... forgot that 'Than always had good timing. He was part of the entourage whenever we went out in public back home... figures that he'd still guide me stateside. Happy birthday, cousin.