All Over My Face

The eczema, that is. My skin has never been this bad, and it's making me really self-conscious and insecure. The weather is getting a lot warmer and I'm wearing cardigans all of the time because of the scabs on my arms and pits and chest. Decollete? That's supposed to be the neck/cleavage area. And mine is marked with scales. And this week has been shit. I've been getting less than 4 hours of sleep every day. Three math tests (two of them finals), one history test, one 2500 word paper, one AP Bio night lab with another lab and AP Baby being due. Fuck. I'm really just ranting and complaining about my life.

Mole-eh-skeen-eh

Apparently, I've been pronouncing "moleskine'' wrong all of these years. MOLE-SKINE

I bought my first moleskine product today— a set of three red, pocket sized, lined Cahier Journals. For about 8 bucks at Borders. The only issue was that two of the three cahiers were defective. The cahiers have perforated pages, and they're supposed to be on the back of the notebook facing the pocket but in my defective notebooks, they were in the front. It's not really a big deal, more of an inconvenience. But I was really bummed out when I found out. But I did send Moleskine a message and included a picture of the defect so they should be sending me a new set in two weeks. I hope.

The pages annoy me more than they should...

The Mountains Have Never Been More Beautiful

Today, I brought my camera with me to school. I was going to take a few last minute pictures for my photography class so I could edit them in class and just print and mount tomorrow, but I didn't really care enough to make an effort (story of my life!).

But the weather has been really lovely lately albeit FREEZING. It's so weird; the sky is bright and blue but the winds! Oh those frosty gusts! Very inconvenient.

So I took a bunch of pictures on my walk home from the bus stop. The last one is of the mailbox my mom and I installed over the weekend! It's sweet.

Lullaby

I first heard of Billy Joel in the ninth grade, when my only friend in that stupid Renaissance class let me listen to some of his stuff. And I kind of put it aside until I heard an amazing cover of his song "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)"! I'm not normally a big fan of really sentimental songs because they make me cry but it turns out that the sentiment and tear-jerking is why I like this song. But I've been listening to this song on repeat the last couple of days and get really emotional whenever I do. It's really lovely.



And the cover! Which I like a little bit more than the original because Jane Lui has a beautiful voice and it makes a little bit more sense to sing it a little softer because, um, it's a lullaby.



P.S, Jane also does SUCH AN EXCELLENT COVER OF THE DUCKTALES THEME SONG! I used to love that show! And I think that I might have a videotape of one of the episodes!

Don Salsas

Sometimes, my mom gets coupons for this restaurant called Don Salsas. It's on 19th and some other street (I am not very good with street names), in the Stater Bros center. We normally go on the weekend, my mother sister and I. But sometimes, when there's not enough time and Emily's piano lessons are too close to when my mom gets off of work, she'll make a quick trip over to Don Salsas. Two number sixteens, carne asada burrito combos are our regular order.

The staff knows us by face. As far as I can see, there are really only two full time workers. The man cook and the lady waitress- who I imagine to be named Juanita, even though I have never met a Juanita in real life and have no real license to be naming Latinas because I am not Latina.

Juanita is a large women, with strong arms that can hold up to three full orders of food. She carries them over her head like a woman in the desert, with an open smile, smiling at the people who are too busy to smile back. She has a sweet accent, always saying thank you and you're welcome, but spews rapid-fire Spanish to her look-alike daughter who works at the register on the weekdays even though she is pregnant. They share bone structures and ponytails, mirror images of each other if mirrors could travel in time.

Two number sixteens, carne asada burrito combos are what we order because my mom likes routines and doesn't see the point in change. Because at this point, change is unnecessary when the tortillas are fresh and the meat is tender and the red sauce is nice and thick and the rice is steamy. I love my mom the most when we eat. I love my mom when she goes out to eat because she cradles her head in laced fingers and puts her elbows on the table and looks like how I imagine her to look when she was my age and younger. If mirrors could travel in time I wouldn't be my mom's mirror image. She was always slimmer than me, more slender than me even now. More fragile. Stronger.


But today was special- my mom and I went to Don Salsas. Because they have this special on the first Monday of every month, a buy one get one free kind of deal. The best kind. And today, I drove us there. Just me and my mom and my permit. And it was in that car, with my mom gripping on the door for dear life and me praying to some god that we wouldn't die and my mom telling me about her heart problems that I realized that roles are always reversed. Because for once, I was the one manning our Asian-mobile. The Sienna LE, the most perfect thing my dad has done as a husband, was under my control. And my mom was in the passenger's seat with blood pressure that rose parallel to the speedometer. How many times has it been the other way around? Uh, almost my whole life. My whole life up to age 16. But someday I will be an adult. And in charge of my own life, with my mom not at the forefront of my thoughts.

I will be the driver.

It's Automagical

After much thought and debate (really just an impulse), I have decided that I will post pictures on my blogs! Yay! Images and jpeg files! So excited! All the blogs I follow are either witty, spammed with interesting photos, or a magical combination of the two. And because I posses a very low level of wit, I shall compensate with photos! I cannot guarantee that they are going to be interesting, but it's eyecandy nonetheless! And maybe (soon?) I could... post pictures of clothing?! It's kind of a deep secret of mine, but I actually adore fashion. And not trends or "stylish" things, but really well put together ensembles with fascinating pieces. I love lace and florals and stripes, but detest animal prints and HUGE BRAND LOGOS LIKE THIS. I adore Wang, Westwood, Jacobs, Comme des Garcons, Chanel and the like, but CANNOT STAND BETSEY JOHNSON. She is disgusting. I hate her pieces.

I'm not a fashionista, no. Leave that to the Antoinette Stewart, voted Most Likely to Land on the Cover of Vogue Magazine for class of 2010 of ALHS! She is great! But I do adore aesthetically pleasing outifts.

But yes, I will upload photos! And perhaps of food too! I love to cook and bake, and actually have a project for this weekend! I found some elbow pasta in the pantry last night, and my mom promised to take us to the new Fresh & Easy that just opened by my school so I might pick up some cheese and cream and make a potato gratin! Yum! And I kind of want to make some mini bagels, so I can just take a couple in the morning instead of one GIANT calorie-laden slice!

JOURNEY TO FITNESS! For Vietnamese New Year, I am starting my Journey to Fitness (yet again)! But this time, I plan to stick to it because Spring/Summer are coming up and I want to pull out my skirts and shorts I never got a chance to wear because my legs have just BLOATED to massage proportions ever since I stopped running. But I will get back on the treadmill and I will get fit! I have a motivation to look good for Senior year and wear this lovely floral bandeau bikini I got on clearance!

And uhh, I think that I will work on my... blog writing skillzzz. Because if I type the way I speak, my computer will combust from annoyance.



Plane ride to Vietnam
Winter, 2007

I'm Not Really That Bitter

My blogs tend to be on the rant-y side. Not because I'm an angry and jaded person, but because it makes me feel better to vent out my emotions in a semi-public way... Is that being an attention whore? I don't think so. There's just no one to vent out to at home- I'm not a big fan of my sibling and my mom would most likely give me a suck it up, you always have your family and there's no point in crying lecture. And she is right, I am being childish and hyperbolic when I react negatively to something that is very insignificant. But that doesn't change the fact that I still feel better when I do vent!

It's kind of like a hobby for me, ranting about something insignificant in an entertaining manner (people laugh when I rant in public). And it makes me feel good. I'm not the kind of person that hates for a very long period of time. My hatred/anger tends to be sharp and quick, with a burning intensity that overrides all reason. But once it ends, I immediately become remorseful and a little embarrassed, which I probably deserve after giving someone a verbal lashing. Oh karma, you behave in such mysterious ways.

Hypocrites

I hate hypocrites. So freaking much. I hate it when people get upset over something that they did to a person when they do it another person pretty often. I hate it. I hate feeling insignificant. I hate feeling unimportant. I hate feeling out of the loop. I hate feeling like no one's making an effort even though I'm trying my damnedest. Whatever. It doesn't even matter. It happens too often to matter.

Links

I am a firm believer that every person in this world is connected somehow. Whether it be 7 degrees or 7 thousand degrees of separation, we all have a line threaded between each other.

And with the invention of internet and social-networking sites and blogs and the like, I can't help but wonder...who follows me? What do they see? I know that no one checks my blog, and I like it that way. I don't mind either way, really. But my neighbors, my parent's friends, my family members, what do they see? What do they perceive? Strangers...what do they think of me?

My facebook is public. This blog is public. So when people check my wall or my posts and see my rants and angry statuses do they think that I'm just an angry bitchy teenager? Do they call me spoiled and ungrateful? I live in a very conservative and religious community. Does that make my liberalism and Buddhism harder to swallow? If my loving and retired and religious next door neighbors saw my facebook, saw what I claimed to be my political views and religious belief and groups that I belong to and pages I am a fan of... would they consider me a lost soul? Would my parents get the blame?

But there is no one to blame! I shouldn't feel guilty for what I am a fan of and what groups I belong to. It's all true. I am pro gay-rights. I am pro-choice. I am a Buddhist. I cuss occasionally and offend people...quite often. But that doesn't mean that I am a bad person. I want to help people. I want to heal people. There really isn't much of a difference between my God-loving, mission-going, world-saving neighbors. They just have their different motives.

I want to save the world for the sake of a better life for all of us. They want to save the world for the sake of preserving God's creations. Can you say which is the nobler cause?

Rant. Automobiles. Insurance. Rant.

Hi there, auto insurance industries. My name is Michelle Vo, and I was wondering why the fuck your rates are so high. You see, the thing is that I live approximately 3 and a half miles UPHILL from the bus stop to the local community college as well as McDonald's, where I plan on working the summer. I also live approximately 4 and half miles uphill from the library. I also live 5 miles away from the gym. It takes about an hour to walk uphill from all of these places. Which is why I need a car.

Now I wonder why your rates are so astronomically high that my parents can't afford to pay them. I wonder why your rates are upwards of $2,000 a year. I am a damn good student. I passed my written test with a 100% (even if it was the second time). My parents have impeccable credit and while the collective record is not that impressive, my mother's driving record is reflective mirror clean.

Because of you, I won't get a car until I am 17. Four months into senior year. Because of you, I have to ride the goddamn school bus home with a bunch of annoying and obnoxious underclassmen. Because of you, I won't be able to participate in school activities that I need to continue to be competitive for college. Because of you, my life will suck.

Do you really want me to walk several miles in 100+ degree weather? Do you want me to get skin cancer? Because I'm working, going to school, and volunteering either way. I refuse to lose my promised independence because of your greedy asses. I refuse to succumb to my mother's preconceptions of how I'm going to spend the summer, which, quite frankly, suck major ass.

I hate you, auto insurance industry. I hate you, crappy Omnitrans bus system. I hate you, lack of freedom and money. Life sucks.

Let's Be Pals

I've always been quite adept at making new friends. "Friends" being a quite loose term, which includes those that I don't really care for but they like me enough to let me eat lunch with them. Which I haven't done since... end of freshman year? Beginning of sophomore year.

I suppose that ability was honed due to the fact that I had new friends every year up until junior high. Most elementary school kids did. My best friends changed with every year, none of us were able to retain that closeness we once had when we had different classes. Permanence was never expected, as it was relatively uncommon.

So whenever I see best pals that claim that they've been bosom buddies since grade 2, I am an naturally impressed. They seem to have acquired something that I will never have. I'm losing my first best friends in high school.

At least, they're drifting away from me. And it's not too much of a surprise. I only have one class with one of them and lunch with two. They have cars and cool parents and fun time while I have to take the school bus straight home and a strict mother that will never let me enjoy being a teenager. I won't get a car until I'm 17, which is a good 4 months into senior year. Thanks bad economy and high insurance rates.

My mother claims that it's not really a loss when I see them for half an hour every day. Uh, it is a loss, considering that I would see them for several hours every day during school and a couple hours once a week AFTER school. It is a loss when they talk about adventures that they've had and inside jokes they share secret smiles at and talk about new best friends that they've acquired and leave me to the side. At least, that's how it feels like.

But it's my fault. Not theirs. I can't help it if they want to make their high school memories memorable and have the means to do so. I can't help it if I want to make my high school years memorable and fail to have the ability to do so. I can't help it if my mom is just too strict and just too smothering and just too incapable of letting me go. I can't help it if I live too far away, if I have no transportation, if I get upset because I feel so insignificant because they'll forget important things for me but don't care if I do things for them on their days.

"Haha, you just gave me a piece of paper for my birthday!"
Yeah, you didn't give or say anything on mine.

Steeping Drinks

My tea is saffron. It is red. It is brown. It is a shade that is altogether too lovely and too difficult for me to describe.

I have not loved tea forever. I do not know anybody that does. It is bitter and herbal. It is not refreshing and sweet like soda or lemonade or childhood drinks. It scalds your lips and tongue if you are not careful like a dangerous woman. It burns down the throat like whiskey and leaves a very faint, unpleasant aftertaste.

I have never appreciated tea until now. Never appreciated how comforting it is, how warm it can be. I never appreciated the worlds of flavor, the worlds that it comes from. The different strains of green that make water brown. How close to home it is. How familial and familiar.

My favorite is lychee tea. I have only had it once, in China. It tasted like spring. It tasted like how I imagine first kisses to be. It was the first tea that I ever liked. I wish I could have it again.

Shallow Like the Ocean

I am not a deep person. I don't come up with beautiful, poetic pairings of words easily. I hardly ever say something that tickles the throat and mind. I just say things that make people guffaw and think "Oh, how charming this little girl is! What a delightfully foul mouth!".

That doesn't mean that I don't want to speak poetry, oh no. Quite the contrary. I wish my phrases were eloquent and lyrical and that my voice didn't reach such high octaves whenever I get excited. It is aggravating. It is annoying. It is a hindrance to the ears of those around me.

I love words. I always have. I love English, I always have. I love the abundance of words for me. For me! For everyone! For anyone who wishes to explore our tongues, our mouths, our words! I love foul words, like fuck and shit. I love soft words, like cotton and breath. I love words that are like marbles that smack against the roof of your mouth and threaten to poke your uvula.

But I don't know how to put those words together. I cannot make a giant found poem out of words. I cannot create images out of words, I cannot create works of words. I cannot gurgle them out and create beautiful word vomit. My vomit is hideous. My vomit stinks. My vomit goes in the toilet, where it belongs. My word vomit is vomit.

But my vomit is my vomit. My words, are my words. I do not try to imitate writers. I do not try to sound like something I am not. When I write, I scratch my nose like when I speak. I wring my hands like when I'm nervous because writing makes me nervous. Makes me nervous to expose myself. Makes me nervous to be judged by intelligent and well-learned people. Makes me nervous to think about me. My thoughts. My heart. My body. My mind.

I wish to create beautiful word vomit someday. I wish to fill it in a little moleskine book written with a nib and ink in a beautiful cursive. A cursive like my ong ngoai's. A cursive that belays my personality, my quirks in the way I cross my t's and dot my i's and the slant of my letters. A cursive that makes up for my own lack of curves. With the words it clothes being me. A padded cursive that makes up for not-so-beautiful word vomit.

My words that are shallow like the ocean.

Procrastination Station

Now this blog entry is just to postpone my finishing off homework and studying. I need to quit being so lazy and just work my butt off. If I had one!

I dunno if you knew this, but Southern California has been going through some CRAZY shit recently! Weather-wise, of course. Now, I love the rain and absolutely detest the sun so this weather is a very lovely change from the not-so-winter-weather we've been having lately but it really is a very dangerous condition for driving. The roads are black and it is impossible to see the road lines. Yesterday, we had a lockdown during fifth period for fear of a tornado! But we ended up going to sixth period with like, half an hour left of school. Smoooooth.

Today we had AP Night. Which is basically an information night for students that plan on taking AP classes next year. It was mandatory, which I don't really understand, considering most of us were already in AP classes and doing just fine! And it was absolutely POURING before 6:30 (when the night was supposed to start) so I really didn't want to have my mom drive me in those conditions. But I ended up going and Claudine went along too! She didn't have a ride to there so my mom and I picked her up and we were like, ten minutes late to the presentation. Which is alright, considering we already knew the information.

It turns out that our school offered a lot more AP classes than I thought! Like AP European History and AP French. Paulina, Hannah and I were discussing how much we wanted to take it when the presentation was over, but our schedules are already full next year so the only way we would be able to take it would be if it was a zero period. Which according to Mrs. Lambert (AP Macroeconomics and former AP Euro teacher) is totally impossible because we would have to get enough students to sign up for it. Claudine was interested in it too, after Lambert explained the course. But we're gonna try to get students to sign up for it!

I'm super pumped for senior year though, considering how cool all of the teachers seem to be! But I'm gonna have a full schedule with AP Calculus BC (considering AB but BC is probably better, considering it goes at a faster pace and anything slow would make me procrastinate more), AP Chemistry (still thinking about this one), Journalism (FO SHO), AP English (also a definite), AP Govt/Econ (of course!), and Anatomy/Physiology (I need this class).

Ugh. Math test tomorrow and I'm totally screwed. Better go study!

Wishlist CONT.

I just realized how my blog is not like a journal. I should make it more journal-like. But I must continue my wish list! Start what you finish!

6.

AUVIO Retro Stereo Headphones

My sister and I live in rooms that are separated by a thin wall, so she can hear whatever music or video I'm playing/watching and I can hear hers. The issue is that I normally stay up several hours after she goes to sleep, so she'll bang on the wall whenever she thinks my music is too loud. Which is all of the time! I need headphones so I can keep my sanity! Because her knocking is annoying the hell out of me.

7. More sleep

I really hate Junior year. I hate not having a car or any transportation, AP classes and SAT/ACT prep books. I really hate not having enough time for myself, considering my familial obligations as well as PREPARING FOR MY FUTURE. I sleep about four hours a day, which is NOT healthy. It's pretty gross.

8. My license

Now this isn't going to come for like, another four months. But that's cool. As long as I do end up getting it the DAY I'm supposed to get it. Because everything I do this summer depends on whether or not I get my license.

I think that this is quite sufficient for a wish list! Yay! Done! Eight things isn't so bad. Plus, I plan on obtaining all of this stuff on my own. Except for the computer. But that can wait until college.

Feeling Like a Number One

I love ABBA. I really do. My parents are total karaoke fiends and ABBA is such a karaoke staple. You can act out the lyrics! Which comes in handy, because my family CANNOT shake their groove thing. We are incapable of dancing. I saw my parents do the salsa one time and it was just them moving back and forth. They were having a good time, of course, but COME ONE! Salsa is like SEARING LATIN SPICE STYLE! I can't even do the macarena! I struggle with the cha cha slide!

But yes. ABBA is excellent because all you have to do is mouth the lyrics and interpret them with your body! That, I can do! And I love how their songs normally have allusions to places in Europe. It makes me want to cross The Pond and explore the Continent! And let's be honest. The vocals are heavenly. I get shivers when they start doing their vibrato thang.

Some Major Neglect

Uh, I feel a little guilty. No, wait. Very guilty. Actually, not guilty at all! I never promised to update this blog. I never promised to keep it alive and breathing. It's not like anybody reads it.

But I'll start doing regular updates now. So it will be an actual blog. I'm too lazy to actually write out a journal entry in my little black book and my penmanship is crap so typing a BLOG entry seems to be a little more doable. And I can indulge in releasing my innermost thoughts to the World Wide Web. And become an internet celeb! NOT.

But where should I start? Is it too late to type out my New Years Resolutions? Should I do a very self-indulgent "All About Me" post? Should I do makeup tutorials because all of the cool Asian girls are doing it?

Meh. I think that I'll do a wish list. Considering how piss poor I am after buying Christmas and birthday presents with MY Christmas and birthday present money.

1.

BDG High Waisted Cigarette Jean
I really need new jeans. Like REALLY need new jeans. Black ones, at least. Because most of my jeans don't fit me right (too low, too loose, too long) and those that do fit me are ripped and torn. And these are the perfect shade of black and high waists are made of LOVE.

2. A haircut
No, seriously. I need a haircut. I don't do anything to my hair except shampoo and occasionally rag curl it but somehow, split ends have appeared on my poor follicles and I have no one to blame but my own cheap, negligent self. Normally, I get my haircut like three, four times a year, but my hair hasn't touched a pair of clippers since last March. So I need a coupon for Great Clips and mosey on over to the Vons center on Carnelian. The only issue is that I'm trying to grow out my hair, so anything more than an eyelash trim ( a trim that is only as long as an eyelash- which if you're going my eyelashes is just a little more than a millimeter) scares the shit out of me.

3.

Ray Ban Aviator Sunglasses
I love me some Ray-Bans. My love affair began with them when my mom bought me a pair of black Wayfarers for my 15th birthday. She also got a pair of amber/gold ones for herself, because of a buy one save $50 promotion Amazon.com had. Now my lust has been rekindled with these lovely aviators. I am of the opinion that every girl needs a pair of aviators so she can look kick-ass and make a sexyface without looking dumb. Because how do you look dumb in aviators?

4. A faster computer and glitch-free internet

Okay. Number 4 was originally gonna be Chanel Black Satin nailpolish but my internet is going ape shit on me. I hate it. I got this computer 4 years ago and it's crashing on me. Hopefully, I'll get a new one for college but I need a job. Hey! That's number 5!

5. A job
Oh man, dinero is a serious low for me! I hate being financially dependent on my parents. They do so much for me and I feel like I haven't done anything to deserve it. I love them so much, but I want to make it easier on them. Plus, there is freedom to go along with a job. Financial dependency means that I can spend MY money on whatever I want. Like clothes and food and gifts. I cannot wait until I have a bank account!

To be continued... when my internet is not being so temperamental.