Pavorotti and Bugatti.

I've gotten an influx of magazines, due the random subscription available via the Internet. Noted is Harper's Bazaar, Marie Claire, Teen Vogue, Seventeen, and the infamous National Geographic. Now, in retrospect, I realize all those fashion magazines weren't necessary. In reality, they all say the same thing, except in Seventeen I may actually be able to afford the suggested style.

I have always been a faithful fan of NG, with its glossy pictures and riveting articles, but I'm beginning to resent it. The past few magazines I've received have been repetitive, constantly revisiting the same topic...Islam. Now, I'm not naive and I realize it's become a globally scrutinized and micro scoped subject, but really? This is a vast world we live in, with beautiful and exciting sounds, sights, and scenery. When I read magazine with the potential such as NG, I'm expecting to be taken to a another world! If I was so interested in hearing about the "extremist Islamic" propaganda, I would just turn on the nearest television. In one particular letter a man criticized an article that was written in June 2009, regarding the Christian Arabs living in the ever frantic Holy Land. He felt that the author did not focus enough on the pressure the Arab Christians receive from their neighboring Muslim counterparts. However, isn't that the same issue that practicing Muslims have worldwide? Pressures from the majority on a minority have nothing to do with religion, more so it's a product of society in general.


On a lighter note, the fashion magazines (Harper's Bazaar, Marie Clair, W, etc.) are magnificent! How I enjoy looking a beautiful people wearing equally beautiful clothing. The only dilemma I have are the low number of ethnic woman shown in these magazines. Regardless, beauty is beauty. Bazaar conducted an interview with Janet Jackson, sister of the late mega-star Micheal Jackson. Personally, I never found she had much class and I think she and Micheal look like they went and got the same plastic surgery from the same plastic surgeon. Not a good look Janet. The growing number of plastic surgery being the 'norm' is alarming, where did the appreciation for natural beauty go? It's not like you can't usually tell who's gotten work done and who hasn't, how is that appealing? It's like knowing that someone is rocking a fake Louis Vuitton or Prada, highly unattractive. Just be true to yourself! If you can't afford designer, then please stick to Macy's. And if you were born with a big nose or thin lips, then just be thankful you were born with a right mind or functioning limbs! Christ!


So the world's suppose to end in 2012? I can definitely see that.

It's the depth of life...

How exhausting! Life is so incredibly tedious, I can barely stand it. I'm sure I'm a bit of a special case, I seem to get frustrated and bored easily (as if that classifies someone as 'special'). I wonder if that's immature or simply my nature? We'll go with nature. I've said before that patience was a very fortunate virtue to have, but it doesn't look like I've obtained it.

Have you ever seen summer rain? When the sky is clear, usually in the evening, with brilliant colors of purple, magenta, and blue with white clouds, all the while the rain falls gently from it. That is probably one of the most beautiful sights in life. I feel like it describes me; the sky is clear and color full but yet the rain still comes. Although, I love rain, still it can come as both a positive of negative symbol.
We need rain to water our crops, to bring life to the earth that gives us life, but too much rain will drown you and your precious earth. To me, if there is a God that is the surest form of symbolism and philosophy you can be shown.


Lately, I'm starting to see the people I love most for what they are. I suppose there comes a time, for every mother, father, mentor, and in my case, elder sister, where you realize and learn to accept certain things about the people dearest to you. It's coming to my attention that everything I value and deem worthy in life isn't the same as my baby sisters. Now, I'm sure this epiphany is similar to the one my elder sister had in regards to me, and I now appreciate her more than ever. It's a difficult thing, to allow the beautiful roses; you tended to and sheltered so dearly, to change colors. You may have intended for them to be red, a classic and timeless color, but instead they grew pink. In time you may learn the grace and beauty that pink entitles, but it is an abrupt shock that is unwelcome initially. Isn't all change? These shifts in the tide among my siblings, due to puberty and maturity, are at times hard to swallow. I find myself lashing out; when I know I was at once in their same shoes (who know if I'm not still wearing a pair!). Now, it's important to focus on the core of the relationship. Heaven knows I love my sisters more than I could ever describe, but now it's time to show them. You can't say you love someone, until you love them when it's difficult to.

"I hear and I forget; I see and I remember; I do and I understand"

(My title is a Chinese proverb that basically means you can't understand until you try something yourself.)

^ The 3 books pictured are 'Chinese Cinderella' and 'Falling Leaves' both by Adeline Yen Mah; Also, 'Wild Swans' by Jung Chang.

I chose these three books to share because I noticed the trend in my book collection. I seem to find myself drawn to these authors, who write about the trials and tribulations of being a women in Chinese culture. Something about the way these women reach out to you through the book is tantalizing and addictive. Chinese Cinderella, more then any other book, gripped me. For some, the story may seem too unfortunate and simply feeble. However, when I read the book, I felt her words under my skin. What makes these women different, is the sense of self control and pride they have. What makes it worse, is that all three are based on 100% true stories. It seems that no matter what, they never lash out of the tyrant and seem to have complete composure. After my exploration of Chinese culture through these books, I have great respect for the women of China.

Don't take my word for it, read it for yourself, these books are hauntingly unforgettable.

Lotus flower.

Mysterious

'When you believe that romance is when you’re stroked my moonlight, when stars spell out your name and earth beneath your feet are clouds like cushions from the heavens, you are mistaken for a caricature.

To hold you is to burn my flesh while I am sedated and hypnotized by your false security. Romance is not the sweet words you sell to me, which are too costly. It is not the ripe heat in your kiss, which only leaves me without breath. Nor is it the way your glowing eyes pierce into my soul, the way light transfixes darkness.

No, romance is the sinking city of Venice. It is beautiful, timeless, and unforgettable. It shall whisper sweetly to you as it is swallowed by the ghostly sea. You will reach out your hand for it, while fog surrounds you, and you lose your step. You will call for it desperately as you are debilitated into depths, to no avail. It is the echo of footsteps on a weary staircase, but with no mortal. The way you love the sun and its warmth, but your eyes are seared when you approach it. Thus is romance. Romance should not be loved.

Romance is not love. '

That is one of my latest pieces, not my best, but I think it gets the point across. I'm beginning to seem more like a politician and less like a poet....yikes.

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

HM, finally writing in my blog brings back bittersweet feelings of nostalgia.
I remember when I initially created it, with great expectations and a vow of loyalty, but summer quickly had me desert.
Oh, California. Where do I start? That was the worst and best year of my life, I learned so much, but fought so hard.

Anyways, it's two years later and I'm the sweet age of 18 that's not so sweet. It's probably one of the most difficult point's in a persons life; your young but naive, and you have so much you want, with little to start off on. I know that I'm not the only person going through these tribulations, but it's such a lonely process and I've yet to wrap my head around the fact that I'm technically an adult....Whatever that means. I mean, I've always felt like I had lived before, which made life feel a bit repetitive, but now I realize how scary the big bad world actually is.

Well, I've been writing again. It's not the same as the stuff I used to write, no, it's much more informative and less vague. I realize that maturity means that you need to a bit more straightforward with what you're trying to say, needless to say, I've become much more blunt. I'm sure old friends would say I've always been blunt, or bitchy (excuse my french), now I'm just more selective. I know that people don't really care about your feelings, I've learned that the hard way, and you really have to look after yourself before anything else.

maison de poupée.

When I was a little girl, I was convinced that the world was easily accessible. I thought that if you groomed yourself to be cultured and graceful, that all the princes of the world would bare themselves on one knee at your doorstep. When I was 6, I believed that by 16 I would be an 8th wonder of the world and the entire world would recognize my 'divineness'. Everything seemed to have purpose, so that when I would later sit and acquire all the meaning of life for my auto-biography, every philosophy would be my prophecy. The cruelty of humanity would elude me, and admiration surround me; However, I would be as innocent and naïve as a flower. Upon pollination, I would willingly, yet modestly, give away my soul eternally and entirely to my one true love. Beauty would be my mind, body, and spirit.
Now, being older and keen of the world, I realize that the world is divided by borders and restrictions. That grace and culture are not as prized, nor cared for, as they once were. And no princes care for the hassle of searching for a belle, as the one in fairy tales do. By 16, no one had realized my divine nature, and most things did not carry worthy purpose. Cruelty does not elude anyone and admiration is fickle and short-lived. Unfortunately, pollination may not always be with your “one true love” and nothing was modest about it. Beauty was when you were fortunate enough to a good hair day, and sometimes both mind and spirit did not connect. The accumulation of all the truthful knowledge of life, was tragic and unwelcome, however very necessary. In order for me to go on with life, without a presumed suicide, I had to come to grips with all of it. I had to understand it. I had to accept it. As difficult and painful as it was, and after countless arguments and tears, I was finally convinced…or was I?
Although I had not been recognized as the “8th wonder of the world”, and no prince charming had yet purposed, I found new aspirations for myself. Once I had believed all the world a fairytale and the chips would “fall as they may”. I now realized that is false and reckless. One must write, cast, and direct their own fairytale. And life could be like building a beautiful doll house, you must give it time, careful measurement, and effort; Soon enough the doll house will be the mirrored image of perfection from your mind, with minor differences that only make it more beautiful and unique. Patience truly is a virtue of great value, and deserves immense recognition. Yes, so they say live every day as if it is your last, but do not live in a constant state or urgency. Stop and smell the roses’, vie est belle, carpe diem! Wisdom comes to those who know wisdom, and nothing is wiser than acceptance and tolerance.
So, I had a new plan. A revised map. A better outlook.
It was no less magical, or enchanting, it was just…different. I had become more open minded, yet I still dubbed myself unparalleled to all others (as all girls should). What of it? I may not have been seen as “a divine light”, but to those who were fortunate enough to know me well, I was ‘one of a kind’ to say the least. Modesty is sweet, confidence is priceless, and vanity is alluring. I do believe every girl is entitled to all of that and more, since all are tools. Modesty is prized, respected, and endearing. Confidence is attractive, mesmerizing, and auspicious. Vanity is fascinating, memorable, and mysterious. The key was balance. A girl, should be entirely confident, but very exceptionally modest, however a touch vain. For you are unlike any other and no one shall ever be as well you as you are. Is that not ‘cause for daily celebration? In the world we live in today, I don’t believe women are encouraged to appreciate themselves enough. If one appreciates and loves themselves, they are more likely to have the confidence to appreciate and love another. I am not promoting complete vanity, please do not misunderstand me. Vanity alone is both repelling and unsubstantial in a female; ultimately, nothing positive can come from it. However, when fused with confidence and modesty, vanity can act as a safe haven. Some may believe that confidence alone can do your ego well, but we all know, (from our bad hair days to the “I feel fat” days) confidence constantly fluctuates. A sprinkle of vanity, acts like a shield against, what I like to call, “self-hate crimes”. It stops you from bashing yourself, and allows you to love you at your worst. While I’m not telling you to act like Snow White’s evil step mother, you should still compliment that beautiful person you see in the mirror every day. Tell her how goddess like she really is, because who knows better than you?


XXX

Safe.

I am so disappointed in myself. Somehow, I've become a complacent soul. At some point or another, I have decided to accept the way things are. I find myself allowing my mind to put up a white flag, when before I would fight even the smallest of discretion. Even though, I learned to control my immature rebellions, I feel I may have along the line extinguished the fire within. I'm a dreamer, a restless dreamer, no doubt. However, what is a dreamer with no fiery, passionate ambition? What is a dream without the force of insistence behind it? Honestly, I don't even remember what half of my so-called dreams where! It's absolutely terrifying, when you cannot even identify your own talents. I fear I may have lost my sense of self...I don't know when, how, or where. Once upon a time, I was a girl with endless possibilities and potential. I had the world at my fingertips, and imagination on my back like wings. I believed whatever I felt should be, whether it was logical or feasible did not elude me one bit. Poetry was my vocabulary, and sincerity my honor. I wonder if I am still that girl. I wonder if I still have her within me. For now, it seems so much work to be like her, when before it was a natural burdened gift. As the days pass, and reality of a future filled with petty adulthood responsibilities creep closer, I fear losing myself to myself. I want to get away, allow myself to show all my colors! See the beauty of this world and appreciate every breath once more! To escape the complacency of my surroundings, to escape constant reminders or maturity.

xxx