Agoraphobia

I haven't been going out too much lately - Not just in terms of drinking and partying but also literally not leaving the house - so for the first time in a long while I went downtown by myself and it was a horrifying experience.

First of all, when you've been cooped up in a single bedroom apartment on the top floor of a low rise building located in the suburbs for weeks all by yourself , you forget how loud everything is in city. I guess I could've diminished the noise around me by putting in my head phones in but I was also so captivated by every sound and unintelligible voice. This experience was awfully unsettling and with every elevation in the noise level, I was becoming very aware of how isolated and environment-sensitive I am.

Another problem is navigation. I kept bumping into people. I guess my social-assertiveness and self preserving aggression had also been on the decrease, so every time I felt the slightest guilt from somehow inconveniencing people by accidentally being in their way, I apologized emphatically. Luckily I was able to finish my errands in no time and return home  before I crumbled to the floor in the middle of Vancouver,  in a puddle of my own anxiety induced vomit. This is the first time I experienced what it it might feel like to have agoraphobia. I wonder if some other phobias can be developed this way. It almost seems too easy and this notion is of course, very frightening... ...FUCK!

Measuring Success

Take a good look at this hair because this is the last time you'll ever get an eye-full of those luscious bangs. At this very moment, my hair is short as ever and my bangs have crept well above my eyebrows.

Some changes took place in my life recently that I cannot neglect to discuss. As of May 1st, I took the final step towards burning the bridge of professionalism between myself and my employer at the Westminster Children's After School Society. Sounds familiar? Yes, this may conjure the feeling of deja vu if you remember one particular post where I regaled some of you with the tales of finally quitting the job I deemed soul-sucking. Well, it turns out that was not the ending chapter of this seemingly never-ending struggle towards self-efficiency and freedom from the shackles of employment.

However, this time, I do believe is the last; and it will last for I can no longer tolerate the meaninglessness of me trying so desperately to seek meaning and purpose where there isn't any. Though I do have to say that there is a silver lining in this whole ordeal. You see, the day after I told my boss to "get fucked" over a phone shouting match and won, I was accepted into the graduate program I've been toiling over for the past few months! This opportunity of course stemmed from my most recent place of employment. Through one one of the kid's parent who introduced me to the program just over a year ago. 

What's the moral of the story? The Man is always a step behind you because if you are a conscientious and decent human being who place more importance on forging real relationships with the people (in this case the children and their families), they will in turn trust and respect you or provide you with bigger and better options so you can flip your current boss off and get what you actually deserve! Take that to church tomorrow and preach it!

School's Out

Growing up is exciting. I know that because I literally experience it every day. Both in myself as well as vicariously through the kids I work with. That's the other cool thing about hanging out with kids is that you never really introspectively think about just how much your own self have grown until you see it in others. Being the outsider looking in on the lives of these children serves as an alternative perspective which can some times provide valuable information about the self or makes you feel very, very old. 

Some kids graduated today and some moved onto a higher grade. For the sentimental and attentive ones, I say onto thee, "hey kids, congratulations, enjoy the best years of your life then start a fashion blog and rant about things in the most esoteric and sporadic way possible."

Back in Action

I used to be in two bands. One of them dissolved due to conflict of interest and I quit the other so in the end I was left with no bands. For the past several months,  music and I were not on the best of terms. 

Today was my first band practice in more than six months and it went swimmingly. I am very pleased and exciting to be playing again. I sincerely feel like this time is it; fame and fortune all the fucking way!

for the children

I got bored of the purple and green so now my hair is pink and orange. 

Space tiger for the win. 

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

 

What baffles me in life is when people forfeit true authenticity in pursuit of anything else but that.  It may not be enough, but it's just about as important as being human. Sometimes it's hard to judge what true authenticity really is. The concept of it gets muddled amidst so many illusions. I find myself asking if I am authentic, or have ever even come close to being so.  

I was read an excerpt from a marvellous novel yesterday called "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men" by David Foster Wallace. In a chapter called "On His Deathbed, Holding Your Hand" the author describes (either in his own voice or in the voice of the character) his hatred and disgust for his infant child. The words in this story were piercing and revealing to me, as was the subject matter it talked about - complete and utter abhor for the basic human condition, the id. The vividly loathing words the father emblazoned his own son paint a clear picture of how easily detestable something so "unhuman"...nay "pre-human" can be. Because being human implies having the ability to reason, perform cognitive processes, to have shame, to have self-control, be self aware and all that is to do with the moving away from being an animal and being controlled by impulses and driven by pleasure. The infant, lacks everything a human should wield in order to exercise autonomy over his instincts. Thus the infant in the story was greedy, ravenous and ceaseless in its demands, hunger and wants. What disgusting nature! 

Bringing it back to what we started off with. Is the infant though, authentic if he lacks everything that is to be learned and indoctrinated throughout the course of his development? Does authenticity = primal/id/infancy? Perhaps not? Perhaps authenticity should've been more clearly defined as something outside of the ugliness of the human's lowly origin - an animal. 

silly face time

This is the face of someone who recently just painted her bedroom furniture and slept to the scent of undried paint. Either that or someone is making a face at her that's really, really funny.

Now that the paint scent molecules have combined with some of her neurotransmitters in the motor cortex of her brain, she's now unable to control her movements and postures. Rendering her unable to stand still instead she's swaying from side to side. Either that or she's just trying to a "dynamic" picture of her outfit.

How is she standing on a slanted floor? Perhaps days of paint-breathing have given her the super power of having extremely having and sticky feet. Either that or her camera was tilted slightly to the left, creating an optical illusion that the floor is slanted but rather the right side is actually further away from the camera than the left side.

?????!

This is important: GRANTS NOT LOANS!!!! FTW!

Some Words

Social theorists often talk about the artificiality of the world we live in. The notion that nothing we come in contact with is naturally occurring foreshadows a bleak future where "genuine living" is merely an idea rather than a process to be experienced.
I've been reading poetry lately. And this poem by John Updike, I think, encapsulates a society wherein everything is constructed, purposefully placed and never organic

Telephone Poles

They have been with us a long time.
They will outlast the elms.
Our eyes, like the eyes of a savage sieving the trees
In his search for game,
Run through them. They blend along small-town streets
Like a race of giants that have faded into mere mythology.
Our eyes, washed clean of belief,
Lift incredulous to their fearsome crown of bolts, trusses, struts, nuts, insulators and such
Barnacles as compose
These weathered encrustations of electrical debris ---
Each a Gorgon's head, which, seized right,
Could stun us to stone.

Yet they are ours. We mad them.
See here, where the cleats of linemen
have roughened a second bark
Onto the bald trunk. And these spikes
Have been driven sideways at intervals handy for human legs.
The Nature of our construction is in every way
A better fit than the Nature it displaces.
What other tree can you climb where the birds' twitter,
Unscrambled, is English? True, their thin shade is negligible,
But then again there is not that tragic autumnal
Casting-off of leaves to outface annually.
These giants are more constant than evergreens
By being never green.

This was the most comfortable outfit I've ever put together. Mom pants and loose crop tops combined achieves the perfect equilibrium of style and comfort

When You Dream

People always tell me to "be realistic" or "wake up". Most of the time they say that to save me from disappointments when certain things I've been been hoping and wishing for are too far fetched from coming true. But once in awhile, I simply hate it when people say that to me because it's so damn discouraging. I mean what the fuck does that mean anyway? Am I a dreamer for wanting to make a world a better place? Am I being unreasonable for wanting to pursue a career in arts rather than the corporate world? Or am I operating in a completely different realm from yours and you're just informing me that I'm not living in reality because I'm literally stuck in a different plane somehow? Regardless, I think the whole notion of reality is completely bogus (mind the irony). Because what is reality, really?
Throughout my study of human psychology, I have always find cases where people are so convinced that their perceptions are "real" to be especially fascinating. Because it always boggled my mind that some people can lead a life of what seems like utter obscurity to us but to them, it is the only world they know. As I read, studied and watched a lot of these cases, I eventually realized that sometimes physicians and psychologists really don't have any right in telling them what is real because reality is self-constructed. Take the classic philosophical riddle for example. "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" Of course it does, because so many happen without our awareness but that doesn't mean that there isn't a possibility of unperceived existence. So just because certain things can't be understood, comprehended or even directly perceived, doesn't mean they don't exists or that they are not "real". Who is to say that a schizophrenic patient's reality is abnormal and thus "not real"? Because to them, it is as real as it gets. I once knew a girl who was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and experienced severe auditory and visual delusions when her symptoms were at their worst. After a copious amount of drugs, her symptoms finally went away. But til today, she still recounts the experience from that segment of her life with so much detail and conviction that it was almost like she was in an alternate reality of some sort.
Perhaps this is the downfall of having an ego because it really limits us from accepting possibilities outside of our consciousness. However, I do think we have the propensity to do so though, because when you dream, do you not hurt when you dream of walking into a wall? Do you not cry when you dream of tragedy befallen on a loved one? Do you not wake up in cold sweat when you dream of your own death? All of our dreams are as real to us as they can be when we sleep. So why do we emphasize the waking reality more than the dreaming reality? I personally prefer to dream because at least in my dreams no one tells me to wake up.

Here's some obscure photo collage action, inspired by what I've learned about memory and reality. Remember the big-cat t-shirt? It is now a crop tank.

Meet Me in St. Louis

Three plane rides, numerous car trips and sixteen hours later I finally made it home from St. Louis, Missouri. The four day trip consisted of copious amount of drinking, dancing and stewing in above 30 degree heat and humidity; so all in all a good time. In the midst of partying like there's no tomorrow I realize just how lucky I am to have been surrounded by awesome people so for the first time in a long time I truly my time being away from home.
Here's something you don't know about me, I am an incredibly shy person upon first encounter and sometimes I come off as being even a little stand-offish. Thus I've always been awkward in social situations when crowds of strangers and semi-strangers are involved. However, this time it was different, I felt at ease in the company of others. This new found sensation was foreign at first then I slowly realized that maybe this is merely a sign of growing up and being able to let go of old habits. This is the dress I made for my friend's wedding I attended in St. Louis. The top is made from scratch from lace and the bottom was a trifted skirt I had recently purchased in Seattle. I meant to take some pictures of me wearing it at the wedding but like I said, there was a lot of drinking.

Looks, it's a tornado! Actually, I'm not sure what it was. My friends said it was just a plume of smoke coming out of that factory, but I say it's some sort of mist pillar. But I really just wanted to take a picture of the Mississippi river.
When I got home yesterday, I was treated with a pleasant e-mail which informed me that my blog review is up and I was also awarded the Featured Blogger badge.

Neither Hogs Nor Dogs

The Okanagans was positively beautiful but after being away from the coast for five days, I sure am glad to be home.
The trip was very pleasant, filled with good food and comforting company so I'm glad I was there. While I enjoyed my entire stay in Summerland, the highlight of the week for me was actually the trip back, when we stopped at Manning Park and I got to feed the prairie dogs! Don't be mislead by their name, these little creatures are not at all dogs. They're like squirrels except they live in underground burrows. We pulled into the park briefly for a bathroom break and there they were, running amongst people not at all frightened. Of course, me being the overzealous animal lover was overwhelmingly ecstatic at the sight of these cute little rodents and I couldn't wait to get closer to them. One of the girls there, who I assume was also enamored with the delightful animals was kind enough to give me the rest of her rodent-feed. And as I reached my hand out, five of them came towards me and nabbed the bits of bread straight out of my hand and started nibbling away right in front of me. It was like nothing I've ever experienced before (except for that time tried to feed a duck and got too scared as soon as it started to peck at my palm) because at that point, I felt "removed from my human ego". I was not part of a species capable of killing, destroying and polluting, instead, I was just another earth dweller. This may sound silly, but the fact that they had so much trust in humans made me feel so at one with nature! I mean, one can immerse herself in nature by doing woodsy activities like camping and hiking, but when you're up close and personal with a timid, wild creature like that eating out of your hand, it's like the distinction between "man and animal" no longer mattered.

I pretty much didn't care about coordinating my outfits on the trip so I didn't bother taking any pictures of them. But this is something I wore and was quite fond of last week, before the trip. The see-through blouse totally makes it!.

Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom, nom.....

Glorious and Free?

I'd just like to take a moment, a serious moment to discuss the recent happenings in Toronto at the G20 Summit. For those of you who live in Canada but are unaware of the current situation I direct you to the news and/or Youtube. This is a matter concerning a threat to our democratic rights and freedoms as well as your responsibility as a free agent.To be honest, before yesterday I was not even aware of the G20 Summit. After being shocked and baffled by what I briefly saw on the news yesterday morning, I knew that it was a big deal or else people wouldn't be protesting and the protests wouldn't turn into violence. As I learned more about this global meeting and what it stood for and why people in Toronto were so furious with it, I started to get a real sense of just what is at stake. I'm not going to comment on the social reasons behind the oppositions to the G20 Summit because that would take up a whole other post. Instead, I want to talk about the government's response to the protests and the injustices and atrocities that turned the peaceful demonstrators into militant activists.
According to Naava Smolash's account on the recent G20 protest in Toronto and Olympic protest in Vancouver, just prior to the G20 Summit, the government of Toronto past a new which granted the police the right to randomly conduct body searches on and demand I.D. from whomever they fancy. This law was passed unbeknown to Toronto citizens and it is because of this "new rule", random by-standers who my not even be necessarily involved with the protest were stopped and questioned by the police around the G20 Summit convention perimeter. Aside from the unjustifiable authority to violate citizens' privacy, as many videos and journalists documented, the Toronto police also made illegal arrests and attacked peaceful protesters and journalists throughout the day. But perhaps the most perverse thing of it all is that many mainstream media sources have twisted the story and framed the report and referred to the protesters who chose to deliver their message by smashing symbolic and inanimate objects (the most poignant example is of the burning police car with the phrase "to serve and protect" clearly seen in photograph) as "thugs and hooligans". Many people criticize these people as "violent", but my question remains, how is smashing non-living, materialistic property violent while pepper-spraying and striking people with batons "lawful", "just" and "non-violent"?Ten years ago, I immigrated from China to Canada and never in a million years did I expect a violation of human rights would happen here in a country which takes pride in its progressiveness and civil rights. How ironic is this: by exercising democratic principles (namely the right to peaceful assembly and the right from unreasonable search and seizure), the citizens of Toronto were subjected to harassment and arrests? Yesterday's events were almost reminiscent of a history of bloodshed in my home country where thousands died, fighting for democracy and freedom. And twenty-one years later, in a democratic country I see the same type of police-state control, oppression and unjust violation perpetrated against its people. Except in this case the hypocrisy makes it even more disturbing and unforgivable.

I am going to be away until next Monday, so no posts for a bit.

Freudian

For the nth time today, someone called me "small" and "cute" but this time it was different because usually those words would annoy me to no end. But today, instead of cringing immediately following the echoic impression of those adjectives, I simply responded to them with a mental "whatdiyagonnado" shrug. And that in itself seemed a tad strange to me. I couldn't help but wonder if this new found indifference was a result of me getting used to being labeled that all the time or simply a classic case of "learned helplessness" where I've pretty much lost all hope in trying to get people to see me as more than that. Either way, both options indicate defeat. I think I'm a classic case of someone who has deep-seated inferiority complex and being constantly referred to as "small", "cute", "petite" or sometimes just plain" awwwwww" are just the type reinforcements for sustaining this underlying anxiety.
Seeing how some women out there are obsessed with "sizing-down" they would probably want to shoot me for complaining about having a small stature. However, I would just like to justify my annoyance with the fact that being called "small" may seem like flattery in today's "fat-prejudice" society, the truth is I (along with my fellow "tiny" people) do not feel complimented. In fact, I feel somewhat insulted whenever people comment on my size. It makes me feel patronized, belittled and de-individualized. More importantly, when and why did people start considering "small" as a positive trait to characterize someone? Moreover, the worst part of it is that whenever I would speak up against those "sizeist" comments, I get weird looks like I'm crazy for not wanting to be perceived as "small". As if I'm oblivious or simply stupid for not recognizing that they have just given me a praise. In in that sense, I think "small" people are at a disadvantage because while "bigger" people can rant and express their offense, us small folks are not only "not allowed" to protest, we are also sometimes expected to simply accept or even thank those who "awarded" us with those labels. I think there should be a new category of prejudice called "sizeism" and it should apply not only to those who are over-weight but also those who are smaller than the average population.
(I put the words "small" and "big" in quotations because I don't endorse their connotations or their over-usage in describing people whom we really don't know anything about.)

This outfit was inspired by a someone on lookbook. To compensate for my lack of height, I wore high-waisted pants and a crop top, but regardless of my attempt at achieving a few "visual inches", I was still called "small".

"trouser-friendly kiss"

I've been working on my profile piece for Behind Sapphire since ten o'clock and I just finished it. Writing takes a lot out of me but I'm happy to have completed my work. Once it's published in next week's issue I will be putting up a link for those who wants to read. Meanwhile, I'm just going to post a picture of my outfit and not write anything for awhile.