come down from that high, b/c i can see through you

Go ahead

Go ahead and put yourself in the arms of a China doll

Skin like moon from a bottle
Dark eyes and silky hair, perfectly streaked with boutique gold
She moves in a swirl of affected flirtatiousness
Two-dimensional coyness in the round
It’s hard to tell where the saccharine laughter ends and her personality begins
But I can see how you taste her with your eyes

She has all the cute mannerisms down pat
Knowing how to use the little niceties of hand and voice that some men eat up
She wears a vapid mask, pouts with feigned innocence
She’s vanilla sex in a shimmery pink dress
For you with accessorize with
Your stash of romantic comedy clichés and
The cheap swagger you stole from gangster flicks

Your professions of romantic cynicism are only a cover for what you really wanted:
The Asian girl who can play the damsel role
Whose convenient headaches wrap her against your shoulder,
Letting you feel as though your wit and charm alone can cure her
Someone who bolsters your precious ego with a simpering smile
That promises adoration superficial

I thought you knew better than
To model yourself after a music video
What makes you desire the kind of naïve love and
so-called suffering as conveyed in a 4-minute song?
What is it that makes you seek this vacant womanhood?
Is it because she is too demure to ever pull down your pants
And realize that she needs a magnifying glass to find your manhood?

It disappoints me that you prefer
An ersatz romance that exists in your head
But I’ve learned to respect my own bed
I won’t apologize for my fears and flaws
I’m not sorry that intelligence drops from my jaws
Because I refuse to be confused with plastic
I won’t be sheathed in frills, ill with what other people think an Asian girl should be

But let me tell you something
She may have been raised to please but
She’s more than just the sugary gaze that she makes herself out to be
And she’s not going to be all dress up and games
One day she’s going to want to be real
And you are no Blue Fairy
But a puppet, pulled by the strings of insecurity,
Enslaved by hazy fantasies

So go ahead

Go ahead and dance with your China doll

Because I won’t be anything but a real girl
And I’m going to find myself
A real man

we sure are cute for two ugly people

So I saw Cowboy vs. Samurai last weekend, courtesy of Eddy and his amazing awesomeness. Not only did he fight for, cast and direct the show, he also procured Amtrak tickets for me so that I could go see it. Much props to Eddy. I can only hope that the champagne I bought (which came with a FREE wine carrier bag thingie that was a handsome burgundy color) went to good celebratory use.

I think what struck me most about the play was the reactions of the people who saw it--or didn't see it. Some people saw it as another step to bringing Asian American voices to the forefront of the campus community. Some people saw it as another effort to discuss the tired topic of identity. True, the topic can be exhaustive. But if we don't talk about it, who will? If Asian Americans aren't willing to stand up and voice an opinion about what it's like to grow up in America, who's going to do it for us? Our experiences are our own to tell. It's too easy to pretend to only be one or the other--to ONLY be Korean, or Chinese, or whatever. Even if we don't think about it all the time, it still affects us. Lately, I've heard some of my American-born Asian friends express the desire to marry only "un-Americanized" Asians. Now, what the fuck does that mean? Are Americanized Asians somehow tainted in some way? It's an interesting prospect, to think that my identity as an Asian American is somehow not good enough for someone because of the former or latter descriptives in my title. So personally, I think that the play was very relevant to these current trends. And honestly, I thought that that was the role of the multicultural student organizations on campus: to not only act as a social outlet for its members, but to continue a dialogue with the greater campus community. Otherwise, it's just a bunch of people who look alike, getting together and drinking. Fun, yes. But if that's the only thing they're doing, why bother having meetings and a constitution? Why bother calling it a club? I can do the same thing with my friends and not have to pay dues. But I digress. Point being, I thought Cowboy vs. Samurai was awesome.

The rest of the weekend was also very enjoyable, almost too much so. Highlights include:
- Being sequestered in a smallish bathroom with Caroline and Jess, weighing ourselves on a rather unforgiving scale and trying not to knock things into the toilet
- Lunch at the UC w/ Kang and Ted. Oh, how I have missed the UC food...uh. Yeah...
- Adam, as the most hilariously confused angry Asian man that I have ever seen in my entire life. The role of "Chester" really was written for him.
- Dinner with the Wongs, where Caroline and I may or may not have tucked mini-tridents into our purses for Preston...god, we are such kleptos...
- Taking artsy silhouette shots at the Muscarelle with the most random and hilarious bunch of people. This is something that I've wanted to do for like, the last four years. Another check in my "To-Do List"!
- Late night walk out to Matoaka, where several members of our group broke out in a spontaneous accappella rendition of the "Meow Mix" jingle. The boys shared a touching moment when they all peed together in to the lake. The girls mostly just rolled our eyes and tried not to trip over stuf.
- A very cold, early morning coffee catch-up with Kim!
- Getting a "Say Kimchi" T-shirt from Ben. It makes me hungry...I haven't had good kimchi since Connie's this past summer. SAD FACE.
- Adam taking me to the train station, even waiting with me until the train came. Which was nice of him, considering he had like 4 hours of sleep and a play to do in a scant 2 hours.

It was kind of nice to be back in that college environment, where your friends are just a 5 minute walk away, where your biggest concerns are writing that paper by Tuesday or passing your ridiculous gender studies class. I missed that. I miss having time/energy/people to paint, cooking eggs and sausages for six (or eight...or ten) people, impromptu heart to hearts in front of Nicholas. But that chapter's over. Come Monday, it's waking up by myself at 6:30am to get ready for work, like the rest of the world. But it was nice for a weekend, to just be immersed in that familiar feeling of being with friends, and pretending for a few days that I, too, didn't have to worry about my horrible banking situation (yes, it's been 2 months, and my life's savings are STILL floating around somewhere in Bank of America-land...I will write a cathartic post about it once it's all over for good) and finding a new job in Chicago in less than 2 months so I'll have a fighting chance of paying off my gigantic student loans (also a really beast coat, so that I will have a fighting chance at staying alive). W&M has always been this...happy bubble place for me. But people can't live in happy bubble places forever.

Sitting on the train on the way home, a line from one of my favorite Mae songs ran through my head: This time is the last time.

Yeah. I guess it really is.