Most of the time, I know who I am.
I'm Vicky. I like to write. I also like to draw, and I really miss painting. Sometimes I like to do a crossword on the train, but most of the time I just like to look out the window. I'm getting pretty good at InDesign.
And I'm Asian. Well, Asian-American, to be exact. But sometimes more Asian, and sometimes more American. Cliche, yes. But easy? No.
Lately, I feel like I've been more and more American.
My boyfriend doesn't think that it's a bad thing. But then again, I think he has the luxury of never having to question what American means. It's just what he is, all that he's known. It's not something that's even on his radar. But I think it's an issue that's figuring very predominantly in my life, and is something that many second-generation kids struggle with. I have no easy answer for it. I don't even know how to explain why bothers me.
Why does it matter?
Why do I feel uneasy about my assimilation? It's only natural...isn't it?
Should I just accept that I'll probably eventually lose my Chinese heritage because I'm in this new country? And is this a bad thing, or just a given?
Why don't my parents try harder to learn English, or I to learn Chinese?
Why does it matter??
Here in Chicago, I feel like I'm slowly losing pieces of who I am, or maybe just who I thought I was. Maybe I was too comfortable with my W&M family--that congenial mix of Americans and second-generation kids and Third Culture kids and international students and people who didn't really belong to any label but still kind of cared about where they fit in the global puzzle. People who've struggled with pairing nationality with identity, their faces with their hearts. Some have it resolved, tied up in a bag, happy to go along their way. Some continue to search, and will probably produce wonderful things out of that effort. Most, I think, cared about it sometimes, but didn't really think about it most of the time. That's where I'm at usually--more or less content.
Right now, I'm the only Asian person in my newsroom, the next closest Asian person being my good friend, Anna, who did a Fulbright in Malaysia. Normally it's fine--I love most of my classmates, and a couple of us have gotten really close. But still, there was sort of a rift that only I could feel, something that I could never really bridge because of my background. I couldn't relate to them on some level because of my experiences, and vice versa. Which is probably normal, but it was something that they could only try to understand, but would never really be able to empathize. Sometimes, I just felt so terribly...Asian.
So then on 10/10 (Double Ten Day), the Taiwanese kids had a little celebration in the lounge of my apartment complex. I decided to attend--I did love the Asian community at W&M, after all. I walked in, and felt overwhelmed by how alien I felt to be in that room full of chattering students--people around own age, of similar coloring and stature. I literally froze with fear, because I didn't know what to say to them (way to go, communications major...). I pretended to look at a list of email addresses on the sign-in sheet (I wasn't on it), and then picked up a plastic Taiwanese flag and fled. I felt so terribly...American.
I know what you're thinking. "Way to be melodramatic," or maybe even "Okay, Ms. Angsty-Emo-Middle-Schooler, just go out and make some friends already." It's not that easy! Assimilation is not that easy! It's like...okay, it's like religion. Religion plays a huge role in some people's lives, it shapes your views of the world and how you see yourself. I feel like my culture played that same role. And when that huge force seems to be slipping away...what does that mean for the rest of me? For my POV? Am I betraying myself somehow, by denouncing the very thing that really made me who I am today? But, as my boyfriend likes to say, being Italian-Catholic or Polish-Catholic doesn't make you any less of a Catholic. No matter where you end up going or living, that core force will stay the same. But when your core force is culture, and that's so readily lost through assimilation (it's encouraged, even!)...what takes its place? Who are you, if the very thing that shaped you, is somehow lost?
I think I just really miss just being around people who know what I mean when I say "I think I'm losing my heritage" and understanding why it's a big deal, even if I can't really articulate it. I miss people who can just nod, empathize, and just leave it at that, both of us knowing that some sort of understanding was just shared between us, something that I didn't have to explain and they didn't have to respond to. And maybe then we'll all go and eat some ramen, with eggs. Or maybe have a huge honkin' burger. And that'll be it.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
hair today
Before we start, I just want to say HI SUNNY b/c she told me last night that she read my blog. So, hello, friend!
Anyway. So Picasso went through several phases with his art. There was the Blue Phase, the Pink Phase, the Cubist Phase, the Lots of Prostitutes Painted in Unflattering Ways Phase. And Guernica.
I've experienced similar phases with my hair. For most of my life, it was the Please Don't Be Foofy Phase. As I learned to manage it (aka, using conditioner), the higher my aspirations for my hair became. I briefly went through a Short & Breezy phase in college, which was then followed by the Reddish-Brown Phase; the Long & Straight Phase; the Swingy Bangs Phase; the Dark & Darker Phase; the Sleek & Soft phase. Some of these phases made repeat visits, particularly the Long & Straight and the Sleek & Soft.
Lately, I'm in a Soft & Shiny state of mind. My hair's not quite long enough to merit being very straight (I think very straight, mid-length hair looks weird on me), and so my obsession has been having really shiny hair. But because I don't want to look like I've shellacked my hair follicles, softness is key. Brittany used this great Bio Silk hair serum on me one time that makes hair super shiny and soft, but unfortunately I don't have $25 to spare for a smallish bottle of the stuf, so I've had to turn my search elsewhere.
My obsessions have not gone unnoticed. Case in point, the following conversation with my boyfriend:
V: Hey, I'm going to the bank and then to CVS--
T: NO. NO MORE SHAMPOO.
V: [pout] I'm not getting more shampoo!
T: You ALWAYS say that you're not getting more shampoo, and what do you get? Shampoo. So no, I say! No more shampoo!
V: [grumpy] Fine! I won't get shampoo. Do you need anything?
T: A Kit Kat would be nice.
I didn't get any more shampoo, but I found this GREAT conditioner (and for half-price!) It's Garnier's 3-minute Undo Dryness Reversal Treatment--the one in a tube, not the bottle. It's got some sort of secret combination of avocado oil and apricot seeds that makes hair super soft, shiny, flyaway-free and deliciously swingy. So that's my product pitch for today--absolutely love the stuf!
Anyway. So Picasso went through several phases with his art. There was the Blue Phase, the Pink Phase, the Cubist Phase, the Lots of Prostitutes Painted in Unflattering Ways Phase. And Guernica.
I've experienced similar phases with my hair. For most of my life, it was the Please Don't Be Foofy Phase. As I learned to manage it (aka, using conditioner), the higher my aspirations for my hair became. I briefly went through a Short & Breezy phase in college, which was then followed by the Reddish-Brown Phase; the Long & Straight Phase; the Swingy Bangs Phase; the Dark & Darker Phase; the Sleek & Soft phase. Some of these phases made repeat visits, particularly the Long & Straight and the Sleek & Soft.
Lately, I'm in a Soft & Shiny state of mind. My hair's not quite long enough to merit being very straight (I think very straight, mid-length hair looks weird on me), and so my obsession has been having really shiny hair. But because I don't want to look like I've shellacked my hair follicles, softness is key. Brittany used this great Bio Silk hair serum on me one time that makes hair super shiny and soft, but unfortunately I don't have $25 to spare for a smallish bottle of the stuf, so I've had to turn my search elsewhere.
My obsessions have not gone unnoticed. Case in point, the following conversation with my boyfriend:
V: Hey, I'm going to the bank and then to CVS--
T: NO. NO MORE SHAMPOO.
V: [pout] I'm not getting more shampoo!
T: You ALWAYS say that you're not getting more shampoo, and what do you get? Shampoo. So no, I say! No more shampoo!
V: [grumpy] Fine! I won't get shampoo. Do you need anything?
T: A Kit Kat would be nice.
I didn't get any more shampoo, but I found this GREAT conditioner (and for half-price!) It's Garnier's 3-minute Undo Dryness Reversal Treatment--the one in a tube, not the bottle. It's got some sort of secret combination of avocado oil and apricot seeds that makes hair super soft, shiny, flyaway-free and deliciously swingy. So that's my product pitch for today--absolutely love the stuf!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
do you dream in chocolate?
Why, yes, Lindt Lindor Truffle Balls, I do dream in chocolate! Thanks for asking. My hips say thank you, too.
As some of you might know, I'm planning to buy a professional-grade camera with a few of my classmates, which means I am in dire need of cold hard cash. One of the student performance groups on campus is looking for a new logo, and is willing to offer a monetary prize for it. So even though I have basically zero experience in designing logos, I've decided to give it a shot. Basically this meant that I shot a semi-frantic email to Britt asking for design tips and doing sketches in-between Mag Proj stuf.
Britt was nice enough to call me today and gave me some very helpful tips. I've only used Illustrator once prior to today, so I'm still kind of trying to figure out all the ins and outs of the program. I think it's going well.
In between designing, I spent the afternoon with Daniel Craig (Casino Royale was on USA...yum!) and discerning the finer points of difference in a mound of men's white athletic socks. I lost a bet to Tyler a while ago, and had to fold his laundry as a result. I almost gave up and just paired them off indiscriminately...would he really have noticed if I had paired the white sock with the tiny grey Champion logo on the back of the heel with the one with the tiny Champion logo on the top of the heel? Never had this problem folding crazy colorful girl socks, that's for sure!
As some of you might know, I'm planning to buy a professional-grade camera with a few of my classmates, which means I am in dire need of cold hard cash. One of the student performance groups on campus is looking for a new logo, and is willing to offer a monetary prize for it. So even though I have basically zero experience in designing logos, I've decided to give it a shot. Basically this meant that I shot a semi-frantic email to Britt asking for design tips and doing sketches in-between Mag Proj stuf.
Britt was nice enough to call me today and gave me some very helpful tips. I've only used Illustrator once prior to today, so I'm still kind of trying to figure out all the ins and outs of the program. I think it's going well.
In between designing, I spent the afternoon with Daniel Craig (Casino Royale was on USA...yum!) and discerning the finer points of difference in a mound of men's white athletic socks. I lost a bet to Tyler a while ago, and had to fold his laundry as a result. I almost gave up and just paired them off indiscriminately...would he really have noticed if I had paired the white sock with the tiny grey Champion logo on the back of the heel with the one with the tiny Champion logo on the top of the heel? Never had this problem folding crazy colorful girl socks, that's for sure!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
quickie post on a tuesday night
We are now well into the 3rd week of the Magazine Publishing Project, and there's something about sticking 17 people in two very small rooms (connected by a door, like one of those hotel suites) for an average of 10 hours a day that makes people very odd and quirky. Consider some of these quotes:
[killing time during elections by telling jokes]
Patti: Why was 6 afraid of 7?
Monica: BECAUSE 8, 9, 10!!
[discussing digital strategy]
Sarah: So yeah, we want our website to be for kids, with lots of graphic content.
Pardon me, I must go attend to my boy-person, who is distraught over his fantasy football outcome and various other things in life. Because he doesn't drink, I bought him a Mountain Dew. It felt kind of weird to be buying a grown man a soda instead of a beer, but I guess there are stranger things in life.
[killing time during elections by telling jokes]
Patti: Why was 6 afraid of 7?
Monica: BECAUSE 8, 9, 10!!
[discussing digital strategy]
Sarah: So yeah, we want our website to be for kids, with lots of graphic content.
Pardon me, I must go attend to my boy-person, who is distraught over his fantasy football outcome and various other things in life. Because he doesn't drink, I bought him a Mountain Dew. It felt kind of weird to be buying a grown man a soda instead of a beer, but I guess there are stranger things in life.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
why i hate engelhart reason 24597193
As some of you might know, I've had some considerable problems with my apartment. Here is a brief timeline of my troubles:
Winter:
- Toilet that constantly fails to flush. According to the guy in the office, it's a common problem--apparently, people in the building like to pour grease in the toilets, which stops up the floors below it. I have no idea why you'd pour grease into a toilet.
- Window frame won't close. This is a problem because Chicago is, on average, about negative 10 degrees in the winter.
- Faucet that explodes with water when you turn it on. Sink that fails to drain. Staff tells me it's not their problem, and I can go buy a new sink if I want. Eff that. I decided to just deal with it.
Spring/Summer:
- Window frame that refuses now to open.
- People continuing to pour grease into toilets
- AC won't work
Fall:
- Window opens, but no longer locks
- Grease continuing
- Sink/faucet continuing
The RA staff here know me pretty well, since they've had to handle numerous fix-it requests from me. The latest problem occurred earlier tonight, around 1 am as I was getting ready for bed. Two very loud, bone-permeating chirps emitting from my doorway area, with no apparent cause. I thought, "Well, that was random, but probably just a one-time thing" and proceed to get on with my bed-going.
False. Every half hour for the next 3 hours, the chirping went on. Just as I'd be drifting off to sleep, one or two quick blips would jolt me awake, the kind that says "THERE IS SOMETHING URGENTLY WRONG AND YOU NEED TO ATTEND TO IT. LIKE THERE IS A FIRE. OR SOMETHING."
Except...there was nothing the matter. I checked my oven (it was off), reset the outlets in the bathroom, and waved frantically at the smoke detector hoping that it would give me some clue as to why it might be beeping.
Finally, at 3:17 am, I could stand it no longer. I called the RA on duty, a very nice and tall guy named Alex. I wasn't sure if he'd actually pick up (my friend once got locked out of her room for a whole night b/c the RA didn't pick up), but he did. After I explained to him what the problem was, our conversation went something like this:
Alex: Okay, well the battery in the smoke alarm is probably low. Why don't you check it? I think it takes a 9-volt battery.
Vicky: A 9-volt battery?
A: Yeah. If you have one lying around.
V: No.
A: Okay, well test it out to see if the alarm is working.
V: [pushing random areas of the alarm] Okay I'm testing it--ARGHRGHGHGH [alarm goes off. V dashes across the living room in sheer terror]
A: Okay you need to turn it off! Press the button again!
V: BUTTON WHERE ARRRGHHHHH [manages to turn it off] Oh! Got it!
A: Ha! Bet you're wide awake now aren't you!
V: ...I've been wide awake.
A: Hmm. Okay, well let me call the campus police's non-emergency line and see if they can get someone out there to look at it for you. What's your name?
V: Victoria.
A: Oh! Hey! I know you. Hello!
V: ...Yes. Hello. How are you.
A: Ah. Right. Uh, I'll just call them now.
Campus police sent a very nice, potbellied man with a faint Irish-y accent who changed out the battery in the smoke alarm and told me to call him if it went off again.
I decided that the problem must be fixed, so I climbed back into bed. 15 minutes later...BLIP. BLIP. By this time, I am not even mad...I'm just so freaking tired. Called Alex again. Called the campus police. Guy came back. Told me he had no idea why it was doing what it was doing. Took apart the alarm, and blew on it like it was a video game cartridge, saying that he'd never heard of it doing the 30-minute blipping, and that maybe it was a piece of dust. Told me he'd be back in half an hour to check if it went off again.
And that is why I am still awake at 5 am. Waiting to see if the stupid alarm will go off, and if I can finally go to bed. And that is why I'm hating my apartment, just a little bit.
Winter:
- Toilet that constantly fails to flush. According to the guy in the office, it's a common problem--apparently, people in the building like to pour grease in the toilets, which stops up the floors below it. I have no idea why you'd pour grease into a toilet.
- Window frame won't close. This is a problem because Chicago is, on average, about negative 10 degrees in the winter.
- Faucet that explodes with water when you turn it on. Sink that fails to drain. Staff tells me it's not their problem, and I can go buy a new sink if I want. Eff that. I decided to just deal with it.
Spring/Summer:
- Window frame that refuses now to open.
- People continuing to pour grease into toilets
- AC won't work
Fall:
- Window opens, but no longer locks
- Grease continuing
- Sink/faucet continuing
The RA staff here know me pretty well, since they've had to handle numerous fix-it requests from me. The latest problem occurred earlier tonight, around 1 am as I was getting ready for bed. Two very loud, bone-permeating chirps emitting from my doorway area, with no apparent cause. I thought, "Well, that was random, but probably just a one-time thing" and proceed to get on with my bed-going.
False. Every half hour for the next 3 hours, the chirping went on. Just as I'd be drifting off to sleep, one or two quick blips would jolt me awake, the kind that says "THERE IS SOMETHING URGENTLY WRONG AND YOU NEED TO ATTEND TO IT. LIKE THERE IS A FIRE. OR SOMETHING."
Except...there was nothing the matter. I checked my oven (it was off), reset the outlets in the bathroom, and waved frantically at the smoke detector hoping that it would give me some clue as to why it might be beeping.
Finally, at 3:17 am, I could stand it no longer. I called the RA on duty, a very nice and tall guy named Alex. I wasn't sure if he'd actually pick up (my friend once got locked out of her room for a whole night b/c the RA didn't pick up), but he did. After I explained to him what the problem was, our conversation went something like this:
Alex: Okay, well the battery in the smoke alarm is probably low. Why don't you check it? I think it takes a 9-volt battery.
Vicky: A 9-volt battery?
A: Yeah. If you have one lying around.
V: No.
A: Okay, well test it out to see if the alarm is working.
V: [pushing random areas of the alarm] Okay I'm testing it--ARGHRGHGHGH [alarm goes off. V dashes across the living room in sheer terror]
A: Okay you need to turn it off! Press the button again!
V: BUTTON WHERE ARRRGHHHHH [manages to turn it off] Oh! Got it!
A: Ha! Bet you're wide awake now aren't you!
V: ...I've been wide awake.
A: Hmm. Okay, well let me call the campus police's non-emergency line and see if they can get someone out there to look at it for you. What's your name?
V: Victoria.
A: Oh! Hey! I know you. Hello!
V: ...Yes. Hello. How are you.
A: Ah. Right. Uh, I'll just call them now.
Campus police sent a very nice, potbellied man with a faint Irish-y accent who changed out the battery in the smoke alarm and told me to call him if it went off again.
I decided that the problem must be fixed, so I climbed back into bed. 15 minutes later...BLIP. BLIP. By this time, I am not even mad...I'm just so freaking tired. Called Alex again. Called the campus police. Guy came back. Told me he had no idea why it was doing what it was doing. Took apart the alarm, and blew on it like it was a video game cartridge, saying that he'd never heard of it doing the 30-minute blipping, and that maybe it was a piece of dust. Told me he'd be back in half an hour to check if it went off again.
And that is why I am still awake at 5 am. Waiting to see if the stupid alarm will go off, and if I can finally go to bed. And that is why I'm hating my apartment, just a little bit.
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