Life And The Thing After That

We all die after all, I don't know why everyone is so afraid of talking about it. In my root culture, death is a good omen, e.g. a dream of death meaning a good thing is coming. Anyway, with the Schievo case hanging there, death has become a media frenzy and a popular subject. There was a story on the New York Times Sunday (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/03/27/weekinreview/27lela.html ), which I really like because the writer used Aristotle and Descartes to seek a definition of death. It's such a private matter that we are all irrelevant to discuss the Schievo case, let alone interfere in her life in anyway.

I have been really sick over the last few days, to the point that during a fever I thought I was dying (Ly, I know you start laughing, but better think about something than lying there like a zombie :)) I laughed at myself too, it's ridiculous to die from a cold. But again, if you can break your elbow just because of a slip, then anything is possible. When I told my professor Linda Killian: "it wasn't like I was saving the world," she laughed uncontrollably next to my hospital bed.

Of all people who have written about death ( or of all the things I have read) I perhaps like Graham Greene most. His character, Thomas Fowler, in the Quiet American, has this thought on death: "Death was the only absolute value in my world. Lose life and one would lose nothing again forever. Death was far more certain than God, and with death there would be no longer the daily possibility of love dying. The nightmare of a future of boredom and indifference would lift. I could never have been a pacifist. To kill a man was surely to grant him an immeasureable benefit. Oh yes, people always, everywhere, loved their enemies. It was their friends they preserved for pain and vacuity."

I share his thoughts, although I don't want to die anytime soon. I have what he didn't: youth, future, hope, and a degree waiting for me. He had a lover, but love was the most uncertain thing. And lovers, you can always find them ;)

Anyway, I'll promise not to bring up this subject again, spring is around the corner. I'll take pictures of cherry blossom and post here.

Carmen

Went to the mall yesterday to get my new cell phone account, and oddly enough, found myself mingling with lots of old people. Now I know, old people in this country seem to go to the mall any day in the week, not because they need to buy anything, but more because they want to see other people, to have a touch of human interaction. They are either walk slowly inside the stores or sit quietly on the benches, women with easy smiles, men with blank eyes telling you their minds are elsewhere.

It's pretty pathetic for a young person to wander in the stores and kill time by skimming through glossy magazines. I know. At least I found it troublesome. I really don't want to wander shopping malls on a weekday again.

But I went to see Carmen last night, and the opera was superb. The threatre was full of middle-aged and old people, but that didn't bother me. Rebeca said young people are busy getting drunk. Well, I don't miss that getting drunk part, but that doesn't make you old.

Carmen said her broken heart mended fast, a quality makes her utmost free, which seems to be bad because she is able to hurt so many men's heart. But isn't that something we always want to have?

I still have a cold, and am tired of listening to news about the Schiavo case.

If everyday is a parade

So, I woke up this morning and asked sister Zu:
-"What is the purpose of our live?"
-"Hmm, cook some noodle and eat!" She replied.
Wrong answer. Or rather, wrong question. Don't we just live each day with the mere purpose that by the end of the day we go to bed with a satisfied stomach and tired enough to fall asleep?
Many of you would argue hey, there are more meanings in our life than eat, sh*t, sleep. I think, therefore I am! wonder what were in our ancients mind, back in the days they were gregarious in the caves and naked without feeling ashamed. What did they think about? Did they try to find the meaning of live like we do now, or food and sex were all that matter? No offence, seriously.

I still am looking for the morning question, but we had a good day anyway. We cooked noodle for lunch, and went to the St. Patrick's Day parade in South Boston. It's still chilling here, so nothing like the International parade in Berlin last summer, I mean, no sexy ladies with fancy costumes, no hot latino music, but everyone looked happy and smiled, there are lots of drum bands, flute bands, firefighters, police, retired people, school pupils and politicians. I love the crowds, so parade always makes my day. If only everyday is a parade... a love parade is even better.
I read an entire magazine today as well. So, although haven't found a good answer for my question, the cause of my day has been fulfill. I am sleepy now, thank you very much :)

New York minute

Back from New York. You know what can be scary about the city? that it has many faces. Arrive in a grey afternoon in a uptown neighbourhood where everyone look fat and tired, everything looks dirty, how disheartening that can be? But go to Central Park in a Saturday morning like today where the air is fresh and the buds are coming out and look at all the happy, earger people walking on Fifth Avenue then you'll love it again. That city, big, ugly, dirty, or fabulous, monumental... all depends on how you'd perceive it.

I went to Jersey City for the interview Friday morning, and the city looked sorrowful. But then surprisingly, from the window of that office, the great Wall Street buildings, just a river away. You can actually jump to the river and swim to the other side :) The editor told me it takes 5 minutes by metro to Wall Street. I guess there is always a reason to be optimistic.

Tsunami dream

Thought I would tell my home-coming story, but then the frustration of job hunting consumed most of my time. In short, it was weird to be amid the noisiness, the crowd and the heat of Saigon after nearly two years away, and it was weird again to walk alone on the quiet streets of Washington DC. Like two different worlds, even the people are different. Only me, seem lost in either world.

Ly and Truong made my first days back to Saigon much easier than it should have been. I flew from Hanoi to Saigon in an early flight, escaping the cold, wet North to the hot, noisy South, enough time to have lunch with Hien and Huy Duc, felt like nothing had changed (thank you very much Huy Duc, you are always our hero :)

The three of us went to Mui Ne, Phan Thiet that very afternoon. We stayed at Bamboo Village, in a cottage nearest to the sea, and at night, the sea was so noisy that I dreamed of a tsunami. No, I am not paranoid. On the way to Mui Ne that afternoon, Ly and Truong entertained me by their own tsunami story. They were staying in a small island of Maldives when the tsunami hit. " The island is so beautiful, it is literally a paradise on earth," Ly told me. But that morning, while they were lying on the beach, paradise turned to hell when the black, dirty waves rushed in from the other side of the island, push them to the sea. Like many other, they were shocked, it was incomprehensible. They lost their belongings, but considered themselves incredibly lucky to be alive.

That night, from my bed next to the window, the sea sounded cruel. I felt asleep early anyway; and in my dream, huge waves rush in the small resort, plunge the tiny cottage with me inside and sweep it together with everything else to the sea. The scene was somehow interrupted there. Next thing, I found myself lying in my cottage in Mombasa, but the waves sound much more gentle. Outside my window, there are faces, African faces, dark and quiet, looking at me attentively. I was in Africa again - in the dream. will tell you about Africa another time. Ly was there, too.

The day when the tsunami hit Asia, Christmas, I was in Buffalo with Cam Ly and friends, experiencing my very first skiing (with a broken elbow, I was proud of it) We got home late, everyone were happy, and the news startled us. It got worse every hour, everyday, and for the New Year, there is another reason to wonder what would happen in the year we are longing for, would it be good, would it be bad, would it be both, would it be great anyway, because we have a new year to live?

I guess the answer is always yes, because there is always hope :-)

I went to school today and worked for a few hours at School of Management library. They were preparing a memorial service for Rafik Al-Hariri, former Lebanese prime minister and a prestigious BU alumnus who was assassinated last month. The hall was decorated in beautiful white flowers. I stood there for a while, then made my way home. I missed a call today. Was it an editor from California?

Snow in Braintree, Winter is Almost Over

We took Chau to South Station last night when it was snowing heavily, as if i winter was desperately pouring the last snow stock before yielding way to Spring. I can't wait to see flower blossom and to wear my new dress and to feel the cool sweet wind of spring in my face again, but the snow last night was truly spendid. As if all the tree was covered by white petals, and for a while, I felt like I was being in love -- with winter, or Mother Nature! The sun is shinning now, snow is melting outside my window, spring is coming.

In case you are wondering if I have found what I've been looking for, the answer is no, not yet. No email, no phone calls, no offer, no prospect, no nothing. But wait and see, I'll get it within a month.

To feed my hungry soul, I continue to cling to my own delusion. Watch Anderson Cooper 360 everynight, listen to Buddha Bar in the weekend, finish that damn book by Ted Koppel, dance with Eminem's 8 miles when I am really down. And watch out New York City, I am entering your great avenues next Thursday.