It's so comforting not to hear anyone tell you "Bless You" every other 5 seconds that you sneeze

Because I am in California! (Where little, brown, chinky-eyed people like me dwell!)

Have actually been for the last twelve days. And have been to five cities. And am now singing, "Save me, San Francisco". Current location: San Jose, 1 hour away.

For the first time in over eight years, I saw my childhood friend face-to-face. But it isn't a reunion like any you see on TV. I guess as with everything else, technology has put an end to charm. Which is exactly why I think I should be ending this blog pretty soon. I have made nothing out of chronicling my sojourn in America, except to occasionally write drafts that I get too chicken to actually push the PUBLISH POST button later. And my posts are boring. They're repetitive and monotonous. I continue to blog because I love the blog layout, but as with most blogs I read, I now realize, I don't read for the layout. I read because of the words. And so I end this. I end this now. With the promise that the next time I blog I will no longer post pictures. I will leave just words. And I will let the words be the clue to who I am.

Auf wiedersehen.

Play tonight!

Yes folks, I am in a performance. My first shot at theatre and I am sooooooo excited! If only all my loved ones could come and see me. . .

Too much familiarity breeds contempt

What has come over me? I don't write anymore. I have been too occupied by matters that deny me time to get to know myself better. I've been trying to do so many things that in the end amount to nothing. I have taken to sleeping on long rides--the four hour trip to New York last week, the two hour train ride (and one hour wait) to Neptune that botched Thanksgiving night, the six hours I spent on my butt in a Greyhound bus back to Washington freaking DC... my old self would have been more tolerant and attentive to the flashing landscapes, especially when acquainting with deciduous flora on their way to the grave, for the first time. My old self would've been able to write a novel with that much time.

Okay, maybe not. But still, needless to say, I didn't enjoy my Thanksgiving break as much as I had expected to. But of course, the first day/night of a trip is always remarkable--holding the promise of a great week ahead, if only a little promise. I arrived in New York at Madison Square Garden on Tuesday afternoon. It was my first time to take a Bolt bus, which is this new great bus servicing DC and NYC. On the way there I sat beside a grad student from George Washington University (who got her ticket for a dollar! I paid $17.50) and we talked about a lot of fun things. She told me about a great dumpling place in Koreatown and I promised that me and my friend, Dane, who was meeting me that night, will go scour the streets for it. I'm not a fan of Asian food in America. Nothing beats my mother's dirty kitchen version of everything. Food here is so expensive that if you're from a country like the Phils. you'd feel like nothing would be worth your money. My current favorite food are the burrito bowls of this Mexican fastfood, Chipotle. I'd say that at least in my part of town, or probably in the Mid-atlantic states, Chipotle is more popular than the shabby branches of Mickey-Ds. (Yes, the few McDonalds I've been on look like variations of a Taft Avenue branch in the early '90s.)

There's nothing like arriving in New York with a nice handbag holding your laptop in tow and a stroller bag with wheels that make gurgling sounds. The scene is straight out of a hollywood movie--either I'm a black sheep returning home post-reform (a la Serena in Gossip Girl), or I'm a newbie who looks up to Holly Golightly. The beauty of New York, for one, is in the way it is lighted. If someone took a picture of me right then and there, the lights would've been perfect: there was little but enough sunlight getting in through the buildings, reflected in the facades to let my scarf highlight the rest of my black ensemble, and all the other signage on the awnings of restaurants, or even just the OPEN sign on a barber shop nearby, would bring out the spark in my eyes and that toothy smile. Right before my friend presses the shutter, a yellow cab passes by and the frame is complete. Perfect. So yeah, if this was a film, that big iMax camera would be circling around a dreamy version of me, awed by the spectacle all around, and Natasha Bedingfield will be playing in the background.

But the fantasy ended too soon, or rather, I let it go on for too long. Twenty minutes later my friend and I were still walking, looking for the dumpling place in that rather expensive section of Koreatown. A bowl of rice and dumplings for $16? How about I cook some in the microwave? I was already very anxious to eat because I forgot to eat lunch earlier that day and Dane had already bought two cakes from this new cheesecake place that all of New York is going crazy about, Magnolia Bakery. Red velvet and lemon lime cheesecake. I was literally drooling.

Disappointed about the lack of variety in Koreatown and the outrageous prices for food that I can prepare on my own (hehehe, yabang), Dane and I walked all the way back to where we started, only to land on a bar & grill that later on became populated by middle-aged white people wearing board shorts and lays on their necks. We never found out what was going on at Madison Square that day, some luau thing.

(to be continued, rehearsals =.=)

This is one of those nights

that I'll witness the black sky turn into day.

Our library is still full of people. Midterms season is over but students are still poring over powerpoint presentations and papers. I am no exception, writing a draft for a final paper for Introduction to Law. My roommate was right. There's no better way of testing whether lawyering was something I wanted to do for the rest of my life than taking classes like this and joining the moot court team. Now I know that I don't want it at all. John Grisham tricked me into believing that I did.

What am I to do now? Will my writing change the world someday?

Last night was full of drama

Clearly, it's very hard to fight when two people aren't comfortable with the language that they're using.

I wish I would blog more often

I'd really love to! If only I had more time, not just for snippets like these. But I will write something soon, about my recent trips to Pennsylvania and New York, even if no one I know really reads this blog. I need it to chronicle my thoughts, anyway.

My birthday is in a few days. I can't believe I'm already turning 19. I thought that I would always be in my safe 18-year old zone, but I guess not. Time to grow up and face responsibilities.

Books in the Mail!

After a week of waiting, three of my books finally arrived! I love how the school is very organized when it comes to mail and packages. Well, they should be because a lot of things come in the mail. Students are highly encouraged to order books online, because it's cheaper than buying from bookstores, though it still depends on the shipping fees. I am also still waiting for a lot of things to land on our mailbox, namely, my StudentAdvantage Card, a WalMart discount card, the All Star Comedy Jam DVD that I won (from reading the Washington City Paper, a catalog of all DC events and whatnot--which no one I know ever seems to read! So yes, it pays to be reading junk sometimes), a MagicJack unit that I ordered (because calling prepaid is so costly), and tickets for my upcoming New York trip. This afternoon, I received my copy of The Public Good, an audio CD which is required for us to purchase for a Lit class. Sounds cool, eh?

This is my new, as yet unnamed friend from the National Zoo. He/She is actually Tsian Xien or something, one of the National Zoo pandas on loan from China, but I guess I should give him/her a more decent name. I deeply regret not having brought any stuffed toy from home--I miss Guyito, the carabao mascot of the Philippine Daily Inquirer, and the pink pig, Charmel, which I got from a friend. It's a good thing that one of my Chinese friends is always there to offer me a hug. Sighs.

Being an Island

I have been wanting to blog since last week and finally populate this webpage for archival purposes, but after many attempts I somehow just couldn't remedy my repetitive slips into very conscious states of imperfection in writing, homesickness and even a national identity crisis. The first two weeks I was in school have not been too great. Sure I may look elated in some of the pictures I post on Facebook but really, what lay behind that smile (and perfect teeth!) are a hundred blisters on my feet and a badly broken, lonely heart.

I guess part of it is because on my first week in America, I was in the company of a very kind Filipino family in Virginia, and I never really saw how different things would be the moment I moved in to my dorm and actually interacted with fellow students. Even with five months of academic dormancy prior to participating in this program, no amount of preparation has allowed me to fathom the woe that distance, time and space could cause. I thought I was okay because when I left Manila, I did not shed one tear. I thought I was gonna be okay because the internet was so promising, Skype even more.

But it wasn't until only a week ago that I finally got my own laptop (and an MBP at that, acquired through the kindness of an aunt) and was able to talk to my parents and friends at my preferred hours. So until then, with all the pressures of 184,000 orientation sessions condensed into four freaking hot summer days, I only get lunchtime and an hour before 10:00 PM to go online, check my email, and when God permits it, chat a little with my mother.

At the Capitol Building

At a Metro Station, still with my Discover DC groupmates

Night at the Monuments

Four days isn't a long time but believe me, when you have been shoved into the orientation for international students and still no one speaks your language, it's an awfully long time. Not that I don't commend the organizing efforts of AU's international student services arm or that I went to America just to look for fellow Filipinos, it's just that even with a mini-UN convention going on, and probably as a rule of thumb too, people tend to flock with their own kind. Europeans, primarily, have isolated themselves from the rest of the crowd. The same goes with the Arabs and all other hijab/burqa-wearing women. Africans are more outgoing and penetrate into different groups, but they are also pretty tight, as is the case with one of my roommates who hails from Nigeria.

Asians are a different matter. For some reason, every room in my floor has a whiz kid from the Far East. Most of them come from the same universities in Japan, China and Korea, participating in AU-affiliated programs. The Japanese actually look a lot like they could be Filipino teens on cosplay mode: the girls are skinny and pale, while the guys use eyeliner. The girls from Hong Kong have made a habit of cooking in the floor kitchen, as if they couldn't stand McDonalds, Subway or whatever food America has to offer. In turn, most of the non-Asian roommates of these girls complain a lot about their storing of food in their respective rooms. Don't get me wrong, these girls are nice but they just happen not to have a meal plan.

For the most part it's these Asian girls that made me feel how alone I really was during the past weeks. There is of course an unspoken affinity that we have toward each other--we have the same eyes, I have the original black that was once their hair, we were outsiders in a crowd of gods, after all. We would also flock on our own side of the road sometimes, during tours or waiting time (the Europeans with their long legs are such fast walkers!) and would engage in chatter that consisted of Whos/Whats/Wheres/Until Whens. But eventually when there were no more English words they could use to talk to this familiar-looking foreigner or if there was really absolutely nothing they knew about the Philippines, they would turn back to each other and continue conversation within each of their own groups. You know me. I am not one who stays up for senseless, mindless, hahaha-brouhaha conversations. In fact, by definition, that is not a conversation at all if nothing mind-stimulating is given and received. I am not a chummy person. Gossip is okay, high-schoolish, bakla-ish talk is okay, but all these I can only take too much of.

I was never a people-person either even when I was in the Philippines. I never learned how to suck up to aunts or uncles and I had none of that kind of elementary school gimmick where a supposed love team played mother and father to ugly children with dried snot on their uniforms. But I was neither the silent type or an introvert. Let's just say that I am just too aware and conscious of who I am that I am forced to really choose and sort which people I deal and form relationships with.

***

For some reason I had also gone through a phase when I attributed the self-inflicted and -realized situation/problem to an obvious reality only I am calling attention to--that I was being isolated because I was brown. Or I was browner than most Asians, that is. In the past I have tried to wax Chinese or Japanese, and actually reveled in comments I get from people who mistake me for such and miss the familiar stoop and the eager smile as if waiting for blessings to rain from above. But now after much thought and deliberation, and since being in the land of milk and honey, I have realized how color should be out of the question. The US has an African-American man in the presidency, DC is 65% or so colored, and the rest is dying to get a tan. I realize how I can no longer hide my skin color, how I cannot disguise it for a lighter shade with glutathione, Ultimate Match fond de teint or whatnot like Vicki Belo patrons do in Manila. I do not want to be like that Filipina girl whom I met on campus and who has erased all signs of her heritage: blond hair and long, stiff, outrageous curls. I now realize how my brownness is really all I have to identify myself amidst the many crowds of indistinguishable, pale and freckled faces.

And I couldn't be any prouder.

PS.

I hope this helps so that my mother wouldn't be too disappointed to see an obese, sunburnt me, coming out of the airport in May 2010.

PPS.

I have friends now, and they help me get by. I love my roommates to death, and I worship my professors. I will probably need more time to be finally comfortable to be hanging out in bigger groups with people and to actually go out and party (like everyone else does), but I will get there soon. Believe me. Now back to my homework and writing.

Hello, DC!

Finally, after months of poring over guidebooks and websites about DC, I have finally gotten a chance to see it in all its glory. Tita Elaine and Tito Eddie drove me around for a little while before they went to work, showing me Georgetown and Foggy Bottom, then dropped me off at a branch of Borders bookstore where I stayed for an hour. I'm still not used to converting Philippine money to dollars so it was hard deciding on a purchase. I actually walked out empty-handed, and because I didn't wear any socks on new sandals, I got sore feet.

Borders Bookstore

Dude, this is it. Last Chance.

Oohh hey it's the Norton Books we take pains photocopying back in UP--in the bargain shelf!

Think I need one?

Here are some pictures I took of Downtown DC. I love how it's fine to spend time in their benches, read a book, eat lunch and not worry about getting mugged or trampling on the homeless' territory. (How ironic, but in the Philippines, it is a reality.) I have seen a couple of homeless people, but I just wasn't sure if they were Mexican, Filipino or another, because being in a multi-cultural city, it's really hard to tell.

One must not be too comfortable with this safety feel, though. DC has a very high crime rate--besides military and intelligence activities--the concentration of which is in the Southwest Area--a predominantly black community where the murder rate is 30/month, or 1 daily. Most of these deaths are drug-related. My school, American University, is in the Northwest quadrant, a wooded suburban area, so I should be fine.

Tourists

The real front lawn of the White House

Flowers on a street corner

The Backyard

The Washington Monument.
Trivia: There is a building restriction in DC that prohibits buildings to rise beyond 15 floors. This is so that nothing will obscure the majestic view of the monument and to protect the White House from unwanted surveillance.
I was too tired to walk because of the blisters on my feet so this was my only shot of the Smithsonian Institution castle. After taking this shot I practically crawled my way to the Federal Metro station to get back to Tita Elaine's office, where I was meeting her for lunch.

Toddlers on a field trip.

I usually really, really love walking. Tomorrow I plan to go back to DC and will now make sure that I bring comfy shoes. More pictures coming up!

My only shots of Japan

Hello everyone! I had a pleasant flight from Manila to the US. In the beginning it wasn't very good though because I had not even left the airport when I spilled liquid foundation all over my shirt. Business class was superb, on the other hand; I got offered champagne the moment I stepped in the cabin, and for the next four hours had no one sitting next to me.

This is a part of Japan from the air. I realize how even in areas near Tokyo, rice paddies abound. I wasn't able to take a lot of shots at the Narita airport. I wanted to buy a new shirt but there were no souvenir shops that carried any cheap ones. Most other stores are boutique shops and I couldn't risk spending a lot this early in my journey. I ended up exchanging $3 to place a phone call to an Aunt in Fujiwara.

Most Japanese men I saw at the airport looked gay. Or maybe it was just because many sport boy band member-ish hair. The airport personnel looked cute in their uniforms though! Neat and looking straight out of animes. Some men even look like Hiro Nakamura. Cuuute. Sorry for posting a photo of a toilet seat. I just found the controls on the left funny. Flushing sound? Haha. Now that's cute.


My flight was mostly okay from Japan to Minneapolis-St. Paul, except for a few bumps while crossing the Pacific. A storm had just left the US and was going that way. I sat next to a really amazing person (who, by the way, wasn't too much into long flights), a Chinese-American guy named Cheng. He is well-traveled and had a lot to say about the US, and the world, and even complimented my English as being better than his. I got to watch a lot of movies too--including Watchmen, but I was too disappointed to even finish it. Maybe telling it from Rorshach's point of view alone would've been better.

Will blog more in the days to come! Cheers!

Hanging for their Lives