She said, "I think I'll go to Boston"

This is my first Boston version, under the August sunlight, dreaming for a future while still clinging onto memories. She came to this country, leaving behind the remembered past, prepared for heartbreaking outcomes. Yet, carefree as she had always been, as optimistic as she was and as bright as she would be.

I don't have an illustration for the second version, which appeared during Thanksgiving. Before this time, some "heartbreaking outcomes" showed up and collapsed her hopes and mental state. She kept being carefree, optimistic and bright - but by effort, not by nature. Wasn't she ok? Nobody knew the answer except for an acquaitance who happened to catch her crying bitterly among the crowded Best Buy.

The third version was a relieved and friendly one, because it was featured in the Christmas scene. She was on her run escaping from troubles, with a positive and desiring mind because she knew she was far enough to not be caught again. People saw her as the source of joy and energy. But she couldn't feel it herself until the night she wandered around the city and got lost by the bank of the Charles River, which cleansed her soul and brought it to revival.

The fourth version was with her best friend. As a result taken-for-granted, it made the best out of her. Despite everything that followed after, she was beautiful, lively, laughing and self-expressive, wholeheartedly, carelessly. That was the time she felt happy for being envied with and enjoyed her superiority to the human beings. Adventurous and free-spirited - weren't they the adjectives people use to describe her?


And the fifth version is needless to say. She returned to origin, to the "passionate" and "darkly-wild" side. She returned to the status quo, in which she was simply herself and couldn't care less about the evils.

All of these five versions were me as a freshman in college. After that, I didn't see myself in this city anymore. I failed to see a reflection from the night lights and river flows, failed to find beauty and comfort, failed to imagine. It's the friends in Boston whom I miss, cherish and would love to be with. They know me, but it doesn't anymore.

Will the next time be the sixth time?

Masculinity...

... for me, is judged by the man's ability to make both ends meet for his family. It is not only the matter of finance, but also the proof of his responsibility and maturity.

I'm specifically referring to the artist (poet, photographer, singer, actor, painter...) who considers his so-called "pride" a priority over his family. That means, he might remain unemployed and refuse to get a job because he thinks it offends his status as a true artist. Or, he withdraws from daily chores and only concentrates on his works, which (sadly) does not earn him a penny. He, the selfish one who abandons his beloveds does not deserve masculinity. Artistism makes a male look attractive, but it does not singularly make him a man.

In this sense, I don't consider c.V, or even Kurt, a good man. I adore them with the whole of my heart as my heroes, but not as a role model I expect from a lifelong partner. I'm not materialistic; I'm realistic: my partner need not be rich, but he must be caring and responsible for me - and to some extent, must try to bring me a better life (and yes, I'm doing the same thing).

I hate the idea if some extreme feminists who claim their equality by the thought that they can do everything with the absence of men. No, I'm not feminist. Why being feminist when you are a woman?

Ode to Self

Nhớ hồi trước,
Có một người bảo yêu mình vì mình chững chạc, nhiệt huyết (!)
Rồi có một người khác bảo yêu mình vì cái tính ngây thơ, hồn nhiên (?)
Nhưng rồi nhớ lại,
Cả 2 người đấy đều bảo yêu mình ở điểm mình sống rất thẳng và thật.
Vậy ra mình là thế nào?

"I'd like to do a song of great social and political import."

(or a parody on some nowadays high school kids, who would die by any means for a place in an US college)

It goes like this:

Oh Lord, won’t you get me a place in the school?
My friends all have Ivies, I must make me cool
Worked hard till my brain's full, with help from the tools
So Lord, won't you get me a place in the school?

Oh Lord, won’t you increase my SAT score?
This grade by College Board is a damn hardcore
I wished just a little more would widen my door
Oh Lord, won’t you increase my SAT score?

Oh Lord, won’t you write me a good reference?
I’m counting on you, Lord, you have influence
Prove that you love me and make it decent,
Oh Lord, won’t you write me a good reference?

Everybody!
Oh Lord, won’t you get me a place in the school?
My friends all have Ivies, I must make me cool
Worked hard till my brain's full, with help from the tools
So Lord, won't you get me a place in the school?

And this is by... J. Joplin

Verlaine and Rimbaud (or Relationship Talks)

Ours was a happy and memorable relationship; we shared so many common traits that it leads me to believe we were solely MFEO. However, in later retrospect, I realized that it was, indeed, a romanticized friendship between a guy and a "tomboyish" girl, and that I had seen him as a male buddy, but more intimately than others. Relationship, for me, must occur between a male and a female. It is a unique social attachment of two people; it must be built on not only the similarities, but also on the opposition (which is true in the case of my current relationship).

It was my "masculine" features, not the feminine ones, that got along well with him. We were unaware of the necessity to be obtain femininity, neither did he stimulate that of me. Actually, he tried, but failed, which frustrated him because he thought that meant he was not “masculine” enough for me.

So we broke up unexplained. I suffered from the trauma for a long time, but still hoped that we could heal the relationship. But things always came up unexpected when I gained admission to an U.S college. It was not the fear of a long-distance relationship, but his feeling of being inferior to me that made me realize there would be no more hope for me. It is always a shame for oriental men to let their women outdo them. He thought so; and deep inside I might have thought the same thing.

Finally, after all of the struggles I have made to stand up against the traditional gender-based rules, I still lost. But since then, my perception of relationship has changed well. Now, the guy I would fall in love with, must be the one who would treat me as a woman and make me feel like a woman. That is, he must wake up the femininity inside of me, not in gestures and personalities, but behaviors [...]. Since my current boyfriend has that ability, I love him a lot.

I tried to elaborate the last sentence but I'm way too sleepy, plus I thought to some extent it was enough. Please do not take this blog personally.

Music Post

It's been a while since I shared my music. I've been lagging in discovering new music as well, leaving this creative duty to last.fm and Pandora.

Recently, my favorite music include Nina Simone (as ever), psychedelic rock and lo-fi music (duh!) and acoustics by singer-songwriters around the world. The last, while not significantly ear-catching, is the mental therapy for my endless paper-writing.

This is my "Music for the Days" playlist on youtube. Enjoy! I update the playlist on a very regular basis.

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL56272BC4EC8FD7C3&feature=mh_lolz

(edited on Nov. 28th, 2011)

Conn Decision

Usually I don't hate random people, but there are two particular type of human being to whom I would develop a strong aversion from the first time. The first type is those who write cliché and propagandistic blog entries. Such phrases as "các bạn của tôi ơi," "tôi sẽ ngẩng cao đầu tiến bước"... make me feel illiterate. The second type is those who try to make sarcasm, which indeed turned out to be lame and rascal. Sarcasm is far more than criticism in that it takes an intellectually humorous mind to make the former one (well it's not that the latter one doesn't, but on a different level).

For me, it's not the matter of academics and intelligence (I struggle in my English class and read The New Yorker to enhance my thinking skills), but that of behavior and attitude. Smart show-off people are annoying but dumb braggarts are even more ridiculous.

In the end, I'm happy that Conn reject those people.