Testimony

"I still smell his sweat."

"How could God allow it to happen?"

"We put her away instead of trying to help her...I watched her die."

"There are strong women in my life."

"My mother is my idol."

The voices of my peers. The people who have taught me so much tonight. I cannot wait to see them grow and for them to help me grow.

Canvas

Ok, my new secret obsession: the bib necklace. Secret because I could probably never afford to attempt to pull it off. Plus, it'll probably draw just more unneeded attention to my chest.

A little de la Renta with a black tee/dress.

But hold on. Wait. Wait for it. Felt bib necklaces??????

Yes please.

Solidarity | Sasaki

I've been thinking about wishes lately. I went through a moment like this last year.

Being in the Cross Cultural Center makes me think about my identity and passions. More often than not, I am met with anger, bitterness, and shame.

I have to remind myself that social justice and action can only happen when there is optimism. With hopeful thoughts and eyes, I wish for:

• empathy
• rebellion
• solidarity

"The world is the way it is." "Life is unfair." "Nothing we can do."

Yeah, so I've been told. But I call bullshit. I'll call it like I see it: lazy motherfuckers with a quick fix attitude.

Sasaki never finished her 1000 cranes. It took her death for others to help her fold her cranes. I think all we need is more people folding some cranes.

So in the meantime, I'll be folding some cranes, listening to the unheard, and ruffling some feathers.

Shamrock.

A lot of time and effort has been spent these last two months in the recruiting and networking process. I've had to constantly remind myself of my motivation and my ambitions. I've been exhausted.

Though this weekend flew by, I'm glad I used that chance to breathe, sit, and enjoy myself.

I really hope I got these internships. I've done the best I could. Though I'm not the best out there, I've worked hard so I deserve it. But as we all know, that is not always enough in this world.

So now I leave it to luck.

She say she 22.

Reflecting on my 22nd birthday. I cannot believe I'm 22.

When I first met Charles, I was 16 years old. It has been six years filled with memories and lessons learned and unlearned.

We've grown--during the three years we were apart and also together these last couple of years. All and all, exploring our connection: the strength of its foundation and its fragile pillars.

t: "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

c: "With you."

He's been there. Through all the perfect, bad, and ugly.

So in five years... I hope he's still here, with me. He is now on the list. The list consists of people who I love so dearly that if anything were to happen to them, my life will change forever. And because they are on the list, I am consistently paranoid that something will happen, and I take every chance to show my heart to them.

So?

So there was this girl.

She lived in a house that smelled of steamed fish and ginger

Laundry hung from ceilings and lines

Sounds of house shoes flopping against the floors

And her life was so-so.

She found on the other side of her door was a world

Filled with sirens, lights, and laughter

A place called Food and Liquor, and other places called Food and Liquor

And flaming hots, and flaming hots with cheese

And all of the sudden, her life seemed better than so-so.

Then there was a pivot, a pivot so wide, lives changed

And it began with a voice and a boombox.

Common Sense resonated about how he used to love H.E.R

And I wanted to love H.E.R.

I heard H.E.R voice...hip hop...

So this became her sound, her voice.

But her new voice was not welcomed on her side of the door

Gum cho ga! as her mother scowled at her

So? She thought loudly back in the new tongue she adopted

Mixtapes lived in her room, record buttons worn out

Without realizing her native tongue was being forgotten

So she embraced this new home and this new sound outside her so-so life.

Then a boy spoke to her, spoke to her in ways she learned to love

And they drove around a Chi-City, vibrating with sounds

Sounds that made these two sides look at each other

They looked at each other and this boy

He got her sosososososo...

Her mother scowled at her because those two sides

Did not belong because my sound was not his sound

My reflection was not his reflection and

He was only a so-so boy with nothing for her but a so-so life

This girl was knocked down... and she felt like nothing more than a so-so girl

As life walked by, and while the frames changed

The boy continued to wait for his girl

Who became a strong woman with a sound that still called out to him

Even though the world couldn't see their melody

This man was all this woman needed to see she was more than just so-so.

Suppression.

It turns out I cannot hide who I am.

Every morning, I spend at least one hour every morning trying to figure out what I want to wear today, what my hair should look like, how I should apply my makeup...

Today, I stepped out of my apartment. Walked ten steps all while looking at my shoes, stopped, turned around, and said, no, fuck, shit. I went inside to change my shoes because my pansy purple flats did not please me. I now had 10 minutes to make it to class.

Some people may call it vain; but for the sake of my pride, we'll say it's not. I know I'm going down the road of trying to "find myself." I hate how cliche that sounds. I'm trying to discover parts of myself, who the inner me is most comfortable being. So I try on different outfits in the morning. So I change my hair every week. So I need variety in my life. So I can choose.

I was told once I was too sensitive. And today, talking about social issues, I found myself tearing up, feeling bitter and angry. I started to cry in front of my boss. I realized when I went to Hong Kong, I put on another outfit, an outfit which caused me to not say how I feel for the safety and ignorance of my conservative family.

Being in St. Louis has been wonderful in the sense that I meet people who will challenge my viewpoints. If I had went to any other school I was considering, I would be in classrooms with the majority of the people thinking the same way and asking the same questions as me. I've definitely grown and learned more than I ever could because I'm in Missouri.

At the same time, I have never felt so stifled as I do right now. I feel like I censor myself more, suppress my thoughts and questions more. So I need to change my outfit. I found myself frustrated and furious last night screaming at Charles about the people's lack of passion and harmony. How people hold their pride close to their chest, afraid that if they venture out, that maybe they will lose something.

So this outfit isn't working for me. It's making me cry and scream. My boss said that I clearly needed an outlet. And that only made me want to cry more. It's funny...I spent my entire life wondering what it was I was passionate about. When I finally found it, I was convinced by other people that it as useless. It's time for me to pick it up again.